Hughes, The Three Worlds of Ibn Ezra

The Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy, 2002, Vol. 11, No. 1, pp.
1–24
The Three Worlds of ibn Ezra’s

H ay ben Meqitz1
_
Aaron Hughes
Department of Religious Studies, University of Calgary,
2500 University Drive N.W. Calgary, Alberta, Canada T2N 1N4
Abraham ibn Ezra (1089–1164) has long occupied an ambiguous place in the his-
tory of Jewish philosophy owing to the nature of his exposition.2 Prone to sugges-
tive fragments (e.g., ha-maskil yavin) and other such secrets (sodot), ibn Ezra is
often unwilling, some would argue unable,3 to flesh out his philosophical ideas
in a systematic manner. Such would also appear to be the case with his treatise
entitled Hay ben Meqitz,4 written in rhyming prose and, on the surface, nothing
_
more than a standard regurgitation of the Neoplatonic career of the soul.
Making this work seem even less original is the fact that ibn Ezra’s treatise follows
1
Research for this article was supported by the generosity of the Social Sciences and Research
Council of Canada (SSHRC), the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture, and the Maurice Amado
Foundation for Sephardic Studies. I would like to thank Hava Tirosh-Samuelson, James G. Hart, John
Walbridge, Lisa A. Hughes and the anonymous reviewers for reading and commenting on earlier ver-
sions of this article. All remaining mistakes are, of course, my own.
2
To date the best biography of ibn Ezra is found in Israel Levin, Abraham ibn Ezra: His Life and
Poetry (in Hebrew) (Tel Aviv: Ha-kibbutz ha-meuchad, 1969). For a discussion of the date of ibn Ezra’s
death, see J.L. Fleischer, ‘‘When did R. Abraham Ibn Ezra Die?’’ (in Hebrew) East and West 2 (1929),
pp. 245–256.
3
Perhaps, the most extreme expression of this is found in Heinrich Graetz, History of the Jews. Vol. 3
(Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1894), p. 366: ‘‘...he was energetic, ingenious, full of wit, but lacking
in warmth of feeling...His, however, was not a symmetrically developed, strong personality, but was full of con-
tradictions, and given to frivolity.’’ For a somewhat less radical pronouncement, see Julius Guttmann,
Philosophies of Judaism: A History of Jewish Philosophy from Biblical Times to Franz Rosenzweig, trans.
David W. Silverman (New York: Schocken, 1964), pp. 134f.
4
In what follows, I have used the critical edition found in Iggeret Hay ben Meqitz, ed. I. Levin (Tel Aviv: Tel
_
Aviv University Press, 1983). This edition also includes an excellent expository essay by Levin, in addition to a
Hebrew translation of Avicenna’s Hayy ibn Yaqzân. Citations from ibn Ezra’s Torah commentaries are from his
_ _
Commentary to the Torah, 3 vols., ed. Asher Weiser (Jerusalem: Mossad ha-Rav Kook, 1976). For his other com-
mentaries I have used the Miqraot Gedolot. As for Avicenna’s Hayy ibn Yaqzân, I have consulted Hayy ibn
Yaqzân li ibn sı̂nâ wa ibn tufayl wa al-suhrawardı̂, ed. Ahmad _Amı̂n (Cairo: Dâr
_
al-ma’arı̂f, 1959). All_ transla-
_
tions,_ unless noted, are my _ own.
ISSN 1053-699X print: ISSN 1477-285X online/02/010001-24 ß 2002 Taylor & Francis Ltd
DOI: 10.1080/1053699022000038101
2 The Three Worlds of ibn Ezra
very closely a work of the same name, Hayy ibn Yaqzân,5 written by Avicenna
_ _
(980–1037).6
Whereas treatments of ibn Ezra often note Hay ben Meqitz only in passing, if they
_
even mention it at all,7 the goal of what follows is to establish a place for it as one of
the fullest expressions of his philosophical worldview. For in this treatise we witness
many of the major concepts and motifs that run throughout his philosophically sugges-
tive Biblical commentaries, his wide-ranging poetic dı̂wân, and his more scientific
works.8 Unlike the majority of these other works, however, ibn Ezra nowhere alludes
to ‘‘secrets’’ in Hay ; rather, it is one of the few places where he presents a full-scale
_
narrative documenting in allegorical fashion the career and adventures of the human
soul and its relationship to the structure of the universe. Of the two studies that
take Hay ben Meqitz seriously, one chooses to regard it primarily as a form of
_
‘‘gnostic-mystical’’ ascent,9 and the other is primarily concerned with its literary style
and motifs.10 Juxtaposed against these two approaches, I shall attempt to connect
Hay to a broader philosophical context, showing how it relates specifically to the
_
Neoplatonic tradition.11
Hay ben Meqitz tells of the journey undertaken by an unnamed protagonist and the
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enigmatic Hay through the lower world, ha-olam ha-shafal (Sections 1–15), the
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intermediate world, ha-olam ha-emsa‘i (Sections 16–25), and the upper world,
_
ha-olam ha-elyon (Sections 26–29).12 To each one of these worlds, or cosmological
levels, corresponds a group of sciences that allows access to its structures and secrets.
5
Both of which could be translated into English as ‘‘Living, Son of Awake.’’ Corbin translates the Arabic more
cryptically (as was his wont) as ‘‘Vivens, filius Vigilantis.’’ See Henry Corbin, Avicenna and the Visionary
Recital, trans. Willard R. Trask (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960), p. 137.
6
Ibn Ezra’s reliance on Avicenna has been intimated at by many scholars; although, again owing to the nature
of ibn Ezra’s exposition, this relationship is notoriously difficult to map with any certainty. In addition to the
literature cited in the following note, see Warren Zev Harvey, ‘‘The First Commandment and the God of
History: ibn Ezra and Maimonides versus Halevi and Crescas,’’ (in Hebrew) Tarbiz 57 (1988), p. 208;
_
Aviezer Ravitzky, ‘‘The Anthropological Doctrine of Miracles in Medieval Jewish Philosophy,’’ (in Hebrew)
Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 2 (1982), pp. 32ff.; Moshe Idel, ‘‘Hitbodedut as Concentration in Jewish
Philosophy,’’ (in Hebrew) Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 7 (1988), esp. p. 44.
7
Most recently, see Elliot Wolfson, ‘‘God, the Demiurge, and the Intellect,’’ Revue des Études Juives 149
(1990), p. 91 n. 57; Howard Kreisel, ‘‘On the Term kol in Abraham Ibn Ezra: A Reappraisal,’’ Revue des
Études Juives 152 (1994), pp. 36–38. Essentially citing the same sources, these two individuals reach radically
different conclusions. Wolfson argues that by the term kol (all) ibn Ezra refers to (1) the hypostasis of the divine
or universal intellect and (2) the whole of the parts of the cosmos. Kreisel, however, contends that ibn Ezra uses
this term as an epithet for God. Since ibn Ezra does not employ the term kol in Hay, I, for the most part, stay out
_
of this debate.
8
Within this context, see the excellent analysis of the relationship between ibn Ezra’s poetry and his
philosophy in Israel Levin, ‘‘Hold to the Ladder of Wisdom,’’ (in Hebrew) Te’uda 8 (1992), pp. 41–86.
9
Hermann Greive, Studien zum jüdischen Neuplatonismus: Die Religionsphilosophie des Abraham Ibn
Ezra (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1973), esp. pp. 104ff.
10
Levin, Abraham ibn Ezra, pp. 11–45.
11
The term ‘‘Neoplatonism’’ is a nineteenth century construct and, as a result, ambiguous and potentially
misleading. Historically, by the close of the fifth century the study of Aristotle had become inseparable
from the exposition of Plato’s thought. Indeed, by the time we get to Philoponus, Aristotle’s philosophy had
been used as the standard introduction to Plato for at least two centuries. Moreover, the term also implies
that there exists such a phenomenon as a ‘‘Neoplatonic system’’ resulting in the tendency to subsume diverse
individuals under the common rubric ‘‘Neoplatonist.’’
12
It is worth mentioning, however, that in his Commentary to Psalm 148, ibn Ezra only mentions two worlds:
ha-olam ha-shafal and ha-olam ha-elyon. Within this context, see, Rosin, ‘‘Die Religionsphilosophie Abraham
Ibn Esra’s,’’ Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judenthums 42 (1898), pp. 202–204.
A. Hughes 3
What follows presents the three main components of ibn Ezra’s philosophy – man,
nature, and God (i.e., psychology, physics, and metaphysics) – as they emerge
from a reading of Hay, and where they are given a distinctly religious framework
_
with great attention to aesthetic presentation.13
An important feature of Neoplatonism is allegory. In order to appreciate fully
ibn Ezra’s Hay ben Meqitz it is, therefore, necessary to situate it within the
_
Arabo-Islamic philosophical tradition of allegoresis. Allegory, broadly defined, is a
genre that turns on a perceived relationship between a fictional narrative and a
‘‘simultaneous structure of events or ideas, whether historical events, moral or
philosophical ideas, or natural phenomena.’’14 According to Heath, despite the
fact that Islamic allegory15 comes in a variety of forms and contents, it
nonetheless represents a cohesive literary tradition.16 Although not all Islamic philoso-
phers composed allegories, famous authors include: Avicenna, ibn Tufayl, and
_
Suhrawardı̂.17
Following the Alexandrian commentators, many Islamic and Jewish philosophers
included the science of poetics (’ilm al-shi‘r) as a branch of logic.18 For
Avicenna, both demonstrative and poetic utterances share a similar logical structure.
Although the poetic utterance, unlike its demonstrative counterpart, is ultimately
unconcerned with the truth or falsity of a statement, it nevertheless requires an
assent (tasdı̂q) that is based on the pleasure (ladhdha) and awe (ta‘ajjub) that the
_
reader experiences in it.19 The crucial difference between the poetic and
the demonstrative utterance, however, is that the former relies for its validity on the
pleasure and wonder that it evokes in the soul. In short, the goal of the poetic or
allegorical utterance is not to produce the intellect’s assent to specific conclusions,
but to stimulate the faculty of the imagination to apprehend truths that reside
13
It is customary at this juncture to issue a caveat to the effect that one could without much difficulty find,
somewhere in ibn Ezra’s large oeuvre, counterexamples to virtually any generalization one makes about him
and his work. Such counterexamples could be the result of several factors: he was not bothered by inconsis-
tency, he changed his mind throughout his relatively long life or, the one I prefer, the Neoplatonic ‘‘system’’ to
which he subscribed permitted one to have many divided, and often competing, loyalties.
14
Northrop Frye, ‘‘Allegory,’’ in Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, ed. Alex Preminger (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1974), p. 12.
15
Although Arabic lacks a word for the term ‘‘allegory,’’ it does have several other relevant terms such as
isti‘âra (metaphor) and mithâl (analogue). On the utility of using the term ‘‘allegory’’ with the context of
Islamic thought, see Peter Heath, Allegory and Philosophy in Avicenna: With a Translation of the Book of
the Prophet Muhammad’s Ascent to Heaven (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992), pp. 6–7.
16
Heath, Allegory and Philosophy in Avicenna, p. 3.
17
See the comments in Alfred Ivry, ‘‘The Utilization of Allegory in Islamic Philosophy,’’ in Interpretation and
Allegory: Antiquity to the Modern Period, ed. Jon Whitman (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2000), p. 158f. I would like to
thank Prof. Ivry for generously sending me a copy of this article.
18
Richard Walzer, ‘‘Zur Traditionsgeschichte der Aristotelische Poetik,’’ in his Greek into Arabic: Essays on
Islamic Philosophy (Oxford: Cassirer, 1962), pp. 132–134. Also see Ibrahim Madkour, L’Oganon d’Aristote
dans le Monde Arabe, 2nd edn. (Paris: Librairie Philosophique, J. Vrin, 1969), pp. 13ff; and Paul Moraux, Les
listes anciennes des ouvrages d’Aristote (Louvain: Editions Universitaires de Louvain, 1951), p. 179ff. This
was also adopted by the medieval Jewish Neoplaonists. See, for example, Judah Halevi, Kitâb al-radd wa
al-dalı̂l fı̂ al-dı̂n al-dhalı̂l (al-Kitâb al-Khuzarı̂), ed. D.H. Baneth and H. ben-Shammai (Jerusalem: Magnes
Press, 1977), V.12; Moses ibn Ezra, Kitâb al-muhâdara wa al-mudhâkara (Sefer ha-’iyyunim ve ha-diyyunim),
_ _
ed. and trans. A.S. Halkin (Jerusalem: Mekize Niramim, 1975), pp. 134–136.
19
Avicenna, al-Shifâ’: Kitâb al-sh’ir, in Aristûtâlı̂s fann al-sh’ir, 2nd edn. ed. A. Badawı̂ (Cairo: Dâr al-tha-
_ _
qâfa, 1973), I.4. An English translation of this text may be found in Avicenna’s Commentary on the Poetics
of Aristotle: A Critical Study with an Annotated Translation of the Text, ed. Ismail M. Dahiyat (Leiden: E.J.
Brill, 1974), p. 63.
beyond the surface.20 In Kitâb al-majmu‘, Avicenna clarifies this notion further:
Poetical syllogisms are syllogisms that occur to the soul imaginatively and not by assent. The imagination
(al-takhyı̂l ) is aroused by amazement (ta‘ajjub), glorification (ta‘zı̂m), disparagement (tahwı̂n), diminu-
tion (tasghı̂r), affliction (ghamm), ardor (nashât) without conviction (i‘itiqâd) being the object of the utter-
ance. It is not one of the conditions of these _ syllogisms that they be true or false, commonly-held or
deceptive, but that they evoke the imagination.21
It is within this context that we need to situate not only Hay ben Meqitz, but also
_
Avicenna’s Hayy ibn Yaqzân.22 In this latter narrative, Avicenna allegorically recounts
_ _
the ascent of an unnamed protagonist’s soul through an imagined cosmos. Guided by
the enigmatic Hayy ibn Yaqzân, the protagonist learns of the true composition of his
_ _
soul, its relationship to the body, and the impending journey. Hayy informs him that
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although he can begin the journey now, it begins in earnest with the death of the body.
What did allegory offer medieval Islamic and Jewish philosophers? For one thing, it
provided them, following the lead of Plato (Aflatûn), with a way of transmitting truths
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in an esoteric manner.23 Within this context, the reader gets out of an allegorical text
precisely what he or she is able to. A non-philosopher will read these tales and regard
them as precisely that; a philosopher or a potential philosopher, on the contrary, will
be able to penetrate the mystery (bâtin) beyond the text’s surface (zâhir). In addition,
_ _
allegory also provided these philosophers with a way of presenting discursive or
24
rational concepts in a nondiscursive or mythical way. Furthermore, the mythic
and literary dimensions of Neoplatonism – including the soul’s alienation in this
world and its subsequent search for its true home – was well suited to allegorical
treatment. Within this context, Ivry, I think correctly, argues that ‘‘allegories speak to
the need we have for transcendence and redemption.’’25
In classifying works such as Hay ben Meqitz or Hayy Yaqzân as allegories however,
_ _ _
we must avoid the nineteenth-century assumption that this genre uses a static and arti-
ficial mode of language. According to this view, allegories employ flimsy narratives in
which the significance of people, places, and/or events reside in their symbolic or
moral meanings.26 Within this context, the actual literary form and use of language
is regarded as dispensable: the first-level order of meaning (i.e., the textual) can be
disposed with once the reader arrives at the second-level order of meaning (i.e., the
supratextual). I contend, however, that both the form and the vocabulary of these
works is as important as their content and that we need to regard such allegories
as the practical expression of a distinct medieval philosophical aesthetics.
20
See the excellent discussion in Deborah L. Black, Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics in Medieval
Arabic Philosophy (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1990), p. 181. In this regard, also see Salim Kemal, The Poetics of
Alfarabi and Avicenna (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1991), p. 149.
21
Avicenna, Kitâb al-majmu‘: ’al-hikma al-’arûdiyya f ı̂ ma‘ânı̂ kitâb al-sh‘ir, ed. M. Salı̂m Sâlim (Cairo: dâr
_
al-kutub, 1969), pp. 15–16.
22
See, in particular, Sarah Stroumsa, ‘‘Avicenna’s Philosophical Stories: Aristotle’s Poetics Reinterpreted,’’
Arabica 39 (1992), pp. 183–206.
23
E.g., al-Mubashshir ibn Fâtiq, Mukhtâr al-hikam, ed. ‘Abd al-Rahman Badawı̂ (Madrid, 1958), p. 126.
24
Heath, Allegory and Philosophical _Interpretation,
_
pp. 159–165. _
25
Ivry, ‘‘The Utilization of Allegory in Islamic Philosophy,’’ p. 180.
26
E.g., Dimitri Gutas, Avicenna and the Aristotelian Tradition: An Introduction to Reading Avicenna’s
Philosophical Works (Leiden: Brill, 1988), pp. 299–307; John Walbridge, The Leaven of the Ancients:
Suhrawardı̂ and the Heritage of the Greeks (Albany; State University of New York Press, 2000), pp. 101–105.
The other extreme, however, is to regard these treatises as the pinnacle of medieval philosophy or as some sort
of ancient Eastern wisdom (al-hikma al-ishraqiyya). For this approach, see, inter alia, Corbin, Avicenna and
the Visionary Recital, pp. 3–16._
A. Hughes 5
I. The Beginning of the Journey: The World of

