They called us

 

Jews

 

Christ Killers!

 

 

Part 2.

 

הם קראו לנו יהודים

רוצחי ישו!

Ha'Am Kara'av Lanu Yehudim Rozachi Yashev

 

The History of the of the Crusades.

 

These Christian Crusaders went about killing Jews on the eve of Shavout.

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Rabino Aminadav Hinton. “Posekim Pesher”

הרב עמינדב הינטון. פוסקי פשר

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7/23/5774/11 pages.

 

“900 years before Ha'Shoah!”

 

CONTENTS:

1. The First Crusade; The Jews under the Almoravides; Judah Ha'Levi (1096-1148). Commentary notes with additional added Transliterated Hebrew by Rabbi Aminadav Hinton.

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Popular History of the Jews. By Professor H. Graetz Vol 3. Hebrew Publishing Company 1919. The First Crusade; The Jews under the Almoravides;

Judah Ha'Levi. Pages 181-201

 

{The conditions after the first

 

Crusade}

Judah Ha'Levi

 

The first half of the twelfth century produced in Jewish circles a veritable cornucopia of eminent Jewish men, poets, philosophers, ingenious Talmudist whose productions, in all cases, bear the stamps of perfections. The petty jealousy of which Rabbi Menahem Ben Saruk and Ibn Gabirol had occasion to complain, the feelings of hostility that prevailed between Ibn Janah and Samuel Ibn Nagdela, between Alfasi and Ibn Abalia, were banished from the circle of the cultural leaders of this period. Poets sang in one anothers honor, and sincerely praised the men who pursued other departments of knowledge. Each participated in the joys as well as in the sorrow of the other, and all looked upon one another as members of one Jewish family. The temporary unity of spirit that prevailed at this period among the representatives of Jewish Science and poetry bears conclusive testimony to their nobility of mind, and the ability to bounce back after the worst disasters that befall the Jewish People. The most eminent Rabbi of this period was Rabbi Joseph Ibn Migras (1077-1141), a grandson of a man who stood high in the court of the Abbadides in Seville, and a son of a learned and prominent father. At the age of twelve he came from Seville to Alfasi's academy at Lecena where he remained fourteen years. Ordained at twenty six by Alfasi, who was very proud of his Talmid, that great authority recommended Ibn Migas was elected Rabbi of Lucena (1103). Rabbi Judah Ha'Levi bestows upon him unstinting praise for the greatness of his soul and the nobility of his character- praise he richly deserved. In his school he followed the method of his teacher Alfasi in the study of the Talmud, and his commentary on many Tractates was written in the spirit of his master. His fame as a Talmudist spread far and wide; religious inquiries were addressed to him from all sides, and his replies were profound, lucid and logical. Though generally modest and gentile, he could also be extremely severe when the occasion demanded it. Spain was then in a state of anarchy. In Andalusa the Arabs and the Berbers were waging continuous war against one another, now openly, now secretly.

 

In Granada, the Christians (Mozarabi) formed a secret conspiracies against their Mohammedan rulers to deliver the country into the hands of Alfonso, the conqueror of Saragossa. Christian Spain was no less split. The unhappy marriage of Alfonso of Aragon and Urraca, Queen of Castile, the daughter of Alfonso VI, resulted in a still greater separation of those countries. One party sided with the king, another with the queen, and a third with the crown-prince whose partisans urged on him to rise both against his mother and his stepfather. Christians and Mohammedans were often seen fighting under one flag; now against a Christian prince, now against a Mohammedan emir. Alliances and the violation there followed in quick succession. Duplicity and treachery were of daily occurrence. The Jews of Spain did not, of course, remain unaffected by this condition of anarchy; voluntarily or under compulsion some embraced the one party or another as their interests or political inclination dictated. But while Christians or Mohammedans who were involved in conspiracies could fell for protection except in their own midst in a strong, mutual union of their own. Treachery in their own midst was all the more reprehensible, since the anger of an offended prince often fell not merely upon the conspirators, or the community, but upon the entire Jewry of the country. For this reason, when it was discovered in Lucena that a traitor from that community was about to betray his coreligionists, the rabbi and judge Joseph Ibn Migas visited an exemplary punishment upon him, and had him stoned to death at dusk on Ha'Yom Kippur. Joseph Ibn Migas left a scholarly son, Meir, and numerous Talmidim, among whom was Maimun of Cordova, whose son was destined to form a turning point in Jewish history.

