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The Torah of the Heart - (Shavuot 2021)

 We have posted an essay with this title in previous years at Shavuot time, but this version is a new and greatly expanded edition taken from  the  (still unpublished) book "The  Mitkarevim: Jewish Contemplatives and the  Return of Prophecy" .

ושמתם את־דברי אלה

על־לבבכם ועל־נפשכם

“Therefore you shall lay up these words

in your heart and in your soul.” [1]


The heart is our intuitive intellect. The soul is our very life-force. The Torah of the Heart is eternally given and when we receive it intentionally, it produces a connecting link between our intellect and our life-force. Our tangible experiences and our spiritual perceptions are thus bound up with our essential soul root, and from there, bound up with our G-d.

When we open up this channel we deepen our relationship with the Supernal Torah, because our obedience to the commands of the Torah would be incomplete if love and true internalisation were absent.

G-d speaks to all of us through the Torah She-bi’chtav (Written Torah) and the Torah She-ba’al Peh (Oral Torah). He also speaks to us in our own prayers and in our own private study and meditation. When we read the scriptures with pauses for meditation or when we meditate in silent prayer, we are hoping to access the Torah of the Heart.

We know how and when we are called to action as a nation and as individuals through the words of the written and oral Torah—but we each receive that Torah according to our own abilities and character, and for this reason we also need to receive and digest those ‘words’ personally in the Cave of the Heart, alone with our G-d.

Speaking of the text of the Torah, R’ Avraham Joshua Heschel writes:

“In the hands of many peoples it becomes a book; in the life of Israel it remained a voice,a Torah within the heart. (Isaiah 51:7)” [2]


The Zohar  is forcefully explicit:

“The stories of the Torah are its outer garments and whoever looks upon those garments as being the Torah itself, woe to that man...Referring to this, David said, Open my eye that I may behold wondrous things out of your Torah (Tehillim 119:18), for that which is under the garments is the real Torah.

The commandments of the Torah are called the “body” of the Torah... The fools of the world look on nothing save the garment... The wise, who worship the Most High King, those who stood at Mount Sinai, look only at the soul, It is the true Torah. In the world-to-come, they will look at the soul of the soul of the Torah.”  [3]

 The Zohar also tells us that each one of souls of Kehal Yisrael has “their own letter” in the Torah.[4] Interestingly, the Talmud Yerushalmi posits that this refers to letters in the primordial Torah written in black and white fire. [5]  The Arizal concurs with this view and adds that by contemplative activity one can actually access the way one’s soul root is linked to that letter/spiritual particle in the Supernal Torah in order to set up a channel of blessing on all worlds.  [6]

The Baal Shem Tov suggests that the Torah can be fractally or microcosmically presented,[7] and many sources emphasise that the Torah we see is not the whole story.[8] In Kedushat Levi, Rebbe Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev reminds us that:

“In fact, the entire Torah is G-d’s name.It originally contained combinations of letters and secret mysteries that ‘no eye has uncovered’ (Yoav 28:7). In its descent to our lowly world, the Torah must become clothed in a material garment.” [9]

The Kotzker Rebbe [10] tells us that the words of the Sh'ma are “laid on the surface of the heart” so that they may sink into those hearts which are truly receptive later on:

And these words which I command thee this day, shall be upon thy heart.” The verse does not say: “in thy heart.” For there are times when the heart is shut. But the words lie upon the heart, and when the heart opens in holy hours, they sink deep down into it.[11]

This implies that the ‘words’ are only received when they are reflected upon and internalised personally—we may observe the letter of the Law, but we have not received it until we go beyond that letter to access its soul. This is done most especially in silent contemplative prayer.

I am reminded of a parallel example of this pre-condition for authenticity in the tale of the Baal Shem Tov’s encounter with the righteous and learned R' Dov Baer of Mezeritch. After asking the latter to recite holy words of Torah, the Baal Shem Tov declared Dov Baer’s recitation to be “correct” but without “true knowledge” because there was “no soul” in what he knew. [12]

  I can remember when reel to reel tape-recorders and cassette players were a miraculous novelty. I can remember the invention of the internet and the shock of realising (so comparatively recently) that we have wireless and satellite infotech connections of such power and speed that the entire Tanach, Talmud Bavli, Zohar and Shulchan Aruch can be transferred onto disk drive or pen drive and printed or viewed in any synagogue or home with sufficient resources to possess the equipment with which to open and view the files.

Only a few years ago, our world did not have the wonderful treasury of Sefaria.org, an ever growing (and free) online resource of Torah texts for all. These developments in human knowledge and capability have thus attained that which previous generations had thought to be  impossible or mere fantasy.

  We can watch and listen in amazement as many centuries of Torah commentary and study are transferred from PC to PC, from personal email to personal email, and from smartphone to pen drive—in seconds. And by the time you read this most of those miraculous inventions will almost certainly be superseded. Even as I write, there are forms of bio-implanted data that are being developed and perfected, and I suspect it will be years rather than decades before they are commonplace human accessories.

  Living in such an era, the traditional Jewish concepts concerning the transmission and the receiving of the Torah do not seem at all fanciful. Living in these times, we can easily comprehend the possibility that Moshe Rabbeinu may have received the ‘entire’ Torah in several intense download instalments,[13] and credibly— in less than a second. How much of this may have reached his conscious awareness, or how much of it he would have understood personally at the time of the revelation is, I think, another matter.

    I have no difficulty in imagining the truth concealed in the tale that we each knew that same Torah in the womb—and that an angel tapped us at birth so that we should forget its Light in order to spend all our lives looking for it.[14] I also have no difficulty in considering that it is possible that, in one moment, our G-d can infuse our brain or soul with his pure word in a way that is currently beyond our comprehension—But not beyond our receptive capability, and not beyond our experience.

The Sfas Emes [15] writes:

The essence of the Torah is G-d’s pure light shining to us through its Hebrew letters. They are spread throughout the universe, and the Jewish people are assigned to find them. [16]

  We all stood at Sinai. We all heard the Voice. The Words of the Living God have been laid upon our hearts, and they are a form of data which our intuitive hearts can access.

  The data which forms the ‘daat’ I am referring to here is a bit like having the Talmud and the Tanach on our soul’s hard drive.  Some of that data has been opened and viewed, but much of it may lie unopened in the  background.  There may be thousands of ‘words’ we have yet to read, or yet to understand—but they are there—and we can choose to ‘click on them’ to open their ‘folders’ if we want to.

  One might even say that just knowing that they are there inside us is an act of spiritual knowledge even though we may not realise it on an explicitly conscious level. The Torah which we had seen and known in the womb (and before) was not erased. It remains in our soul’s storage system for us to discover anew—letter by letter, word by word, line by line.