Generation and Corruption
In the first part of Hay, ibn Ezra examines the first of the three worlds: the lowest
_
world (ha-olam ha-shafal ), the world of generation and corruption.27 The main ques-
tions that he deals with are: What is the nature of the soul? What is its ultimate source?
How is it related both to the body and the lower two souls (the ruah and the nefesh)?
_
A secondary concern is the structure of this world: What is it composed of ?28
How does the individual perceive this world and interact with it?
Using rich Biblical images, ibn Ezra suggests that the soul, having left its home in the
upper world, awakes to find itself in the world of form and matter. Although ibn Ezra
nowhere mentions what causes him to awaken,29 the protagonist becomes aware that
he is unable to attend to his proper functioning so long as he is a slave to his body.30
Implicit here is the standard Neoplatonic conception that one becomes truly human
once one has understood that the soul’s origin is from above and is not essentially
related to the body.
In his long Commentary to Exodus 3:15,31 ibn Ezra better clarifies the nature of the
relationship between the human soul and the world from which it comes:
The upper world is the world of the holy angels. They are neither bodies nor are they in bodies like
the soul (neshamah) of man. Their level is beyond human understanding. In this world is the Glory
(kavod ) and all of it is eternal. It neither moves nor changes its value; its rank does not come
from itself, but from the glorious Name (ha-shem ha-nikbad ). The soul (neshamah) of man is from
this upper world and it receives its strength from this world.32
The neshamah is the essence of the individual. It is juxtaposed against the body, in
which it temporarily finds itself. Whereas Avicenna had denied the preexistence of the
27
On the paradox that Neoplatonic ontology poses between this world of multiplicity and its relationship to
the divine world which exists outside of such multiplicity, see Arthur Hyman, ‘‘From What is One and Simple
Only What is One and Simple Can Come to Be,’’ in Neoplatonism and Jewish Thought, ed. Lenn E. Goodman
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992), pp. 117–135.
28
It is difficult to ascertain whether or not ibn Ezra subscribed to the traditional theory of creatio ex nihilo.
See, for example, his comments in Commentary to Genesis 1:1. For relevant secondary literature, see Michael
Friedlaender, Essays on the Writings of Abraham Ibn Ezra (London: Trübner and Co., 1877; republished
Jerusalem: Mitshaf, 1964), pp. 3–24; Rosin, ‘‘Die Religionsphilosophie,’’ 42 (1898), pp. 66–71; A. Lipchitz,
‘‘The Theory of Creation of Rabbi Abraham ibn Ezra,’’ (in Hebrew) Sinai 84 (1979), pp. 105–125.
29
Hay Section 1.
30 _
Although ibn Ezra’s imagery, here taken from the Song of Songs, is original the theme of the soul’s lone-
liness and the relationship between the body and the material world is quite common in Jewish
Neoplatonism. C.f., for example, Kitâb ma‘ânı̂ al-nafs, ed. I. Goldziher, Abhandlungen der Akademie der
Wissenschafen in Göttingen, Philologische-Historische Klasse, 9.1 (1907), p. 7; Ibn Gabirol, Keter Malkhut, in
Selected Religious Poems of ibn Gabirol, ed. and trans. Israel Davidson (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication
Society, 1952), Section 33; Ibn Zaddik, Ha-Olam ha-qatan (Der Mikrokosmos des Josef Ibn Saddik), ed.
_
and trans. S. Horovitz (Breslau, 1903), p. 4.
31
I note here the ambiguity of this passage in its entirety, since both Wolfson (pp. 102–103) and Kreisel
(pp. 39ff) cite it as support for their very different conclusions. I cite this passage for obviously different reasons
than they do.
32
Ibn Ezra’s discussion of this world is considerably different in his Commentary to Daniel 10:21, where
he claims that the angels occupy a position in the intermediate world. According to Greive, angels in the
intermediate world refer to the celestial spheres. See his Studien zum jüdischen Neuplatonismus, p. 90.
Wolfson also makes this claim, arguing that it possibly comes from Avicenna. See, ‘‘God, the Demiurge,
and the Intellect,’’ p. 86, n.37.
human soul and claimed that it came into existence with the body,33 ibn Ezra implies
that the soul preexists the body, dwelling in the realm of the angels34 before coming
down to exist in a body.35 For ibn Ezra, the neshamah is distinct from, and superior to,
the animal (ruah) and vegetative (nefesh) souls – both of which perish with the death
_
of the body.36
When the neshamah enters the human body it does so as a tabula rasa (luah
_
halaq) and, subsequently, needs to become individualized.37 The individual, then, is
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responsible for making the most of one’s neshamah, to develop and sustain it accord-
ing to its lofty origin. This, for ibn Ezra, primarily involves studying and understanding
the various sciences, which occur on a hierarchy beginning with logic and culminating
in metaphysics.38 And it is precisely through this hierarchy that Hay ben Meqitz
_
allegorically takes the reader.
In Hay ben Meqitz, the protagonist undertakes a journey to return home in the
_
presence of his friends. These companions, as Hay subsequently informs him, are
_
anything but friendly and, in fact, impede the journey:
These friends/ who rule over you/

