Rashbam's Approach to Mystical Traditions

Aryeh Sklar

Eschewing the Mystical Tradition in the 12th Century:

Between Ashkenaz and Sefard

The rabbis and leaders of Jewish communities in Ashkenaz in the medieval period are generally imagined by laymen as pietists and mystics, using what kabbalistic traditions available to them to form their societies. In point of fact, several important Ashkenaz rabbinic authorities distinctly and consciously avoided the mystical tradition. Perhaps the most well-known among these is Rabbi Samuel ben Meir (the Rashbam), living in 12th century France, who very clearly avoids the mystical tradition, even while, as we will demonstrate, he was aware of it. On the other side of the pond, in Egypt, Maimonides (the Rambam) around the same time also avoids the mystical traditions of his time, but, as we will demonstrate, it is not clear what his access was to its literature. In this essay, we will explore the differing approaches of these two figures regarding the mystical tradition, as well as introduce possible causes and purposes to their approaches.

Kanarfogel writes regarding the Rashbam: “There is a dissertation waiting to be written on Rashbam’s different methods of interpretation in the three exegetical arenas in which he was active (talmudic commentary, Tosafot interpretation and analysis, and scriptural peshat ).” It may be true, as Kanarfogel proceeds to indicate, that Rashbam engaged in different methods of interpretation when it came to these areas of Jewish source material - but when it came to mystical literature, he was of one mind and method. That is, if something could be interpreted as referring to a mystical idea, Rashbam seems to pointedly avoid submitting to that interpretation at all times. This is so, even if his contemporaries and fellows in the Tosafist academies were engaging in such traditions. But did he have them in mind, and implicitly reject their approaches, in his interpretive method?

It can be demonstrated that Rashbam was definitely aware of at some of the mystical literature of his time. Certainly, the miliue of the Tosafist academy and the Hasidei Ashkenaz was such that making use of kabbalistic and mystical traditions as part of their studies was assumed. Most significantly, Rashi, Rashbam’s grandfather, with whom Rashbam spent time conversing regarding interpretive methods of Scripture, definitely made use of mystical literature. For example, in his commentary to Talmud (Sukkah 45a sv ani va-ho), Rashi reiterates a scriptural derivation of the Divine Name which can be found in Sefer ha-Bahir (see Margoliot edition secs. 106, 110). Similarly, he references Sefer Yezirah (or, Hilkhot Yezirah) as a source for the Divine Name being used to create objects, in order to explain a passage in Sanhedrin 65b (s.v bara gravra) where certain rabbis created an animal. Indeed, A. Grossman notes in Hakmei Ashkenaz ha-Rishonim (257), that Rashi’s primary teacher, R. Jacob ben Yaqar, displayed a keen interest in Sefer Yezirah, and seemed to have even composed a commentary to it that we have lost for the most part.

This concept of the Divine Name being used for mystical purposes, so integral to early mystical texts, was an important aspect of Rashi’s academy. So too, Rashbam demonstrates similar knowledge of mystical literature regarding the Divine Name when, in his commentary to Talmud (Pesahim 119a, s.v sitrei ha-Torah), he states: “The Work of the Chariot and the Work of Creation, and explication of the Name…” Kanarfogel writes (159), “Unlike Rashi, who merely mentions maaseh merkavah and maaseh bereshit as exemplars of sitrei Torah, Rashbam here connects, as Hasidei Ashkenaz did with even greater emphasis, speculation on the chariot with the mystical knowledge of the Divine Name.” The fact that Rashbam was aware of these texts, and still avoided them, as opposed to being ignorant of them, is significant. As we will see, this is strikingly different than the Rambam, who awareness and knowledge of the contemporary literature on mystical topics is a hazy topic. Still, Rambam’s shunning of them will be an important contrast to Rashbam.