  We may be the type of people who need to discuss our lives with G-d frequently as though He were at our side. We may be the type of people who prefer to use the texts of prayers written by other people when we want to get closer to Him. We may be the kind of people who prefer to discuss His Words in the company of other humans. Or we may be the kind of people who can’t bear to do much of any of these activities, yet find we meet Him most intimately in acts of compassion and charity, in the ordinary events of an apparently secular life. All of these can be the way one hears and reads the Torah of the Heart.

But for the Contemplative?

Well, we are those who need, more than anything, simply to turn the receiver on and let G-d broadcast to us. We may not hear what He is saying in a way that is clear, but we can sense that, by being thoroughly attentive, we are doing what we were created to do. Standing or sitting or walking in contemplative prayer; praying the liturgy; performing ritual mitzvot—in our small way, we are attempting to both study and practice the Torah of the Heart.

   R’ Avraham ben HaRambam distinguishes three levels of Torah study: the reflective,the meditative,and the contemplative, and he suggests that the contemplative way is the one followed by an 'Intimate Servant of G-d' who finds “bliss in his Maker as His sublime lights enter him” as he begins to perceive the “profound bonds with G-d that are generated by the intellect and the Torah”. [17]

   When we lay tefillin and bind the written texts of the Torah on our head and arm we make a highly symbolic statement to underline this process:

“Therefore you shall lay up these words in your heart and in your soul and you shall bind them for a sign on your hand and as frontlets before your eyes.” [17]

  When we lay tefillin, the Pure Words of the Supernal Torah are transmuted, laid-up, and stored in the file-system of our heart and soul. The ritual is like a daily program update that renews and refreshes our communication with our G-d. Perhaps as ‘signs’, tefillin can speak to us more clearly than words. Perhaps these signs are closer to the Pure Words of G-d Himself than we realise. Perhaps they are laid-up (stored) in our heart and soul because it is only there—beyond the limitations of our intellect— that we can hold all of His Torah.

The Torah of the Heart is the medium whereby the Supernal Torah is revealed to the individual soul. The task of the contemplative is to make this explicit by intentionally running to receive it daily.

  What I have suggested in Kuntres Maarat Ha-Lev is extremely simple: During private prayer, ask G-d to speak to you and then wait in humble silence to let Him respond. It is possible that you may only be able to hold your attention on listening out for Him to ‘speak’ for a minute or so before you lose concentration. But it is also possible (sometimes after years of making this effort) that you may find yourself standing there waiting for many minutes— or even hours— and cannot account for the time passing. But believe me, the Voice of Sinai is calling still—if only we would listen. Our effort to do so may often seem to fail but we are commanded in the Sh’ma we recite daily to at least try. And try again.

In the Ethics of the Fathers (Pirkei Avot 6:2) we are told  that everyday a voice goes out from Sinai admonishing the Jewish people to return to Torah. 

In the Zohar we read:

"The acts of G-d are eternal and continue for ever. Every day the one who is worthy receives the Torah standing at Sinai. He hears the Torah from the mouth of the Lord as Israel did….Every Jew is able to attain that level, the level of standing at Sinai."  [18]

And the midrash in Shemot Rabbah 5:9 confirms this by pointing out that all members of the Community of Israel heard the Voice of Sinai “according to each individual’s capabilities and strengths”. This kind of inspired listening is potentially attainable every day.

ooOoo

   Prayer and study are so closely interrelated in Judaism that it is often almost impossible to separate or distinguish one from the other. The most common forms of Jewish study are done during the congregational reading from the Sefer Torah, in pairs over a study text with a chavruta (partner) or by listening en masse to shiur (lecture by a sage). These days they are also enacted as group discussions in shared video conferences online. In such situations also,  there is plenty of scope for accessing the Torah of the Heart.

 There is a dual process of access to the Supernal Torah through study, and it seems to me that it is referred to in Devarim 30:12-13:

“It is not in the heavens, that you should say, “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?”

Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?”

No, it is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it.”


  What one hears at a shiur and what one reads and discusses with a chavruta is, as it were, brought down from heaven by the act of study and discussion (mouth) and personal meditation/reflection (heart). Though the study sessions may initiate and develop direct contact with the Divine, the student may only grasp the full significance of such study texts after solitary reflection after the event.

   It is, however, especially pertinent to Jewish Contemplatives to be aware that solitary study [19] also has its own respected history in Jewish tradition. This kind of activity has been practiced in isolated circumstances by countless scholars, mystics, and kabbalists who have sequestered themselves with Holy Texts in attics and hermitages (for hours, days,  and even years), and by those talmidim chachamim who have arisen during the night to spend the quiet hours alone in prayerful reflective study. [20] Significantly such intense solitary study has been practiced by both Chasidic and Litvish scholars.

I call this kind of study-prayer “Hegyon Ha-Lev”—Meditations of the Heart.

  For those Mitkarevim (Dedicated Jewish Contemplatives) who might wish to develop a practice of such lectio divina —I would like to present the following highly informal step-by-step guide which was originally prepared for our online community in 2010.  There are  many Jews who may never have tried such meditative reading, and this  simple guide may be of especial use to them.  Something  they might build on with their own ideas:


HEGYON HA-LEV


All Jews are commanded to listen to G-d’s Voice.

Each individual according to their own ability and each in their own way.

A Dedicated Jewish Contemplative might attempt to fulfil this commandment specifically by listening to G-d in silent receptive contemplative prayer and through private meditative Torah study. We call such prayerful study/studious prayer “Hegyon ha-Lev”.

So how do we do it?

ONE

Take a psalm a day as part of your quiet time/mental prayer.

1. Make a short prayer of intention to listen/be attentive to its meanings and significance.

2. Read it silently and slowly.

3. Leaving a pause (perhaps after each sentence or pair of sentences),close your eyes and let the words sink in.

4. There is no need to be slavish about this—just read on if you wish, pausing only when you feel like it.

5. If a particular phrase jumps out at you—stay in reflection on that phrase with your eyes closed for as long as you like.

Maybe you might choose to do this with several Psalms per day. Three seems a good number to me. That was something I did one year as the basis for a regular mental prayer session of around an hour, and the rhythm seemed right. It goes without saying that the aim is to put you in a position where item 5 may happen and there will be times when a single verse will be enough to do that.  Be free and just go with the  flow of that.

We should not expect G-d to speak to us like the telephone, (though He can) but I guarantee that you will be amazed at the directness and appropriateness of those phrases which jump out during such meditation sessions to enable you to hear His Voice personally.