 

In proportion as the study of the Talmud advanced in Spain that of Scriptural exegesis and of Hebrew grammar declined. These branches were neglected. But this period was all the richer in poets. In the course of the two centuries since Ben Labrat, the Hebrew language had become so flexible and supple that but little art was required to utilize it for purposes of metrical versification. The many new metrical forms with which the great Ibn Gabirol enriched Hebrew poetry found more or less successful imitation. The fashion the Arabs indulged in of versifying the contents of their letters to friends, a fashion the Spanish, Sephardic Jews adopted, made the art of poetry a necessity. Whoever wished not to appear uncultured had to learn to rime. The number of poems produced at this period is large, though but few contain true poetry. To the noteworthy Jewish poets who were more than rhymesters belong to Rabbi Moses Ibn Ezra, Judah Ibn Ghayyat, Judah Ibn Abbas and Solomon Ibn Zakbel- All Sephardic Jewish Rabbis – a kinsman of Rabbi Joseph Ibn Sahal or Cordova, ventured to employ the Hebrew language for the dalliance of love. The new form of poetry, introduced by the Arabic poet Hariri of Bazra, whose fame had spread to Spain, inspired Ibn Zakbel to attempt something similar in Hebrew, and, under the title of Tahkemoni, he wrote a sort of satirical romance the hero of which experiences vicissitudes and disappointments. The hero himself recounts his adventures in rimed prose, interspersed with verses. He had formerly spent a long time in the solitude of a forest, in the company of his sweetheart, when he tired of this monotony and determined to seek the society of jolly companions. Decoyed by an unknown, seductive beauty through an enigmatic missive, he began to search for her, consumed by his love, and was led into a harem whose lord threatened him with death. This role of lord was only a disguise assumed by a beauty to scare him, and this beauty who was not the object of his love but her servant promised to grant his desires. At last he seemed to be near his goal; he was led in the presence of his beloved; but this only tuned out to be a trick played on him by one of his friends. Thus the hero is led from one disappointment to another. This romance has little poetic value, and is a mere imitation of its Arabic model. The only thing admirable in this work is the facility with which Ibn Zakbel handles the Hebrew language and applies originally serious phrases to frivolous trivialities.

