Meron: The Ziara of David ben Abraham Maimuni

  (Photo: Mount Meron)

This  year (2026) Pesach Sheni  falls on Friday 1st May and Lag LaOmer on Tuesday 5th May.[i]  

Most readers  will connect Lag LaOmer to the celebration of the  end of a plague in the  days  of Rabbi Akiva, or perhaps to the Hilula of R. Shimon bar Yohai, whose Meron shrine-complex becomes  a major site  of celebratory pilgrimage on that day each year. 

They will often assume that the Jewish Meron Pilgrimage originated as  a celebration of the Hilula of R. Shimon Bar Yohai (2nd century) but, in fact, it originates in a Water Festival that took place near the supposed  cave-tomb of R.Hillel (1st century) which is also in Meron.

 This  brief  essay is written for members of Tariqa Eliyahu Ha Nabi—our Jewish Sufi Order dedicated to the renewal of  the  Egyptian Hasidic mesorah in our day—and  they might be surprised to learn that both Pesach Sheni and  Meron's  Water Festival also have  a very special connection to one  of  the movement’s leaders and  authors: R.David ben Abraham Maimuni (1222 -1300).

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R. Abraham ben Ha Rambam (1186-1237)  had two sons: David (d.1300)  and Obadyah (1228-1265). David became R. Abraham’s successor  as Nagid (the Leader of all the  Jews in Egypt) and  wrote Commentaries on the  Torah and  Haftarah, and  on Pirkei Avot (in Arabic)—whilst Obadyah devoted all of his time  to a  celibate life of contemplation and retreat. Obadyah is most remembered for  his attendance at the Jewish Sufi retreat centre at Dammuh and  for his spiritual treatise entitled  Al-Maqala al-Hawdiyya (The Treatise of  the Pool).[ii]

The  Jewish-Sufi Movement of the  Mediaeval Egyptian Hasidim was certainly both strong and popular for at least three hundred years, but  in its early days it was not supported by everyone in the  Cairo Jewish community.  Many were suspicious of the movement’s adoption of Islamic Sufi contemplative practice and the liturgical reforms of its  Maimuni leaders— even though the group insisted that they were reinstating the lost  Jewish contemplative  practice of  the  biblical prophets, a tradition they were convinced had been severely neglected in Judaism but which had been preserved by the Islamic Sufis.

 Abraham ben HaRambam and his son David were not just leaders  within the Pietist Movement, they were both halachic Judges and Community leaders  of  the  entire Jewish community.    In holding  such  a highly political and powerful position it is only to be  expected that they would have encountered both intense rivalry and opposition from competing individuals  and community factions.  The Maimuni Hasidim therefore prayed their liturgy and  practiced their distinctive contemplative form of khalwa(hitbodedut)  in their  own synagogues and in their own meeting places.  It is  true  that Abraham Maimuni and his  group  wore the  same distinguishing Sufi attire as that worn by the   Muslim Sufis—even  when they were in public—but they kept their Special Path and  its  practices discreetly private.

R. David ben Abraham Maimuni had to contend with much political opposition and at one point, he was forced to close his own Jewish-Sufi zawwiya and daven in a “mainstream” synagogue according to its standard minhag and  nusach.  Those who opposed him had actually reported him to the  Fostat Muslim authorities in order to suppress both the liturgical reforms initiated by his father Abraham and  the Jewish-Sufi practices that were promoted by David and  Obadyah.

Rabbenu David ben Abraham fled from this persecution to Akko in 1285. He  will surely  have  brought with him companions  from the Jewish-Sufi group from Fostat, and   scholars  have  conjectured that the  liturgical prostration which was practiced by some Jews in that coastal city in those days  was initiated by his visiting exiled group. 

His residence in Akko is, quite possibly, the principal  channel through which many of   the Egyptian Jewish-Sufi contemplative traditions found  their  way into the mystical and  ascetic  practices of the Galil—The contention is  that these practices were  absorbed by Yitzhak ben Shmuel of Akko (12th-13thc) and  by Abraham Abul’Afiya (1240-1291) and  his  disciples, to become prominent features of their own  thought systems—eventually becoming a significant part of the  new and revolutionary contemplative  kabbalistic systems  of the Safed mystics in the  fifteenth and  sixteenth centuries.

While in the Galil, in 1285 or shortly afterwards,  Rabbenu David made a very significant pilgrimage (ziara)  to Meron and  that pilgrimage occurred on Pesach Sheni.   To understand its significance we will now set the  scene of what happened there.

 

The Water Ritual of Meron

In our times the Meron Pilgrimage on Lag La Omer is very much focussed on the  person and  legend of R.Shimon bar Yohai.  As stated above, this  is  a  comparitively recent focus.