TWO

Once a week take the Torah or Haftarah portion and read a section meditatively

1. Make a prayer of intention to listen attentively

2. Read the portion (or part of it) very slowly.

3. Do not be distracted by the commentaries of others—simply read the words themselves slowly.

4. Whenever you feel something has jumped out for your attention, close your eyes and dwell on it in prayer.

5. Resist the temptation to analyse too much—just let the words sink in.



 My guess is that, some weeks, you will suddenly see something which you had not realised or understood or even noticed before. Later you can check the verse which was revealed to you with commentaries and you may well be amazed to see that someone has had exactly that same ‘new insight’ you thought you alone had been given. 

Because it came to you directly and not through the study of another person’s thoughts—to find that your idea was the one Maimonides or Nachmanides had also heard is not a disappointment. It is the ‘voice of approval’ I wrote of in Kuntres Maarat Ha Lev, the voice which confirms that you are on the right ‘prophetic’ track.



THREE

The above two suggested methods are the most suitable for use during prayer because they are prayer. There is another way of performing Hegyon ha-Lev where the focussed intention is to train heart and mind (intuition and intellect) to work together even more closely, and this is the method I use(d) each week to produce the set of texts for our private community Hegyon ha Lev articles.

1. Take the two readings for the week and a book of the Psalms.

2. Make an intention to listen to the readings with an open heart and mind.

3. Read through the entire weekly Torah and Haftarah portions slowly without using commentaries.

4. On a piece of paper or in a special book ,each time a phrase or verse ‘jumps out’ as being significant to you personally in ANY way (especially if you don’t really know why!) write it down.

5. When you have done that open the book of Psalms at random.

6. Perhaps say the prayer “If there is anything you would like to tell me, please do.”

7. See which verse has arisen (after finger was randomly pointed at it)  and write it down.

8. Then look deeply at the page you have written and see if there are any links between texts. Sometimes the psalm text will unite a Torah text with a Haftarah text with stunning results.

There will be times when you will be shown connections as though you were “as one who is awakened from sleep” (Zech 4:1). There will be times when you will see that the separate texts are actually speaking of the same topic, as though they were “a stone with seven facets” (Zech 3:9), and in more times than you will be able to count you will be shown things that may help illuminate your path like the menorah which sheds its light on us not just on the Sanctuary (Bemidbar 8:2).

In the end it will be part of the process which I believe we are incarnating—that contemplative prayer is action and that we are declaring the message “Not by Might or Power but by God’s Spirit” (Zech 4:6)

(I am aware that this third example may not be attractive to some Jews who prefer more scientific or cooly academic methods of study. But I am recommending it from years of positive experience. If it seems too bizarre or outlandish for you, just ignore it and move on. But try it first. You may be surprised.)


Question: Why should we practice Hegyon ha-Lev?

Answer: Because we want to train ourselves to listen to the Torah of the Heart and we want to make that a service of prayer and heed the words of the Berditchever when he reminded us that such spiritual action creates “a new sustenance” that “flows into all the universes, a sustenance that did not exist previously.”[21]

The practice of Hegyon ha-Lev is a training discipline which complements our mental prayer and enriches our formal Torah studies

Our Biblical Prophets were  those who heard and spoke the Word of God— We are “neither Prophets nor Sons of the Prophets” but we seek to develop a climate of inspired awareness and attentiveness in our prayer lives. That climate is a necessary precondition for the promised return of prophecy to our nation.


All of us need to enter an interior ‘School of the Prophets’ (as it were), for it is there, in Hegyon ha-Lev that we may learn to think and speak with our intuitive minds—our hearts— as well as with our rational brains.

ooOoo


The Sfas Emes tells us:

“There are two blessings for the Torah, one before and one after reading it. The first is to connect the Torah to its roots in heaven, and the second is to connect it to our inner heart of hearts.” [22]

The Supernal and Eternal Torah whose nature we are unable ever to grasp, the Torah which was the Heavenly blueprint of Creation, and the Torah which was given at Sinai and which puts forth branches and flowers anew every day are all present in the heart of every individual Jew. 

We just need to spend time with it and  open our ears to its voice.



©Nachman Davies

Rosh Chodesh Sivan

Tzfat 2021




-----------------------------
NOTES


[1] Devarim 11:18

[2] Abraham Joshua Heschel in A Philosophy of Judaism p275; (Farrar Straus and Giroux,New York,1955)

[3] Zohar 3:152a

[4] Zohar Chadash, Shir HaShirim 74d

[5] Talmud Yerushalmi, Shekalim 6:1, Midrash Tanchuma (Bereshit 1)

[6] This idea is expounded at length by the Shelah (R' Isaiah Horowitz 1555-1630) in Shnei Luchos HaBris.

[7] Ben Poras Yosef 23b states that the entire Torah is included in every single word. Other sources cite the Baal Shem as saying that the entire Torah is present in a single one of its letters.

[8] Notably Tikkunei Zohar 21b. R' Chaim Vital (1543-1620) conceptualises the facets of the Torah as “PaRDeS” (pshat-remez-drush-sod).

[9] In Kedushas Levi: Parashas Beshallach. The idea is also to be found in the Zohar at Zohar II:87a, and III:98b as well as in the Ramban’s “Introduction” to his Torah Commentary.

[10] R' Menachem Mendel of Kotzk (1787-1859)

[11]Tales of the Hasidim’ vol 2, Martin Buber, trans. Olga Marx, page 278, ( Schocken Books Inc,New York, 1949)

[12] See ‘Tales of the Hasidim’ vol 1, Martin Buber, trans. Olga Marx, page 99, (Schocken Books Inc, New York, 1949)

[13] Gittin 60a-b. see also Berachot 21b

[14] In the Midrash Nidda 30b

[15] R' Yehuda Aryeh Leib Alter of Ger (1847-1905)

[16] Translated by Moshe A.Braun in ‘The Sfas Emes’, page 70 (Jason Aronson inc, Northvale, 1998)

[17] ‘Sefer HaMaspik’ Chapter 1, Rav.Avraham ben HaRambam, trans R' Yaakov Wincelberg in ‘The Guide to Serving G-d’ page 13,( Feldheim,Jerusalem/New York,2008)

[18] Devarim 11:18

[19] Zohar 1:90a

[20] Pirkei Avot 3:2

[21] See Zohar III 12b and 13a;
Zohar II 19b;
Reshit Chochmah (Gate of Love Chapter 3); Rules of Mystical Piety (in L.Fine 'Safed Spirituality', Paulist Press 1984,New Jersey. especially pages 34 and 68)

[22] The Chassidic Masters, R'Aryeh Kaplan, page 73 (Moznaim Publishing Corporation,New York/Jerusalem, 1984)

[23] The Sfas Emes, Moshe A.Braun,page 89. (Jason Aronson inc. 1998,Northvale,New Jersey)

A HERMIT'S TALE: Part Six

Previous  Chapters of A Hermits Tale may be  accessed from the  sidebar or via these  Hyperlinks: 

Carmelite Hermits at the Spring of Elijah on Mount Carmel

Experiments in Jewish Contemplative Community 

    Although I was living a solitary lifestyle  in  the Cave-house in Spain, and  although I was making constant intentions that my prayers were for all creation and in union with all Israel, I felt that the kind of dedicated Jewish contemplative lifestyle  I was attempting to live  ought to be shared and  promoted. This was the  motivation for spending part of  my day writing and  engaging in a sort of eremitical outreach online—hoping to find  like-minded Jews and form virtual but real community.  For several decades I have been running this Jewish Contemplatives website to further this process of outreach.

