Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 5

Hook

Imagine the desert wind carrying the scent of jasmine and ancient spices, as a scholar in Fustat, Egypt, meticulously inscribes words that would shape Jewish law for a millennium, his heart always yearning eastward, towards the dust and stones of Eretz Yisrael.

Context

Place

Our guide today, the venerable Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, known as Maimonides or the Rambam, penned these profound insights in Fustat (Old Cairo), Egypt, in the 12th century. This was a vibrant intellectual and commercial hub where Jewish life flourished, yet it stood geographically and spiritually distinct from the Land of Israel, which was then under Crusader rule. The Rambam’s geographical remove from Eretz Yisrael only intensified his fervent articulation of its sanctity and centrality.

Era

The 12th century (c. 1138-1204 CE) was a pivotal time for Jewish thought. Following the Golden Age of Spain, the Rambam synthesized millennia of Jewish tradition, philosophy, and law into a monumental work, the Mishneh Torah. This era saw the flourishing of Sephardic intellectualism, with its emphasis on rational inquiry, philosophical depth, and rigorous legal codification, all while maintaining a deep connection to mystical and poetic traditions. The Rambam’s work became a cornerstone for all Jewish communities, but especially for Sephardi and Mizrahi Jewry, influencing their halakha, piyut, and communal practices for generations.

Community

The Rambam's profound influence permeated Sephardi and Mizrahi communities across North Africa, the Middle East, and the Iberian Peninsula. His legal code, written in clear, accessible Hebrew, became an authoritative source, often studied alongside the Talmud. His philosophical works, like Guide for the Perplexed, shaped the intellectual landscape. The communities he guided, from Morocco to Yemen, Iraq to Spain, embraced his rulings, including his passionate directives concerning the Land of Israel, often integrating them into their daily lives, communal aspirations, and liturgical expressions. His legacy is a testament to the interconnectedness of Jewish learning and the enduring power of Sephardic intellectual tradition.

Text Snapshot

The Rambam, in Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 5, delineates the laws of warfare, distinguishing between a milchemet mitzvah (obligatory war, like defending Israel or against Amalek) and a milchemet hareshut (optional war, for expansion). He then pivots to the sanctity of Eretz Yisrael and the prohibition of dwelling in Egypt. Crucially, he states, "It is forbidden to leave Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora at all times except: to study Torah; to marry; or to save one's property from the gentiles." Even then, one must return. He emphasizes the immense spiritual merit of dwelling in the Land, noting that "whoever dwells in Eretz Yisrael will have his sins forgiven" and that "whoever leaves Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora is considered as if he worships idols," citing King David’s lament.

Minhag/Melody

The Soul's Compass: A Perpetual Yearning for Zion

For Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews, the Rambam’s words on Eretz Yisrael are not mere legal pronouncements; they are the echoing heartbeat of a people’s soul, a spiritual compass perpetually pointing eastward. The text’s declaration that "whoever leaves Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora is considered as if he worships idols" (as stated in 1 Samuel 26:19, interpreted rabbinically) is a stark, powerful statement that underlines the profound spiritual stakes involved. As the Tziunei Maharan commentary elucidates, the Rambam's source for this intense comparison is not merely the Gemara in Ketubot but also ancient traditions found in the Tosefta and Sifrei Devarim, indicating a deeply rooted, millennia-old understanding that dwelling in the Land of Israel is intrinsically linked to accepting the yoke of Heaven. It's not a literal accusation of idolatry, but an expression of the spiritual impoverishment and severance from ultimate divine connection that living outside the Land can represent. This isn't about judgment, but about the profound spiritual advantage of being in Eretz Yisrael.

This intense reverence for Eretz Yisrael permeates Sephardi and Mizrahi heritage, manifesting in both overt practices and the subtle fabric of daily life. The Rambam's mention of "Great sages would kiss the borders of Eretz Yisrael, kiss its stones, and roll in its dust" – a detail highlighted by the Steinsaltz commentary – is not an isolated anecdote but a symbolic representation of a widespread, heartfelt devotion. Imagine the weary traveler, having journeyed across deserts and seas, finally reaching the sacred soil. Their first act, a spontaneous and overwhelming expression of love, is to prostrate themselves, to touch, to kiss the earth. This practice, though perhaps not universally observed by every individual, embodies the communal sentiment and ideal. It is a physical manifestation of the spiritual yearning encapsulated in the verse, "Behold, your servants hold her stones dear and cherish her dust" (Psalms 102:15).

This longing finds its most exquisite expression in piyut, the liturgical poetry that graces Sephardi and Mizrahi prayer books and festive gatherings. Poets like Rabbi Yehuda Halevi, a giant of Spain's Golden Age, poured their souls into Kinot Tzion (Odes to Zion), expressing a visceral longing for the Land. His iconic piyut, "Libi במזרח ואנכי בסוף מערב" ("My heart is in the East, though I am at the uttermost West"), perfectly encapsulates this spiritual dichotomy. It’s a cry from the depths of exile, a recognition that no matter how distant, how prosperous, or how settled one might be in the Diaspora, the heart’s true home, its spiritual anchor, remains in Zion. These piyutim are not just beautiful verses; they are prayers, meditations, and a constant reaffirmation of the unbreakable bond between the Jewish people and their Land. They are sung with a unique blend of melancholy and hope, their melodies often imbued with the yearning and passion of generations of exiles. The melodies themselves, often incorporating maqam scales and intricate ornamentation characteristic of Sephardi and Mizrahi musical traditions, evoke a profound sense of connection to the ancient lands and the spiritual journey towards Jerusalem.