 In the mediaeval era in question, the centre of the  ziara and  its festivities  was a actually The cave-tomb  of Hillel and  his Disciples that is found   slightly to the  west of  the  current shrine-complex  of the  Rashbi.  Even more poignantly—the central ritual of this pilgrimage  was not the  lighting of a beacon fire but the appearance of “water”  and  the filling of water containers.

There are several accounts   of this Water Pilgrimage, ranging from the  account of Petachiah of Regensburg (in the 12th century) to the Islamic records of Evliya Çelebi (1611 – 1682),but they are all in accordance regarding the  central statements  that (i) the major Meron  Jewish Pilgrimage  was held at the  Cave  of Hillel; (ii) that this event and  the  holiday festivities that followed it  were also attended by Muslims (in peaceful conviviality); (iii) that they  involved a water ritual (that was probably originally a Canaanite custom also performed at Meron); and (iv) that  this ceremony was related to intercessions for a Divine  blessing on the local water supply.

As is  so often the  case where such rituals of ancient provenance  are concerned, considerable hagiographical elaboration and  miracle story-telling has obscured  the actual practices and  their development over the  centuries.  The  reader is  directed to the ground-breaking essay by Prof. Elchanan Reiner entitled “Meron’s Miracles”[iii] for  the full story.  

In some versions of the story,  the ceremony produces actual immediate rainfall, in some  a flooding of the  local cisterns, in some  a mysterious outpouring of great quantities of springwater that produces so much water that hundreds were able  to fill their pitchers on the  day itself.

That "DAY" was sometimes given as Lag LaOmer, sometimes as Pesach Sheni, and  sometimes (erroneously) as  Sukkot.  But most usually the  date is  recorded sometime  in the early weeks  of  the  month of Iyyar when both Pesach Sheni and Lag LaOmer always fall.

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(Photo: Jews and Muslims  at the  Meron pilgrimage..  1930's)

Our primary concern, in Tariqa Eliyahu, is the part of  the event’s history that involves R. David  and  our Movement.  The  version of  the story which follows comes from Professor Reiner’s  study:

“Around 1285, Rabbi David Hanagid, grandson of Maimonides, employed the cave’s magical properties against his opponents, who had tried to remove him from the office of nagid(head of the Jewish community in the Mameluke state):

“Rabbi David Hanagid would pray in the cave of Rabbi Hillel and Shammai, and cold water would issue. Then he excommunicated the slanderers. And on that day five hundred slanderers in Egypt died and two months later, their wives and sons were taken from this world”

(Sefer Yuhasin by R.Abraham Zakut).

 

 The process of what actually occurred in the cave-ritual is described —as a miracle—by Petachiah of Regensburg (active 1175-1190):

“And in the lower Galilee there is a [burial] cave, and inside it is  wide and high. On one side is the cave of Shammai and his disciples, and on the other side, Hillel and his disciples. In the middle of the cave is a sunken stone, a large stone hollow like a cup,with a capacity of some forty seah [7.3 litres] and more. And when a truly righteous person comes there, they see the stone full of beautiful water, and they wash their  hands and pray and ask whatever they will.

 

And the stone is not hollow from below because the water does not come from the ground, but it will appear if the person is truly righteous. A person who is not truly righteous  will not see the water. And if even a thousand jars of water will be drawn from the stone, water will not be lacking. It will be as full as at first, and the water does not issue [from a spring].

(emphases mine)

  

Whatever caused  R.David  to flee from Cairo to Akko, he was recalled by his community there in 1290, having spent five  years in the  Galil but  always  based in Akko itself.   Whether his oppressors changed their opinions is not known and  we can only muse fancifully  that any change of heart by his  enemies  might have  been  influenced by his prayers at Meron. R. David  re-shouldered his role as Nagid, though his  experience of conflict in earlier years   had sapped his vitality, and  thenceforward he  chose  to share  the  role  with his son, Abraham.  R. David  is reputed to be  buried alongside his  own father, R. Abraham ben HaRambam Maimuni, at the  kever of the  Rambam in Tiverya.[iv]

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THE WATER MIRACLE RENEWED

I would  like  to conclude this very brief essay with a personal reflective  comment.

The Maimuni temperament that inspires our Order does not incline  our members to be impressed by talk of miracles and magical mysteries. Who knows what actually happened in the  mind of David HaNagid at Pesach Sheni?  Who knows what really went  on in Meron to inspire  the  miraculous water-appearances that so many mediaeval accounts testify did happen at the  Cave of Hillel.  My belief is  that G-d Alone  knows and  that we ought  to leave  such matters  to Him.

But David’s brother, R. Obadyah, wrote an entire sefer based on the symbol of a pool of water. He must, surely, have  discussed this pool-symbol many times with his  brother in the  context of their shared  Judeo-Sufic practice. 