  The Jewish Contemplatives  website  has always had a dual focus. Firstly it was created (in 2004)  to encourage the practice of solitary meditation and prayer for all Jews.   Secondly it was created to promote intentional solitary contemplative lifestyles (for the very  small number of observant Jews who felt called to an  exceptional  lifestyle of extended retreat). 

    In that group were included all those who were trying to convert situations of unintentional isolation or loneliness into an opportunity for constructive prayer—generated by their desire to make a  spiritual contribution to the communal life of Kehal Yisrael

But behind all those intentions there was a  greater purpose.

    There is  a Jewish tradition that the experience of prophecy (intimate and receptive communication with the Divine) had been experienced not only by the biblical prophets, but by every single man, woman, and child who stood at Sinai. Furthermore, our Sages claimed that there would come  a time when this awareness of the Divine—described as ruach ha kodesh and various levels of inspirational prophecy—would be restored to Israel and indeed to all  human kind:

when the  earth shall be  filled with the knowledge of 

the  Glory of G-d, as the  waters cover the sea-bed.” 

Habakuk 2:14

 In a heartfelt attempt to further this process, in 2005 I wrote  Kuntres Ma’arat Ha-Lev/The Cave of the Heart which  presents a method of contemplative prayer that was conceived as a method of prophetic training in receptive contemplation.

Cave of the  Heart Frontispiece

   This was followed by several articles on this website with the same ‘prophetic’ aim, including one on general Receptive Intuition and one on a method of intuitive lectio divina called  Hegyon Ha-Lev.

    In 2007—and principally to attract like-minded practitioners with a view to forming an online community— I published an short essay entitled Jewish Hermits in the  Desert  which I later expanded and issued  online in 2012 as  Solitude in Jewish Contemplative Practice.  In that essay  I listed the positive examples set by (i) certain biblical prophets; (ii) classical era tzadikim who had also been Jewish solitaries; and (iii) communities like  the Therapeutai who had practiced a communal form of eremitism in Egyptian monasteries for  both male and female practitioners.  I have been working on a longer publication on the  subject ever since.  As with The  Song of Caedmon, I may well never complete  the  task.

    Community building is not my main purpose in life and  I am  not very good at  it (as you  will see shortly)— the  practice of  contemplative prayer and  encouraging other  solitary contemplatives is my task—but in order to do the  latter I  attempted to get the ‘contemplative community’ ball rolling  even though  I am aware I lack the  leadership skills to take  it  to its  goal.

    In 2008, and with the assistance of Christine Gilbert (an academic scholar of Judaism  and  a lifelong contemplative practitioner), I inaugurated  an online Community of Jewish Contemplatives aimed specifically at individuals already practicing an intentional contemplative lifestyle.   For this group I ran a website that was not open to the general public, and  for  which I wrote weekly  Hegyon HaLev commentaries on the  Parsha for several years. 

   But  we never made a minyan—with only seven members in total  and only three of us living as full time  solitaries—and so after a few years I transferred the idea to form a Jewish Contemplatives  Facebook Group promoting the original concepts. The private Community group had been aimed at a tiny minority of Jews geared to intensely eremitic practice, but the Facebook Group version was inclusive of all Jews with a personal contemplative practice—a much larger (and ever growing) catchment group globally. 

   This  was (initially) more successful (in some  ways) but although the  group has around 1,400 members, they are mainly there to support rather than participate. These days  it is  merely a  repository for new articles from this Jewish Contemplatives website.

oo0oo

To describe the third experiment in forming community I need to jump ahead  in time with you for  a moment.

  By  2014 I had almost exhausted my private funds and was forced to sell the hermitage in Salobreña and become  a rental tenant. I relocated  to live  as part of the vibrant and highly supportive (Spanish Moroccan) Jewish Community of Torremolinos, where I studied and worshipped. As mentioned earlier in A Hermit’s Tale, though I had converted to Progressive  Judaism in 1992, I  completed an Orthodox conversion in Madrid in 2016— but that is  another story for another time.   After making aliyah in 2019, I  returned to the  intentionally solitary life in Safed in Israel.

My former hermitage in Safed 2020-2023

    In November 2021, when I was living in deep retreat in that  log cabin hermitage in Safed, I began  the third attempt to  form a contemplative  community by creating a new Jewish-Sufi Tariqa:  Derech Eliyahu Ha-Nabi (The Way/Path of Elijah the  Prophet).

 This group, as I envisaged it, would  have two aims: (i) to renew and  develop the contemplative practices of a group known as the mediaeval Egyptian Pietists; and (ii) to join in active participatory and fraternal community with other Jewish-Sufi contemplatives—both full time solitaries and also others for  whom meditation  was a central practice.    

  At its  heart was the  promotion of  the  practice of  prophetic-receptive prayer—in an explicitly Sufic manner but from within Judaism.

     But the  roots of that new community project began much earlier and date from the very beginning of the  period when I was still living in the cave-hermitage in Spain—in many ways it began even earlier than  that— and in this chapter I will now turn to describe how my encounter with Sufism led to the  formation of that third community experiment.

oo0oo

Niche  and Light in  the Spanish Hermitage  2000-2014

    Up until 2005  the only  book I had read on Sufism was Idris Shah’s The Way of the Sufis [1]  (a anthology of short quotations  from Classical sources that I treasure to this  day).  I remember having seen some  photographs somewhere  of a Sufi retreat cell in my early youth, a tiny lattice-fronted cubicle at the  back of a mosque where adepts  were sequestered during forty-day  retreats—and I  remember being excited by the  photographs and by the concept— but I had no idea of the context at  the time.

    Apart from that, and a rather bizarre adolescent dream encounter when I was fifteen [2] — I had no conscious connection whatsoever with Sufis or Sufism, and my first contact with Islamic Sufis arose later during the  years  I lived in Jakarta, Indonesia.

   As readers may remember from PartTwo of this autobiographical sketch—I was a gamelan student taught by teachers (like Pak Rudhatin Brongtodiningrat) who believed that this kind of musical performance was a device to develop rasa (a kind of spiritual intuition that the Sufis call dhawq).  Pak Rudhatin’s Jogja kraton-style gamelan teaching was closely related in its methods and intention to kebatinan (the Javanese ‘science’ of   ‘inner’ spirituality and mysticism). The Jakartan Gamelan groups with whom I played were also composed of devout Muslims with a strong connection to the Sufi traditions believed to have been brought to Java by the  Wali Songgo. 