They are not companions/ they are rebellious.
They are not friends/
They are evil doers.
33
Avicenna, Kitâb ahwâl al-nafs, ed. Ahmad Fu‘âd al-Ahwânı̂ (Cairo: Dâr ihyâ’ al-kutub al-’arabiyya, 1952),
_ _
_
pp. 99–105; idem., al-Shifâ’: al-tabı̂‘iyyat, vol. 6: Al-nafs, eds. G.C. Anawati and_ S. Zayed, rev. Ibrahim Madkour
_
(Cairo: Wizârat al-ma’ârif, 1975), p. 204f.; idem., Avicenna’s de Anima: Being the Psychological Part of
the Kitâb al-Shifâ’, ed. Fazlur Rahman (London: Oxford University Press, 1959), p. 230f.; idem., Kitâb al-
najât, ed. Majid Fakhry (Beirut: n.p., 1986), pp. 222–223; For an English translation of this last text, see
Fazlur Rahman, Avicenna’s Psychology: An English Translation of K. al-najât, Book II, Ch. VI with
Historico-Philosophical Notes and textual Improvements on the Cairo Edition (London; Oxford University
Press, 1952), pp. 56–57.
34
In his Comm. to Psalm 22:22, ibn Ezra mentions the existence of a universal Soul (nishmat ha-kol).
On the equivalence of this, see Mihael Friedlaender, Essays on the Writings of Abraham Ibn Ezra,
pp. 28–29. Kreisel notes this use of nishmat ha-kol is rare. C.f., Kreisel, ‘‘On the Term kol in Abraham
ibn Ezra,’’ p. 50. Moreover, ibn Ezra nowhere explains the mechanism responsible for the descent of particular
souls from it.
35
Here ibn Ezra had a precedent in other Jewish sources. C.f., Kitâb ma‘ânı̂ al-nafs, p. 58; Ibn Gabirol,
Keter Malkhut, Section 29; Ibn Zaddik, Ha-Olam ha-qatan, pp. 39–40; Bar Hiyya, Hegyon ha-nefesh ha-
_ _
azuvah, ed. G. Wigoder ( Jerusalem: Mossad Bialik, 1971), pp. 65–66.
_36
Long Commentary to Exodus 23:25; in this context, also see Comm. to Qohelet 3:7.
37
Yesod Mora X.2. This theme is, again, relatively common in medieval Jewish Neoplatonism. See, for
example, Bahya Ibn Pakuda, Sefer torat hovot ha-levavot (Kitâb al-hidâya ilâ farâ’id al-qulûb), trans.
Shmuel Yerushalmi ( Jerusalem: Me’orei Yisrael, 1972), pp. 47–48; Kitâb ma‘ânı̂ al-nafs, _p. 30; Ibn Gabirol,
Keter Malkhut, Section 34; Bar Hiyya, Hegyon ha-nefesh ha-azuvah, pp. 66ff.
38
Yesod Mora I.1; Comm. to _Hosea 6:3. C.f., also Comm. to Exodus 33:13; Comm. to Deuteronomy 6:7.
For further discussion, see my ‘‘Two Approaches to the Love of God in Medieval Jewish Thought: The
Concept of devequt in the works of ibn Ezra and Halevi,’’ Studies in Religion 28.2 (1999), pp. 142–143.
A. Hughes 7
They are not lovers/

But rather enemies.
They hunt and destroy
Spreading their snares and traps/
They arrest and torture
The heroic and the mighty.
Blessed is the man who is rescued from them/
Happy the sinner who is trapped by them.
He who is snared in their nets does not escape/
He who is seized by their snares is not let go.
My son, turn away from their abodes!/
Do not face them/ Ignore their words/
Their feet run after evil!39
These ‘‘friends,’’ unbeknownst to the protagonist, are ultimately responsible for

grounding him in the lower world by furtively focusing his attention on its concerns
and desires. Hay subsequently hints at their identities:
_
The one who walks before you/

He always lies, avoiding the truth.
The companion on your right/
He subdues you, captures you.
In every season he is angry/
He is always furious.
Every day he roars/
He is forever angry.
His sword strikes his relatives/
Its sparks consume everything that is around him.
His anger is like a fire that burns/
His fury is like a blade that rampages.
In everything he sins and makes a mockery/
He turns from every truth and ridicules it.
He is likened to a lion that likes to devour/
Like a cub sitting secretly, waiting to pounce.
39
Hay, Section 4.
_
As for the companion on your left/

He makes you fail and ultimately destroys you.
He is forever hoping and expecting/
Always coveting and desiring.
Even if you pound the fool in mortar. . .his folly will not leave him/
Even if you hit him with a hammer you will not stop his foolishness.
He loves all foods/
He is not sated from wanting more.
He who is with them/
He neither understands nor can he become wise.
He will say nothing and he will utter nonsense/ He will make fun of justice
and righteousness and confuse the truth.
There are distortions in his heart/
In bed he plots mischief.
His eyes do not have the strength to see/
His ears are unable to hear.40
These companions represent, according to their descriptions, the imaginative faculty,

the irascible faculty, and the concupiscible faculty.41 Of primary importance for what
follows is the imagination, which walks in front of the protagonist and, if unchecked
by the rational faculty, presents lies and half-truths as if they really existed. For the
imagination to be used for philosophical purposes, then, it must work in cooperation
with the rational faculty.42
As the protagonist gradually separates himself from his three companions, his
attachment to his body diminishes. In section seven of the narrative, this occurs
when the protagonist immerses himself in a spring. This spiritual baptism enables
him to perceive the structure of the lowest world, which now appears ‘‘dark and
unclear.’’43 He looks back at this world from above, thereby perceiving it objectively,
as it really is. From this perspective, he apprehends the descending hierarchy of
the lower world: he sees a reflection of himself (Section 9), the animal world
(Section 10), and the plant world (Section 11). Following this, he apprehends the
four elements out of which everything in the material world is composed: earth
40
Hay, Section 4.
41 _
On Avicenna’s description of these faculties, see Hayy ibn Yaqzân, p. 41 (Corbin, p. 139). For more
substantive comments see Avicenna, Risâla ahwâl _al-nafs, p. 58; _
Kitâb al-najât, p. 197; Rahman,
_
Avicenna’s Psychology, pp. 25–26.
42
This is a significant theme in the philosophical literature preceding the medieval philosophers. E.g.,
Plato, Meno 99e–100a; Philebus 40a–d; Theaetetus 195d; Aristotle, De Memoria 1 (450a1-14); De Anima III.3
(428a1-2); III.7 (431a15–16); III.8 (432a6–14); Plotinus, Enneads, I.4.10.17–19; IV.3.25; IV.3.27; IV.3.31;
IV.4.3.1–12; IV.4.4.2–6, 10–11. Significantly the last three passages were available to the Islamic philosophers
by dint of the Theology of Aristotle. For the Greek text of the Theology, along with English translation, see
Plotini Opera, vol. 2, ed. Paul Henry and Hans-Rudolf Schwyzer (Paris and Brussels: Desclée de Brouwer
and L’Édition Universelle, 1959), pp. 69–77. For the Arabic text of the Theology, see ’Abd al-Rahman
_
Badawı̂, Al-aflâtûniyya al-muhdatha ’ind al-’arab (Cairo, 1955). We know for certain that Avicenna
_ _
read the Theology since we possess fragments of his commentary to it. In this regard, see Georges Vajda,
‘‘Les notes d’Avicenne sur la Théologie d’Aristote,’’ Revue Thomiste 51.2 (1951), pp. 346–406.
43
The motifs of ascent, vision, and spiritual transformation are relatively common in the literature associated
with early Jewish mysticism. E.g., 1Enoch 17:1–8; 2Enoch 22:8, 56:2; 3Enoch 12:1–5,42:1. For requisite
secondary literature, see Gershom Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism (New York: Schocken, 1941),
pp. 49–79; Martha Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1993), pp. 29ff.; Wolfson, Through A Speculum That Shines: Vision and Imagination in
Medieval Jewish Mysticism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), pp. 82–104.
A. Hughes 9
(Section 12), water (Section 13), air (Section 14), and fire (Section 15). It is at this point
that his glance shifts upward, into the world of the cosmic spheres (Section 16).
II. The Journey Through the Heavenly Spheres:

