James Duncan Gilchrist and Dr. Glen Cooper

Moses Maimonides: A Paradoxical Figure

Mahmood Darwiish, a contemporary Palestinian poet, described what Al-Andalus (an area of Muslim Spain, now called Andalusia) meant to its last inhabitants before the Spanish reconquista, in his poem, In the Last Night upon this Land. He describes it as a beautiful country of mountains and clouds, on the brink of occupation by invaders from afar. Although a long siege had been fought, fate ultimately transferred ownership to the invaders. Unprepared to depart, yet forced to by circumstances, Darwish offers a strange hospitality to the invaders as if he himself was a resident at the time. He invites them to partake of the fresh nuts he once shared with his Andalusian brothers, to sleep in their beds of green cedar wood, and to drink, as it were, the flowing, intoxicating poetry that they wrote of their home. He reminds them that the sheets and the perfumes on the door are ready, and that the women are plentiful. “Enter that we may utterly depart,” he invites them, seemingly weeping. The land was so beautiful that those who now flee believe they will ask themselves in a future time, if Al-Andalus had ever really existed, or if it had all been just a dream.

The overall feeling the poem expresses is strikingly reminiscent of the feeling the Israelites felt on the shores of Babylon, after they had been taken captive and entreated to sing one of the songs of Zion. They asked themselves,

How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?
If I forget thee, O Jersusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth;
if I prefer not Jerusalem about my chief joy. –Psalm 137

Both of these poems lament the pain of realizing too late that a people had not been vigilant enough when they still had time to defend their land from the threat of invasion. The first lament represents the sorrow of Muslim Palestinians at the hands of the modern state of Israel by allusion to an earlier set of Muslims and their eviction from Spain at the end of the 15th century. The second represents a similar sorrow over the same land, stripped from the hands of the biblical Jews in 5th century B.C. by the Babylonians. The existence of these two poems illustrates the paradoxical nature of Moses Maimonides, a Jew and an Arab, forced by a fanatical Muslim sect in the 12th century to leave his home in Spain and begin what he called his “life in exile,” no matter where he would go subsequently. Much as former Pope John Paul II, or Karol Wojtyla, told his biographer, Tad Sczulc, that “understanding [his] Polishness is the key to understanding [him],” understanding Muslim Spain and its character just before his eviction is essential for understanding Moses Maimonides.

Hundred years before the reconquista spoken of by Darwish, there was a time when Jews, Muslims and Christians shared the land of al-Andalus in a period of famed tolerance and progress. This period witnessed a great conversion of Christians to Islam and a great interest in Arabic language, music and culture. Much of this period is still manifest in Spanish culture and language today. Contemporary American society is witnessing a modern manifestation of this period in the emerging bodies of Latinos that are “reverting” to Islam. While the term “reversion” implies the view that Islam is the pure truth inscribed on every human soul before being corrupted by earth’s many heresies, another reason many Latino-Muslims prefer this term over “conversion” is to describe becoming Muslim as an act that re-centered them in their true Spanish culture and heritage. Such a desire is an evidence of a unique moment in history, one widely celebrated as a time when cross-cultural interests united peoples of different faiths in prolific efforts of learning. This period directly preceded Maimonides’ time in al-Andalus. It was through the culture established in al-Andalus that Maimonides most likely became familiar with the works of Ptolemy, Aristotle, Ibn Sina, al-Farabi, al-Ghazali and other key philosophers associated with the Islamic tradition. All of these would have a profound effect upon his philosophy, including the way he approached his own Judaic tradition. At the time Maimonides was born in 1138 C.E., Islamic society had become the greatest unifier of human knowledge the world had theretofore witnessed. They had assimilated knowledge from Greek, Indian, Persian and Chinese sources in an effort to understand the world and the perplexities of nature. Had it not been for this Islamic tradition, as financed by the Caliphs and prominent Muslim families of the time, Maimonides might not have reached the level of enlightenment that he did.

So it was, adding to Maimonides’ paradoxical character, that an Islamic society and the Islamic elements within that society helped to shape the greatest Jewish Philosopher of the Middle Ages. The issue remains a point of debate and it has brought antagonistic peoples closer together in at least one high-profile occasion to try and communicate their ideas and findings about the roots of Maimonides’ legacy. A 1985 edition of Time Magazine chronicles the events of a UNESCO research conference held in Paris in honor of Moses Maiomonides on the 850th anniversary of birth. In addition to Israel, two notable co-sponsors of the event were Cuba and Pakistan, both countries that do not recognize the legitimacy of the State of Israel. The conference is a testimony to the pride Maimonides’ legacy generates for people of various cultures, even across barriers that today seem unbridgeable. Abdulrahman al-Badawi, a Arab-Muslim professor from Kuwait University attending the UNESCO conference said of Maimonides: “I regard him first and foremost as an Arab thinker.” Indeed, the originals of Maimonides’ greatest works were all written in Arabic and al-Badawi’s comments show the pride Arabs take in his achievements. One of the central questions that come to the mind of anyone who studies about Moses Maimonides is, how did a completely Islamic culture and environment produce the most important Jewish Philosopher of the Middle Ages? Though answering this question in a comprehensive way is beyond the scope of this paper, it will introduce and explore some rudimentary answers to the question based on Maimonides’ philosophical and medical writings.