      I was well aware of this  musical form’s connection with Java’s Sufi past and enjoyed the feeling that, by studying under Pak Rudhatin’s guidance, I was attaching myself to that tradition.

 Nobody mentioned Sufism:  but the music and  our performances were supercharged with it. There was a  common saying that “the gendhing (the  piece  being performed) is greater than those playing it” and  this frequently generated a feeling of being “a willing drop in the  ocean being carried  along by the  current” in the  players. It literally felt like   a metaphor for fana. 

     It was during my years as a gamelan musician in Java in the  1980’s that I first developed the form of receptive prayer  and intuitive practices that were to be described in Kuntres Maarat Ha Lev/The  Cave of the  Heart. I do not think this contemporaneous connection was mere coincidence. In some way the  former musical experience had opened the  way for the  latter spiritual one to arise.

    Nevertheless,  at that time I had not read any classical Islamic-Sufi texts and I was totally unaware that there had been Jews—from (at least) the  time  of Ibn Pequda onwards— who had read (and admired) those texts and assimilated and adapted their  contents  into Jewish spiritual practice.

   My  lack of awareness was about to be  transformed by a dramatic new discovery, and  this is  how  it happened:

  Shortly after I had written The  Cave of the  Heart in 2005, Christine Gilbert sent me an extract from an academic paper that she  thought  might interest me.

    It was a study by Professor Paul B. Fenton,[3] the leading academic commentator and translator of the Judeo-Arabic manuscripts of the mediaeval Jewish-Sufi Movement (many of which he discovered and identified himself). The paper was about the  son of Maimonides[4]— Rabbi Abraham Maimuni (1186–1237) and the  development of an ascetic and contemplative  group that he led in  Fustat near present  day Cairo:—a  group now known as the  Egyptian Pietists or the  Egyptian Hasidim. [5]

   I was stunned by the discovery of this  group’s existence and began a slow but persistent study of  Rabbi Abraham’s Kifaya [6] (in an English translation by Rosenblatt and later by that of R. Wincelberg). This led to further reading on the Jewish-Sufi mode of  ascetic practice,mystical theology, and contemplative prayer in the writings of Rabbi Obadyah Maimuni (1228–1265) and other Egyptian Pietists. 

   I am  not an academic and  I am a  very slow learner. This week I read that seminal essay of Professor Fenton’s again and  realised that almost everything  I was to learn was to be found  there, it had simply taken decades for  me   to gain some real understanding of the meanings of the  concepts(especially the  Arabic ones) that I had first read there. 

    Rabbi Abraham’s pioneering concepts and principles for the Jewish-Sufi community (outlined HERE)  were developed  in the books and  fragmentary manuscripts that were penned by the later members of the Maimuni family and by other Egyptian Hasidim from the eleventh to the fifteenth century. Many such fragments  are still being discovered and identified in the Cairo Genizah collection as well as other private collections  globally.

 

Ottoman Sufis


Q: So what were the  Egyptian Pietist principles and  practices that had inspired me so dramatically?

A:

— I had been avidly  formulating and  promoting ideas  about (i) the  value and practice of  solitary retreat (both partial and  long-term) and (ii) the  creation of  Jewish eremitical communities—but up until this point in time (around  2005)  I had thought that such ideas had only been the concern of fringe minorities or exceptional individuals.

    The Egyptian Judeo-Sufi  movement was no minority fringe endeavour: it had been   large, popular, and influential for over three centuries throughout Egypt, Palestine, and Syria.   It had been promoted by members of the  Maimuni family, strong Jewish Community leaders politically and  in religion,  who were controversial and opposed by some— but revered and followed by many.

   When I discovered that this group expressed praise for (i) dedicated celibacy;(ii) intense solitary retreat (khalwa) and meditative prayer;(iii) the formation of  convents (kanqah) for resident monastic sufis and  visiting Jewish-Sufi practitioners—it felt as though I had come  home.  And  it was a home  within Judaism.

   As someone who was actually living  an intentionally dedicated solitary life at the  time of  this  discovery, I  was particularly excited by the  discovery of their high regard for extended solitary retreat or hitbodedut/khalwa.  

The penultimate chapter of Rabbi Abraham’s  Kifaya promotes hitbodedut (solitary seclusion) in three  distinctly Sufic forms:

* a personal practice of  regular solitary meditation;

* an ascetic  practice of  deeply secluded retreat (resembling the extended  khalwa [7]  of the Islamic Sufis which is often performed in an enclosed  cell for days  or weeks;

 * the practice of ‘solitude whilst in a crowd’ which the  Sufis call “khalwat dar anjuman’’ and  which is  closely related  to the  maintenance  of  a shiviti/dhikr consciousness.

  Those of you who have  read my book, The  Cave  of the  Heart,  will also understand  how excited I must have been when  I discovered the great importance which the  Egyptian Jewish-Sufis attached to the  development of prophetic ability. The higher stations of  the spiritual journey—the Maqamat [8]—of their contemplative system were focussed on that intensely.Indeed there was a tradition in the Maimuni family that the  return of prophecy was an imminent event.  But then— it always is— for according to our Sages (in Sanhedrin 98a:16-18) its restoration is dependent  upon our being prepared to listen.

 As I wrote in 2005,

Ultimately we are destined to become a nation of prophets. If that is to become an imminent reality, there has to be somebody listening. The parallel development of contemplative lifestyles and contemplative prayer in the life of all Jews might go some way towards making sure that those ‘listeners’ are in place.

The old, or isolated, or disadvantaged, and those forgotten on the fringes of community are frequently the very Jewish souls who have the spiritual credentials in hard-won authenticity and in wholehearted ‘searching for G-d’ which might qualify them to develop the prophetic spirit anew.

The isolated, the elderly, and the infirm are also often the ones with the time to focus on the prayerful task of drawing down the light and the strength of Heaven with intensity and perseverance.

 Can we afford to neglect their contemplative potential any longer?” [9]

It is my belief that the ‘coming of Eliyahu haNavi’ in the days before the start of the Messianic era refers to the re-emergence of the spirit of that prophet in the souls of those contemplatives who are being truly attentive and receptive in their prayer.

It would seem that R’ Yitzhak ben Shmuel of Akko (13th -14th century) also believed this:

So ponder and envision with your mind, that the evil inclination... will be turned on its head... and because of this the number of recluses (mitbodedim) and ascetic hermits (perushim) will increase so that, before the end of the six thousand year period, the physical and animal aspects of mankind will cease to exist in this world.” [10]

It is time for us to ‘listen’ in contemplative prayer because it is only by paying attention in receptive contemplation that we can become the prophets, or Sons of the Prophets that we are all destined to be.” [11]  

 

Furthermore, in the Kifaya, I also found specific contemplative activities geared to promote the kind of  communal and inclusive affiliation at all levels that I had been attempting to generate through my Jewish Contemplatives websites.  