The Intermediate World
Leaving the lower world, Hay and the unnamed protagonist enter the intermediate
_ _
world, that of the heavenly spheres. It is at this juncture that interesting disparities
begin to occur between the accounts of ibn Ezra and Avicenna. The latter is primarily
interested in the horizontal East–West structure of the world, whereas the former
focuses his attention on its vertical structure. Although Avicenna devotes well over
half of his text (7 pages out of a total of 10) to an East–West topography,44 ibn
Ezra spends only one section (Section 6) on this.
Why is ibn Ezra so interested in the vertical as opposed to the horizontal structure of
the universe ? In part, this stems from ibn Ezra’s overwhelming interest in astrology and
his claim that it plays an important role in the noetic development of the individual.
Indeed, he spends about half of the narrative allegorically describing the attributes
of the various planets and their corresponding effects on humans. Avicenna, on
the contrary, was critical of astrology. Moreover, whereas Avicenna’s protagonist
only listens to what the structure of the universe is like,45 ibn Ezra’s actually appears
to undergo a journey through this structure.
The protagonist is only able to proceed to the intermediate world after he has
undergone an initiation in which he walks through fire.46 This is related to the
immersion in the spring that enabled him to apprehend the structure of the lower
world. Now, as a result of the contact with fire, the protagonist is able to apprehend
the structure of the intermediate world:
And when we came out from those areas/

We survived their heat.
I saw next to the city/
Eight kingdoms.
They had spheres/
Enormous and large.
44
Greive, Studien zum jüdischen Neuplatonismus, p. 118. In this regard, also see Anne-Marie Goichon,
Le Récite de Hayy ibn Yaqzân commenté pars des textes d’Avicenne (Paris: Desclee de Brouwer, 1959), p. 143.
45
Avicenna, Hayy ibn Yaqzân, p. 42 (Corbin, p. 141).
46
Hay, Section_ 15. Here again
_
ibn Ezra uses the language of early Jewish mysticism to make a philosophical
point._ The novelty of Ibn Ezra’s narrative resides in the fact that, unlike the mystical texts, the themes
that emerge from Hay (e.g., a divine guide, a form of revelation) are all presented in a thoroughly
natural manner. For _ example, although Hay is described in terms that compare him to an angel, and is
_
thus reminiscent of the divine guides of the early Jewish mystical texts, he is actually a philosopher, whose
wisdom derives from an understanding of the various sciences.
Forceful and strong/

Like a mirror of cast metal.
One by one their gardens drew near/
Not even a breath could enter them.
One is linked to the other/
They are united and do not come apart.
Their customs neither vanish nor change/
Their hosts are neither numbered nor countable.
All of them sing praise/
In unison they lavish acclaim.47
The intermediate world, according to ibn Ezra, includes the spheres, the stars, the
planets and their motions. Geographically, it stretches from the moon to the uppermost
diurnal sphere that contains no stars. In his Yesod Mora, ibn Ezra claims that the
sciences associated with this world include mathematics, geometry and astrology.48
Mathematics and geometry49 are important here because they allow one to construct
spatial cosmological models.50 They are, in turn, related to the imaginative faculty
because both provide visible schemata by which to understand the superlunar world.51
Mathematics provides an understanding of numbers which function as metaphors
that reflect both the structure of and the harmony within the universe.52 Following
the Pythagoreans,53 ibn Ezra perceived the organic nature of the universe,
thereby connecting disparate entities by means of their numerical relationships. In
Sefer ha-ehad, for example, he claims that the number three is common to disparate
_
phenomena: a body (because it has three dimensions), time (which is divided into
three – past, present, and future) and the three souls (vegetative, animal, and
human).54 Similarly, the number eight is reflected not only in the eight celestial
spheres, but also in the eight properties that correspond to the four elements.55
47
Hay, Section 16.
48 _
Yesod Mora I.9; cf. also see Harry A. Wolfson, ‘‘The Classification of the Sciences in Medieval
Jewish Philosophy,’’ Hebrew Union College Jubilee Volume (1925), pp. 275–278, who claims that ibn Ezra’s clas-
sification is primarily Aristotelian (logic, psychology, the mathematical quadrivium, and physics). Rosin, on
the other hand, argues that ibn Ezra classifies the sciences into mathematics, grammar, logic, and physics.
See his ‘‘Die Religionsphilosophie,’’ 42 (1898), p. 448.
49
Once again, there is a precedent for this in the philosophical literature of Late Antiquity. Many
Neoplatonists, notably Iamblichus and Simplicius, reduced physics and astronomy to geometry and math-
ematics. See, in this regard, A.C. Lloyd, The Anantomy of Neoplatonism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990),
pp. 146ff. I do, however, disagree with Lloyd’s more general claim that there is no religious component
in this knowledge.
50
Norbert M. Samuelson, Judaism and the Doctrine of Creation, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1994) p. 70.
51
Michael S. Mahoney, ‘‘Mathematics,’’ in Science in the Middle Ages, ed. David C. Lindberg (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1978), pp. 145–146.
52
See the general discussion in Seyyed Hossein Nasr, An Introduction to Islamic Cosmological Doctrines,
rev. ed. (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993), pp. 47–51.
53
Pythagorean theories of number made their way into medieval Islam and Jewish thought through
the Arabic translation of Nichomachus’ Introduction to Arithmetic, which was translated by Thâbit ibn
Qurrah. The Ikhwân al-Safâ’ were among the most famous of the Muslim adherents of Pythagoreanism and
_
were most likely responsible for its popularity. In this regard, see Nasr, pp. 48–49. On the reception of
the Ikhwân al-Safâ’ in Spain and among the Jewish intelligentsia, see Jacques Schlanger, La Philosophie de
_
Salomon Ibn Gabirol: Ètude d’un néoplatonisme (Leiden: Brill, 1968), pp. 94–97.
54
Ibn Ezra, Sefer ha-ehad, in Yalkuth ibn Ezra, ed. Israel Levin (New York/Tel Aviv: Israel Matrz Hebrew
_
Classics/Edward Kiev Library Foundation, 1986), Section 3 (p. 400).
55
Fire is hot and dry; air is hot and moist; water is cold and moist; and earth is cold and dry. See Sefer
ha-ehad, Section 8 (p. 402).
A. Hughes 11
Numbers provide a gateway to the superlunar world and are crucial to ontology.56
Through an appropriate understanding of mathematics, an individual not only
understands the structure and inter-connections of the intermediate world, but also
how this world relates to the corresponding structures of the lower and upper
worlds. In this respect, numbers also reflect the contingency of the universe on a
first principle (e.g., God) since they reveal, again by means of metaphor, the relation-
ship of multiplicity to unity.57 For just as everything draws its existence from God, all
numbers derive their existence from the number one which, in Pythagorean fashion,
ibn Ezra claims is not a number, but the source of all numbers.58
In addition to mathematics, geometry is another theoretical science that permits the
individual to imagine the spatial relationships between entities that are beyond
human experience. Geometry is the science that is responsible for putting the imma-
terial into the three-dimensional. By investigating properties and relations of magni-
tudes in space as lines, surfaces and solids, geometry enables the individual to
progress from the familiar to the unfamiliar. Geometry, thus, provides a spatial map
of the non-spatial in much the same manner that the imagination makes corporeal
that which exists without bodily extension.59
Ibn Ezra also devotes considerable space to astrological descriptions of the various
planets.60 This science was an important source for an empirical and experimental
approach to nature.61 Whereas Aristotelianism offered an explanatory framework for
understanding the physical world, astrology and astral magic supplemented this by
providing explanations (and prognostications) for the phenomena of this world in
the heavens.62 Astral magic was regarded by many as a science and, indeed, presup-
posed a thorough knowledge of mathematics and astronomy.63 Moreover, the world-
view supplied by astral magic provided an attractive alternative to Aristotelianism and
explains why certain Neoplatonists found astrology and astral magic so useful.
How exactly does ibn Ezra portray astrology in Hay ben Meqitz ? Having
_
undergone the ordeal by fire, the protagonist is subsequently able to get an
overview of the celestial world – here described as eight kingdoms (not including
56
See the comments in Kreisel, ‘‘On the Term kol in Abraham Ibn Ezra,’’ pp. 40–41.
57
Nasr, p. 45.
58
Long Commentary to Exodus 3:15; Sefer ha-ehad, Section 1 (p. 399); Sefer ha-shem, in Yalkuth ibn Ezra,
_
3:1 (p. 422).
59
I plan to show in another study how there exists an intimate connection between the science of geometry
on the one hand, and reason, the imagination, and aesthetics on the other.
60
On the role, function, and problematics associated with ibn Ezra’s use of astrology, see the important essay
of Y. Tzvi Langermann, ‘‘Some Astrological Themes in the Thought of Abraham ibn Ezra,’’ in Rabbi Abraham
ibn Ezra: Studies in the Writings of a Twelfth-Century Jewish Polymath, eds. Jay Harris and Isadore Twersky
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), pp. 28–85. Also, see Dov Shwartz, Astrology and Magic in
Medieval Jewish Thought (in Hebrew) (Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 1999), pp. 62–91; Shlomo Sela,
Astrology and Biblical Exegesis in Abraham ibn Ezra’s Thought (in Hebrew) (Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan
University Press, 1999).
61
Lynn Thorndike, ‘‘The True Place of Astrology in the History of Science,’’ Isis 46 (1955), pp. 273–278. For a
fuller treatment of this topic, see idem., A History of Magic and Experimental Science, 8 vols. (New York, 1923–
1958); Bert Hansen, ‘‘Science and Magic,’’ in Science in the Middle Ages, ed. David C. Lindberg (Chicago:
Chicago University Press, 1978), p. 483.
62
See, for example, R. Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995),
pp. 130–135.
63
For example, Al-Kindı̂’s De Radiis. See, in this regard, M.T. D’alvery and F. Hudry, ‘‘Al-Kindi-De Radiis,’’
Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Age 42 (1974), pp. 139–260; C.S.V. Burnett, ‘‘Arabic,
Greek and Latin Works on Astrological Magic Attributed to Aristotle,’’ in Pseudo-Aristotle in the Middle Ages,
eds. Jill Kraye, W.F. Ryan, and C.B. Schmitt (London: The Warburg Institute, 1986), pp. 85–96.
the all-encompassing diurnal sphere that contains no stars,64 and the sphere of the
unembodied angels).65 Each sphere has a distinct dwelling or abode (zebul).
Each planet, along with its sphere, moves by means of its desire to be near the
One or God. The motion of each sphere is perpetual and constant, driven by the
love and piety it has for its source. In addition, each sphere possesses a soul
(nefesh) that also strives to return to its source, in much the same manner that the
human soul does.66
Ibn Ezra’s description of the various planets is based on the Tetrabiblos 67 of Ptolemy
(ca. 100–178 CE).68 This work exerted a considerable influence on medieval science
and was translated into Arabic by Ishâq ibn Hunayn in the ninth century.69
_ _
Furthermore, ibn Ezra’s rich and poetic description of each sphere in Hay represents
_
only a partial sketch of what he treats more systematically in his works devoted solely
to astrology, in particular the Reshit Hokhmah (The Beginning of Wisdom). Each
_
sphere functions as a delegate to whom God has given the authority to influence
the sublunar world in a specific way that is based on its essential properties.
Significantly ibn Ezra nowhere names the planets in Hay ; nevertheless, the
_
descriptions match those that he gives in The Beginning of Wisdom. For example,
in his description of the planet Mars, ibn Ezra writes that:
In the fifth kingdom, there are red men/