The subject is a matter of controversy, some seeking to downplay any Islamic influence on Maimonides, while others seek to inflate it. This paper will attempt to objectively establish some firm points on which Islamic influence can be seen. There are two major philosophers of the Muslim tradition who’s influence on Maimonides is clear: Ibn Rushd and Al-Farabi, most famous for their philosophical works, though both, like Maimonides, practiced medicine and studies many different types of science. Establishing the proof of an Islamic influence on Maimonides is more complicated than just looking for textual similarities between all of these authors however. A Muslim scientist doesn’t necessarily produce Islamic science by virtue of his religious orientation alone. Therefore, the fact that Maimonides’ works contain elements of Al-Farabi and Ibn Rushd doesn’t necessarily mean that he was influenced by Islam itself. To establish this deeper correlation, we must base our analysis on ideas, trends and practices throughout the Muslim world that the aforementioned scientists adhered to. Then we can see if similar elements appear in Maiomonides. This essay will be beneficial for non-Muslims in helping them to appreciate more fully the achievements of classical Islamic Civilization, and for Muslims as well in helping them to understand what specific and unique contributions their religion has made on civilizations and traditions other than their own.

Life in Exile

In the early part of the 12th century, Ibn Tumart, declared himself the Mahdi (an apocalyptic figure sent to usher in the kingdom of God) and assembled large Berber followings in North Africa. He successor, Abd-al-Mu’min, eventually used this army to conquer all of Muslim Spain and North Africa, from Tunisia to Morocco. The name this new dynasty gave to itself was Al-Muwahiddun, or the Al-Mohads, or the Professors of the Unity of God. Persecution against non-Muslims during this period was high as all were forced to join Islam, leave the newly conquered territory, or die. Fleeing to Fez, the Maimonides family showed their zeal for gaining knowledge. Fez had also been besieged by the al-Mohads and Jews had been fleeing from the city ever since. Why would this family of Jews flee an outpost of the Al-Mohads to enter the seat of its empire? Many claims state that their purpose in coming to Fez was to hear the lectures of Rabbi Judah ibn Sossan.

Obtaining knowledge, for this family, was of utmost importance. Maimonides would boldly claim in all of his philosophical works, against the popular Rabbinical emphasis on simple, pious obedience, that intellectual perfection, or true knowledge about God, secured for man an inheritance in the world to come. Though Maimonides recognized God’s revelation as the ultimate gift for man, this did not diminish man’s duty to reach as high as he possibly could toward God by his own means. Maimonides’ contemplations on astronomy, medicine, philosophy, and metaphysics were all an integral part of his meditations on God. Later in life, when Maimonides was about to publish the book for which he would become most famous, The Mishnah Torah, he wrote in the preface,

Anyone who has a fair sense of judgment and a proper intelligence will realize that the goal I set myself was not one that could be completed soon. My heart was afflicted by the miseries of the time, by the fate of exile that God has brought upon us, by the constant expulsions and wanderings from one end of the world to the other. But perhaps this lot is a grace, for exile atones for sin.

Clearly, the need to leave his homeland was a painful burden he had to bear. Even when he was in exile, he was known to refer to “our place in al-Andalus,” signifying a clear consideration of Spain as his home. Maimonides’ upbringing in al-Andalus had a significant impact on the formation of his character; both for the exposure to a learning environment, and for his fate to have to deal with loosing it. These two factors confronting Maimonides’ association with al-Andalus form the basis of the framework we will use to examine some of Maimonides’ teachings and the Islamic elements that surrounded his intellectual development.

Life as a Physician and Philosopher

One key source for assessing Islam’s influence on Maimonides is that which Muslims themselves have said about him. Both Maimonides’ contemporaries and our own have spoken abundantly on his character and works. This glimpses of Maimonides from Muslim sources will give us a better idea of the degree of acceptance he felt in their society and whether or not the normal tensions that people of different religions feel around each other had an effect on the development of his philosophical ideas.