Following the  example  of P.Fenton and  T. Block, I would  like  to contrast two related passages.  The  first is  from Al Ghazali (1057-1111), who was one  of  the  three  Islamic Sufi authors most commonly studied by the  Cairene Hasidim, and  the  second is from the  Treatise of  the  Pool written by David’s brother Obadyah:

Al Ghazali writes:

“The  heart is like  a pool, and  the  senses are like  the  five  streams by which water enters the  pool from outside. If you  want limpid water to rise from the  bottom of  the pool, the  way to do it  is  to remove all of  the  water from it...The paths  of all the  streams must be  blocked so that the  water does not  come...So long as the pool is  busy with  water that comes from the  outside, water cannot rise up from within. In the  same  way,then knowledge that comes from within  the heart will not  be gained until the  heart is  emptied of everything  that has come  from the  outside.”[v]

Obadyah Maimuni writes:

“Imagine  a  certain person who,  possessing a  very old pool,desireth to cleanse the  latter of dirt and  restore it...he must occupy himself with its gradual cleansing until that pool be  completely purified. Only after having ascertained that there remain therein no impurity can THE LIVING WATERS THAT GO FORTH FROM THE  HOUSE OF GOD  flow therein...The  foregoing is  an allegory alluding to the  purification, cleansing and  purging of the  heart, the  correction of its  defects and  failings and its  being emptied of all but the Most High.  He who accomplisheth this will comprehend invaluable notions which were hitherto hidden from him, deriving therefrom that which none else can acquire (even) after much time  and with plenteous knowledge.” [vi]

 

In the Petachiah version of the  Meron ritual it is emphasised that the  water that fills  the  stone, after the Tzaddik has prayed, appears (i) only to a righteous person; and (ii) does not come  from an underground spring or natural source

Remembering the above quoted  passage in the  Treatise of  the Pool might permit the interpretation that the  “water” of the  Meron miracle was a symbolic rather than a physical effluent, an approximation, or a reflection of a contemplative  event that was actually taking place in the  heart of the  one  praying in the cave of Hillel.

It seems  to me  that the water-miracle story might be  a fragmented memory of a sufi-type teaching-tale  that lies  behind the  legend.

With this perspective the  reason the water in the  Cave  of Hillel is only produced and seen by the  true gnostic— and  the  reason it bears no connection to a natural spring—might  be  because it signifies a visionary experience rather than a physical one.

The reason the prayer of the visionary is the prelude to the  granting of the tzaddik’s wishes is because what is being described, or hinted at, is the  visionary’s contemplative contact with G-d.

The  process  therefore represents the gift of prophecy whereby G-d makes the  will of the illuminated-one His Will.

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But is it “water” that the gnostic sees?

Rabbenu Obadyah echoes Al Ghazali’s warning about distinguishing  illusion from reality.  He stresses the  importance of  developing  discernment in knowing what is  distraction or illusion and  what is True.

So often in the  early stages of our development as contemplatives we think we might  be divinely inspired when in fact we are being deluded by our ego. Similarly, we might experience what seems  to be  ecstasy when in fact it is  little more than hormonal or cerebral excitement.  Experienced contemplatives recognise that these experiences  are like treats or sweets  given to children, like  the  honeyed alphabet of the cheder— but soon we learn that we have  to grow up. 

R. Obadyah writes:

“Be however extremely mindful that no residue remain in the pool and beware that no impurity seep into the  water that floweth therein...for  any (impurity) remaining there will be  restored to thee by the  imaginative  faculty when thou sleepest or when thou awakest or at times of solitary devotion (khalwa)...Thou wilt think it an object from without, whereas it is part of the  dregs  left in the pool”.

He continues:

“The  rabbis  have  warned us  against this  (error) in the  account of the four who entered Paradise ‘Rabbi Aqiba said unto thee ‘upon reaching the  marble stoned floor, do not utter ‘Water, water’. [vii]

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Pesach Sheni is seen  as “a second chance” to celebrate the Pesach redemption. It is, for us, an opportunity to see if we have  really and  truly  left the  pursuing army of Pharaoh behind  us.

Maybe on Pesach Sheni—we are  being invited not to cross the  Sea of Reeds— but  to cross a different stretch of  “water” — and to separate the  dregs that cloud the  pool from the true and  emerging Living Waters.

Pesach Sheni and  Lag LaOmer  Sameach.


Nachman Davies

Safed

Erev Pesach Sheni 11th May 2025

Reposted May 2026


 


 

NOTES

 

[i] Sefardim refer to the  thirty third day of the Omer count as Lag LaOmer.  Ashkenazim prefer Lag b’Omer.

[ii]   Obadyah b. Abraham b.Moses Maimonides, The Treatise of the Pool (al-Maqâla al-Hawdiyya): translated by Paul Fenton;The Octagon Press;London (1981)

[iv] Dr Rachel Sarfati’s groundbreaking research on the  Florence Scroll has effectively confirmed the burial of R. Abraham ben HaRambam next to the  Rambam in Tverya (see our 2022 essay HERE),  but the burial of R. David ben Abraham at that site  is  questioned by many. The epigraphic plaque commemorating  R. David’s burial at the  Rambam’s kever is considered by Dr Y. Stepansky (and  many others)  to be  “probably a forgery”.   On this see Dr Y. Stepanski: “Fifteenth to Seventeenth-Century CE Hebrew Epitaphs from the Jewish Cemetery at Ẓefat (Safed)..... and....  Hillel M. 2022. Hazon Tavrimon: Forged Documents Produced by the Toledano Brothers of Tiberias. Jerusalem (Hebrew).   