Spillers of blood.
Destroyers/
Hypocrites.
64
In his Commentary to Psalm 8:4, ibn Ezra equates the tenth sphere with the incorporeal world above the
spheres and sometimes calls it the ‘‘Throne of Glory.’’ In Hay, however, he makes this the ninth sphere, putting
_
the realm of the angelic hosts above it. Yet, in Sefer ha-shem, he implies that the tenth sphere is similar to, if not
identical, to the One, In this regard, see the discussion in Kreisel, ‘‘On the Term kol in Abraham Ibn Ezra,’’
pp. 64–65.
65
Hay, Section 16.
66 _
The classic study of this still remains Harry A. Wolfson, ‘‘The Problem of the Souls of Spheres From
the Byzantine Commentaries on Aristotle to St. Thomas and Kepler,’’ in Studies in the History of Philosophy
in Religion, ed. I. Twersky and G.H. Williams (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973), pp. 22–59.
67
Ptolemy, Tetrabiblos, ed. and trans. F.E. Robbins (London and Cambridge, MA: Heinemann and
Harvard University Press, 1940). In The Beginning of Wisdom, he informs the reader that he is providing a
synthesis of the science of astrology that is based on ‘‘the opinion of the ancient Babylonians and the wise
men of Persia, India, and Greece, whose chief is Ptolemy.’’ See The Beginning of Wisdom, eds. Raphael
Levy and Francisco Cantera (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1939), p. 155.
68
Ibn Ezra seems to have known quite well the work of Ptolemy in general, and the Tetrabiblos in particular.
For a detailed examination of ibn Ezra’s use of this work, see Sela, Astrology and Biblical Exegesis, pp. 35ff.
69
Sela, Astrology and Biblical Exegesis, p. x.
A. Hughes 13
Robbers/
Plotters.
Battle is their craft/
War is their art.
They take bribes
And murder souls.
They throw down the dead/
Consuming the plunder.
They are lovers of wickedness and deceit/
Haters of knowledge and counsel.
Their ruler is a man of war/
His temper hot.
Polishing his swords/
Gnawing his teeth.
His spears are ready, his lances are prepared/
His arrows are sharpened, his bows drawn.
His horses’ hooves are like flint/
His chariot wheels swift like the whirlwind.
He kills the innocent/
And robs the poor.
Wickedness is his activity/
And misery his toil.
He does not shy away from deception/
Nor does he refrain from trickery.70
In addition to providing a poetic description of Mars’ inhabitants, ibn Ezra here alludes
to the attributes that are associated with this planet.71 All those born under the influence of
this planet will possess similar character traits to the ones listed above. This description
provides a detailed inventory of every thing, attribute, and emotion that is associated
with this planet. In so doing, it provides a form of prognostication: since each planet
exudes a certain influence over mundane events, the philosopher has the ability to predict
accurately the exact nature of this influence. Knowledge of these characteristics and attri-
butes can also allow the philosopher to use talismans to draw down the attractions from
the planets.72 It is also important to recognize that although the ultimate source of the attri-
butes is Ptolemaic, the actual descriptions are full of Biblical vocabulary and imagery.
Ibn Ezra also mentions in Hay the notion – not found in any of his other writings, so
_
far as I am aware – that through the study of philosophy, one is able to move beyond
astrology.73 That is, the unnamed protagonist’s journey takes him through all of the
70
Hay, Section 21. C.f., Beginning of Wisdom, pp. 197–198.
71 _
On Ptolemy’s treatment of this planet, see Tetrabiblos III. 13 (p. 353). A similar description to this and one that
ibn Ezra probably would have known can be found in Ibn Gabirol’s Keter Malkuth, lines 216–226. On the rela-
tionship between ibn Ezra and ibn Gabirol, see Greive, Studien zum jüdischen Neuplatonismus, pp. 123–128;
Rosin, pp. 29–33; Asher Weiser, ‘‘Introduction’’ to Ibn Ezra’s Commentary to the Torah, vol. 1, pp. 68–69.
72
According to Shwartz, the reception of the influence does necessarily bring about magic or a magical
interpretation; rather, the magical character occurs when one successfully draws down the influence with a
specific implement or talisman. See Shwartz, Astrology and Magic in Medieval Jewish Thought, pp. 68–69.
73
In his Biblical commentaries, for example, he alludes to the notion that Israel, as long as it is observant of
Torah is superior to the influences of the stars. E.g., his excursus to Ex. 23:25; Comm. to Ex. 33:23; Comm. to Dt.
4:19. See the comments in Langermann, ‘‘Some Astrological Themes,’’ pp. 49–61; Sela, Astrology and Biblical
Exegesis, pp. 103–106.
spheres and the signs of the horoscope with the terminus being the vision of God,
who is beyond all such parameters. The philosopher, once he has a proper
understanding of the various planets and their properties, is able to move beyond
them – something the protagonist in Hay literally does. This is what allows ibn
_
Ezra, at least within the context of Hay, to combine effectively the potentially conflict-
_
ing worldviews of philosophy and astrology. If an individual does not learn the various
sciences of which philosophy is composed, he will remain in the lower world at the
mercy of the body and its desires. Such an individual, in turn, will also be at the mercy
of the various planetary motions and cycles. Philosophy is, thus, the key that unlocks
the secrets of the universe.
III. The Journey Completed: Knowledge of the Upper World
Crucial for understanding the third part of both ibn Ezra’s narrative and his cosmology
in general is the faculty of the imagination. As the faculty that permits the apprehen-
sion of immaterial truth through images, it provides an important access to truth.74
For when the imagination is purified and directed to noble concerns it resembles
the pure intellect.75 Unlike the intellect, however, the imagination is able to know
particulars and it does so in such a way that it relates them back to the divine
world from which they emanate and to which they are ontically related.76 Here it is
necessary to remember that Neoplatonic ontology is concerned not so much with
the appearance of a given phenomenon, but with its traces or images. These images,
although replicas, none the less preserve the original: The lower is not antagonistic to
74
For one of the most important discussions of the imagination in medieval Jewish Thought, see Elliot R.
Wolfson, Through a Speculum That Shines, esp. pp. 160–181. Also, see my comments in ‘‘Imagining the
Divine: Ghazali’s Defense of Dreams and Dreaming,’’ Journal of the American Academy of Religion 70.1
(2002). pp. 33–53.
75
This is a recurring motif in ancient and medieval philosophy. See, for example, Plato, Philebus
39b; Sophist 263d–624b; Proclus, Platonic Theology, IV.9.193.15–16; V.5.22.3–10. For relevant secondary
literature, see Sara Rappe, Reading Neoplatonism: Non-Discursive Thinking in the Texts of
Plotinus, Proclus, and Damascius (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp. 167–196; Richard
Lamberton, Homer the Theologian: Neoplatonic Allegorical Reading and the Growth of the Epic
Tradition (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), pp. 183–197. E. Moutsopoulos, Les Structure de
l’imaginaire dans le philosophie de Proclus (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1985). For one of the clearest
expressions on the nature of the relationship between the intellect and the imagination, see Avicenna,
Risâlah f ı̂ al-‘ishq, in Traités mystiques d’Abou Ali al-Hosain b. Abdallah ibn Sina ou d’Avicenne, IIIième
fasc., ed. M.A.F. Mehren (Leiden: Brill, 1894), p. 13. It is uncertain if ibn Ezra would have had access to
this work.
76
In a famous passage from the Enneads (I.4.10.6), Plotinus compares the imagination to a mirror: when this
mirror is smooth, polished, and bright, it projects images ‘‘back beyond themselves.’’ On the identification of
the mirror with the imagination, see H.J. Blumenthal, Plotinus’ Psychology: His Doctrine of the Embodied
Soul (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1971), p. 92. We are, thus, able to know intelligibles as if we had perceived
them through the senses. This activity occurs, according to Plotinus, when the mind operates non-discursively
(c.f., I.4.10.16–17). On the metaphor of the mirror in medieval Islam and its repercussions on philosophy,
see Manfred Ullmann, Das Motiv des Spiegels in der arabischen Literatur des Mittelalters (Gottingen:
Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1992), pp. 62–120.
Juxtaposed against my argument, Greive claims that there exists a fundamental tension in ibn Ezra’s thought
between rational knowledge and the vision of God. See his Stüdien zum jüdischen Neuplatonismus, p. 82. This
tension, however, is more apparent than real because it ignores the faculty of the imagination and the role of
aesthetics in medieval philosophy.
A. Hughes 15
the higher, but rather contains it.77 Within this context, the imagination is important for
at least two reasons. First, it is involved in the abstraction of sensation, thereby
becoming an important link in the ascending scale of knowledge. Second,
the imagination is important at or near the top of this scale because the ultimate
moment of Neoplatonic epistemology is described in terms of a majestic vision –
and it is the function of the imagination to translate the incorporeal nature of this
‘‘seeing’’ into familiar, corporeal images.
It is against this backdrop that we need to situate the third and final section of
Hay ben Meqitz. Within this context, the narrative progresses to its climax: the
_
individual’s experiential encounter with the structure of the highest world (ha-olam
ha-elyon), wherein both the disembodied angels and, above them, God are located.
The most significant theoretical issue that emerges here is: What exactly does the
protagonist encounter and/or experience? Is he able to apprehend God in His essence?
The dynamic of the journey is such that, until he reaches the sphere of the angels,
the protagonist provides a descriptive account based on what the senses perceive.
Beyond this, however, he can go no further since he simply lacks the epistemological
apparatus.78 It is at this juncture that ibn Ezra shifts the description from the external to
the internal as the protagonist must now, paradoxically, ‘‘see’’ through ‘‘closed eyes.’’
Significantly at the threshold of the boundary between the intermediate and
upper worlds, there is no initiation corresponding to the previous ones by water
(Section 7) and fire (Section 15). What the individual must do, however, is switch
the focus of his vision from the external to the internal, and let his intellect
give way to his imagination. Upon crossing the border (zebul ) to the tenth sphere,
the protagonist claims:
I was afraid and said/

