Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 5

Hook

From the sun-drenched courtyards of Fez to the bustling souks of Baghdad, the scent of fresh mint tea mingles with the ancient aroma of parchment, a testament to a vibrant spiritual journey, where every prayer and every custom is a thread weaving the Jewish soul back to the sacred soil of Eretz Yisrael.

Context

Place: A Global Tapestry of Tradition

The Sephardi and Mizrahi heritage is not monolithic but a magnificent mosaic, born from the crucible of diverse lands. Its roots stretch deep into the Iberian Peninsula, where Sephardim (from Sefarad, the Hebrew name for Spain) cultivated a Golden Age of Jewish life, marked by profound scholarship, poetry, and philosophy, often in dialogue with the surrounding Islamic and Christian cultures. Following the expulsions from Spain and Portugal in the late 15th century, these communities dispersed across North Africa (Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya), the Ottoman Empire (Turkey, Greece, the Balkans, Syria, Lebanon, Eretz Yisrael itself), and even further afield to the Americas.

Parallel to this, the Mizrahi (Eastern) communities flourished in the lands of ancient Babylonia (Iraq), Persia (Iran), Yemen, Bukhara, India, and the Caucasus. These communities, often predating the Sephardi migrations, developed distinct minhagim (customs) and liturgical traditions, shaped by centuries of life in lands like Iraq, the spiritual heartland of the Babylonian Talmud. Despite their geographical dispersion, a unifying thread was their deep reverence for Torah, their commitment to Halakha (Jewish law), and an unwavering spiritual connection to Jerusalem and the Land of Israel. The intellectual centers of Baghdad, Cairo, Fes, and later Safed and Salonica, became beacons of Torah learning, fostering a rich intellectual and spiritual legacy that continues to inspire. Each locale contributed its unique flavor, from the melodic piyutim (liturgical poems) of Morocco to the intricate kabbalistic traditions of Yemen, all within the broader framework of a shared Jewish destiny. The very air in these communities, whether under Islamic rule or later European influence, was often thick with a sense of historical continuity, a profound awareness of their lineage stretching back to the prophets and sages of antiquity, and an insistent longing for the messianic redemption tied inextricably to the Land.

Era: From Golden Age to Modern Revival

This tradition spans millennia, from the pre-Islamic Jewish communities in Persia and Yemen, through the flourishing intellectual centers of the Geonim in Babylonia (6th-11th centuries CE), the philosophical brilliance of the Golden Age in Sefarad (10th-15th centuries), the trauma and resilience of the Spanish Expulsion (1492), and the subsequent resettlement and renaissance in the Ottoman Empire. Figures like Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon (Maimonides, the Rambam, 12th century), born in Cordoba, Spain, and later living in Fes, Morocco, and Cairo, Egypt, became a towering influence, his Mishneh Torah synthesizing Halakha in an unprecedented way. The Ottoman period saw the rise of great Kabbalists in Safed, like Rabbi Isaac Luria (the Ari) and Rabbi Yosef Caro (author of the Shulchan Aruch), whose teachings deeply permeated Sephardi and Mizrahi spirituality. The 20th century brought new challenges, including the rise of Zionism, the establishment of the State of Israel, and the mass aliyah (immigration) of most Sephardi and Mizrahi communities to Israel, marking a profound shift from centuries of Diaspora life to renewed sovereignty in their ancestral homeland. This period of return was a powerful actualization of the deep yearning for Zion, a longing preserved in piyutim, prayers, and daily conversation for generations.

Community: Guardians of a Living Heritage

Sephardi and Mizrahi communities are characterized by a profound respect for tradition (masoret), a communal spirit that often prioritizes family and interconnectedness, and a deep, often mystical, devotion to God. Their liturgical styles are known for their melodic richness, incorporating elements from local musical traditions, creating a tapestry of sounds that are both sacred and deeply evocative. The study of Halakha is paramount, yet it is often interwoven with Kabbalah and Mussar (ethical teachings), fostering a holistic approach to Jewish life where ritual, ethics, and spirituality are inseparable. The Rabbinic leadership has historically been both erudite and pastoral, guiding communities through complex historical periods while preserving the integrity of Jewish law and custom. Even in dispersion, these communities maintained a fierce loyalty to Eretz Yisrael, not just as a historical memory but as a vibrant, living ideal—the ultimate destination for both individual and collective redemption. This enduring connection to the Land, a spiritual compass guiding their lives across continents and centuries, is beautifully reflected in the text we explore today.