 —In their private individual worship and in their congregational liturgy (in their own small houses of prayer) the Jewish Sufis under Rabbi Abraham’s tutelage practiced choreographed postures (e.g. kneeling, prostration, and  the lifting up of the  hands ) and silent acts of meditative devotion that were designed to increase the more spiritual and reflective moments in the recitation of the daily services. His motivation was to increase decorum and focus in ritual  Jewish worship.

—The Egyptian Pietist Community  included family members and  singles of both genders  in their communal worship and private spiritual practices, yet at heart they  were an elitist group.  They spoke of a ‘suluk al khas’ —a special way for the minority of Jews attracted to a particularly intense form of ascetic and contemplative practice. 

—They also  insisted that before one  embarked on this ‘special path’ one  had to be meticulous in the practice of the ‘common path’  of the Halakha: the loving observance of the commandments of written and oral Jewish Law.   To me, as an observant  Orthodox Jew, this  was most significant. Any attempt to renew the contemplative  practice of the  Egyptian Hasidim would  need to take  account  of  this too.

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The Egyptian Pietists were not a hybrid interfaith group. They believed that the Islamic-Sufi traditions that they so admired and imitated were actually lost elements from the prophetic curriculum of the Biblical Schools of the Prophets, and though certain aspects of their practice were patently innovative—they were attempting to access the essential source-elements of that expressly Jewish biblical Path.

They were a group that held the very highest respect for the Islamic mystical tradition and frequently quoted from its texts. The Murshid  of Rabbi David ben Joshua Maimuni (1335–c.1414)  is full of Illuminist imagery borrowed from Suhrawardi (d.1191) as well as passages virtually ‘lifted’ from the Ihya Ulum Al-Din of Al Ghazali (12th century C.E.).

The Movement’s writers even quoted from the Quran itself and one can detect a clear debt to such Islamic Sufi writers as Al-Sarraj (d. 988), Al-Qushayri (d. 1074), and Ibn Arabi (1165-1240) in Egyptian Pietist texts,concepts,and practice.

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  The Essenes and the Therapeutai communities  of Philo and the Desert Fathers of Christianity had also been based in the  very same part of Egypt as the later Egyptian Pietists, and we know  that members  of the Jewish Sufi movement were close observers and imitators of  their  local Islamic-Sufi contemplatives [12] —the cross fertilisation of ascetic and  contemplative practices is demonstrable.


   Whether or not the Sufi practices—that were so admired by the  later Maimunis and  their  circle—were originally Islamic or originally Biblical and Jewish—or even partially derived from later Hesychastic Christian elaboration —is debatable. I will leave that debate to the  academics, but simply  declare that in matters of spirituality and mystical practice,each religion’s most intensely contemplative practitioners are in unanimous accord with each other where the essentials of the contemplative/ascetic path  are concerned. 

   Theologians  and  Philosophers like  to argue and thrash out points of intellectual understanding, but those whose seek the intimate  knowledge  that comes from inspiration and intuition in solitary contemplation:  so often have a shared and  more  universalist perspective. 

     For Sufis—That Gnosis is not fully attained through argument, or through academic study, or even through private  and  profound intellectual reasoning.  For Sufis: it comes from the kind  of knowledge of The  Real  which is infused as an act of grace by G-d  Alone into the  soul of one who is devotedly engaged in receptive contemplative prayer.

 To quote a Pietist text by Rabbi David ben  Joshua Maimuni and  written in his own hand:

    Beware lest you learn from its words that philosophy or wisdom is derived from the Peripatetics or any other. Nay! I have in mind rather the adepts of spiritual training (riyada), who have discovered in their solitary devotions (khalwat) (that which leads) from the couch unto the Throne. They have certain knowledge and are not niggardly with it but instruct in the wayfaring of the path that leads to God. Your knowledge of that is knowledge indeed, and all other knowledge deriving from the famous philosophers is false.[13]

 

    It seems to me that all of this is poignantly relevant to us in our present times— when so many extremists have arisen within both Islam and Jewry to fan fires of violence in both political and religious spheres. Whatever the extremists in the Abrahamic Family of religions may think and do, the Sufis have always made Love and Peace their banner. 

Though many might scoff at the idea—in the midst of the warfare and hatred that is current in Israel and Gaza at the moment—I propose that a return to the religious tolerance, coexistence, and mutual respect that was part of the Egyptian Pietist attitude to Islam has the potential to make peaceful contemplative activism part of the answer to the complex Jewish/Arab/Muslim Problem/Conundrum in my region's political conflicts.

    I am a proud Jewish-Israeli Citizen in a democratic and Jewish State which promotes religious and racial coexistence within its borders. I believe that lighting a candle is better than shouting at the dark of these conflicted times, and I believe that contemplative prayer and contemplative communities have a great deal to offer as a peace generating force.

You may call me a snowflake in saying that. But Sufis are a wooly group and they would agree with me. Besides, it is difficult to argue or fight when you are engaged in silent communal prayer/dhikr!

I hope that—in our day— Jewish Sufis and Islamic Sufis will sit together to try that out as a contemplative practice on a regular basis. Especially here in Israel.[14]

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To return to more autobiographical matters for  a moment: 

As mentioned earlier in this chapter: My study of the Egyptian Pietists—and  my solitary practice—was interrupted in 2014 while I focussed on general halakhic and liturgical study in preparation for the  Madrid conversion. Having relocated to  Safed in 2019—and assisted (as it  were)  by the  quarantines  necessitated by the Coronavirus epidemicI returned to intentionally solitary practice.

 

Khalwa cell in my first Safed Hermitage (2019)

In 2021 I encountered some  kind  of sea change in my daily contemplative activity: Out of the  blue, I began to feel a strong intuition that I needed to practice silent repetitive mantra meditation (using short scriptural phrases in hebrew) [15]I had been aware of  such a practice since reading  Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s books in my thirties, but had never felt strongly attracted to it until this  time.

  As a monk I had used a rosary daily in my youth, and I had owned an Islamic tasbih [16] for years but only used it a few times a year—principally in periods of illness or very intense spiritual aridity.  But this time round, using it as an aid to silent mantra repetition,  it simply became  the regular core of  my daily meditation sessions. 

       Providentially, shortly after beginning the practice, I returned to my studies of the  Egyptian Pietists and, in passing (for  the  very first time) discovered detailed descriptions of  the  Islamic-Sufi practice known as zhikr or dhikr. (a term which has a similar root to the hebrew word zachor). Since that day I have been almost exclusively focussed on that  practice in private meditation.  Readers might  be interested to read a little more about that HERE.