‘‘How awesome is this place that I see.’’
He replied: ‘‘From your feet/
Remove the sandals.
From the matter of your corpse/
Lift your soul.
Foresake your thoughts/
Relax your eyelids!
See by the eyes of your interior/
The pupils of your heart.’’79
77
A.C. Lloyd, The Anatomy of Neoplatonism, pp. 137–138; J.M. Rist, Plotinus: The Road to Reality
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), pp. 84–102; John Deck, Nature, Contemplation and the
One (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1967), pp. 56–63.
78
As the faculty of internal representation, the imagination represents the absent as present and the immater-
ial in material terms. In so doing, it is the faculty that works on the interface of world and mind, thereby
enabling the individual to experience corporeally the incorporeal. See, in this regard, Eva T.H. Brann,
The World of the Imagination: Sum and Substance (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 1991), pp. 5ff; John
Sallis, The Force of the Imagination: The Sense of the Elemental (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
2000), pp. 215–223.
79
Hay, Section 26.
_
By switching the narrative to an internal framework, ibn Ezra claims that knowledge of
this part of the cosmos is intuitive and comes about primarily through embodied images.
This stage – the encounter with the disembodied angels – brings the individual to the
heights of knowledge. There is, according to the cosmological-ontological map that
Hay presents, essentially only one stage higher than this, the encounter with God. The lan-
_
guage that is here used to describe this experience is specifically based on the experience
of Moses at the burning bush (Ex 3:5). Does ibn Ezra imply that the one who attains phi-
losophical knowledge reaches a level that is equal to that of Moses? This question, in turn,
broaches one concerning the nature of the relationship between the ecstatic experience
found in Hay and the experience of prophecy.80
_
In his commentary to Psalm 139:18, ibn Ezra claims that prophetic vision occurs
when the human soul cleaves to the Universal Soul (ha-neshamah ha-elyonah)
which results in the vision of wonderful images (temunot nifla’ot). These images,
significantly, do not appear to be qualitatively different from those experienced by
the protagonist’s imaginative gaze.81 Much like the prophet, the unnamed protagonist
experiences the Divine, grasps it ‘‘visually,’’ not simply intellectually, but also imagina-
tively, sensually, and emotionally. For ibn Ezra, the visionary component of prophecy,
much like the telos of the philosopher’s experience, is explained by means of
the forms that present themselves to the imaginative faculty. The philosopher’s knowl-
edge, then, seems to be qualitatively similar to Moses’s.82 However, whereas Moses was
prevented from seeing God’s face (Ex 33:20),83 Hay implies to the protagonist that he
has the ability ‘‘to know [God]/ To apprehend (lahazot) Him.’’84
_
Following the aforementioned section, Hay offers a description of God and His
_
attributes in a manner that is fairly typical of the medieval Jewish philosophers.85
Hay emphasizes God’s unity, immateriality, omnipotence, and omniscience; he
_
also stresses God’s attributes of action, in particular righteousness (zedek), justice
_
(mishpat), and loving-kindness (hesed ).86 What is significant in ibn Ezra’s description,
_
however, is his assumption that the individual can actually apprehend God by means
of the ‘‘pupils of the heart.’’ This term derives from Sufi sources87 and seems to refer to
80
On the structural relationship between the poet and the prophet in medieval poetry, see Dan Pagis, ‘‘The
Poet as Prophet in Medieval Hebrew Literature,’’ in Poetry and Prophecy: The Beginnings of a Literary
Tradition, ed. J. Kugel (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990), pp. 140–150.
81
See Hay, Section 26. Also, see the comments in Wolfson, ‘‘God, the Demiurge, and the Intellect,’’ p. 98 n. 79.
82 _
Unfortunately, ibn Ezra’s ‘‘theory’’ of prophecy, unlike Maimonides’ discussion in Guide II.32ff, nowhere
supplies us with a systematic account of either the quiddity of prophecy or its relationship to the imaginative
faculty.
83
For a discussion of the paradoxical nature of this verse and its role in the history of Jewish visionary
experience, see Wolfson, Through a Speculum that Shines, pp. 13–51.
84
Hay, Section 28.
85 _
E.g., Saadia Gaon, Sefer ha-emunot we-ha-de’ot (Kitâb al-amânât wa al-i‘tiqâdât, ed. trans. Joseph Kafih
(Jerusalem, 1970), pp. 76–115; Ibn Gabirol, Keter Malkut, Sections 1–10; Bahya Ibn Pakuda, Sefer torat hovot_
_
ha-levatot, pp. 18–45; Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed, III.16, 20.
86
C.f., Guide III.53 for Maimonides discussion of these three attributes. On the problematics of the last chap-
ter of the Guide, see Shlomo Pines, ‘‘The Limits of Human Knowledge According to al-Farabi, ibn Bajja, and
Maimonides,’’ in Studies in Medieval Jewish History and Literature, ed. I. Twersky (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1979), pp. 82–109.
87
This is especially evident in the work of Ghazali. See, in particular, his Ihyâ‘ulûm al-dı̂n (Cairo: n.p.,1967),
_
vol. 3, pp. 25ff.; vol. 4, pp. 627ff; idem., Al-Madnûn bihı̂ ‘alâ ghair ahlihı̂, in Majmu‘a rasâ’il (Beirut: Dâr
al-kutub al-’alimiyya, 1986), pp. 125f. Within this_ context, see my ‘‘Imagining the Divine: Ghazali’s Defense
of Dreams and Dreaming,’’ esp. pp. 41–45. Several of Ghazali’s disciplines made their way to al-Andalus,
taking his teachings with them. One figure, in particular, Ibn al-‘Arif (d. 1141), frequently used this metaphor.
See his Mahâsin al-majâlis, ed. Miguel Ası́n Palacios (Paris: Paul Geuthner, 1933), esp. pp. 33ff.
_
A. Hughes 17
the imaginative faculty.88 The narrative continues:
I said, ‘‘Please, my Lord, listen to my plea for mercy/

To you I turn my eyes.
Upon you I cast my troubles/
To your hand I entrust my spirit.
Tell me with what shall I approach Him?/
How shall I know Him?
I have truly longed to know Him/
I yearn to see Him.’’
He replied, ‘‘Uphold my words/
Keep my teaching/
Walk in my path, and do not depart from me.
You will know your spirit/
As is fitting your ability and your strength.
Then you will be able to know Him/
To apprehend Him.’’89
In this passage, ibn Ezra repeats the customary formula of medieval Neoplatonism;
namely, that to know oneself (i.e., one’s soul), the individual, as a microcosm, is able
to have knowledge of the universe, or the macrocosm.90 The way in which one does
this, as Hay observes, is by means of following the path that he has marked out.
_
Now what does this path consist of? Is it open solely to those who study the
sciences? Significantly, ibn Ezra nowhere mentions in his narrative the concept of
Torah-study or even the knowledge of the Divine Name.91 The journey progresses
naturally: one seems to pass out of each sphere, sub- or supra-lunar, as soon as
one masters the science (or sciences) that is associated with it. So, although, on
one level, Hay ben Meqitz is a Jewish narrative, resplendent with Biblical and
_
post-Biblical images, it nevertheless becomes necessary to ask: to just what extent
does this imagery effect the content of the narrative?
88
Wolfson, however, claims that the ‘‘inner eye’’ in ibn Ezra, contrary to Halevi, refers to the intellect which,
in turn, is unrelated to the imagination. See Elliot Wolfson, ‘‘Merkavah Traditions in Philosophic Garb:
Judah Halevi Reconsidered,’’ Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 57 (1990/1991),
p. 208, n. 90. Although this is certainly true in many cases, here, I would argue, it would seem to refer to
the imaginative faculty.
89
Hay, Section 28.
90 _
For other examples of this formulation in his corpus, see Commentary to Exodus 31:18; Yesod Mora, II.9;
XII.3. On the motif of self-knowledge as a means of knowledge of God in medieval Jewish thought,
see Alexander Altmann, ‘‘The Delphic Maxim in Medieval Islam and Judaism,’’ Biblical and Other Studies,
ed. A. Altmann (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1963), pp. 196–232.
91
On the use of the Divine Name in prophecy in general and Mosaic prophecy in particular, see his
Commentary to Exodus 6:3. On the implications of this, see Wolfson, ‘‘God, the Demiurge, and the
Intellect,’’ pp. 106ff. However, this motif is distinctly lacking in Hay.
_
Fortunately, in other works ibn Ezra better grounds the place of the sciences in the
framework of the Jewish tradition. In one of his more ‘‘systematic’’ treatments, Yesod
Mora, ibn Ezra claims that the Torah teaches more than any teacher or philosopher
can.92 Before one can inquire into the nature of the commandments, one must
first accept them on a religious level. In this treatise ibn Ezra not only connects the
tripartite nature of the human soul (neshamah, nefesh, and ruah) with the tripartite
_
nature of the universe (the upper world, the intermediate world, and the lower
world), he also connects both of these to the tripartite nature of the commandments.93
In this regard, he divides the commandments into three categories: those of the heart
(e.g., that there is no God but God, and that one must love Him), those of the mouth
(e.g., prayer), and action (e.g., fasting).94 Those of the heart are the essence (iqqar)
of all the commandments. Consequently, there exists an intimate connection between
the neshamah, the uppermost world, and the commandments of the heart.
The result is that ibn Ezra’s concept of philosophy, although certainly possessing a
naturalist tendency, cannot be separated from a deeper religious sentiment. It seems to
me that one of the main reasons why ibn Ezra leaves out explicit references to Torah-
study in Hay is that he meant this work as a summa ; it, thus, lacks the details of each
specific part that comprises his worldview. In order to understand the treatise properly,
then, one must be first be familiar with the rest of his literary, philosophical, and
astrological corpus – not to mention his Biblical commentaries. Moreover, ibn Ezra
seems to present Hay ben Meqitz in such a manner that it is not other than the
_
Bible: essentially it is a pastiche of Biblical phrases, verses, and words placed within
a Neoplatonic framework.
The treatise continues with Hay suggesting that, if one proceeds a little further up
_
the scala naturae, it is possible to reach a point where one can ‘‘know’’ God and
‘‘see’’ Him. This occurs despite the fact that in the previous section Hay had informed
_
the protagonist that God possesses neither shape nor image.
Here, once again, the argument turns on the role of the imagination. The assump-
tion is often made that because God is ultimately beyond all human intellectual
constructs, it is impossible to have knowledge of anything but His actions.95 But
how does such a view make room for the imaginative faculty? Just because the
intellect is unable to apprehend God, must we posit the same conditions as regards
the imagination? Indeed, in Hay, ibn Ezra does allude to the notion that where the
_
intellect is closed to a deeper knowledge of God, the imagination is open. In his
long Commentary to Exodus 23:20, ibn Ezra claims that when the soul is directed
upwards ‘‘images, forms, and visions’’ are created for it. It is these phenomena that
the imagination apprehends, thereby providing access to God and the upper world –
a world that is otherwise all but closed to the intellect.96
The telos of the narrative, then, seems to be the experiential pleasure that derives –
after one has already mastered the requisite sciences – from apprehending that which
is immaterial which, in turn, leads the individual to bask in the presence of God.
Moreover, ibn Ezra intimates that the individual can achieve this in this world.
92
Yesod Mora VII.12.
93
See my comments in ‘‘Two Approaches,’’ p. 144.
94
Yesod Mora VII.10–12.
95
E.g., Kreisel, ‘‘On the Term kol in Abraham Ibn Ezra,’’ p. 52.
96
Significantly, though, in Yesod Mora X.2 he claims that our knowledge of God is restricted to the world of
nature and confined, primarily, to the study of the various sciences.
A. Hughes 19
This notion of experiential pleasure is not a supernatural event, something that