The majority of Maimonides’ Muslim contemporaries knew him as one of the most prominent physicians of Egypt in the Ayuubid era. After fleeing the Al-Mohads, Maimonides eventually settled in Cairo where he would become the personal physician of Saladin’s son. After he had established himself there, he wrote to his friend, Samuel ibn Tibbon, who was translating his major work, The Guide for the Perplexed into Hebrew, of the tiresome nature of his daily work. Ibn Tibbon was considering a visit to Maimonides. Though indeed overjoyed at the chance to see his friend, Maimonides warns him that his schedule will be very tight. Every day he journeys to Cairo at first hour to attend to the medical needs of the Sultan’s house. He returns to Fustat after midday, starving, only to find scores of people awaiting his services. His patients detain him until two or three hours into the night. Having also been entrusted to serve as the spiritual leader of the Jews of Cairo, few of the “Israelites” are able to catch him during the weekdays and hence, all come to seek his counsel on Saturdays. Such is the price of a wide reputation.

It was in this context that one of the most stinging records of Maimonides are preserved in the most important work of classical Islamic Medical historiography: Ibn Abi Usaybi’a’s Uyun al Anba’. The book chronicles what one prominent Muslim physician, Abd Al-Latif Al-Baghdadi, said about Maimonides when he came to Cairo to meet with him. He described him as “extremely impressive, but possessed with a love for leadership and the desire to serve those of high worldly position.” It is true that Maimonides probably lacked time to give abd al-Latif proper attending, just as he was unable to do so for his friend, Sameul ibn Tibbon. This may have made al-Baghdadi more inclined to write something negative about him. However, other examples from Maimonides’ suggest that he did not always leave the most favorable impression.
In a letter to his son Abraham, Maimonides warns him to avoid “simple company and juvenile games”, and to associate continually with the “grand and the wise, with modesty and submission.” In the same section, he reminds his son of the essentiality of “perfect etiquette”, which has the effect of “opening to you the doors of heaven.” In addition, he was known for showering flattering words upon the great one’s he served, which can be seen in the introduction to a his medical treatise On Asthma, recently published by Brigham Young University. Maimonides writes to the recipient of the book, a wealthy patient of his: “My honorable, esteemed, beloved, and successful Master- may God grant him everlasting greatness and grace-.” Surely such flattery was more common in Maimonides’ time than today, though even Goetin, a Jewish biographer of Maimonides, commented that “there is a grain of truth to Baghdadi’s words.” Another Jewish Maimonides scholar, David Harman, devoted several paragraphs to a discussion about some of elitist comments that appear in The Guide, which as a whole conveys a feeling of disdain for the ignorant masses. The overall result, acknowledges the author, is to make one believe that Maimonides was an out-of-touch intellectual, which Hartman says is a “gross description” of his overall character. The skeptic need only read some excerpts from Maimonides’ Epistle to Yemen and he would quickly realize that Maimonides put his own life in danger to educate the masses on important religious masses. The subjects of these epistles will be treated in more detail later.

Returning to the comments of al-Baghdadi, those which started this whole debate, we must note that his purpose in coming to Cairo was to visit three men. Apparently it was a very unpleasant trip for him for he attacked the character of all three. The first, Yasiin Simia’i, he called a “devious liar.” The second was Maimonides, who he also accused of corrupting the principles of the law with his book, The Guide for the Perplexed, when he “thought he was reforming them.” Al-Bagdadi was annoyed with the third man, Abu Qasim a-Shari’ai, for “not having the slightest concern for morals” and for detaining him to discuss books by ancient scholars. All of this commentary leads one to believe that al-Baghdadi was either an extremely negative person, or that his visit Egypt was somehow cursed. Nevertheless, the appearance of such comments in such a high profile book make one wonder if poking fun at Jews was something a lot of people could identify with. We will examine this question again after analyzing some more excerpts from the same book.

These examples show high praise for Maimonides talents. Ibn Abi Usaybia, the author of Uyun al-‘Anba’, remarks that Maimonides was “artful in his science” and that he was held in high regard by the Sultan Saladin and his son, and that he authored many famous works. Usaybia was a colleague of Maimonides’ son. Also preserved in Usaybi’a’s book is a poem written to Maimonides from the Muslim judge and poet, Ibn Sana’ al-Mulk:

Galen’s art heals only the body,
But Abu-Amram’s the body and soul.
He could heal with his wisdom the sickness of ignorance.
If the moon would submit to his art,
He would deliver her of her spots at the time of her fullness,
Complete for her, her period defects,
And at the time of her conjunction restore her from her waning.