Text Snapshot

Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 5 presents a profound vision of Jewish sovereignty and the sanctity of Eretz Yisrael:

"A king should not wage other wars before a milchemet mitzvah. What is considered as milchemet mitzvah? The war against the seven nations who occupied Eretz Yisrael, the war against Amalek, and a war fought to assist Israel from an enemy which attacks them."

"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. After accomplishing these objectives, one must return to Eretz Yisrael."

"At all times, a person should dwell in Eretz Yisrael even in a city whose population is primarily gentile, rather than dwell in the Diaspora, even in a city whose population is primarily Jewish."

"This applies because whoever leaves Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora is considered as if he worships idols as I Samuel 26:19 states 'They have driven me out today from dwelling in the heritage of God, saying 'Go, serve other gods.'"

Minhag/Melody

The Soul's Journey to Zion: Piyut and the Longing for Eretz Yisrael

The Rambam’s words in Hilchot Melachim U'Milchamot (Kings and Wars) Chapter 5 paint a vivid, almost stark, picture of the centrality of Eretz Yisrael to Jewish existence. Not only is it the stage for milchemet mitzvah (obligatory wars) and the locus of national sovereignty, but dwelling within its borders is presented as a spiritual imperative, with profound implications even for personal salvation. The statement that "whoever leaves Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora is considered as if he worships idols" (5:12:1) is particularly striking, reflecting an intense, almost uncompromising, spiritual attachment. This profound connection to the Land, articulated in such halachic rigor by the Rambam, finds its deeply emotional and melodic expression in the rich tapestry of Sephardi and Mizrahi piyut (liturgical poetry) and minhagim (customs).

The piyut tradition, a cornerstone of Sephardi/Mizrahi spiritual life, has for centuries served as the vehicle for expressing the deepest yearnings of the Jewish soul. These poems, often set to intricate melodies passed down through generations, transformed abstract halachic principles into living, breathing spiritual experiences. They allowed communities scattered across vast geographical distances—from the mountains of Yemen to the bustling ports of Salonica—to maintain a vibrant, palpable connection to the Land of Israel.

One of the most iconic piyutim that encapsulates this fervent longing for Zion, and beautifully mirrors the Rambam's sentiments, is "Tzion Halo Tish'ali" (Zion, Will You Not Ask?), penned by the illustrious Rabbi Yehuda Halevi (c. 1075–1141), a towering figure of the Golden Age of Spanish Jewry. Rabbi Yehuda Halevi was not only a brilliant poet and philosopher but also a man who lived the Rambam's ideal, ultimately embarking on a perilous journey to Eretz Yisrael in his old age, reportedly dying near the gates of Jerusalem. His life itself was a testament to the Rambam's teaching that one should "at all times dwell in Eretz Yisrael."

"Tzion Halo Tish'ali" is a Kinah (elegy) that transforms into a passionate love song to Zion. In it, Halevi laments Jerusalem's desolation while simultaneously expressing an unshakeable faith in its eventual restoration. He personifies Zion, speaking to her directly, as a lover to his beloved:

"צִיּוֹן הֲלֹא תִשְׁאֲלִי לִשְׁלוֹם אֲסִירַיִךְ / דּוֹרְשֵׁי שְׁלוֹמֵךְ וְהֵם יֶתֶר עֲדָרָיִךְ" "Zion, will you not ask about the welfare of your captives, / Those who seek your peace, and are the remnant of your flocks?"

This opening stanza immediately establishes the profound, reciprocal relationship between the Jewish people in exile and their beloved Land. The "captives" are the Jews of the Diaspora, whose entire existence is defined by their longing for Zion. The piyut continues with vivid imagery, describing the physical beauty and spiritual holiness of the Land, and the poet’s intense desire to be reunited with it:

"לִבִּי לְבֵית אֵל וְלִבְאֵר לַחַי / לַהַר הַמּוֹר וּלְגִבְעַת הַלְּבוֹנָה" "My heart yearns for Beit El and for Be'er Lachai Roi, / For the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense."

Here, Halevi lists specific holy sites within Eretz Yisrael, echoing the Rambam's detailed descriptions of the Land's borders and its kedusha (sanctity). The Land is not an abstract concept but a tangible, beloved entity, imbued with spiritual power. The piyut expresses a deep yearning to experience the Land physically, to "kiss its stones and cherish its dust," a sentiment directly referenced in the Rambam (5:10:1): "Great sages would kiss the borders of Eretz Yisrael, kiss its stones, and roll in its dust." Steinsaltz’s commentary clarifies that this refers to "when they would arrive from abroad and enter the territory of Eretz Yisrael." This minhag of physically expressing reverence for the Land is a beautiful manifestation of the halachic and spiritual weight attributed to it.