So let us examine some of the evidence in Rashbam’s biblical commentaries. In Genesis 1:26, Rashbam considers why the plural form of “Let us make Man” is used in reference to the angels, even though there is no mention of angels in the narrative. His answer is that, “[Moses recorded only] only those things one can see in the world.” Thus, concepts such as angels, hell, or the Divine Chariot, are avoided. To Sarah Kamin, this is a polemic against the kabbalistic ideas of Rashbam’s day. One would expect that the primary adversaries to Jewish scholarship at the time in medieval Ashkenaz would be Christian biblical scholarship. However, Kamin finds Rashbam’s idea here that Moses limited himself in the Creation story to those that can be seen with the eye aligns well with similar ideas found in contemporary Christian writers in the time of the Rashbam. The alliance, or at the very least, parallel thinking, between these two groups shows that Rashbam was not considering the Christians in his commentary. Kamin therefore posits Rashbam had in mind his own colleagues - the Rhenish academies, in Kamin’s thinking. Those thinkers spent a significant amount of time investigating theological and cosmological possibilities through maaseh bereshit and maaseh merkava, and it was this that Rashbam was writing against.

This view is not without debate. Hanna Liss, in Creating Fictional Worlds, writes that “Kamin’s proposal is problematic.” Primary among her objections is that Rashbam’s declaration that Moses avoided mystical concepts in the Creation narrative, if polemical, is just as much against the rabbis of the Talmud as it is his fellow contemporary colleagues, since the rabbis of the Talmud, too, engaged in maaseh merkava and maaseh bereshit. Liss also notes that the major leaders of Ashkenaz who were copying and studying mystical literature were not exactly in Rashbam’s time, but earlier and later. Liss quotes Kamin, who admits as much, “We have no literary evidence confirming [existence of mystical speculation of maaseh merkava] either from the time of Rashi and Rashbam or from the time of Bekhor Shor.”

Liss, however, concludes that though one cannot argue Rashbam was totally polemicizing against mystical exegetes of Ashkenaz through that comment, Rashbam does seem to be against such study nevertheless. This may in fact point us to the direction of whom he was indeed polemicizing against. Liss emphasizes Rashbam’s commentary on Ecclesiastes 7:23:

(23) All this I tested by way of wisdom. With my great wisdom, I tested everything that [pertains] to this matter. For I said to myself that I want[ed] to become learned in the profound sciences. But it, [i.e.] this profound learning is far from me, for I am unable to understand it, or to handle it. (24) The past is far off. Profound [wisdom] that has already existed [long ago], like maaseh merkava and Sefer Yesirah, this is far from me, for I cannot handle it. Deep, so deep is the working of this additional wisdom. Who is the one who in his great wisdom could fathom it?

Liss posits that not only did Rashbam “rebut theosophical speculations,” but even “substantiates his idea” through invoking the incapability of man to comprehend specifically through maaseh merkava and Sefer Yesirah. Important for Liss is the use of the word “sod” in reference to the profound sciences. Liss believes this scant evidence means that Rashbam was possibly referring and rejecting Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra, a contemporary of whom Rashbam possibly knew personally.

Liss supports this argument through a number of various pieces of evidence. The difference in worldview of the Rashbam and Ibn Ezra, as seen through their commentaries, are vast. To illustrate, in Exodus 33:13; whereas Ibn Ezra elaborates on his Neoplatonic ideas in reference to “God’s ways,” Rashbam laconically interprets it as Moses requesting travel directions, so to speak. Additionally, though it is unknown if Rashbam and Ibn Ezra were ever in actual personal contact, it is known that Ibn Ezra stayed in the Ashkenzic French town of Rouen, where Rashbam lived (though it is unclear the years and if they would have been there the same time). If they were indeed there the same time, they probably were in contact, within the small Jewish community and even smaller scholarly community. And, we know through Ibn Ezra’s letters that he felt a hostile Ashkenazi environment there, and there is little doubt Rashbam would have been immune to such feelings toward the Andalusian intruder. We never find that Rashbam quotes Ibn Ezra, but Ibn Ezra certainly shows knowledge of Rashbam’s views, either agreeing or rejecting those views, while not naming him explicitly. Indeed, some have interpreted Ibn Ezra’s Iggeret ha-Shabbat, which has some pointed words against unnamed others who interpret Genesis’ “night and day” as anything other than meaning that the night comes before the day, especially when in reference to when the Sabbath starts. The Rashbam does indeed interpret the verse that way. All this, and still more proofs, come together for Liss to mean that Rashbam polemicized against the Ibn Ezra, because Ibn Ezra’s approach was to deal with mystical and theosophic literature in interpretation of the Torah.