[v] Quoted in Chittick,W. Sufism:  A short introduction p.143; One World Publishers; Oxford (2000) 

[vi] The Treatise of the Pool,  P. Fenton p91  (emphases mine)

[vii] The Treatise of the Pool, P.Fenton  p92 (emphases mine)

Nadav and Abihu: Annihilation in the Fire of Love

Who was the  first Sufi? According to some, that title  goes to Ali ibn Abi Talib (c. 600–661) Some say Hasan al-Basri (642-728) was the  first Sufi.  Others indicate Abu Hashim al-Kufi (d.776). Many Muslims would  say that distinction is  shared by the  intimate companions of  the  Prophet of Islam, and  some say the  title could only truly belong to the  Prophet of Islam  himself.  

But the  first Jewish Sufi must surely be  Moses :  whose retreats  on Sinai and whose meditations  in "the Tent  Outside the  Camp", in the  Cleft of  the  Rock, and   before the  Ark  were the  foundation for  the  Sufi practices of solitary contemplative  retreat that we refer to as Khalwa/Hitbodedut.

For  the Egyptian Hasidim, and  most especially for  R. Abraham ben Ha Rambam, the biblical Prophets are the  model exemplars of  those  who have  attained wusla (enlightenment/true gnosis). In the  Kifaya (as in the  works of  the  Rambam) "prophecy" is presented as being a  state of discursive  union  with the  Divine  that ranges from enlightened intuition, through inspiration, and finally to a  state of some  kind  of Union with or Nearness to the  Divine. 

In Tariqa Eliyahu, our Silsila (sufi lineage) is  an Uwaysi chain of transmission that is purely spiritual and  it passes from Moshe Rabbenu—to Shmuel HaNabi—to Eliyahu Ha Nabi—through Elisha Ha Nabi and the movement/school  that the Torah  calls the Bnei Nevi'im…and  on to the Mediaeval Egyptian Jewish-Sufis (under R. Abraham ben HaRambam) who restored the  connections  of  the  Silsila that had been lost.   We connect spiritually with this  chain and  most especially with the archetypal Elijah/Al Khidr: our special model as Master and  Guide on the Sufi Path, and the symbol of wusla itself.

But Moshe Rabbeinu's  level of  prophecy is way "above"  and  "distinct" from   any other level of prophetic experience, and  none  of  us  can ever attain that kind of  prophetic state.  So who was the  first Jewish-Sufi?

My personal answer to that question is that it was not one  but two people: Nadav and Abihu, the sons of Aharon Ha Kohen Gadol.

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Our Biblical commentators have long been puzzled by the exact significance of  the deaths of Nadav and Abihu,the sons of Aharon the Kohen Gadol. In Parshat Shemini they enter the sanctuary and offer an ‘unauthorised fire’, a sacrifice of incense (prayer) which causes them to be wholly consumed in a Divine fire.[1]  The responses of Moshe Rabbeinu and Aharon Ha Kohen Gadol are ambiguous and defy the ingenuity of our greatest scholars as they balance off interpretations that either condemn these two kohanim as rebellious criminals or extol them as saints of the  highest order.[2] 

I side with those commentators who (like the Sfas Emes and the  Chatam Sofer) see these two as “saints” rather than “sinners”.   Those who support the good name of Nadav and Abihu were also championed (in the  mid thirteenth century) by R. Abraham ben Ha Rambam in his “Kifaya” when he writes:

Our Sages have  blamed the deaths of Nadav and Avihu—[eternal] peace be upon them—on an element of pride (Vayikra Rabbah 20:10). Many misguided people take this statement superficially,as they take the other comments about them in the Midrash, thinking that they were extremely arrogant. [However,to believe this] about such great men is unacceptable...Nadav and Abihu were among the  first annointed and among the greatest of prophets...Therefore to criticize them is a terrible sin...The bottom line,though, is that the  cause of their problem was that they deviated slightly from humility.[3]

 The account of the death of these two tzaddikim is immediately followed in the Torah by an admonition  against inebriation during liturgical worship, and this has led some commentators to accuse Nadav and Abihu of being drunk on alcohol. If they were inebriated, surely it  was more likely that they were inebriated with the  Love of G-d.

The complex arguments which our sages laid down to plumb the  depths  of  this mysterious incident are convoluted, inconclusive  and beyond the  scope of this commentary as no single definitive answer to the textual conundrum  can stand  on its own as the objectively  and  exclusively true one.