  Providence then arranged a special boost to my endeavours:

   At my Safed hermitage in November 2021—I was blessed to  have a two hour meeting with Professor Fenton himself who enlightened me still further. Before that meeting I had studied the writings of Rabbi Abraham Maimuni and  Rabbi Obadyah Maimuni but had never actually seen  anything written by Rabbi David ben Joshua Maimuni (1335–c.1414) .

Up until that point, his name had been one of several on  my list of Egyptian Pietist authors. When Professor Fenton showed me  some  of Rabbi David’s actual texts I was electrified by them.  It felt like a tangible  encounter with Rabbi David himself and it sent  me whirling into a metaphysical  stratosphere (as it were!) —an encounter from which I have  barely recovered.

  Rabbi David’s  ideas seemed to speak to me most profoundly and personally. In  Rabbi David’s Al Murshid [17]   I believe I had found my tailor-made Guide on the  Sufi Path. I hope  and  pray that Professor Fenton and other gifted academics will translate  and  publish  much more of  this Nagid’s prolific output.[18]

    Several months later, I experienced a second spiritual-psychological  impetus to action, and quite spontaneously I produced the  Foundation Documents of  a third  experiment in Jewish Contemplative  Community: Tariqa Eliyahu.  


Q: What is the  core nature and purpose of the  Tariqa?  
A:
This is succinctly expressed in two phrases from our Foundation Documents:

(i)  "We aim to study, renew, and develop the  contemplative practice of the  Mediaeval Egyptian Pietists."

 

(ii) "Our principal goal is  the  development of devekut: an intimate relationship with G-d."

Q: Why is the group known as Tariqa ELIYAHU ?

A: The  Egyptian Pietists  believed that the contemplative  traditions of the Biblical prophets and  the  Sons of the  Prophets—the disciples of Elijah and Elisha— had been lost to Judaism but had been maintained in Islamic-Sufism.

   Our group’s description as Tariqa Eliyahu HaNabi (The  Path/Way of Elijah the  Prophet)  was therefore not a casual  one.  As a former Carmelite monk  who had been ritually clothed in the  mantle of Elijah[19]— I was delighted  in very recent years to discover the ritual of clothing in a khirqa at a ceremony marking the  start of one’s novitiate in a Sufi order

  In the  Kifaya—and in reference to the  mantle of Eliyahu Ha Nabi in Melachim II:2, Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam  (who dressed in the  manner of the  Islamic Sufis) writes:

He [Elijah] threw his mantle over him [Elisha] ...It was an allusion that Elisha  should emulate  him in his clothing, his style,and  the rest of his behavior...You know  that,due  to our sins,the  Sufis have copied this custom from our early chasidim: the  elder covers an aspirant with his tattered garment when the  aspirant wishes to embark on the  way of the  elder and progress in it....In recent times the  custom has disappeared [from us], or nearly so. Yet we copy their customs by wearing a baqir and  the like. [20] 

    Furthermore, at that time  I also discovered the connection between (i) the Jewish archetypal concept  of Eliyahu the  prophet as a guiding process on the  path to mystical enlightenment (gilui Eliyahu) and (ii) the similarly archetypal  concept of Al Khidr in Islamic-Sufi mysticism. Consequently—from several significant angles—My  “choice” of Elijah as the root of the new group’s spiritual ancestry (silsila)  seemed predetermined.   

   The  Islamic-Sufi Orders  often  attach great importance to a chain of transmission (silsila) that they trace through  previous Sufi Shaykhs to the  Prophet of Islam.

  Ours is a Jewish Tariqa and our silsila is  a purely spiritual/Uwaysi  one—traced through the Biblical Schools  of  the  Prophets to its  root in Elijah the prophet.  In the  Murshid, Rabbi David ben Joshua Maimuni describes Elijah as “The  Master of Mystics and Sovereign of Ascetics”. [21]


Q:  Is Tariqa Eliyahu a "Maimonidean" group?

A:

Tariqa Eliyahu  might be described as a  Maimuni  group but it is not a Maimonidean group. Several of  the Egyptian Pietist Movement’s members and leading authors were  the Rambam’s close relatives or later descendents but in their writings and  practices they often diverged from what might be  termed "Rambanist" attitudes.  Nevertheless, the movement's members will have followed the  Rambam's halachic rulings and they certainly   respected his intellectual eminence. 

   Furthermore there is  much in HaRambam's philosophical approach that  displays a somewhat Sufic temperament.  When his writings address prophecy and  contemplation they are surely a valuable adjunct to our own Sufic approach—but, it must be  statedour  Tariqa is  not devoted to the development or promotion   of HaRambam’s ethos/adab but to that of the  Jewish Sufis.

   Like Ibn Pequda, HaRambam promoted  a via media of  balanced and  moderate  ascetic practice. The  Egyptian Pietists promoted  a  “special” suluk al Khas that went beyond the letter of  “common” Jewish practice. [22] 

Whether Maimonidean thought is Sufic, whether HaRambam could be described  as being a Sufi,  and the  extent to which his Maimuni descendents can be described as Maimonidean  are all  matters of complex enquiry and debate amongst academics. I prefer we leave  that debate to the  academic scholars.

 Furthermore, though later Maimuni family members are extremely significant to us: it is not the personal  charisma  of the Maimuni dynasty  that should motivate us so much as the Egyptian Pietist movement's practice of the renewed prophetic  and contemplative tradition of the  B'nei Neviim:  A process and  a  system  that they believed had  been preserved  and then  restored/transmitted  to them through their encounter with Islamic-Sufism.

  To this  day: one of  the  most popular manuals of  Jewish Spiritual practice is   the Hidayah ila Fara’id al Qulub [23] of Bahya Ibn Pequda and  it is a clearly Judeo Sufic text based on Islamic structures.  Many historians  and  academics claim that Islamic Sufi mysticism had a profound  influence on the development of Abulafia’s ecstatic-prophetic  Kabbalah; on the  development of  the  hitbodedut and  hitbonenut systems  of the  Safed Schools of Rabbi Moshe  Cordovero and Rabbi Yitzhak Luria; and  in the meditation practices of  the European Hasidic movement of the  Baal Shem Tov. 

  In this, the  twenty-first century,  our aim in Tariqa Eliyahu is to renew and  develop  the contemplative  practices of the  Egyptian Pietist Movement. Like the  members of that Mediaeval movement—we are keen to learn what the  Islamic-Sufi path  can teach us  in our own Jewish Contemplative journey.  

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    Tariqa Eliyahu, my third project in Jewish Contemplative Community is still very new.  At the moment, the Tariqa has a small online presence through its  private  Group on Facebook, and  its associated public website.

