In order better to assess the complexity of the encounter between philosophy and theosophical kabbalah, we should make a distinction between the influence of philosophy on kabbalah—for example, the use of philosophical ideas and structures—and the overt attitude of kabbalah toward philosophy. Regarding the latter, several stances can be detected. Georges Vajda, and later Boaz Huss, have shown three main patterns.Footnote ² The first considers kabbalah and philosophy as sharing the same body of knowledge and thus their differences are only semantic. The second sees philosophical lore as reliable yet inferior to kabbalistic beliefs. The last is more radical and regards philosophy as a false, even demonic science. Here, philosophy is seen by kabbalists not only as secondary but also as misleading.

With this typology in mind, we must nevertheless remember that, at least during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, it was common to find differing attitudes toward philosophy within the same text or within works by the same author. This can be said both of the authors most receptive to philosophy and of those most critical,Footnote ³ which suggests that rather than a clear typology, a far more complex and ambiguous attitude toward philosophy can, on the whole, be identified. A critical approach toward philosophy, however, does not mean that kabbalah was not open to its ideas.Footnote ⁴ On the contrary, regardless of their disagreements, the crystallization of ontological, hermeneutic, esoteric, and theosophical tools in kabbalah should be understood in tandem with philosophy. Likewise the kabbalists relied on philosophical categories and terminology, a dependence that did not, however, turn them into philosophers; rather, it is not uncommon to see philosophical concepts and ideas transformed and transplanted in kabbalistic discourse, a principle that I hope to show should be seen as both imitative and innovative.

The reception of philosophy by theosophical kabbalah has been the subject of a wide range of studies. The first attempt, by David Neumark, who saw kabbalah as a mystical philosophy,Footnote ⁵ was challenged by Gershom Scholem, who emphasized the mystical rather than the philosophical aspects of kabbalah. Accordingly, the influence of philosophy on kabbalah has been understood principally as the impact of philosophical terminology to which new significance was given.Footnote ⁶ The generation of scholars after Scholem has highlighted new aspects and offered new insights. Moshe Idel has emphasized the continuity of different Jewish ethoses, while also considering the impact of Jewish and Christian philosophy.Footnote ⁷ He has elaborated on the theurgic, prophetic, and magical aspects that came to characterize kabbalistic traditions in contrast to philosophical traditions. Yehuda Liebes has also established a historic model of continuity in Jewish mysticism, with exemplifying mythical elements.Footnote ⁸ In his account of the complex interactions between mysticism and philosophy, Elliot Wolfson has responded both to this emphasis on theurgy and myth, and to Scholem's sharp distinction between mysticism and rationalism.Footnote ⁹ By stressing their common ground, he has broken down the paradigmatic opposition between rationalism and mysticism, thus causing a reexamination of our understanding of kabbalah and philosophy. Recently scholars such as Menachem Lorberbaum, Adam Afterman, and Jonathan Dauber have shed new light on philosophy and kabbalah's common intellectual and mystical grounds.Footnote ¹⁰

Thus the comparison between kabbalah and philosophy has, in general, resulted either in an outline of their common ethos or an emphasis on alternative models, be they theurgic, magic, or mythic. In this article I wish also to discuss the common ground between kabbalah and philosophy, but in order to outline some important theological differences that have not yet been properly formulated. This will shed new light on their profound mimesis and equally profound divergence, presenting new ways in which to examine the reception of philosophical conceptions in medieval theosophical kabbalah.

For this purpose I will first clarify what was understood by kabbalists as philosophical heresy. Medieval kabbalists denounced major philosophical views as heretical when they believed those views had deviated from basic Jewish religious precepts. Azriel of Gerona, Jacob ben Sheshet,Footnote ¹¹ Nachmanides,Footnote ¹² Joseph Gikatilla,Footnote ¹³ Joseph Ashkenazi,Footnote ¹⁴ Isaac ibn Latif,Footnote ¹⁵ and the anonymous author of Ma‘arekhet hā’elohut Footnote ¹⁶ are only some of the main kabbalistic figures of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries who refer to various philosophical views as heretical. At the core of their accusation stands the alleged philosophical denegation of the revelatory character of the Torah, miracles, the creation, or divine providence. The conception of God was not directly at stake, nor was God's existence denied. These heretical views challenge the possibility of God's intervention in the world and by implication in human affairs. In discussing heresy, kabbalists do not deem philosophy itself heretical but rather some of its conceptions. The categories of philosophical heresy are mostly non-Jewish philosophical systems or interpretations of Jewish philosophers that contradict the commandments and question God's intervention in the world. For example, according to Jacob ben Sheshet,Footnote ¹⁷ Ibn Tibbon misinterprets MaimonidesFootnote ¹⁸ and favors Aristotle's beliefs over Maimonides's, although the latter argues, in his view, in favor of individual providence.Footnote ¹⁹