The varied treatment of Maimonides in ‘Ayun al-Anba’ no doubt will give Maimonides
a cherished place among the ranks of Arab Physicians as this book represents “a monumental undertaking in the history of Arabic medicine” and is “the best of its kind ever written up to the early modern period”. However, despite its towering authority, Usaybia did not intend his work to be a something of stern academics. One historian assessed it in this way, “He includes poetry, composed by and for physicians, literary and philosophical sayings, aphorisms, anecdotes, and humorous quotations all of which make a delightful reading even for the layman”. Baghdadi’s negative comments of Maimonides seems to be an example of such comic relief and appears to be based off of some partial truth at least. However, the stinging indictment on Maimonides’ character seems quite harsh for such an important piece of scholarship. As a Jew in an Islamic land, Maimonides would be considered a second-class citizen. This status certainly would have made it easier for Usaybia publish such material about him. While the comments served the purpose of comic relief, they hint at a social situation in which it was difficult for Jews to bare at times. Maimonides would always miss his home in al-Andalus, where, before he was exiled, seems to have been a truly unique place where He did not feel threatened because of his religion. This attitude would certainly affect the way he felt towards Islam and the degree to which he was willing to ponder its precepts.

On December 13, 1204, Maimonides died. At his request, his body was buried at LakeTiberius in modern day Israel and an unknown hand wrote on his tombstone, “Here lies a man and yet not a man; If thou wert a man, then heavenly creatures created thee.” Later that inscription was wiped away and replaced with, “Here lies Maimuni, the banished heretic.” Now there is a monument erected that states, “From Moses to Moses, there was none like Moses.” Maimonides’ most violent critics came from within his own tradition. His philosophical works had presumed to reconcile the most perplexing questions of the Torah and he had introduced the ideas of what his critics would call “idolaters” to do so. Nevertheless, even his critics were influenced tremendously by Maimonides’ work. After him, there was no returning to the more relaxed scholarship of the past. Jews today are awed by his monumental efforts, though they approach a study of his words with caution. Some believe that unless you are extremely well trained in the Law, Maimonides’ thought processes can quickly lead one into disbelief because of the deep nature of the questions he takes up and the skillful way in which he explains seeming contradiction. Some examples of this explanation will be given hereafter and the reader will see why Jews would approach the work with caution.

So far Maimonides legacy in his contemporaries’ works have hinted at a mild tension between Muslims and Jews in Medieval times. In another reputable source of Islamic Science historiography, Ibn al Qifti, in his Tarikh al-Hukama’ [History of the Wise], mentions that Maimonides was “weary to distinguish himself by his opinions among the physicians because of his lack of experience” and that he “wasn’t friendly in treatment or management.” The first part of that statement, if true in the first place, would certainly have been remedied later if he was eventually worthy to become the Sultan’s personal physician. The latter half of the statement is not inconceivable, especially considering the working conditions he described earlier. One’s emergency room doctor is not always as friendly as the family pediatrician.
One piece of very interesting information that Ibn al-Qifti writes is some speculations that Maimonides had memorized the Qur’an and converted to Islam, only later to deny it and revert back to Judaism. Such a situation is highly plausible, having been in such close contact with the Al-Mohads and their extreme policies. The accusation is a subject of great debate that scholars have argued back and forth about for quite some time. It is a well known fact that many of the Spanish Jews at the time of the Al-Mohad’s reign did convert to Islam to please their oppressors while they continued to keep the law of Moses in secret. Contemporary Jewish sources are skeptical that he did in fact do such a thing, but many acknowledge that they are not entirely certain. Maimonides did write a treatise on the subject, in response to pamphlet issued by another Rabbi Maimonides described as a “poor wretch,” because he insisted that anyone who continued to practice Judaism after converting to Islam was desecrating the law of God. Maimonides received this treatise in horror and sought to quickly refute the idea with scriptural and historical examples. The treatise is quite detailed and thorough, indicating that Maimonides has considered this problem from a variety of angles. He explains that the rabbinical ruling that advises that the believer confront martyrdom in the face of religious persecution deals with actions more so than words. Because the al-Mohads were forcing confession only, Maimonides did not see this as part of the same category of religious persecution that the rabbis were talking about. While he acknowledges that he who suffers martyrdom in this case will be given a great reward, he surprisingly says, “They know very well that we do not mean what we say, and that what we say is only to escape the ruler’s punishment…if anyone comes to ask me whether to surrender his life or acknowledge, I tell him to confess and not choose death.” Though Maimonides does not reveal in the epistle if he or any of his family ever had to convert, he clearly is not opposed to doing so with lip service to preserve life. Such a feigned confession could certainly have caused witnesses, especially Muslims to say that he “converted to Islam.” If they were joyous that a prominent scholar converted to their same religion, they would be all the more disinclined to acknowledge the coercive nature of the circumstances. Considering the prevalence of the situation in Spain at this time, it is unlikely that Maimonides never faced the problem himself.