happens only to those whom God chooses. On the contrary, it is a natural event
and, theoretically, it is something that is open to all.97 So, although ibn Ezra pro-
nounces this in a manner that is akin to the divine invitations of the Wisdom litera-
ture,98 he denies that mystical gnosis is imparted supernaturally and independent
of noetic capability. In Hay ben Meqitz this knowledge of God is presented as the
_
telos of every human life (although very few will actualize it). What ibn Ezra
essentially does in this narrative, to reiterate, is to provide an imaginative map of
the structure of the universe, thereby inviting the reader to make the journey himself.
Although Hay ben Meqitz is firmly rooted within the Neoplatonic tradition in general
_
and the Jewish Neoplatonic tradition in particular, it nevertheless shares a number of
similarities with various trajectories of early Jewish mysticism, especially regarding
images and vocabulary. Like the literature associated with this tradition, one of
the central themes of Hay is that of several heavens through which the individual
_
soul ascends. The corollary of this is that Hay, like the early mystical tradition,
_
places a strong emphasis on the visual and visionary dimension.99 Indeed, the goal
of the unnamed protagonist parallels that of the yored merkabah in that both yearn
to apprehend the beauty of the Divine. The Hekhalot material usually describes this
apprehension in terms of the luminous quality of light, which as Wolfson argues is
the essence of the glory, the throne, and the angels.100 Chapter 24 from Hekhalot
Rabbati, for example, states
His throne radiates before Him and His palace is full of splendor.
His Majesty is becoming and His Glory is an adornment for Him.
His servants sing before Him and proclaim the might of His wonders,
As King of all kings and Master of all masters,
encircled by rows of crowns,
surrounded by the ranks of the princes of splendor.
With a gleam of His ray he encompasses the sky
And His splendor radiates from the heights.
Abysses flame from His mouth and firmaments sparkle from His body.101
We encounter similar images, albeit it with a somewhat different intentionality, in

ibn Ezra’s Hay ben Meqitz:
_
97
E.g., Commentary to Deuteronomy 6:7.
98
For example, compare the opening verses of Hay with Job 34:2, Proverbs 8:7.
99 _
C.f., Hekhalot Rabbati, in Synopse zur Hekhalot-Literatur, eds. Peter Schäfer et al. (Tübingen: Mohr, 1981),
Sections 159, 248, 251, 407, 408, 409, 410, 411; Merkabah Rabbah, in Synopse, sections 41, 699; Ma‘aseh
Merkabah, in Synopse, Section 570. On the relationship between this literature and the Shi’ur Qoma, see
Martin S. Cohen, The Shi‘ur Qoma: Liturgy and Theurgy in Pre-Kabbalistic Jewish Mysticism (Landham:
University Press of America, 1983), pp. 168ff. For an example of ibn Ezra’s use of the Shi‘ur Qoma, see the
concluding chapter to his Yesod Mora. For other requisite secondary literature, see Peter Schäfer, The
Hidden and Manifest God: Some Major Themes in Early Jewish Mysticism, trans. Aubrey Pomerance
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992), pp. 15f.; Wolfson, Through a Speculum that Shines,
pp. 74–124.
100
Wolfson, Through A Speculum that Shines, p. 86. C.f., Synopse, Sections 41, 481, 699, 949 (cited by
Wolfson, p. 86, ns. 52 and 53). Compare with Hay, Section 17, 20, 27.
101 _
Qtd. in Gershom G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism (New York: Schocken, 1946), p. 59.
All of them sing praise/

In unison they lavish acclaim.
They always stand still/
Constantly worshipping their Maker.
...
Their motion is that of those who strive/
Their worship that of those who yearn.
Upon them a light shines forth/
From the pure abode.
A garden spring/
A well of fresh water.102
Within this context, Hay ben Meqitz, like much of the early Jewish mystical litera-
_
ture, focuses on the intimate relationship between rhythm and vision.103 The emphasis
on the sounds of words as much as the words themselves is a way of transferring to
the reader the same experiences that the author has already experienced. These were
texts, therefore, that were certainly meant to be read aloud, in which the various
intricate harmonics and sonorous rhythms of the spoken word were meant to have
a transformative effect on the individual’s soul.
We also see this intersection between Neoplatonism and early Jewish mysticism at
play in other of ibn Ezra’s works. In Yesod Mora, for example, he provides a philoso-
phical interpretation of the Shi‘ur Qomah, using the speculation associated with this
tradition to make a philosophical point:
The philosophers call man a microcosm. This is the secret of Metatron, the sar ha-panim. This is the secret
of the five things of which the Rabbis spoke. The Shi‘ur Qomah thus states ‘‘Rabbi Ishmael said, ‘Whoever
knows the dimensions of the creator ( yoser) of the world is assured a place in the world to come.
_
Akiba and I guarantee this.104
Here ibn Ezra, inter alia, argues that the Shi‘ur Qomah literature must not be read
literally, but interpreted allegorically. Situating it within the Neoplatonic tradition, he
claims that the literature is primarily interested in showing the relationship between
transcendence and immanence, the macrocosm and the microcosm.
Furthermore, the various ordeals that the protagonist undergoes in Hay have coun-
_
terparts in the early mystical literature. The trope of purification by immersion in water
although a universal symbol, is one that recurs frequently throughout the Apocalyptic
literature, where the celestial sojourner often undergoes some form of contact
with water (or, alternatively, fire) as a means of continuing his journey upwards.105
By employing these types of images here, ibn Ezra creates a certain expectation in
his reader, signifying that, just as the initiate underwent purification before ascending
to the throne, so, too, must the philosopher’s soul undergo a form of purification if it is
to contemplate the Divine. In like manner when the unnamed protagonist apprehends
the eternal flame, he describes his situation thus: ‘‘My hands were weak/My knees
102
Hay, Section 16. Although the imagery is similar, ibn Ezra’s narrative as I shall show presently has a much
greater_ emphasis on the philosophical component of this gnosis. This can be seen, for instance, in the last verse
where he mixes two popular Neoplatonic metaphors for describing the One: that of a spring and that of a pure
light.
103
E.g., Synopse, 198, 409, 412, 699, 700.
104
Yesod Mora, 12:4.
105
C.f., 1Enoch 17:1–8; 2Enoch 56:2; 3Enoch 42:1. For these texts, I have consulted The Old Testament
Pseudepigrapha, vol. 1: Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments, ed. James H. Charlesworth (New York:
Doubleday, 1983).
A. Hughes 21
trembled. My eyes smoked over from fear/I fell frightened onto my face. I was unable
to stand/ My whole being was stricken with terror.’’106
Although Hay, the divine guide, is described in terms that compare him to an
_
angel, he is actually a philosopher whose intellect has become fully actualized.
Moreover, the protagonist is not a special individual (e.g., Abraham, Enoch, Rabbi
Ishmael), but potentially anyone who engages in philosophical contemplation. Ibn
Ezra, then, has essentially absorbed many of the images associated with the early
Jewish mystical tradition and reframed them in such a manner that they become
acceptable in the light of the cultural, intellectual, and literary categories that defined
the Jewish experience in al-Andalus.107 So even though Hay ben Meqitz is undoubt-
_
edly a Neoplatonic work, ibn Ezra none the less utilizes a specific vocabulary and a
set of categories that are at his disposal in order to contextualize his philosophy.
In addition to this, many of the early Jewish philosophers were interested in cosmol-
ogy and, as Jospe has shown, writing philosophical commentaries on early
Jewish mystical texts, such as the Sefer Yesirah, provided them with an authentic
_
Jewish response with which they could more clearly define their own theories.108
Indeed, ibn Ezra is said to have written a commentary on this work. Ibn Ezra’s interest
in the structure of the universe, therefore, is not something that is based solely on
his commitment to Neoplatonism or Avicenna’s Arabic narrative. On the contrary,
the cosmology that ibn Ezra presents in Hay is one that has precedents in other
_
Jewish sources and is one that reflects an on-going concern about the structure of
the universe and the manner in which the individual can ascend through it.109
Significantly, the narrative is written post factum, in which the protagonist, having
experienced the journey, has returned to his starting point. The text ends with the
protagonist thanking Hay directly for his guidance and God indirectly for sending
_
Hay into this world:110
_
I said to him/
‘‘May you be forever blessed.
You have brought me thus far/
To enter and come out again in peace.
106
Hay, Section 15. C.f., The Apocalypse of Abraham 10:1–6; 3Enoch 1:7; 1Enoch 14:24–25.
107 _
This is in keeping with the fact that many of the early Jewish philosophers – including ibn Ezra – wrote
philosophical commentaries to the Sefer Yesirah. See Raphael Jospe, ‘‘Early Philosophical Commentaries on
_
the Sefer Yezirah,’’ Revue des Études Juives 149 (1990), pp. 369–415.
108
Jospe, ‘‘Early Philosophical Commentaries on the Sefer Yezirah,’’ pp. 376–377.
109
E.g., Saadia Gaon, Comm.to Sefer Yesirah, found in Sefer Yesirah (Kitâb al-mabâdı̂) ‘im Perush R. Saadia
_ _
bar Joseph Fayyumi, ed. Joseph Kafih (Jerusalem, 1970), pp. 30–32; Ibn Gabirol, Kether Malkhut. See Jospe,
Early Philosophical Commentaries,’’ _ pp. 377ff. Another important figure who speculated on the nature
and structure of the universe that would prove highly influential among later kabbalists was Shabbetai
Donnolo. In this regard, see Elliot Wolfson, ‘‘The Theosophy of Shabbetai Donnolo, With Special Emphasis
on the doctrine of Sefirot in his Sefer Hakhmoni’’ Jewish History 6 (1992), pp. 281–316.
110
Levin, Introduction to Hay, p. 44.
_
Happy are you/