Highly gifted men were the four brothers Ibn Ezra of Granada, Abu Ihrahim Isaac, the elders, Abu Harun Moses, Abulhassan Judah, and Abu Hajjaj, the youngest of these Sephardic Jews whose father occupied a high office under King Habus or rather under Samuel Ibn Nagdela. “One recognizes by the nobility of these four princely Ibn Ezras,” says a contemporaneous historian, “that the blood of David flowed in their veins, and that they descended from the ancient aristocracy.” The most distinguished of the four was Abu Harun Moses (about 1070-1139), the most prolific poet of this period, whom it seems was awakened by misfortune. He was in love with his niece, the daughter of his oldest brother Isaac, and was loved in return. The brother, however refused him his daughter's hand, and the younger brothers, it seems, approved the decision of the oldest. Filled with anger against his brothers, he fled his father's house and wandered about in Portugal and Castile, consumed by his unrequited love. Even time could not heal his wounds; the muse alone was his comfort. He sought to assuage his grief by absorbing himself in serious studies also, and he acquired friends and admirers who remained loyal to him unto death. The noble Ibn Kamnial- all Sephardic Jews- was one of these. Moses Ibn Ezra bears much resemblance to Solomon Ibn Gabirol. Like the former, he complains of treachery and jealousy, of the hardness and the faithlessness of the time. His poems reflect as much egotism; and his poetic inspiration has no loftier motive. But Ibn Ezra was no so delicately sensitive; his nature was hardier; for this reason he is not always so dejected and morose, but can sing cheerful songs at times and trifle with his muse occasionally. As a poet, however, he is far inferior to Ibn Gabirol. His poetry is artificial and cumbrous, his imagery is overdrawn, and his verses are often harsh and bombastic, lacking euphony and symmetry. At the same time one cannot help admiring his mastery of the Hebrew, the copiousness of his poetic productions, and the wealth of metrical forms with which he enriched Hebrew poetry. One collection of his poems which he called “A String of Pearls (Anak or Tarshish), containing twelve hundred and ten verses, in ten divisions, was dedicated to Ibn Kamnial, and in it the poet sings of wine, love and joy, lauds the life of luxury amidst bowers and the singing of birds, complains of separation from friends and of faithlessness; laments over the approach of old age, points also occasionally to divine salvation, and glorifies the art of poesy. In addition to this collection, Ibn Ezra composed three hundred occasional poems exceeding ten thousand verses, and also nearly two hundred liturgical compositions for Ha'Rosh Ha'Shanah and Ha'Yom Kippur, which form an essential element of the religious service of many communities. However, only few of his religious poems are genuinely poetic and inspiring. All of them were written in accordance with the rules of the poetic art; but the poetry fragrance is absent. In the technique of poetry Moses Ibn Ezra surpassed all his contemporaries. He wrote a treatise in Arabic on rhetoric and the art of poetry which is at once also a sort of literary history and review of Spanish, Sephardic Jewish poetry from its very beginning. The least important of Ibn Ezra's works was his attempt to write a would be philosophic treatise in Hebrew in which he set forth the sterile philosophy of his day after Arabic models. Despite his insignificance as a philosopher and his mediocrity as a poet, Rabbi Moshe Ibn Ezra was highly esteemed by his contemporaries and predecessors in the witchery of his muse and, as a thinker, belonged to the chosen few who set in motion new and suggestive currents of thought. Rabbi Judah Ha'Levi was one of the elect; to designate him as “the image of G-d (Ha'Tzelem Hashem)” would be neither a lie nor an exaggeration. He was a full, well rounded personality, a perfect poet, an original thinker, a worthy son of Judaism whom by song and thought he transfigured and idealized. If Spain were ever to conquer her prejudices, and were to measure her geniuses no longer by an ecclesiastic standard. She would assign a place of honor in her Pantheon to Judah Ha'Levi. The Jewish people have long ago conferred upon him the laurel crown of poetry and the prize of inward piety and spotless morality, Another Jewish poetic genius (Heine) sang of him:

 

“All pure and true, without a stain, Such was his song, such was his soul, When by the hands of G-d was shaped This soul He, self- complacent, stamped Upon this beautiful soul a kiss, And every song the poet sang. Thrills with the echo of that kiss, Made sacred by that gift divine.”"כלטהורואמיתי, ללאכתם, כזההיההשירשלו, כזוהייתההנשמהשלו, כאשרבידיושלהקב"ההיהבצורתנשמהזוהוא, חותםעםנשמהיפהזהנשיקהעצמיתשאננה,, וכלt שיר

וכלשירחולהמשורר. ריגושיםעםההדשלנשיקהש, תוצרתקדושהעלידישאלוהימתנה"."

 

Born in Christian Spain where Talmudic authorities were scarce, Judah Ha'Levi attended Alfasi's academy at Lucena. Like Ibn Gabirol, he began to sing in early youth, but, unlike that poet, he sang the joys of life and not its sorrows. Fortune smiled upon this darling of the muse from his youth, and no shrill discord escaped his poetic soul. In Southern Spain he made the acquaintance of the Ibn Ezra family of Granada; and when he learned of Moses Ibn Ezra's tragic experiences the young poet comforted the older one in lines breathing such tenderness and sympathy that the latter was overcome by their beauty. Like Ibn Ezra, Judah Ha'Levi was not a stranger to the passion of love; he celebrated in song the gazelle eyes of his beloved, her rosy lips, and her raven hair. The Southern skies are reflected in his muses, and the green grass and the blue streams. His youthful poetry betrays a mastery of verse, a rich imagination, fine symmetry, and is aglow with the fire and charm of youth. But Judah Ha'Levi was not alone a master of the Hebrew language and of the metric forms of the neo-Hebraic poetry, but was also a deep student of the natural sciences, philosophy and medicine. He wrote Arabic gracefully, and was familiar with the new poetry of Castile. He derived his livelihood from the practice of medicine, and was much sought after as a physician in Toledo. He was, however, restive under the restraints this profession put upon him, and longed for an opportunity to go to a place of living waters, to the foundations of wisdom.” Medicine was too prosaic an occupations for him. All the forces of his creative spirit were consecrated to poetry and to the study of Judaism. Judah Ha'Levi had a more correct conception of poetry than his Arabic and Jewish contemporaries. Poetry, to him, was something sacred and of divine origin; the poetic impulse must be something original, innate, and not an art that may be learned. He ridiculed those who lady down rules for metre and rime. The true, born poet is a law unto himself. As long as he was young, Judah Ha'Levi squandered the gold of his rich poetry on tinsel and glorified his numerous friends in occasional poems, composed enigmas, and sang of wine and of joy. When his friends censured him for his wine songs, he replied:

 

“I am a youth of hardly twenty four, And shall I know the joys of wine no more?”

 

Occasionally he chose complicated meters on purpose in order to show his mastery of every metric structure; he often employs an Arabic or Castilian verse at the conclusion of a poem. In each word and turn the great master is recognized who has the power to draw a finished picture with a few bold strokes. His descriptions of nature can be favorably compared with the best products of poetry in any language. One can see in his lines the flowers bud and glisten; one inhales their fragrance; one sees the branches beneath the weight of golden fruits, and hears the songsters of the air warble their love sons. With the hand of a master he paints the sunshine and the gentile breeze. When he describes the fury of a storm-tossed sea, he imparts to his readers all the sublimity and the terror which he himself felt. All this, however, does not reflect his real soul; it was, in a measure, the tribute he had to pay to his generation and to the fashion of the times. Even his religious poetry, in which he was no less fertile than Moses Ibn Ezra, having written three hundred compositions, and which surpasses in depth, fervor and beauty of from the work of all his predecessors, even this does not reveal the genius of the poet. Judah Halevi's significance as a poet is seen in his national-religious productions. Here, where he draws upon the very depths of his poetic soul, where his whole being is aglow with enthusiasm, where he sings of Zion and of her pristine and future glories, where he covers his head in sorrow over her present servitude; here his fancy becomes truth, here nothing is artificial, nothing make believe; all is deep feeling. His Zionides (songs of Zion) bring to mind the Psalms of David. When he pours forth his grief at Zion's widowhood, when he dreams of Zion's future glory when she should be reunited with G-d and with her children, one believes he hears the Korahides. Judah HaLevi's mature muse was inspired by a great aim: to sing to Yisrael, his G-d and his sanctuaries, his past and future, his glorious destiny, and to lament his lowliness. He was a national poet. For his reason, his poems draw every reader with an irresistible power, and more so than Ibn Gabirol's plaints of his individual forlornness and Moshe Ibn Ezra's love- stricken sorrow. His nationalistic poetry was the offspring not of a poetic mood, but of deep convictions. Feeling and thought flowed as one in his soul. Poetry and philosophy were inseparably linked in his nature, and both as his very own. Just as he gave expression to the national feelings of Yisrael in his Zionides, so he interpreted, if one may say so, the national thoughts of Judaism by presenting original views of the relation of G-d to the world, of man to his Creator, and of the significance of Judaism in contradistinction to Christianity and Islam. All these vitally significant questions he solves in a manner vivid, fervent, overwhelming. If, as a poet, he resembles the psalmist, as a religious philosopher he resembles the author of the Book of Job, but is more pregnant and comprehensive. Borrowing the dialogue form from the Book of Job or from Plato for his system of religious philosophy, he linked it also with an historic event- a form that greatly heightens one's interest in the subject matter and makes the impression more lasting. Asked by his Talmidim to promulgate the principles of Rabbinic Judaism and to refute the objections raised against it by philosophy, Christianity, Islam and Karaism, he replied with a suggestive treatise in dialogue form, written in an elegant Arabic. This work was to prove the truths of Judaism and to vindicate the much maligned Jewish religion. A pagan who knew nothing of philosophy or of the three existing religions but who felt the need of an inward naive communion with G-d is made to be convinced of the truths of Judaism. This pagan is Bulan, king of the Chazars, who had accepted Judaism, and him the philosopher of Castile selected as his historic point of departure. For this reason, this work received the name of Chozari. The scheme of the work follows:

 