The idea that they were intoxicated with the love of God rather than drink, but made a misjudgement in their zeal  might reconcile  the textual difficulties concerning the immolation of  these two proto-sufis  in the  divine fire.  For them, such a death was a blessing. The fire that consumed them may be seen  as a sacrifical  fire  of mystical union, and not as a punishment.

But I  would like  to offer another possibility, by way of  a hiddush: In our  Torah, perhaps the event may have been recorded ambiguously to conceal a hidden message for the future, a message which only Moshe Rabbeinu and Aharon Ha Cohen Gadol were party to—a private and prophetically delivered message that they received in secret.   If this  is  the  case, perhaps the  existence of this  secret was deliberately couched in the  ambiguous text: its mysterious paradox planted there  for  us  to discover at the  appointed time.  This is  not  an unreasonable  assumption given Moshe’s strange praise of the two sons and Aharon’s  poignant  silence  in Vayikra 10:3.

For the rebellious Israelites of the time it was a demonstration of Divine Power designed to increase awe and obedience in worship.  For  Nadav and Abihu, their immolation was an experience of extreme and holy deveykut.

I see Nadav and  Abihu as pioneer Mitkarevim who wished to ‘draw near’  to the  Divine  in a way which was beyond acceptability in their historical time-period. For me,  their immolation resembles the Fiery Chariot of Eliyahu that bore the prophet to full union with the  Divine. For  me it is inconceivable  that the  text describes a fierce and almost vindictive Divine punishment.   To me it is very much a Sufic ‘fana-baqa’ event: A matter concerning  the annihilation of the ego in the Divine fire of all-consuming love.

A Sufi, in the  classical Islamic tradition, is one  who has been consumed by Love in the  Divine  Fire. This   fire is  called Ishq: an overflowing of passionate love at  the  highest level of absorption into the  Divine. In the  Jewish text of R. David ben Joshua Maimuni,  it is  the  state described (using Islamic  terminology) at the  conclusion of  his Al Murshid where the soul of  the Sufic Novice/Aspirant is purified to the  point  that all awareness of  self  is  subsumed into the  Divine consciousness: the  classic "dying before one dies".

 R.Hayim ibn Attar writes in his  Ohr Ha Chayim:

“They came close to G‑d and died” (Vayikra 16:1)—they approached the supernal light out of their great love of the Holy, and thereby died. Thus they died by a “Divine kiss” such as that experienced by the perfectly righteous.  The righteous die when the Divine kiss approaches them, whereas they died by their approaching it...  Although they sensed their own demise, this did not prevent them from drawing near to G‑d in attachment, delight, delectability, fellowship, love, kissing, and sweetness, to the point that their souls passed from them.[4]

Some of us share their impulse, and many of us are most definitely aware of a call to be ‘near’ G-d which does not elevate us over others; does not lead us into power-games with the spiritual world; and which is not an escape from community—but an expression of profound involvement in its mission even though the contemplative's contribution may seem hidden.

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In the  writings of  the  Egyptian Hasidim each aspiring Sufi (novice/salik) is  enjoined to embrace the  form of solitude to which they feel called. In the  Kifaya all  are called to aim for  the  kind of "khalwa batin"  that consists of perpetual solitude even in a  crowd, but the  journey towards that stage is  to be  taken very gradually and each person has their own family, domestic, professional, and  psychological circumstances which will affect, and  maybe  even determine, their  own particular route  and level of progress on the shared path of  the  Tariqa.  

 For all of us that solitude may be  found  in the Kifaya's  recommended  night-time vigils, in regular hours of solitary silent meditation and  dhikr, in periodic total retreat ( from a few days to the  full 40 day Jewish Sufi arbai-in).

But the Egyptian Hasidim also sought to set up convents for  those salikun who wanted  to live  in almost total solitary retreat.  It seems  to me that it is  the  latter group that are  most closely related in spirit to Nadav and  Abihu and so   I would  like  to conclude with a  special word for them.

 Those who are blessed to be  able to practice the kind  of extended retreat that the  Kifaya recommends have the single-mindedness which is expressed in the cry:

"One  thing do I ask of the Lord, and only that shall I seek: To dwell in the house of The Lord all the days of my life, to behold G-d’s beauty, and to meditate in His Sanctuary." [5]

All contemplative Jewish-Sufis aspire to this state, and  all salikun of our  order are engaged in the process of  fana-baqa that they hope will lead to "Nearness" and maybe  even "Union" after the example  of Nadav and  Abihu.

But for  those of  us  who feel called to live  in  extended retreat as Dedicated Jewish Contemplatives, our aim is  to become  Jewish-Sufis  with the single-mindedness to devote every moment of our existence to the practice of such nearness. Not as a form of self-perfecting asceticism, but as an act of religious community service; a sacrifice of prayer and devotion which envelops all creation.  Not as an escape from society or responsibility, but as an embrace.