Perhaps the more important part of ibn al-Qifti’s statement about Maimonides, for the purposes of this paper, is the latter half that mentions the rumor that Maimonides had memorized the Qur’an. Qur’anic education was a well established standard throughout Islamic lands by Maimonides’ times. All of the major Muslim scientists had this basic education in common and many had memorized the entire book in their youth. Muzzaffar Iqbal, the president of the Center for Islam and Science (Canada) mentions that the Qur’an was the key to determining what was unique about the science that emerged from classical Islamic civilization. He explains in his book Islam and Science, that the Qur’an was, and still is the heart of Islamic society. It regulated their legal affairs, nourished their faith, and prompted detailed studies into its particulars and its worldview. Qur’anic science became the foundation of the Islamic tradition of learning and the guide for scholars seeking answers to questions about the natural world. Iqbal states:

The Qur’an contained a large number of verses that called attention to the harmony, symmetry and order present in the natural world. It drew attention to the regularities of the planetary motion, it asked it readers to reflect on the watercycle, on the alteration of the day and the night, on the way certain trees bifurcate and others do not, though they are rooted in the same soil and receive the same nutrients. It asked the faithful and non-believers…Who was responsible for the functioning of such a grand system?”.

Scientific inquiry became a natural outgrowth of Qur’anic revelation and the scientists and philosophers that followed were simply those who had taken upon themselves the responsibility to carry out the divinely ordained commandments. Though Christian and Jewish scriptures contain similar verses, they are certainly less frequent and less detailed that what the Islamic text provides. Nor could we say that an enterprise of science emerged from either Christianity of Judaism like it did in Islam.

Maimonides did not receive the traditional education of a young Muslim of his area however. He was home-schooled by his father who steeped him in Torah and Talmudic studies. This education would have exempted him from the repeating recitations of the Qur’an passages that his Muslim peers would have been doing. His father did, however, educate him in the scientific fields of interest at the time. Astronomy, mathematics, optics and of course, Arabic language were all subjects he studies thoroughly. Acquainting himself with the numerous texts of Islamic scholars who wrote about these subjects sometimes quoted Qur’anic verses in their treatises. He no doubt picked up a familiarity with the Qur’an in his studies and by the sure curiosity he would have had to understand the words that were sung from the many minarets in his town five times a day in accordance with the Muslim prayer times.

Being a man with extraordinary mental capacity and an insatiable desire for knowledge, it is by no means implausible that Maimonides undertook, at some point in his life, a serious study of the Qur’an. Any discussion of an Islamic influence of Islam on Maimonides must include some remarks about his familiarity with the book, given the central importance of the text in Islamic society. The possibility of his having some knowledge of the book is especially plausible knowing Maimonides’ openness with ideas that do not necessarily come from his own religious traditions. In the Guide for the Perplexed, Maimonides provides a rubric for determining if a system of law that claims to be of prophetic origin is really so or not. The process he describes suggests two things: The first establishes the fact that Maimonides was the type of many who is at least willing to consider the legitimacy of an unknown system’s divine heritage. Second, the process he suggests for determining such a thing would surely have led him to a study of the Qur’an. In his own words, Maimonides counsels,

It remains for you to discover whether the alleged originator is that accomplished person to whom it was revealed or an individual who merely appropriated those ideas and pretended they were his own. The method for examining this is to investigate the character of that person, to follow up his actions, and to study his life. Your most important indication is rejection and contempt of bodily pleasures, for that is the first stage of achievement of scholars, how much more so of prophets.

Since Muslim were the most common types of people Maimonides came into contact with in his life, this advice most certainly pertains to investigation about Islam and the numerous exhortations he no doubt received during his life to study the religion for himself and come to an understanding of its divinity. While the advice comes couched in general terms, it suggests that Maimonides was at some point curious about the whole phenomenon of Islam and wanted to know if it was of God or not. The next step would be to examine the character of Muhammad and the nature of the message he preached. This would have led him to an examination of the Qur’an and therefore a basic understanding of the book at the very least.
While Maimonides never wrote anything that himself that points to his having memorized the Quran, he does cite some of its passages in an Epistle he wrote to the Jews of Yemen. When Maimonides came to Egypt and became the Physician of the son of the Ayubid ruler his authority in the Jewish community of Cairo rose quickly. His fame spread to other parts of the world and it was not long before a troubled leader of the Jews in Yemen wrote to him, asking advice about a number of things. One of the most interesting questions had to deal with a Jew who had converted to Islam and then came back to his Jewish brothers, asserting that Islam was the true religion and that the Torah itself mentions the advent of Muhammad as a prophet of God. Maimonides responded to this letter in another thorough and complete Epistle to ease the mind of the troubled leader.