We will turn now to the implications of such categories of heresy in order better to understand what is at stake for the tenets of theosophical kabbalah. Our understanding of the full meaning of the criticism of those tenets and of the category of heresy is enhanced by appealing to Margalit and Halbertal's work. In their view, in the Middle Ages it was no longer the worship of other gods that preoccupied those identifying heresy but rather differences in practice.Footnote ²⁰ Interestingly enough, this principle applies to kabbalah's critique of philosophy as well, since the target was not the philosophical conception of God but its implications for religious practices. In our case the difference in their practices lies precisely in the lack of practice in philosophy—what is deemed heretical is the denial of the impact of praxis on God. It is not the philosophical system that is heretical but rather its practical implication: the denial of prayer's efficacy, the Torah's divine origins, and divine providence. Interestingly, philosophical heresy, specifically in our case the lack of praxis, was understood by kabbalists as a threat that lies not in philosophy as a way of thinking but rather as a way of life. To answer the challenge raised by perceived philosophical heresy one needs to ensure a theological system that does not jeopardize the religious life—but even further, such a system must justify the normative religious way of life and even become its raison d’être. Such a system would solve the problems raised by the ontological differences between the mundane and the divine. This counter-theology would prevent the denial of the divine origins of the Torah, of divine providence, and of creation and would guarantee the efficacy of prayer by closing the ontological gap between God and humanity by supplanting one epistemological approach with another one.

My claim is that the theosophical system itself should be understood as the main theological answer to the danger of heresy presented by philosophical concepts. The very structure of the sefirotic system indeed offers an alternative to the theological problems caused by the philosophical chasm between the mundane and the divine. Among the many ways in which the theosophical system offers a theological alternative, the most important one is what I propose to call the process of divinization. This scheme can in fact explain each case of kabbalistic attack against philosophical heresy. For example, while in some philosophical formulations the Torah is seen as mundane, theosophical kabbalah responds by emphasizing the Torah's divine status.Footnote ²¹ The same can be said about the status of the Hebrew language,Footnote ²² the allegory/symbol,Footnote ²³ creation,Footnote ²⁴ and even the providence of the Shekhinah, which is, as is well known, identified with the last sĕfirāh, malkhut. This process can be seen in other aspects of theosophical kabbalah as well, but for now it will suffice to regard theosophical kabbalah as an overall structure that emphasizes the divine in all its aspects. This process—divinization—is not only about the intensification of the divine realm but also about the divinization of the human realm, in contrast to the new philosophical language and its humanization of the divine.

It should be noted that this process of divinization is reinforced by the emphasis on esotericism, for in kabbalah esotericism permits knowledge of a higher level than rational or logical knowledge. While the context of the switch from epistemology to esotericism in theosophy is beyond the scope of this research, it is important here to understand the divinization process as presenting an inverted mirror image of human rational philosophy. This process is better understood in light of the internalization of the religious discourse of the Middle Ages. While on the one hand, the philosophical internalization of the religious discourse dealing with the correct knowledge of God was adopted by ecstatic and theosophical kabbalah alike, on the other hand, the implications of philosophy for religious life were perceived by the theosophical tradition as a real danger. By “internalization” one should understand the transition from a legalistic discourse to a theoretical one that deals with the reasons for the commandments (ṭa‘amē miṣvot) rather than with their practice. Interestingly enough kabbalah's and philosophy's aspirations were similar, for they both strove to present new religious systems based on a meta-theoretical structure. At the same time—and this is my argument—they should be understood at least partially as competitive systems in the way their theoretical approaches differ. For one thing, where the philosophical approach of God's essence is epistemological/human, the theosophical approach is ontological/divine. This very process describes kabbalah's integration of philosophical tools as well as their transformation from rational inquiry to divine emanative world. Each case of theological heresy discussed in this article presents a different type of integration and transformation of philosophical ideas into theosophy.

For now I will return to the analysis of the process of divinization as an answer to the philosophical heresy denounced by kabbalah—within, this time, the category of faith and heresy itself. To understand better the theological shift undertaken by kabbalah, from epistemology to theosophy in reaction to some philosophical challenges, it is important to touch on the changes that the categories of faith and heresy experienced under the influence of philosophy during the Middle Ages.Footnote ²⁵

The new emphasis given in the Middle Ages to ’emunāh (faith), a rather amorphous notion in rabbinic literature, signifies a conceptual change in religious categories and values. This new focus was the result of the theological “reform” instigated by Jewish philosophers such as Saadia GaonFootnote ²⁶ or, later on, Maimonides, with his thirteen principles of faith.Footnote ²⁷ Until the Middle Ages, faith was understood mostly as a religious state and, for this reason, was not seen as antithetical to heresy: the absence of faith did not necessarily signify heresy and therefore did not belong in the same ontological category. In the reform initiated by Maimonides, heresy, for the first time, came to imply erroneous faith. Faith and heresy were bound into one category; Maimonides not only rationalized the principles of faith but also gave them a legislative status.Footnote ²⁸ Heresy came to be seen not only as deviance from the religious commandments but also from the principle of faith on which the commandments rested, thus indicating a double shift: the move from viewing faith as a religious state to viewing faith as a rational principle and the development of a new theological statement. Such a shift was novel and was not unequivocally accepted.