  Although it has a fundamentally Orthodox perspective/adab, the  members of Tariqa Eliyahu actually  come from many Jewish denominations and streams of thought, and  they   include Ashkenazi, Sefardi, and Mizrahi members; Mekubalim, Haredi Chasidim, and Progressive Neo-Hasidim (with  a few  of my die-hard Maimonidean  Rationalist  friends there as somewhat critical observers!) All our members are  Jewish but some  of them had  also received Islamic-Sufi or Universalist-Sufi initiation before joining our Tariqa.

  Our Tariqa members are  united in the admiration they feel for  the Egyptian Pietists’ approach to contemplative prayer and  their deep respect for  the Islamic Sufi Path and  its Arabic literature.


  At the  moment  our group is an online Tariqa—but I hope that  a small  Jewish-Sufi group might one  day be formed here in Safed to meet regularly— say once  a week— in communal silent dhikr and  in the performance of the liturgy according to the  directions  given by Rabbenu Abraham Maimuni.

   I envisage a brief egalitarian Arbit  incorporating prostration in the  Amidah— followed by an hour of silent dhikr as an ideal model for this.   No refreshments, no chat, no socialising, no “guided” meditation, no (regular) lectures or speeches—just prayer.  An alternative  paraliturgical model might be a short vocal dhikr session (using a simple unison recitation of a hebrew mantra-phrase) followed by a much longer silent dhikr session.  But we shall see. 

In the meantime:

 I would  like  to encourage more

(i) Jewish-Sufi practitioners and

(ii) Jewish meditators of like-mind

to join us online as active contributors

 to the development of our community practice.


Hopefully this “Sufi” chapter of A Hermit’s Tale may encourage that.

You can find  out more about our path HERE  (Jewish Sufis Website) or  HERE (Jewish Sufis Facebook Group)  

 

©Nachman Davies

Safed  March 19th  2024

 

NOTES

[1] Idries Shah, The  Way of the  Sufi, Octagon Press,London,1968

[2] A dream encounter in which I was told: “Come you no further, Return to your bed, Seek that which was lost, But look for it not. Find in the spiral,The Way to Ascend, As the Sea flows back into itself

[3] "Abraham Maimonides (1186-1237): Founding a Mystical Dynasty" by Paul B. Fenton, Chapter 3 in Moshe Idel’s  Jewish Mystical Leaders and  leadership in the  13thcentury,Jason Aronson inc. ,1998

[4] Rabbi Moshe Maimuni, known as Maimonides or HaRambam, was not (as far as we know) a member of the Cairo Jewish-Sufi community (which  was already in existence long before  his son’s nagidship).  

[5] In Egypt, during the mediaeval era when this  group was formed, the term Hasid was synonymous  with “Jewish-Sufi”and its leading members were often  identified by the  appellation HaHasid.

[6] Kifaya (Kitab Kifayat al-‘ābidīn) — known in Hebrew translations  as HaMaspik L'Ovdei Hashem and in English translations as The Guide to Serving God (Wincelberg) or Highways to Perfection (Rosenblatt). 

[7] Rabbi Abraham uses this  exact arabic term in his Judeo-Arabic writings , a fact which surely underlines the connection.  Furthermore, we know  that members of his  family and circle  practiced khalwa in the  Islamic Sufi manner when they visited the  shrine  at Dammuh. On this  see my essay Mediaeval Islamic and Jewish Sufis in Cairo .  

[9] Nachman Davies, The Cave of the  Heart/Kuntres Maarat HaLev(A treatise on Jewish Contemplative  Prayer), page 56, KDP publications,2022

[10] Isaac of Akko, Meirat Einayim ed. H. Erlanger, Jerusalem 1975 pp. 307-8 (pericope nissabim.)

[11] Nachman Davies, The Cave of the  Heart/Kuntres Maarat HaLev(A treatise on Jewish Contemplative  Prayer), page 59, KDP publications,2022

[13] Paul B.Fenton: An Epistle on Esoteric Matters by David II Maimonides from the  Geniza, in Pesher Nahum, (Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilisation Number 66), University of Chicago,Illinois. (emphasis  mine)

[14] There  are  many interfaith Jewish/Islamic groups  that have practiced a Sufi sema—notably the  Israeli group Tariqa Abraham— a communal Sufic recital of music and texts that may often become  ecstatic...but to my knowledge  a practice of shared silent zhikr/meditation is rare.  Music and  dance were a huge part of the   practices of the  B'nei Neviim (and music as a prophetic adjunct was  praised by Rabbi David ben Joshua himself)..but my own wish would  be  to see more  sober Sufic — and  silent— contemplative events.

[15] For example:  Adonai melech,Adonai malach, Adonai yimloch l’olam va’ed  or “Adonai Hu Ha Elohim

[16] A tasbih or misbaha is a ( 33 or 99 unit) string of beads used to recite  Divine  Attributes and assist zhikr meditation. Some  have expressed the opinion that counting the tzitzit knots and threads  on the Tallit may have been the origin of the practice.  

[17] Rabbi David ben Yehoshua Maimuni: “Al-Murshid ila al-tafarrud wa-al-murfid ila al-tagarrud,”(The  Guide to Solitude and Aid to Detachment”

[18] Paul B. Fenton,  The Literary Legacy of David ben Joshua, Last of the Maimonidean Nĕgīdim, Jewish Quarterly Review, vol. 75, no. 1 (July 1984): 1-56

[19] The Christian monastic  Order of Carmelites was founded on Mt. Carmel at the  start of the thirteenth century, but  there was a tradition that there had been a direct link  with previous Jewish hermits living there since the  time of the  B'nei neviim.  Near the ruins of the original Carmelite monastery at the  seaside base of the mountain, there is  a ‘Cave of Elijah’ which is a place of worship frequented by Jews, Moslems, Druze, and Christians to the present day. The original Carmelite mantle was brown and  cream striped, but later became an undyed white woolen cloak-like garment.  It was always regarded as being symbolic of the  mantle of Elijah, passed on to his disciple Elisha (Melachim II:2).      

[20] Abraham ben HaRambam , Kifaya, translated in Y.Wincelberg,The  Guide to Serving God, page 370,Feldheim,Jerusalem 2008

[21] Fenton, PDeux traités de mystique juive;Lagrasse: Éditions Verdier; 1987.(p269)

[22] See Chapter 4 of Ha Rambam’s Shemoneh Perakim. There HaRambam criticises  many of  the specifically Sufic practices that were to be avidly  practiced  and promoted by his Maimuni descendents.  

 [23] Bahya Ibn Pequda's work was later disseminated in Hebrew translations  as Hovovot HaLevavot and in English  as The  Duties of the  Heart.