The king of Chazars, an idolater with truly religious inclinations, repeatedly saw an angel in his dreams who told him: “Your intentions are good, but your practices are objectionable.” To arrive with certainty at the true worship of G-d, the king consulted a philosopher. This man of wisdom half Aristotelian, half neo- Platonist, explained to the king that the divinity was too transcendent to bear any relation whatever to man or to require worship from him, and that human perfection may be attained through the intellect without the help of religion. But his philosophic abstractions that made for irreligiousness did not appeal to the king. He felt that there must be some religious acts of absolute value without which piety and morality have no meaning. If religious cults were altogether a matter of indifference, how is it conceivable that Christianity and Islam who had divided the world between them would combat each other and even regard mutual murder as an act of piety? Moreover, both religion appeal to a divine revelation and to prophets who performed miracles by divine authority. G-d must, therefore, in some way have some relation to man, and there must be some knowledge of G-d of which philosophers have no conception. The king decided, therefore, to consult the representatives of Christianity and Islam, in order to learn the true religion from them. He declined to consult the Jews at first because their humble social status indicated to him the worthlessness of their religion(Which He discovers is vividly untrue, there are rich Jews and poor Jews, all united in a one accord in Judaism). The Christian and the Mohammedan representatives explained the tenets of their respective religions to the king of the Chazars, each claiming to possess the only true religion, and supported their arguments by references to the “Jewish Scriptures.” This fact lead the king of the Chazars to consult a Jewish Scholar also. Asked what the Jewish religion teaches, the Jewish scholar replied: “The Jews believe in the G-d of their fathers who freed the Israelites from Egyptian bondage, who performed miracles fro them, who led them into the Holy Land, who sent prophets unto them; in a word, they believe in what their sacred Scriptures teach.” To which the king:

 

I was right in not consulting the Jews, seeing that their lowly situation had deprived them of all reason. Thou O Jew, must needs presume your belief in a Creator and director of the Universe instead of referring me dryly to a faith that could have a meaning only to thine own nation.” [Now I'm trying to figure out how the Messianic Christians say that this King became a believer of Yashke? I've heard this and wondered where did they create that from] Whereupon the Jewish sage: “But this very assumption that G-d is the Creator and director of the Universe demands weighty proofs, and the philosophers hold divers views on the subject, whereas the belief that G-d has wrought miracles for Yisrael needs no proof, for it is based on incontestable ocular evidence.” Arrived at this critical point, it was easy for Judah HaLevi to develop proofs for the truth of Judaism. Philosophy banishes G-d and religion from the world; Christianity and Islam turn their back upon reason because reason contradicts the chief tenets of their religion. Judaism, on the other hand, starts out with an incontestable fact which reason cannot explain away; it is therefore consistent with reason, but it keeps reason within bounds and does not admit its conclusions that might easily lead to sophistries when certainty may be reached by a different way. In the correctness of his views on the value of speculative philosophy, Judam Ha'Levi was several centuries ahead of his time. While the contemporaneous thinkers- Jews, Mohammedants, Christians, Rabbis, Ulemas and church fathers bent their knee before Aristotle, placed his views of G-d and His relation to the universe almost above the Scriptures, or at-least, twisted biblical verses until they forced some philosophic though out of them, and were thus believers and infidels in one breath, Judah Ha'Levi had the courage to assign to human reason its natural limitations, and to say to it: “Thus far and no further.” Philosophy has no justification to gainsay admitted facts; it must regard them as incontestable truths; and with this as its point of departure it may begin its point of departure it may be in its activity by reducing the facts to order and by throwing light upon them. Just as in the realm of nature thought cannot disavow actual phenomena, no matter how striking and unreasonable they may be, but most endeavor to fathom them, so it must proceed in the realm of religion. This thought that but recently forced its way to recognition through the many mazes of philosophy was first advanced by Judah Ha'Levi. In a poem which is as fine as it is true, he estimates the result of the Greek spirit, eagerly imbibed by studious disciples of philosophy, by saying that Greek philosophy produced only blossoms by no fruits, that it is loquacious but does not fill the void in the heart.