The concept of ’emunāh in kabbalah followed a parallel development and should thus be understood in light of this philosophical reform first as an alignment to the new standard and secondly as a counter-position.Footnote ²⁹ Advocates of kabbalah reacted by granting faith its own ontological status. In response to the theologization of the principles of faith, which are based on human cognition in philosophy, kabbalists theologized ’emunāh, now located in the divine. Two different ways of understanding theologization are thus delineated: one outlines the rational aspect of the science of the divine and the other its divine origin and location. For kabbalah, theology is equivalent to the symbolic divine realm, whereas for philosophy, theology is the rational science of predication.Footnote ³⁰

The typological move into the divine encountered by the concept of faith is one example among many on the theological agenda of theosophical kabbalah. ’Emunāh, like many other theosophical symbols, is included in the sefirotic tree; here more specifically ’emunāh is identified variably with ḥokhmāh Footnote ³¹ or with malkhut.Footnote ³² In this context, it is important to recall that zoharic literature reconnects with biblical and talmudic notions of faith—for example, a qualitative faith that results in an intimate relationship with God.Footnote ³³ Theosophical kabbalah thus dismissed the philosophical turn toward propositional faith.Footnote ³⁴ In addition, however, within its dialogue with philosophy a choice was made to adopt the general philosophical approach of the principles of faith, but only after removing its epistemological overtones: faith in God became divine faith by translating the epistemological inquiry into a divine typology that located faith in God. It is interesting to note that in some texts, ’emunāh is not only the highest concealment of the Godhead, but also the power of suction (vital connection) as opposed to intellectual perception. ’Emunāh thus became the living God to which one simply connects.Footnote ³⁵ Faith in God no longer entailed the true object of faith but became a substantive divine potentiality: as such it clearly moved from rational inquiry to divine ontology. In this system God is not a rational object of inquiry but a divine stance. This shows a clear case of the transformation of metaphysics into theosophy and rational inquiry into substantive ontology, which enables a better understanding of one of the major differences between philosophy and theosophy.

A clear example of the divine origins of faith according to theosophical thought can be found in a treatise written at the beginning of the fourteenth century titled the Mĕgillat ’emet we'emunāh:

Likewise, for this anonymous kabbalist, a believer (ma'amin) is one who believes in the essence of the concealed.Footnote ³⁷ This specific link between concealment and faith, found also in earlier rabbinic sources,Footnote ³⁸ became the key to the theosophical equation between human and divine faith. In an early kabbalistic text belonging to the ‘Iyyun Circle it is written that

As scholars have noted, the ‘Iyyun Circle had much in common with the writings of Azriel of Gerona, where there is in fact another example of such a conception.Footnote ⁴⁰ Here too, ’emunāh is referred to on both the divine and human levels, each depending on the other.Footnote ⁴¹ In a famous passage Azriel reinterprets a philosophical formulation of Yehuda Halevi: whereas in the Kuzari, “the roots of faith and heresy”Footnote ⁴² are to be found in humanity,Footnote ⁴³ Azriel places them in the divine realm, in ’ēn-sof:Footnote ⁴⁴