The melody for "Tzion Halo Tish'ali" varies across different Sephardi and Mizrahi traditions, each adding its unique musical signature. In some communities, it is sung with a haunting, melancholic tune, reflecting the lament of exile. In others, particularly when read as part of the Kinnot on Tisha B'Av, it takes on a more hopeful, yearning quality, anticipating redemption. These melodies, often modal and improvisational, allow the singer and listener to immerse themselves fully in the emotion of the text, creating a powerful spiritual experience that transcends mere recitation. The communal singing of such piyutim reinforces a collective identity, a shared memory, and a common hope for return.

Furthermore, beyond grand piyutim, the daily minhagim in Sephardi and Mizrahi homes and synagogues subtly reinforce this connection. The consistent inclusion of prayers for Zion and Jerusalem, the meticulous observance of mitzvot connected to the Land even in Diaspora (like counting Sefirat Ha'Omer with the intention of readiness for the Omer offering in the Temple), and the pervasive hope expressed in phrases like "L'Shana Haba'ah B'Yerushalayim" (Next Year in Jerusalem) are all reflections of the Rambam's profound teachings. For many Sephardim and Mizrahim, particularly those from communities like Yemen, the call to return to Eretz Yisrael was not merely a messianic dream but a tangible directive, leading to waves of aliyah throughout history, often undertaken with immense sacrifice, driven by the same spiritual imperative articulated by the Rambam. The Tziunei Maharan commentary on 5:12:1, which traces the Rambam's strong statement about leaving the Land to the Tosefta and other sources, highlights the deep roots of this theological stance within broader Jewish tradition, not just Rambam's individual opinion. It emphasizes that this perspective was not an anomaly but a deeply held conviction within significant streams of Jewish thought, particularly those that shaped Sephardi Halakha. This rich interplay between the strictures of Halakha, the beauty of piyut, and the lived experience of minhag demonstrates how the Sephardi/Mizrahi tradition holistically embraces the centrality of Eretz Yisrael as the spiritual and physical heartland of the Jewish people.

Contrast

Diaspora Life: A Divergence in Halachic Emphasis

The Rambam's unwavering stance on the primacy of dwelling in Eretz Yisrael, asserting that "at all times, a person should dwell in Eretz Yisrael... even in a city whose population is primarily gentile, rather than dwell in the Diaspora, even in a city whose population is primarily Jewish" (5:12:1), and his stark declaration that "whoever leaves Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora is considered as if he worships idols," represents a profound halachic and spiritual position. This perspective, deeply embedded in Sephardi and Mizrahi thought through the pervasive influence of the Rambam, often highlights a nuanced difference in emphasis compared to certain streams within Ashkenazi Halakha and historical experience.

Historically, Ashkenazi Jewry, particularly after the Crusades and subsequent persecutions, developed vibrant centers of Torah learning and communal life across Central and Eastern Europe. Great yeshivot (academies) flourished in lands like Germany, France, Poland, and Lithuania, producing towering figures of Jewish scholarship whose contributions fundamentally shaped Jewish law and thought. For many Ashkenazi poskim (halachic decisors), while the mitzvah of dwelling in Eretz Yisrael was acknowledged as a high ideal, the practicalities of exile and the imperative to sustain Jewish life and Torah study in the Diaspora often led to a more tempered approach regarding aliyah.

One significant point of divergence lies in the interpretation of the Rambam's seemingly extreme statement about leaving Eretz Yisrael being "as if one worships idols." While the Tziunei Maharan commentary on 5:12:1 clarifies that the Rambam's source for this is indeed ancient, appearing in Tosefta Avodah Zarah and Sifrei Devarim, the practical application and emphasis of this teaching varied. For some Ashkenazi poskim, the immediate, practical mitzvah of Torah Lishmah (Torah study for its own sake) and building Torah institutions in the Diaspora could, under certain circumstances, be seen as outweighing the imperative to live in Eretz Yisrael, especially if the conditions for Torah study and communal flourishing were more favorable outside the Land. The argument was often made that maintaining and spreading Torah, even in exile, was a form of Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God's name) and essential for the survival of the Jewish people.