Nevertheless, the point of this discussion only goes to emphasize Rashbam’s polemical nature in his commentary. Both Kamin and Liss agree that it is decidedly against mystical interpretations of Scripture. Indeed, Kanarfogel points to another comment of the Rashbam on Ecclesiastes (2:3, and 2:13), where Rashbam asserts that one should only pursue exoteric knowledge. The converse to this can be found in his commentary (which we have already quoted above) several chapters later in which he advocates against the attempt of acquiring esoteric wisdom. Additionally, Kanarfogel points to Rashbam’s stark contrast to Rashi’s commentary to Job, where Rashi emphasizes the element of demonic worlds and beings, while Rashbam “diminishing the roles or importance” of such existents.

At this stage, we would like to explore what made the Rashbam decide to polemicize the mystical positions in interpreting Scripture. By comparing it to Maimonides’ approach to mystical literature, we can speculate as to Rashbam’s cause here. As is well known, Maimonides removes in almost all instance the views of the Talmud that incorporate mystical elements. Like Rashbam, he reinterprets and diminishes the importance of demons in Talmudic literature. Similarly, he removes the mystically protective nature of the mezuzah. Kellner’s Maimonides’ Confrontation With Mysticism points to many areas in which Maimonides worldview is so at contradiction with the views of mystics around the same time. With that said, there is very little evidence that Rambam knew of much mystical literature. Even when he mentions early in his career of a mystical book called Shi’ur Komah, he later decries it as a Byzantine forgery and even denies his ever believing in its veracity. Thus, for the Rambam, it is unclear if he had any polemic energy at all in his writings against the mystical literature existing in his day.

We may suggest that the difference between Rashbam and Rambam is one of replacement mysticism. For the Rashbam, the Tosafist society as a whole encompassed mystical literature. If an intellectual were to combat such literature, they would have to consciously do so. However, in Rambam’s Cairo, there was not nearly as much Jewish mystical schools of thought. The need to know and combat such literature is lacking there. Rashbam certainly had his time and place in mind in his writings. Indeed, Kanarfogel cites Hillel Ben-Sasson’s view, that “Rashbam engaged in these rather diverse methods [of interpretation] because each one represented the approach that was most needed in his day within each area of religious literature.”

Further, Rashbam and Rambam provide different solutions. For Rashbam, there was no replacement theology that lacked a mystical element. The only elements that would explain theological matters and apply them practically to the religious person would be the Bible, and the Halacha represented by the Talmud, both books Rashbam expends considerable effort providing commentaries to. However, Rambam created a replacement theology based mostly on the writings of Aristotle and Islamic philosophy of his time. He was capable of replacing mysticism of the pre- kabbalistic tradition with a philosophical mysticism incorporating perfection of the intellect and reasoning. In fact, he viewed his Guide for the Perplexed as a revival of the true mystical tradition. Pardes, celebrated in mystical literature as the achievement of great mystical heights, is interpreted by Rambam to refer to higher studies of metaphysics. In doing so, he provides a substitute that Rashbam could not, and therefore was freer to ignore the mystical literature that he may or may not have had access to.

In sum, we have seen several areas in which Rashbam, as opposed to many of the other Tosafists, did not submit to the mystical trends of contemporary Ashkenaz. Instead, he engaged in an implicit polemic against those positions that he was definitely aware of. This may have been directed toward his colleagues in the Tosafist academies, or it may have even be directed toward Abraham Ibn Ezra. Nevertheless, his approach is different than Rambam’s, who probably was not aware or not pressed by the advent of mystical literature, and therefore evidently did not feel the need to respond to it. Additionally, Rambam succeeded in providing an advanced theological substitute for mysticism, while Rashbam did not. Instead, Rashbam concentrated his efforts on literature for his brethren in Ashkenaz, and this is his lasting contribution today.