 

From this point of view, Judaism cannot be assailed by philosophy [Josephus failed at this poorly], because it rests upon a solid basis, the basis of facts, which the thinker must respect. The Jewish religion came into the world all of a sudden, like a creation. It was revealed in the presence of a great multitude. The miracles that preceded the Sinaic revelation and that were continued in the wilderness were likewise of a public nature. But this visible providence of G-d for Yisrael occurred not merely a single time at the beginning of Yisrael's history, but continued often, and found expression continuously for five centuries in the effusion of the prophetic spirit upon individuals and upon entire circles. By virtue of its character of ocular actuality, Judaism contains a larger measure of certainty than philosophy can offer. The revelation of Sinai affords greater proof of the existence of G-d than philosophic speculations can adduce. In justification of the content of Judaism, Judah Ha'Levi offers a view that, to say the least, is original. Assuming the truth of creation as recounted in the Bible, he suggests the though that Adam, created by G-d Himself, born unstained and without disturbing paternal influences, was mentally and physically perfect, the ideal man, possessed also a prophetic nature of a certain extent, and was therefore called- a son of G-d. This perfection Adam transmitted to those of his descendants whose psychic organization was susceptible to it. Through the long chain of generations, not without interruption, this capacity for virtue was transmitted to Avraham and, through him, to the ancestors of the Twelve Tribes of Yisrael. The people of Yisrael, therefore, form the heart, the quintessence of humanity, exclusively qualified for the gift of prophecy. This ideal nature raises its possessors to a higher rank; they form, as it were, the intermediary step between the ordinary man and the angel. The particular spot best adapted for the preservation and the growth of this peculiarity was the Land of Kena'an Yisrael [not Palestine whatever that is], chosen by G-d for that purpose; and just as Yisrael is the heart of humanity, so is the Holy Land the center of the Universe, whence the prophetic influences emanated and spread their light throughout the world. The positive and negative commandments (Mitzvah Aseh, Mitzvot Ta'aseh< Taryag Mitzvot Torat Moshe) prescribed by Judaism are the means for the preservation of the divinely prophetic nature in the Jewish nation, as are the Cohenim, Ha'Beit Ha'Mikdash, Ha'Korbanots. In how far these laws and institutions promote the main purpose G-d alone knows; but it is not given to human subtilizing to interfere with or to change them because the main purpose might be missed by the slightest change, no matter how insignificant it may seem, just as nature by a slight change in soil and climate will yield a different product. The peculiarity of Judaism consists not in its moral duties and in its rational laws, as some suppose; there are to be regarded rather as the basic conditions for the constitution and the cohesion of a commonwealth. The essence of Judaism consists rather in its religious duties that are adapted for conserving in the Jewish people the light divine, the continual prophetic inspiration. And thought the real significance of the regions precepts is unknown to human reason, they nevertheless reflect the wisdom of their Divine author. Judaism prescribes neither a secluded nor an ascetic life; it is generally an enemy of brooding melancholy and dreams from its adherents rather a joyous disposition. It recommends moderation for every activity of the soul and for every impulse of the heart, and thereby preserved a harmonious equilibrium between the individual and the national life. A pious man, as Judaism understand that term, neither flees from the world, nor despises life and desires death in order to attain the sooner the eternal life, nor denies himself the joys of life, but is a just master of his domain; his physical and psychic organism. He neither restrains unduly the forces of his body and soul, nor does he give them free reign; he controls them and utilizes them as ready tools by which to aim at the higher life that is rooted in G-d. Having found the high value of religious practices, it was easy for Judah Ha'Levi to vindicate Talmudic Judaism against Karaism, Christianity, and Islam. The aspect of servitude assumed by Yisrael in his exile among the nations is no proof of his deterioration and haplessness, any more than the power of which Islam and Christianity boast is proof of the divinity of their doctrines.