For example, while the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayim 248) cites the Rambam's view that one should not leave Eretz Yisrael except for specific reasons (Torah, marriage, saving property), it doesn't explicitly reiterate the "idolatry" clause in its main body, suggesting a slightly less severe emphasis in practical Halakha as codified for broader practice. Later Ashkenazi commentaries and responsa often grappled with the tension between the ideal of Yishuv Eretz Yisrael (settling the Land of Israel) and the reality of Jewish life in the Diaspora. Many acknowledged the spiritual benefits of the Land but also recognized the halachic and existential necessity of maintaining strong, self-sufficient Jewish communities elsewhere. The idea of "going to learn Torah" as a valid reason to leave Eretz Yisrael was sometimes interpreted broadly to include remaining in a Diaspora center where a yeshiva was thriving, even if it meant not returning immediately.

It is crucial to emphasize that this is not a matter of one tradition being "more correct" than the other, but rather a respectful difference in halachic emphasis and historical adaptation. Both Sephardi/Mizrahi and Ashkenazi traditions hold Eretz Yisrael as sacred and central to Jewish destiny. However, the lived experiences of these communities, particularly the centuries of relative stability (albeit with persecution) for Ashkenazi Jewry in Europe, allowed for the development of halachic frameworks that, while never diminishing the sanctity of the Land, sometimes prioritized the continuity of Torah and communal infrastructure in the Diaspora. In contrast, for many Sephardi and Mizrahi communities, particularly those who experienced later, more immediate mass migrations and aliyah to Israel in the 20th century, the Rambam's words resonated with an urgent, visceral immediacy, reflecting a collective aspiration that found its ultimate fulfillment in the return to Zion. Both paths, in their unique expressions, demonstrate profound loyalty to Jewish values and an enduring connection to the Divine.

Home Practice

Cultivating Gratitude for the Land: A Moment in Birkat Hamazon

The Rambam's teachings, amplified by centuries of Sephardi/Mizrahi piyut and minhag, instill a deep appreciation for Eretz Yisrael not merely as a geographical location but as a living, breathing entity imbued with sanctity and spiritual power. For anyone wishing to connect more deeply with this rich tradition and the profound themes of our text, a beautiful and accessible home practice lies within the daily recitation of Birkat Hamazon (Grace After Meals).

The second blessing of Birkat Hamazon, known as Birkat HaAretz (the Blessing over the Land), is a moment of profound gratitude. It thanks God "for the Land and for the sustenance," specifically mentioning "the desirable, good, and spacious Land that You have given as a heritage to our forefathers." This blessing directly echoes the Rambam's emphasis on the Land as a divine inheritance, a source of blessing, and a focal point of our spiritual lives.

To adopt this practice with a Sephardi/Mizrahi flavor, consider the following:

Deepening Kavanah During Birkat HaAretz

Next time you recite Birkat Hamazon, particularly the second blessing, pause for a moment before and during its recitation.

• Before: Take a deep breath and consciously bring to mind an image of Eretz Yisrael. Perhaps it's a specific landmark like the Kotel, the hills of Jerusalem, or even a general sense of its natural beauty—its ancient olive groves, its desert landscapes, its bustling cities.
• During: As you recite the words, especially "על הארץ ועל המזון" (for the Land and for the sustenance) and "הארץ הטובה והרחבה" (the good and spacious Land), let your thoughts linger on the profound gift that Eretz Yisrael represents. Recall the Rambam's words about the merit of dwelling there, the sages who kissed its dust, and the centuries of longing encapsulated in piyutim like "Tzion Halo Tish'ali."
• Embrace the Melody (optional): If you are familiar with a Sephardi or Mizrahi melody for Birkat Hamazon (many communities have distinct, often beautiful and elaborate tunes), try to sing this blessing with that melody. The melody itself can carry generations of kavanah and communal longing, deepening your personal connection to the words and their meaning. Even if you don't know a specific tune, reciting it with a sense of internal melody and reverence can transform the experience.

This small, intentional practice elevates a routine blessing into a powerful moment of connection to Eretz Yisrael, honoring the spiritual heritage that places the Land at the very heart of Jewish identity and gratitude. It’s a way to "kiss its stones and cherish its dust" in a spiritual sense, allowing the ancient echoes of Sephardi and Mizrahi devotion to resonate within your own heart and home.

Takeaway

The Rambam's Mishneh Torah, illuminated by Sephardi and Mizrahi tradition, reveals Eretz Yisrael not merely as a geopolitical entity, but as the pulsating heart of Jewish spiritual and national existence. It is the stage for our sovereignty, the source of our atonement, and the ultimate destination of our deepest yearnings. Through rigorous Halakha and soul-stirring piyut, this heritage teaches us that our connection to the Land is profound, enduring, and an inseparable part of our covenant with the Divine, inspiring a vibrant, textured faith that constantly looks towards Zion.