And happy are your friends.
Those who uphold your religion/
And pay heed to your wise words.
Praised be the Lord your God
Who made you governor of His World/
Who put you in charge of His people.
He who brought me to you/
Who made me listen to your words.
He is above all majesty and greatness/
Exalted above every blessing and praise.
He alone does great things/
His steadfast love is eternal.’’111
However, the central image of this passage, and one that would be readily evident
to the reader, is the evocation of the journey to Pardes.112 Within that context, four
individuals entered paradise and only one, Rabbi Akiva, returned alive and peacefully.
The others either died or went insane.113 The unnamed protagonist in Hay undergoes
_
the same steps and achieved a similar gnosis to that of Rabbi Akiva. There are,
however, crucial differences to which I alluded above: ibn Ezra emphasizes that this
gnosis is open to all, that it is a natural process, and that much of it is contingent
upon scientific knowledge.
The conclusion of ibn Ezra’s Hay presents an interesting departure from the termi-
_
nus of Avicenna’s treatise. Although both of these texts deal with the acquisition
of intellectual-mystical gnosis (Ar. ma‘rifa), they deal with this in different ways.
Avicenna’s protagonist only learns of what will occur if he follows Hayy: he does
_
not physically undergo the journey in the same manner that ibn Ezra’s protagonist
does. Indeed, Avicenna intimates that the most one can hope for in this life is fleeting
glimpses of the journey, but which can only begin for real after the death of the body.
However, ibn Ezra’s protagonist, speaking post factum, appears to have entered
into the presence of the Divine, experienced what this involves, and then reemerged
from the experience a new person. This is why ibn Ezra’s allegory ends with the
protagonist thanking both Hay and God, whereas Avicenna’s ends with Hayy issuing
_ _
an invitation to the protagonist: ‘‘if you desire, you may follow me to Him, peace.’’
The question, then, emerges: Why does ibn Ezra’s allegory conclude in a manner
that is distinct from Avicenna’s ? Does it reveal a deep-rooted departure from
Avicenna’s philosophical worldview? According to Greive, the difference in the end-
ings can be explained by the fact that Avicenna’s work is primarily philosophical,
whereas ibn Ezra’s is more mystical in scope.114 For him, ibn Ezra’s main concern is
with the soul’s deliverance, the culmination of the ascending journey. Juxtaposed
against this, Greive argues that Avicenna is more interested in the structure of the
universe.115 Such a position, however, fails to take into consideration ibn Ezra’s
own interest in the structure of the universe, which includes his own elaborate
111
Hay, Section 29.
112 _
See Hagigah 14b.
113
See, _for example, Gershom G. Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism (New York: Schocken,
1965), pp.57–58; idem., Kabbalah (New York: Meridian, 1974), pp. 13–14.
114
Greive, Studien zum jüdischen Neuplatonismus, p. 122.
115
Greive, Studien zum jüdischen Neuplatonismus, p. 122.
A. Hughes 23
description of the three worlds. These descriptions are often just as elaborate as
Avicenna’s. In like manner, Greive’s formulation ignores Avicenna’s own overwhelm-
ing interest in the fate of the soul.116
Ibn Ezra’s Hay ben Meqitz follows closely the model provided by Avicenna’s
_
Hayy ibn Yaqzân, and we should, as I have argued, locate it within the tradition of
_ _
Islamicate allegory. However, the conclusion of the work indicates that ibn Ezra was
not simply content to mimic Avicenna’s Hayy ibn Yaqzân. So not only does ibn
_ _
Ezra compose an important Neoplatonic treatise, he also appears to have used both
the title and the genre as a creative way to think about, illumine, and nuance his
own tradition. For instance, the literary trope of the soul’s awakening and ascent is
one that, although central to Neoplatonism, recurs frequently in the Biblical and
post-Biblical traditions. In all three traditions, then, we encounter both the possibility
and viability of an experiential apprehension of the Divine. However, and not surpris-
ingly, ibn Ezra chooses to employ the imagery and the vocabulary of his own tradition
to describe the otherwise universal career and adventures of the human soul.
IV. Conclusions
It should now be apparent that Ibn Ezra’s Hay ben Meqitz is neither philosophically
_
immature nor a simple copy of Avicenna’s Arabic composition. On the contrary, this
work differs from Avicenna’s in both its form and its content. Formally, ibn Ezra’s
Hay is characterized by its rich use of language, especially his employment of a
_
harmonic and rhyming prose – something that Avicenna’s Hayy ibn Yaqzân is not
_ _
concerned with. Ibn Ezra may well have been influenced by medieval Islamicate
literary criticism concerning plagiarism (Ar. sariqa), in which originality is not defined
by who says what first, but by the embellishment of traditional, well-known motifs
(Ar. ma‘ânı̂ ).117 As far as content is concerned, there exist differences in the structure
of the universe in which the journey takes place. Whereas ibn Ezra’s universe is
only vertical, Avicenna’s also bifurcates on an East–West horizontal axis. There also
exist different emphases and presuppositions in the two narratives. Primary in this
regard is ibn Ezra’s overwhelming interest in the astrological implications of the prota-
gonist’s journey, and the different denouements of the two narratives.
Even though Hay ben Meqitz is not simply a work of literature, the poetic and
_
aesthetic features of allegory are crucial to its generation of meaning. Here I would
argue that ibn Ezra and Avicenna share a similar assumption: these various literary
features invite the reader into the narrative and allow him or her to experience the
journey through the protagonist’s eyes. This experiential dimension is an important
aspect of allegory and one that is in keeping with the authors’ commitment to
116
According to Gutas, one of the overarching concerns of Avicenna, and one that runs throughout all his
disparate writings, is the nature and fate of the human soul. See Gutas, Avicenna and the Aristotelian
Tradition, p. 85.
117
E.g., Hasan Ibn Rashı̂q al-Qayrawânı̂, Al-’Umda fı̂ mahâsin al-shi‘r, ed. Muhyı̂ al-Dı̂n ‘Abd al-Hamı̂d, 5th
_ _ _ _
edn. (Beirut: Dâr al-Jı̂l, 1981), vol. 2, p. 280; Moses ibn Ezra, Kitâb al-muhâd ara wa al-mudhâkara, p. 174.
_ _
See, in this regard, the discussion in Joseph Dana, Poetics of Medieval Hebrew Literature According to Moses
ibn Ezra (in Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Dvir, 1982), pp. 18–37.
Neoplatonism which envisaged philosophy as a spiritual progression, not simply as

an analytical system based on propositional logic.
Hay ben Meqitz then is an important text in medieval Jewish thought, whose
_
mode of presentation provided ibn Ezra with a forum to introduce many of the
positions that he only hints at in his commentaries. If we ignore the allegorical
component of this narrative we risk reducing it to either the domains of literature or
philosophical primers. In effect, Hay ben Meqitz is a philosophical work that
_
draws its vocabulary and images from the Bible and the various trajectories of
early Jewish mysticism, all of which are subsequently contextualized by the aesthetic
sensibilities of the medieval Jewish Neoplatonists.

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The Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy, 2002, Vol. 11, No. 1, pp.

The Three Worlds of ibn Ezra’s

I. The Beginning of the Journey: The World of

These friends/ who rule over you/

They are not lovers/

These ‘‘friends,’’ unbeknownst to the protagonist, are ultimately responsible for

The one who walks before you/

As for the companion on your left/

These companions represent, according to their descriptions, the imaginative faculty,

II. The Journey Through the Heavenly Spheres:

And when we came out from those areas/

Forceful and strong/

In the fifth kingdom, there are red men/

III. The Journey Completed: Knowledge of the Upper World

I was afraid and said/

the imaginative faculty.88 The narrative continues:

I said, ‘‘Please, my Lord, listen to my plea for mercy/

This notion of experiential pleasure is not a supernatural event, something that

We encounter similar images, albeit it with a somewhat different intentionality, in

All of them sing praise/

Happy are you/

Neoplatonism which envisaged philosophy as a spiritual progression, not simply as

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