I have not seen this better expressed than in the following passage from the writings of Rav Kook:

"Whoever feels within himself, after many trials, that his inner being can find peace only in pursuing the secret teachings of the Torah must know with certainty that it is for this that he  was created.

Let him not be troubled by any impediments in the world, whether physical or spiritual, from hastening after what is the essence of his life and his true perfection.  He may assume that it is not only his own perfection and deliverance that hinges on the improvement of his character, but also the deliverance of the community and the perfection of the world." [6]

I would go further than Rav Kook, and state that to discourage the minority of Jews who wish to live like this from doing so— might actually be preventing the light of  the tzaddikim from reaching all the  nooks and crannies it is intended to reach.  The responsibilities of the contemplative are as necessary and as valuable as are the more pragmatic or more easily quantified aspects of Jewish societal philanthropy and inter-personal tzedakah.

The Rambam writes:

"Every single one of those who live in our world,

whose spirit has gratefully welled up,

and who has comprehended in his or her mind to be separated

and to stand before God,

to serve Him,

to worship Him,

and to know Him;

who has walked in the straight path that God has intended for her or him;

and who has shed from his or her neck the yoke of the many accountings that humans make of one another --this person has become holy like the holy of holies, and God will be her or his portion and inheritance forever and ever.

Such a person will have sufficient in this world, as did the priests and levites, as David, may he rest in peace, said, "The Lord is my portion of inheritance and my cup; You sustain my destiny" (Ps. 16:5)."

 

Mishne Torah in Hilkhot Shemitta ve-Yovel 13:12-13

(emphasies mine)

 

 

Whether one stands in a Sufic Vigil, sits in silent meditation, or undergoes short or long-term reclusive  retreats—all of us are approaching  the Fire of Nadav and Abihu and  all of  us  are reaching out to follow  the  Fiery Chariot of  Elijah.  Like  them, our Jewish-Sufi progenitors: May we merit  to be annihilated in the  Fire of  Divine  Love.


Nachman Davies

Safed

April 7 2026

 

 




[1] Vayikra  10

[2] The almost endless  (if largely negative)  opinions on the incident  are catalogued here: https://aish.com/48923142/and  there is  a stimulating set of  essays on the subject at "thetorah.com": see  https://www.thetorah.com/article/how-god-was-sanctified-through-nadav-and-avihus-death  and  https://www.thetorah.com/article/the-incident-of-nadav-and-avihu   A remarkably positive and highly recommended discussion is to be found at https://www.nitzotzos.com/post/parshas-shmini-consumed-by-a-strange-fire?fbclid=IwAR3x4bKr5twJOcXEXWZ_rven8yf10TpCLwyWzfmV-Qbsx8R5kedZRVDlBKA 

[3] Translated by R’Ýaakov Wincelberg in  The Guide to Serving G-d’,  R' Avraham ben HaRambam, p115-117 ( Feldheim Jerusalem/New York, 2008)

[4] Ohr Ha Chayim commentary on Vayikra  16:1

[5] Tehillim 27:4

[6]  Orot Hakodesh vol 1, pp. 88-89 as translated by Ben Zion Bokser in ‘Abraham Isaac Kook: Essential Writings’ pp. 201-203 ( Paulist Press, Mahwah,New Jersey,1978)

 

 

 

 




KORBAN MINCHA: The Finest Flour

 The  Third section of our MANUAL FOR NOVICES will contain Commentaries and Spiritual Guidance from the Founder of  Tariqa Eliyahu and (hopefully) essays  and  commentaries from long standing  members. This  Hegyon HaLev essay was written in 2011, but  even then it  contained Jewish-Sufi aspects  that we later developed in our Order.

In Parshat Vayikra we read of the different kinds of ritual sacrifice. In Haftara Vayikra we read of Israel’s need for forgiveness and atonement.
 
Parshat Vayikra describes a type of sacrifice called an olah. This term denotes the burnt offerings made by fire. The word olah alludes to the ascent of the “essence” of the sacrifice which rises “heavenward” as smoke. G-d’s Presence in the midst of the desert community was indicated by a cloud and a fire. With that in mind, any “burnt offering” (involving fire and smoke) may be seen as being a ritual related to the “bringing near” of the Divine Presence in some way. In this sense there is an element of ascent and an element of descent in the process and it is that which has grabbed my attention. What are we “sending up” to G-d and what is He "sending down" to us?

The burnt offerings are described in Leviticus 1 and 2 and they are listed according to the wealth of the one making the gift. The most wealthy offering a bullock, the less well off birds, and the poorest an offering of flour. This last of the offerings made by fire is the sacrifice we usually refer to as the Korban Minchah, the “Meal Offering”. Though the term “minchah” was originally used to describe any ritual offering, it is used in Parshat Vayikra to denote an offering of unleavened bread made using flour and oil. The word has since come to denote the afternoon prayer service which replaced the afternoon Sanctuary/Temple sacrifice.