Moreover, the Rambam’s assertion that "Whoever dwells in Eretz Yisrael will have his sins forgiven" (Isaiah 33:24) and that "Even one who walks four cubits there will merit the world to come and one who is buried there receives atonement" provides a powerful spiritual incentive. The Tziunei Maharan commentary on this verse highlights how the Rambam aligns with Rabbi Meir's interpretation in the Sifrei, emphasizing the land's inherent power of atonement for its inhabitants. This belief was a driving force behind historical aliyah movements and the desire to be buried in the holy land. For countless Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews, whether in life or in death, the aspiration was to connect with Eretz Yisrael, to draw sustenance from its holiness, and to find atonement within its sacred embrace. The phrase "לשנה הבאה בירושלים" (Next Year in Jerusalem), uttered at the end of the Pesach Seder and Yom Kippur, is not just a hopeful wish but a deeply spiritual pledge, a communal affirmation of this unwavering commitment to Zion. It encapsulates the deep-seated identity that is inextricably linked to the Land, a sentiment that has propelled Sephardi and Mizrahi communities through centuries of exile, always with their hearts turned eastward.

Contrast

The Ideal vs. The Practical: Navigating Exile

The Rambam’s stance on dwelling in Eretz Yisrael is exceptionally stringent and aspirational, articulating a profound ideal that served as a powerful spiritual beacon for Sephardi and Mizrahi communities. He explicitly states that "it is forbidden to leave Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora at all times" with very limited exceptions, and even then, "it is not pious behavior" to leave for commercial enterprises. The most striking articulation is the comparison that "whoever leaves Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora is considered as if he worships idols," a statement of immense spiritual gravity, rooted in ancient rabbinic sources as clarified by the Tziunei Maharan.

While the love for Eretz Yisrael is a universal tenet across all Jewish traditions, the practical application and the intensity of the prohibition against leaving the Land have been interpreted with varying degrees of emphasis across different communities and historical periods. In some Ashkenazi traditions, particularly those that endured centuries of severe persecution and constant displacement in Europe, the halakhic discussion often focused more on the mitzvah of settling Eretz Yisrael when it became feasible, rather than a strict prohibition against dwelling outside it. The realities of exile, the imperative of physical survival, and the need to establish and maintain Jewish life in various diasporas often led to a more pragmatic approach. For communities in the Ashkenazi world, simply surviving and preserving Torah learning in often hostile environments became the paramount concern, even if it meant delaying the return to Zion.

This is not to suggest a fundamental disagreement on the sanctity of Eretz Yisrael, but rather a difference in the practical emphasis given the historical exigencies. The Rambam, writing from the relatively stable and flourishing Jewish community in Egypt, could articulate a lofty ideal, challenging Jews to prioritize the spiritual benefits of the Land above all else. In contrast, for communities facing pogroms, expulsions, and economic devastation, the focus might have necessarily shifted to the permissible exceptions for leaving Eretz Yisrael (such as saving property or finding sustenance) and the development of rich Jewish life and Torah centers in the Diaspora. Both approaches stem from deep reverence for Torah and the Land, but they reflect different historical experiences and the ways in which halakha is applied to address the complex realities of Jewish existence in exile, balancing the ultimate ideal with the immediate needs of the community.

Home Practice

A Taste of Zion's Dust: Connecting to Eretz Yisrael

To embrace a small piece of this profound Sephardi/Mizrahi reverence for Eretz Yisrael, you might try a simple, yet meaningful, home practice:

1. The "Eastward Gaze": Just as Sephardi communities traditionally oriented their synagogues and prayers eastward towards Jerusalem, take a moment each day, perhaps during Shema or Amidah, to consciously face east (or the direction of Jerusalem from your location). As you do, allow yourself to visualize the stones and dust of Eretz Yisrael, reflecting on its sanctity and the deep spiritual connection that has bound generations. Consider learning a few words of a piyut like Yehuda Halevi's "Libi במזרח" and meditating on its meaning. Let this brief, intentional act serve as your personal "kissing the borders," a reminder of the Land's centrality to our heritage and a silent prayer for its well-being.

Takeaway

The Rambam’s Mishneh Torah, deeply embraced by Sephardi and Mizrahi communities, offers more than legal directives; it presents a vibrant spiritual map. It reminds us that Eretz Yisrael is not merely a geographical location but a living, breathing entity intertwined with our very souls, a source of atonement, and the ultimate spiritual compass guiding the Jewish people through all generations. This enduring legacy of passionate longing and profound connection continues to inspire, reminding us that our identity, our prayers, and our hearts remain forever turned towards Zion.