He assures him that the Muslim’s claims that Muhammad is mentioned in the Torah are not well founded. Demonstrating his knowledge of the Qur’an, he cites the 61st Sura (chapter), 6th Aya (verse) which states that Jesus came declaring to the children of Israel glad tidings that confirmed the message of the Torah and announcing the advent of another prophet to come after him called “Ahmad.” This name comes from the same root as Muhammad and Muslims believe it is a reference to their prophet that Jews have failed to recognize in their scriptures. Maimonides refutes this idea, on several accounts. His arguments establish that he in fact knew particulars about the Qur’an. That he knew the work to the point of memorization, however, still seems suspect. Nevertheless, this knowledge would have increased his ability to participate in the debates that were sweeping the Muslim world at his time, bringing him into the arena of Islamic science and philosophy that still played an enormous role in his development.

Maimonides reveals in the Epistle to Yemen some thoughts about Islam that he is not at liberty to divulge in his more popular writings. After refuting the message of Jesus he says, “After him the Madman arose, who emulated the precursor [Jesus] who had paved the way for him. But he added the further objective of procuring rule and obedience, and he invented his notorious religion.” This passage suggests that any influence that Islam did have on Maimonides was not something close to his heart that he would have talked about more freely had he not been such an important Jew. His knowledge of Islam is more accurately described as the reality of the day that he lived in. The dominant culture and religion is something that one has to take an interest in. Nevertheless, he does exhibit a knowledge above average in comparison to his own co-religionists. In some places Maimonides found Islamic rule pleasant, at others it was rather onerous for him. In any situation, he did not choose it as something to rule his personal devotions to God but did examine its virtues and the ideas of its virtuous proponents to enrich himself and his entire faith. The principles he learned from the religion ultimately influenced the shape of the Judaic and Christian philosophy for centuries.

We must realize that if there is any science that was indeed Islamic, then its goal would have to be consistent with the basic worldview of Islam’s revealed text. One centrally important idea in the Qur’an in the concept of Tawhid, or the Unity of God. If Islam itself did influence Maimonides, the central dogmas of the faith would surely have played some role in his philosophy.

The first group that articulated this central aspect of God were the Mu’tazilites. Much like Maimonides, they believed religion had to be equal to the task of responding to rational criticism. They regarded the attribution to God of such personal qualities as knowledge, will and feeling as a polytheistic notion. Maimonides points out in the Guide that defining God in “positive terms comports polytheism and a lack of perfection in God.” By “positive terms,” Maimonides means ascribing attributes to God that by their nature limit his character. We are much safer, he maintains, when we use negative terms to describe God and by so doing simply check off from a list of descriptions those we can be sure God is not. For example, we may be sure that God is not disinterested, and define him as such. We succeed in clarifying our definition of Him, but we do not contain our understanding of him to something far less glorious than he is. An example of a positive term would be, “perfect,” for example. Maimonides and the Mu’tazilites maintain that our own feeble understanding of perfection denigrates God’s character if we result to calling him perfect. Maimonides says in the Guide, “When we, therefore, say He is One, we mean thereby to deny any plurality”. Though using the term “one” could be construed as a positive description, Maimonides insists that the correct interpretation of it is in its negative sense, i.e. not plural. The concept of unity is emphasized more in Islam than in either Christianity or Judaism. Indeed the same sect that banished Maimonides from his home in Spain called themselves “the professors of the Unity of God.” Nevertheless, the concept is certainly not alien to Judiasm. There is a reference in the Torah to this quality. Dueteronomy 6:4 reads, “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD. ” Yet, while the this scripture shows an evidence that the idea was something Maiomnides’ co-religionists were familiar with, the similarity of his definition with that of the Mua’tazila makes it hard to believe that Maimonides did not have help from their writings in crafting his words. Any possibility of this similarity being mere coincidence is obliterated when Maimonides further explains to his Jewish brethren,

We shall say on account of these arrangements that he is omnipotent, omniscient, and possessed of will. By these attributes we mean to say that he is neither powerless nor ignorant nor distracted or disinterested.

With this sentence, Maimonides authorizes a handful of “positive” attributes of God that his brethren would have been hard pressed to let go because of their abundant usage in Hebrew scriptures as descriptors of God. He simply redefines them in negative terms and by so doing steers Jewish doctrine back in harmony with the Mu’atazilite line, using almost the precise terms they did to describe polytheistic attributes of God. Explanations of this type are the one’s some Jews would later come to be weary of, as I mentioned in the section about his most violent critics being people of his own faith.