 

Poverty and misery, despised in the eyes of men, are of greater value in the eyes of G-d than inflated greatness and pride. The Christians themselves are not so proud of their potentates as they are of their sufferers, of Jesus himself and of the apostles who, in lowliness and contempt, suffered martyrdom [as the fiction states]. The Mohammedans likewise glory in the association of their prophet who had endured much suffering for His sake. The supreme sufferer, however, is Yisrael, because he is to humanity what the heart is to the human organism. Just as the heart feels most keenly every ailment of the body, so is the Jewish nation most cruelly affected by every misfortune that issues from the nations intentionally or involuntarily. To Yisrael apply the words of the Prophet: “He bears our ailments, and our burdens are heaped upon him.” Despite its unspeakable misery, the Jewish nation is not dead; it is rather like unto a man who is critically ill, whom the physicians had given up, but who expects his salvation by a miracle. To Yisrael applies the parable of the scattered dry bones that upon the prophetic word, joined one to the other, assumed flesh and skin, received breath and resurrected (Ezekiel 37). This Ha'Meshal fittingly and completely describes Yisrael in his condition. The dispersion of Yisrael was a wonderful, divinely arrangement in order to spread among the nations of the earth the light of his spiritual possessions. Yisrael is like unto a seed of grain that is imbedded in the ground, remains invisible for a time, seems changed into tits Constitution form; but after a time it begins to germinate and to sprout, assumes again its original form, throws off the distorting integuments, refines its elements and changes them in accordance with its nature until it gradually reaches its highest point of development. If mankind, prepared by Christianity and Islam, should once recognize the true significance of the Jewish nation as the bearer of the light divine, they would respect the roots upon which they formerly looked with contempt, the ancient roots of the tree of Judah (Ha'Etz Yehudah) the fruit of which is the Messianic Kingdom (Meshichim Melechim-Not Messianic Christian Movement). The lofty significance of Judaism and of the people that confesses it was certainly never preached with greater eloquence. Thoughts and feelings, philosophy and poetry joined in this original system to produce a high ideal that is to form the point of contact between heaven and earth. Judah Ha'Levi was not one of those who think nobly and act meanly; his deeds corresponded to his feelings. As soon as he reached the conviction that the Hebrew language contains an intrinsic divinity, that it was a consecrated vessel from a sacred content, he discontinued fro a while his poetic efforts because he regarded it as a profanation (Chillul Hashem, Avodah Ellilim- which constitutes blasphemy, idolatry, profanation) to make the Hebrew language a vehicle for the Arabic metre. Moreover, convinced that the Holy City still retained the traces of the divine presence, that the gates of heaven were still to be found at the gates of Jerusalem, and that the sacred placed that once reechoed with the voice of the holy prophets were still a source of inspiration and might impart rapture and higher peace to the susceptible soul, his poetic nature was filled with the spiritual glory of Yisrael, and he determined to make a pilgrimage to the land of his dreams and to spend the eve of his life amidst the scenes sacred to the Jewish heart. This irresistible longing for Zion made it impossible for him to persist in his determination to sing no longer, and found expression in a noble series of poems. The Zionides, whose creator Judah Ha'Levi was, form the very flower of Neo-Hebraic poetry, and are comparable to the Psalms in beauty and sublimity:

 

“O city of the world most chastely fair in the far west, behold I sign for thee. Oh! Had I eagle's wings. I'd fly to thee, And with my falling tears make moist thine earth, “

(Lady Magnus' version).

 

