This coming Friday, eight hundred and seventeen years ago, Rabbi Moses Maimonides (1138–1204), a medieval Sephardic scholar and philosopher, one of Judaism’s greatest, passed away.

Maimonides was a polymath. He conquered not only the vast and complex sprawl of rabbinic literature in its entirety, but all the major disciplines of his day: science, medicine, philosophy, and history. From the first, monumental commentary he wrote in his early twenties (penned whilst fleeing persecution), it is evident that, as one scholar notes, “Maimonides had outlined for himself a thorough philosophical system and a literary scheme from which he subsequently deviated only slightly” during his lifetime. By such a young age, he had already achieved immense intellectual clarity and confidence.

All his Jewish works could be seen as reflecting and serving as a vehicle for his unique philosophy: clarifying and closing Jewish Law so that everyone can observe it, to then allow those equipped to contemplate physics and metaphysics. One modern legal expert asserted that the Mishneh Torah, his work conceptualising and codifying all Jewish Law, “is the most remarkable production of its kind emanating from a single mind that the world has ever
seen.” Maimonides’ interpretations on Jewish Law remain invaluable for present-day halachic decisers and an eternal mine of insight for yeshiva students.

Yet, Maimonides didn’t confine himself to his study. His whole life was dedicated to helping people, great and small alike. Maimonides tirelessly assumed the burdens of his Egyptian community and the wider Jewish world. He fundraised for the release of captives and encouraged Yemenite Jewry through an immensely dark period of persecution and false Messianism, for which they felt indebted for centuries to come. Every afternoon, after treating the Sultan and his family in the morning (he worked as the royal physician, refusing to earn money from his religious activities), he would return to his home in Fustat only to find it packed with the ill and sick of the city, waiting for a medical consultation with him, as he described to one colleague:

“When I come home, my foyer is always full of people, Jews and non-Jews, important people and not, judges and policemen, people who love me and people who hate me, a mixture of everyone… I go out to heal them…Patients come in and out until nightfall. I talk to them and prescribe for them even while lying down on my back from exhaustion. When night begins, I am so weak, I cannot even talk anymore… No one can speak with me in wisdom or have a private audience with me because I have no time, except on Shabbat. On Shabbat, the whole congregation comes to my house, and we learn together…”

Maimonides’ written works also served this purpose of helping people. He sought to make the Talmud “accessible to the great and to the small alike” and devoted himself to educating the masses, “drawing them to the Torah with words of peace.”

One visitor to Maimonides’ home, a courier of an important letter, was overwhelmed by the interest and friendliness that he showered both him and his young son with, smiling and playfully engaging with his child, offering both some refreshing lemon cake (Fenton; Maimonides himself rules that a sage should be amiable to everyone). As one modern day scholar explained, “Maimonides, both in his capacity as leader of the Egyptian Jewish community and, more importantly, as legal authority and codifier of Jewish law, continued the same role he ascribes to the prophets and sages of old.”

The greatest prophet of all, Moses, was a messenger of the Divine, who achieved the highest level of human perfection. As Maimonides writes, “enveloped with the Divine spirit, Moses never returned to his personal tent in the wilderness, his face shone like an angel.” Yet, at the same time, Moses served as the devoted carer to his people, patiently and persistently
bearing their burdens throughout their wilderness sojourn, “as a nursemaid carries her infants.” Moses Maimonides followed his namesake’s example. He was dedicated to both God and the people, committed to the great and small alike.

He spent little time resting in his own tent, his days and nights were busy “going out to heal” the world. To this day, we are still benefiting from the shining glow of his works. As his gravestone epitaph reads: “From Moses to Moses, There Arose None Like Moses.” May his memory be for a blessing.