While this is a rather subtle example of Maimonides conforming to Mu’tazilite doctrine, in another instance Maimonides openly states the harmony between their position and that of Judaism. He does so when introducing several ideas about divine providence and man’s free will. He lists the positions of several Islamic and Greek schools on the matter, and lastly explains the “view of the Torah,” as he calls it. He concludes his explanation of what the Torah says with the words, “this resembles the teaching of the Mu’tazilites” He explains that all benefits that beset mankind are by way of reward, while misfortunes come as a result of punishment, with the exception of “chastisements of love” that serve to purify man. The Mu’atazilite position, according to Maimonides, teaches that God does not inflict suffering on the innocent unless he rewards them for it in the world to come. In another similarity, he clarifies that both the Mu’tazila and the Torah allow for man’s individual agency. While this example gives particular evidence of a particular group of Muslim philosophers having an influence on Maimonides, his familiarity with the positions of Islam’s myriad interpretations demonstrates a deeper Islamic principle working inside Maimonides. Just as many before and after him would seek out greater understanding from thought that came from Persia, Greece, India and China, he felt it was important to reaffirm what God had revealed to Moses with language and ideas that his contemporary Muslim neighbors were working through at his time. This principle will become important again when I discuss al-Farabi’s influence on Maimonides.

The extent of Farabi’s influence on Maimonides begins with the way in which the two perceived the act of prophecy. The central similarity between the two men comes from the notion that prophecy was a type of spontaneous transmittal of divine communication to someone who was highly trained in the art of spiritual perception. Maimonides clarifies three main definitions of prophecy, that of the common people who believe that “God chooses any man He wants…and sends him forth.” To them, it makes no difference whether he is learned, old, an ignoramus, or young. “The second view is that of the philosophers. It says that prophecy is a kind of perfection in human nature. This perfection…cannot be obtained except after training which brings the potential faculties of the species into actuality ….The third view is that of our faith…This is exactly the same as the philosophical view except in one respect: we believe that a person who is fit for prophecy and has prepared himself for it may yet not become a prophet. That depends on the divine will”. While Farabi’s definition does not contain this extra stipulation as proscribed by Judaism, the details of their discussion are practically identical. Farabi states:

It is not impossible, then, that when a man’s faculty of representation reaches its utmost perfection he will receive in his waking life from the Active Intellect present and future particulars of their imitations in the form of sensibles, and receive the imitations of the transcendent intelligibles and the other glorious existents and see them. This man will obtain through the particulars which he receives ‘prophecy’ (supernatural awareness) of present and future events, and through the intelligibles which he receives prophecy of this divine. This is the highest rank of perfection which the faculty of representation can reach.

Farabi gives a detailed definition of the meanings of these terms in Chapter 13 of his book, The Principles of the Opinions of the Inhabitants of the Virtuous City. For now, let us examine them only in so far that we recognize the same terms in Maimonides’ more detailed explanation of prophecy:

It must be understood that the true character of prophecy is that of an emanation flowing from god by means of the Active Intelligence first upon the rational faculty and thence upon the imaginative faculty. This is the highest rank attainable by man and the utmost degree of perfection which can be found in his species. That state is the highest degree of perfection of the imaginative faculty.

Al-Farabi and Maimonides mean the same thing by “the faculty of representation” and “the imaginative faculty.” The Arabic term al-quwwa al-mutakhayyalia is the same in both texts. Maimonides definition of prophecy comes closer and closer to al-Farabi’s as he goes on until the point that he seems to overturn the earlier stipulation he made that a prophet must be called by God. He explains that the highest achievements in speculative sciences or personal righteousness cannot by themselves induce the ability to prophecy unless one’s imaginative faculty is perfected. The perfection of this faculty, according to Maimonides, seems to be a function of genetics, entirely dependent on the organ which carries out that faculty. It must have “the best possible constitution and proportion and the purest substance possible.” He doesn’t include any details about God’s will in perfecting this organ in man and by so doing seems to rely more heavily on Farabi’s explanation of Prophecy than by explaining it with the Hebrew Scriptures.