This is the keynote of all his songs of Zion. But what a wealth of feeling, imagery and beauty he unfolds in them! Yisrael's past arises in his lines in a transfigured form, and Yisrael of the present appears now with the crown of thorns of a thousand woes, now with a dazzling crown of a glorious future. His lyrics involuntarily sway the soul of his readers, impart to it grief and sorrow, hope and jubilation, and leave upon it a lasting, deep impression which is a mixture of dreams and convictions. The poet-philosopher felt himself drawn to the ancient home of Yisrael as thought by invisible hands from which he was unable to disengage himself, and he started on his pilgrimage. His journey through Spain, the place of the Sephardim resembled a trump. His numerous admirers in the cities through which he passed vied with each other in showering attentions upon him. With a few faithful companions he set sail for Egypt (about 1141). Delayed by unfavorable winds, after a stormy voyage which he described in a masterful poem, the ship did not arrive at Alexandria ( Where the Jews were enslaved, where the Jews under cohersion created the Septuagint) till Shavuot, and Judah joined in their midst but a short while. However, upon the urgent solicitation of his host, Aaron Ben Zion Ibn Alamani, an eminent physician and the Rabbi of the Alexandrian Jewish Community, a man of wealth and a liturgical poet himself, who bestowed the highest honors upon his honored guest and his companions, Judah agreed to postpone his departure, and remained in Alexandria three months, until the festival of Hanukkah. From Alexandria he was about to journey to the port of Damietta where resided his friend Abu Said Ben Halfon Ha'Levi whom he had known from Spain, but he had to change his plans when he received an urgent invitation from the Jewish Prince Abu Mansur Samuel Ben Hananiah to visit him in Cairo. Abu Mansur, who occupied a high office in the Egyptian califate and who lived in the Calif's palace, was, it seems, the officially recognized head of the Jewish Communities of Egypt [Did you know that in Egypt there was once a Jewish Temple built, but it was not recognized by any Jews outside of Egypt, as the Temple can only exist in Yisrael- Do research on it you will read it's history], and bore the title Prince (Ha'Nagid). Judah Ha'Levi could not refuse such a flattering invitation, particularly so because it was important for him to obtain from the Jewish Prince letters of introduction for his trip to Yisrael. The wonderful Nile that bore his ship to Cairo recalled to his mind reminiscences of Yisrael's remote past which found expression in two poems. Though treated by Abu Mansur with cordial hospitality, he was restive in Cairo and longed to reach the goal of his journey. His Egyptian friends attempted to dissuade him from his journey, pointed out the dangers to him, and remarked that the reminiscences of divine providence at the beginning of Jewish history were linked with Egypt also. But Judah Ha'Levi replied: “In Egypt, divine Providences showed itself in haste, as it were; while the Holy Land was its permanent seat.” He finally in 1142 tore himself away from his Egyptian friends and admirers and set sail for the Holy Land from the port of Damieta. Yisrael was then under the sway of Christian Kings and Princes, collateral relations of the heroic Godfrey of Bouillon, the commander of the first crusades, and these rulers [As you will recall from Part 1. Which you can read at www.keepingjudahjewish.jimdo.com when time avails] permitted the Jews to live in Yisrael and even in its capital, Jerusalem. At the time of Judah Ha'Levi's journey that region was not at all disturbed by military expeditions, because the Christians, the effeminate Pullani (descendants of the Crusaders) who had lived in what they termed as Palestine for a generation, loved their ease and bought it from the hostile Islamic emirs at any cost. Jews stood high in the petty courts of the Christian princes of Yisrael, and a Bishop complains that through the influence of their wives those princes preferred the employment of Jewish to Christian or Saracen Physicians- probably because the latter were charlatans or quacks.

 

It seems that Judah Ha'Levi reached the longed for goal, and that he visited Jerusalem; but his visit in the Holy City was brief. The Christian inhabitants of Jerusalem, it would seem, annoyed him and made his sojourn in the city intolerable. Of the last days of his life little is known. The last vestiges of him lead to Tyre, where he was received with honor y the Jewish Community. In a poem addressed to a Tyrian friend, he laments over his disappointed hopes, and his vanished youth and strength:

 

“These are not the rain drops pouring from the skies; They are the tear drops welling from my eyes.”

 

And when the poet considers the inward fever that is consuming him he wonders “How from a mass of fire lakes can well.” This poem cannot but affect the reader profoundly by the cry of utter despair on the part of such a heroic soul. In Damascus he sang is swan song, the glorious Zionide, in which, like the psalms of Asaph, he pours froth his yearnings for Jerusalem. The date of his death and the place of his sepulcher remained unknown. Legend has it that while he was prostrating himself on the sacred soil of Yisrael, singing his doleful Zionide, an Arabic knight(Muslim) rode his horse upon him and pieced him with his sword: it points out his grave in the village of Kabul, and his tombstone bears this anonymous inscription:

 

A man inquired where mercy doth abide, Where gentleness and where humility; The graces three assembled and replied: 'Here where Judah is- there are we.

 

This epitaph, however, does not do the slightest justice to the significance of this personality, at once ethereal and mighty. Judah Ha'Levi Abu Alhasan is the transfigured Sephardi Jew, image of Yisrael with all his thoughts and aspirations of the past and of the future.

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כאשר אלוהים קרא לאברהם, היה שם צורך בהתערבות אנושית, צורך במשיח? המשיח הוא חשוב רק לאחרית ימים, השלום חד משמעי לישראל.

CNP:J:04.850.394/0001-28 RF-026