Besides the intrinsic ingredients of the bread itself, the meal offering included the pouring of oil and the laying of frankincense. This would increase the visual intensity of the flames and would produce a strong-smelling cloud of smoke when the offering was set on fire. Oil is one of the symbols for joy and also of consecration. Frankincense is one of the symbols of purification and of devoted prayer. All sacrifices were offered with salt as well, another symbol of cleansing but also of self-sacrifice and of wealth. If we remember that a sacrifice is an act of korban, of the drawing close of G-d and Israel, we could say that:

Flour and Oil:The sacrifice of our prayer is most acceptable when we offer it in joy and as a part of a dedicated life, not as a separate act. (Our entire lives should be an act of worship).

Oil and Frankincense: Our own effort, our “labour”, is blended with the Fire of G-d’s overwhelming Love and the Inspiration of His Breath so that we might “burn” more brightly in His service.

Salt: If we perform this kind of sacrifice to the best of our ability it will serve to purify our hearts to make the drawing close of our souls with G-d a possibility.
The giving of charity and the nullification of our own self-importance will complete the sacrificial act and make our prayers a potential atonement for ourselves and for those for whom we pray.

In Leviticus 2:3 and in Leviticus 2:10 we are told that the minchah offering is the “most holy of all the offerings made by fire”. Today I considered why this might be.

We are told that the offering should be of "fine flour" (solet). As the minchah offering was the sacrifice brought by the very poorest people, it is significant that despite their poverty, the best grain available was to be selected. It reminds us that even in (physical or spiritual) poverty we can always afford to select the very best we have to give as our offering to G-d.

 This applies especially to the way we observe mitzvot. Our intention is to “beautify” the mitzvot to the best of our ability and we do this by making full use of whatever expertise, intellect, or artistic skill we might be blessed with in performing the act of service we are engaged in. For contemplative Jews, this is especially so when we pray or when we study in Hegyon Ha-Lev(meditative scriptural reflection). The hurried performance of liturgy or a skimped half-attentive period of Torah study are like inappropriate fast-food or a cake made from a packet. We are to bring only the finest ingredients….even though we are poor in the sense that our personal resources are often limited (and always imperfect), we are asked to select only the best we can offer.

An animal sacrifice involves a lot of violent drama and splashed blood and is unavoidably spectacular. To a modern sensibility it is also an emotional event. It is not just a symbol of surrendered wealth, it is also is the taking of a life and the destruction of an animal “soul”. Some may feel that the drama and enormity of the action is a sign that animal sacrifice is in some way more momentous or even superior, but the text obviously sees things in a different light. The sacrifice of minchah is not the taking of life, nor the expending of an item of great financial value, nor is it performed on a grand scale. These are highly significant factors which indicates that a much more spiritual theology of sacrifice is at work. That which distinguishes the meal offering, and therefore indicates why it is singled out as being of special value, is that a cake of wheat-meal is the product of human labour. It is a sacrifice of the humblest human effort (unleavened bread) offered with holy joy (consecrating oil) and the devotion of those cleansed of self-interest (the purifying frankincense of prayer).

The korban minchah is the gift of a poor but devoted soul to a G-d who has and gives everything. It is a personal offering which is act of allegiance and a statement of trust in G-d.  It is an act of allegiance because it involves a person “presenting” himself before the altar (performing a religious commandment). It is an act of trust because the “poor one” making the offering has chosen the finest ingredients despite the cost.

When we say the blessing over bread which we are about to eat, we always use a formula which declares that G-d is the one who “brings forth bread from the earth”. It is clear that this “bringing forth” involves a great deal of human work and that we are not referring to a miraculous manna. This is to teach us (at least) two things.

Firstly: all our offerings are made from things which are already G-d’s to start with. We provide nothing but our labour. All creation is His Gift and the life which beats even in the molecules of a grain of wheat is not simply a matter of physical activity, it is simultaneously a life which is one of G-d’s “garments”. We ourselves only exist by His life-giving breath, and the impulse to serve is often as much a matter of inspiration as of any independent effort on our behalf.

Secondly: it is to encourage us by reminding us that, paradoxically, our partnership in the “life” and “work” of G-d is by no means insignificant. It is precisely because we have collaborated intensively in the production of the bread that the minchah sacrifice is declared the most acceptable and most valuable of all the sacrifices of the temple. It represents an ideal balance between Bitahon and Hishtadlut- between relying on Providence and taking the initiative ourselves.

The flour which makes our meal offering is the finest flour when it has been purified and processed in humility and yet still represents the very best we each have to offer. In return for our acceptance that we are literally paupers who rely on Providence at every moment, another bread falls.....the manna which is our spiritual sustenance,

The finest flour is also a symbol of which kind of prayer is the most valued. We may use a formulaic liturgy-but without the work of our own kavannah, our own attention to the task of prayers and to the discipline of “creating” a liturgy afresh each day…our offering would be lacking. If we make the avodat HaKodesh…our best labour then we will have understood the core meaning of the meal offering, and why it is declared the “most holy.”