While this example gives evidence of Farabi’s influence on Maimonides, it is harder to justify in this instance an influence that could truly be considered Islamic. Indeed, Farabi was accused by one monumental Islamic scholar, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali in The Incoherence of the Philosophers for reducing God’s omnipotence by limiting the overarching authority of his will, power and knowledge. This extremely important work in Islamic philosophy is an attack leveled against Avicenna and al-Farabi as the two main Islamic culprits for disseminating the heretical ideas of Aristotle. Carrying out this attack is the book’s prime objective, “As Avicenna and al-Farabi are the main interpreter’s disseminators of the Aristotelian philosophy, this work will limit itself to the works that these two philosophers have commented on.” One of the principal arguments al-Ghazali levels against the Islamic philosophers was their assertion that God did not hold have knowledge of particulars, but only of universals. To illustrate the meaning of these terms, al-Ghazali uses the example of an eclipse. According to the Avicennan theory, if God had knowledge of particulars, he would of necessity have to become a being of change. For “knowing” that the eclipse is taking place in the moment that the eclipse has passed becomes ignorance. God would have to change his knowledge and could therefore no longer be an unchanging being. Avicenna circumvents this problem by stating that God only knows things in a universal sense. The eclipse’s advent, its actuality, at its passing collectively form part of God’s knowledge any given time. Al-Ghazali refutes this idea on the basis that God’s essence does not change even if he does have knowledge of the particulars of an eclipse and to suggest otherwise is to become an unbeliever for “His perfection consists in his knowledge of all things.” In a similar way, Farabi’s explanation of prophecy denigrates God’s power by suggesting that a man of sufficient intellectual training can aspire to the position of Prophet. Because of this and other assertions al-Ghazali deems heretical, he spares now sympathy for al-Farabi,

What rank in God’s world is there that is lower than the rank of one who adorns himself with the abandonment of the truth that is traditionally believed by the hasty embracing of the false as true, accepting it without reliable report and verification? The imbeciles among the masses stand detached from the infamy of this abyss; for there is no craving in their nature to become clever by emulating those who follow the ways of error. Imbecility is thus nearer salvation than acumen severed [from religious belief]; blindness is closer to wholeness than cross-eyed sight.

Knowing the fierce debates that ensued in Islamic philosophy and the attacked launched by one against the other, putting one’s finger on a definition of “Islamic science” or “Islamic philosophy” becomes more and more difficult. This debate further illustrates the problems with stating too quickly that Islam is responsible for this or that philosophy of any particular non-Muslim based solely on the fact that he borrowed ideas from this or that Muslim. As we can see in the case of al-Farabi and al-Ghazali, two perfectly respectable Muslims, along with countless others stood on two completely different sides of an issue. Muzaffar Iqbal states that a fundamental point to understanding the Islamic scientific and philosophical tradition is the fact that its key players differed, at times viciously, along a “horizontal axis while remaining firmly entrenched in the central vertical reality of Islam that establishes certain fundamentals about the Creator, His role in the cosmos and life.” Though this statement is vague and avoids the fact that some Muslim scholars, notably Avicenna and Al-Ghazali, differed considerably about the Creator’s role in life, it addresses an important phenomenon which was true about the community of believers. It helps our cause to know that al-Farabi is known for having tried to affirm the existence of one and only one God through philosophical means. Al-Ghazali would not dispute this fact and this is evidence of a common “vertical axis” that both remained fixed upon. The scholars who wrote down their ideas tried to prove their theories to an audience of Muslims they hoped would lend them their ears. The myriad texts and treatises that came to that audience produced an evolving synthesis of thought that wasn’t controlled or owned by any one person in a monopoly. The group was open for a change drivers at any time if someone could prove themselves capable. Al-Ghazali wrote The Incoherence of the Philosophers, believing that somewhere out there a worthy number of people would consider his thoughts and be able to understand them. Two centuries later, Ibn Rushd responded with The Incoherence of the Incoherence, addressing that same community in an attempt to more fully perfect the idea of God in the minds of the believers. Anyone else who might have been unhappy with the way things were going certainly would have had a similar opportunity. The religion of Islam, as first preached by Muhammad and later taught to millions of people through the Qur’an is responsible for creating and maintaining that community and the vibrant debates that went on inside it. The appearance of Ibn Rushd’ text several centuries later, bearing direct reference to al-Ghazali’s text right in the title, illustrates the livelihood of the debate that Islamic society engaged to further the cause of knowledge. The appearance of al-Farabi’s thought in Moses Maimonides’ works shows his intimate participation in the intellectual milieu that Islam created. Al-Farabi, writing two hundred years before Maimonides’ time, would be considered by some to be thoroughly discredited by the time Maimonides’ came around. Considering the popularity of al-Ghazalian thought throughout the Muslim world, and particularly among the al-Mohads who conquered Spain, it is unlikely to think that Maimonides was not familiar with this work and even less likely, considering the subject matter of the book, to think he would not have been interested. It is certain that Maimonides’ was familiar with the works of Ibn Rushd, and therefore his defense of al-Farabi against the al-Ghazalian onslaught. The fact that Maimonides continues to support Farabi, leads one to believe that he was indeed a follower of this debate.

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