And yet, however “holy” a sacrifice is we know that our intentions, our words, our acts of love, our efforts are only actually of value in the processes of atonement or worship as signs of our willing service. This is what I meant earlier when I pointed out that our prayer is most valuable when it is offered as a part of an entire way of life that is “holy”.

Our acts of restorative justice and the creation of a channel for grace in our everyday relationships and business dealings are what make our “atonement” a reality, not just our holy words and rituals. The drawing close of man and G-d is a part of G-d not some “thing” we burn or wave at Him to get our own way. He initiates both forgiveness and pardon on the evidence of our heart and our will, and not on the offering of promises, presents, or bribes. In the end, atonement is an activity of G-d’s Mercy, freely given. In Haftarah Vayikra we read:

“ I, even I, am He who blots out your transgressions,
For My Own Sake.”
Isaiah 43:25

His Mercy is overwhelming and beyond our comprehension. As one of the Psalms exclaims:

For His kindness overwhelmed us
And His Truth is forever
(Psalm 117:2)

We may be overwhelmed when we consider G-d’s “kindness”, but our euphoria is usually short lived and we forget very quickly. Even with human gifts we become forgetful. We may be stunned by someone’s generosity or by the beauty of a gift, or even its financial value. Yet how many days or weeks pass before such a treasure seems to have become an object left on a shelf, in a cupboard, or wrapped away for safe-keeping and thus never used.

How could we take G-d’s gifts for granted?

-His Torah and His “daily miracles” are our most valuable possessions  
-His Word is without calculable value and can create worlds 
through the partnership of our human labour...
in both the physical and spiritual realms. 
-His Presence is a Light that is meant to shine on and out… 
not be stored away for personal use.

And yet the sad fact of our history is that we do repeatedly forget “His kindness” and fail to see that He is our true “wealth”. Haftaras Vayikra- the prophetic reading which accompanies the Torah description of the sacrifices- concludes with the plea:

“Remember these things, O Jacob
And Israel, for you are my servant
I have formed you and you are My own servant
O Israel, You should not forget Me.”
Isaiah 44:21

This is not just a coincidence. The act of sacrifice and the act of memory are closely related. There are those who would say that a large part of the rationale of our liturgy-in both the sacrificial cult and the rabbinic siddur- is to remind us and not G-d of the situation we are in. That the acts of prayer are not so much ways of attracting G-d’s attention (for He “sees” us always) as ways of focussing our attention on G-d.

Rituals are a way of recalling an event or concept of religious significance. They are an especially potent and effective aid to memory: a set of practices which encourages us to remember G-d’s “kindnesses” and just how “overwhelming” they really are. This function of remembrance is especially obvious in the mitzvot of tzitzit, tefillin, and the observance of Shabbat.

For a contemplative, it is also the act of prayer itself- in the dialogue of hitbodedut, in the infused contemplation of hitbonenut, and in the focussed recitation of the formal liturgy- which brings us most profoundly into the state of “remembering” G-d’s Presence and His gifts to us. All forms of Jewish prayer are both acts of ascending gratitude and praise and descending acts of Divine recollection. We are not just remembering G-d, He is in some way involving Himself with us. We are not recalling G-d’s deeds so much as becoming more consciously a part of His Being.

Our prayers are both an olah (an ascent) of praise and petition and a vehicle for the descent of G-d’s Mercy in the form of a heavenly manna. In other words, we present the finest flour of devotion and trust in His Providence. He blesses us with the daily sustenance which we need in order to serve Him. We are given just enough faith and trust to enable us to follow one step at a time.

But perhaps the most important aspect of the meal offering is that it is the offering of one who is “poor”. By poor I mean: clear sighted in humility before G-d who creates and owns all (koneh hakol). Whatever its theological dynamics or liturgical significance...the thing which makes the korban minchah most special for me is that it is not an offering demonstrating the sacrifice of one’s own “wealth” : but it is a demonstration of one’s intent to give the best one can. That is an act by which we remember G-d’s overwhelming kindness and through which we hope He will regard us as being His faithful servants. And it is a prayerful act of sacrifice, a korban minchah of the finest flour, which anyone can offer.

The small contribution we make in any offering to G-d is our effort. And though it is a small offering, in G-d’s eyes it is far from insignificant. Parshat Vayikra describes the person who offers the korban minchah as “nefesh” (a soul) not as “ish” or “adam” (a man). In the Talmud we read:

"For what reason is the introduction to the mincha changed, to say 'nefesh?' The Holy One said, Who is it who usually brings a mincha? A poor person. I will therefore consider it as though he sacrifices his soul (nefesh) before Me."
(Menachot 104b)






Nachman Davies
8th March 2011



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