The central question here is how to believe in an unfathomable principle. To my view, Azriel is playing with the double meanings of the word ne‘lām, which means “concealed” but also “absent.”Footnote ⁴⁷ God as a transcendent principle is both invisible and concealed and can therefore be understood to be absent from rational inquiry. It is possible to misconstrue the concealed and the secretive as being absent and therefore nonexistent. Azriel thinks that God should be seen as an omnipotent principle, active by way of revelation and concealed through the sĕfirot. God, not man, is the origin of faith and heresy; faith is not a disposition for man to find in itself but is to be found, literally, in God because faith is God. Only then does ’emunāh become part of man too. The previous quote from Habakkuk, “in his faith,” should thus be understood to mean in God's faith; in God, who is faith. God is faith to the righteous and heresy to those for whom God is absent. In this example divine and human faith, with the latter subordinated to the former, are embedded in one another. Faith, for Azriel and Halevi, is the point of the encounter between God and man. While for Halevi, and later on Maimonides, faith depends on humanity, in the theosophical system faith is located in God—faith is God. Halevi and Maimonides have, however, no more in common than their focus on humanity; in general, Maimonides relies on reason, whereas Halevi insists on a religious state. It is important to notice that Azriel and Halevi argue, from their respective positions, against different philosophical conceptions. Yehuda Halevi argues with the philosophical conception of nature as Logos and, more specifically, with astrological determinism.Footnote ⁴⁸ Azriel of Gerona, on the other hand, argues with certain aspects of the negative theology tradition and its claim that nothing can be known of God.Footnote ⁴⁹ Yehuda Halevi's objections to philosophy in favor of the Jewish religion are articulated in a philosophical language, whereas Azriel relies on the theosophical system.Footnote ⁵⁰ Moreover, the case of Azriel reflects the position of early theosophical kabbalah toward Halevi. The Kuzari, as it is well known, was influential in twelfth-century Provence and Spain, and together with other Neoplatonic Jewish philosophical sources it formed part of an influential pool of texts, which perhaps explains the resistance to Maimonides and his Aristotelian tradition.Footnote ⁵¹ Azriel accepts Halevi's religious critique of philosophy and in fact takes an even more radical stand by adding one more step: religious motivation cannot rely on human inclination alone but has to rest on ontological grounds, on a substantive ontology.

To sum up, the theosophical divinization of faith follows the philosophical path initiated by Maimonides, which gives to faith a theological status but only in order to claim its ontological status. This ontological status differs from the epistemological approach followed by Maimonides and the psychological approach presented by Halevi. It does not mean that Maimonides was not concerned with ontology but only that his ontological approach is epistemological and therefore refers to an ontological sphere that is beyond reach. Here lies kabbalah's principal contention with Maimonides's philosophy: God's knowledge cannot be approached through the limit of knowledge but can only be achieved within the esoteric tradition. The psychological/religious dimension of the Kuzari has been seen as an opportunity for theosophical kabbalists to offer an alternative to the epistemological approach that focuses on defining the correct knowledge of God. For Azriel, faith is indeed about God, but this is because it is God and not due to the correct knowledge of God. Halevi's religious dimension has been understood literally. The outcome is radical: divine and qualitative faith stands as an alternative to propositional faith. Azriel's conception of ’emunāh provides an example of what happened on a wider scale in theosophical kabbalah: the extension of the divine to that which was restricted to the human realm by logical and philosophical standards.

The complex relations between philosophy and kabbalah can also be seen in another central question: God's creation. Only a narrow dimension of this wide topic will be discussed here, namely some aspects of the theosophical and philosophical conceptions of creatio ex nihilo.Footnote ⁵² At first glance, theosophical kabbalah and Maimonides's philosophy seem to share the same belief regarding the creation of the world—out of nothing. However, the differences in their respective understandings of creatio ex nihilo could account for their alternative heretical philosophical traditions.

Maimonides's position on creation seems at first unequivocal. In a famous passage from the Guide, he disregards altogether both the Neoplatonic conception of primordial matter and the Aristotelian conception of the eternity of the world.Footnote ⁵³ His main argument for rejecting the belief in the eternity of the world is not its incompatibility with the biblical narrative;Footnote ⁵⁴ rather it is that natural causality cannot explain the passage from the One to multiplicity as a direct emanation from the first principle and therefore creation is a necessity. Interestingly, Maimonides's argument is the same as that used to defend the eternity of the world: creatio ex nihilo must be adopted in order to be consistent with the idea of the impossibility of change in the absolute divine essence. There is a transformation that cannot be explained either by physical laws or by the idea of the passage from potential to actual. From the One can emanate only a simple One, and therefore the passage from simple substance to the world of generation and corruption must rely on the metaphysical argument of creation.Footnote ⁵⁵ To this purpose, Maimonides quotes the verse from Psalms: “The heavens are the heavens of the Lord; but the earth hath he given to the children of men” (Ps 115:16).Footnote ⁵⁶ His conception of creatio ex nihilo, however, has not always been understood straightforwardly, especially put in the context of his double hermeneutic system. Scholars have also studied Maimonides's conception of creation in light of his conception of emanation.Footnote ⁵⁷ Some have opted for a radical esoteric reading, understanding emanation as his real position, while others have identified a mixed position of creation and emanation, thus offering a moderate reading. However, according to the dominant interpretive voice, beyond his argument in favor of creatio ex nihilo hides the Aristotelian conception of the eternity of the world.Footnote ⁵⁸

Whereas the double hermeneutic system of Maimonides has long been a subject of discussion in modern scholarship, that of the kabbalists, with its resemblance to Maimonides's philosophy, has escaped the attention of scholars. A similar coexistence of contradictory positions combining creation and emanation can be found in theosophical kabbalah. The combination of the concept of creatio ex nihilo and emanation is in fact a common trait among most of the Neoplatonic philosophers, such as Abraham bar Hiyya,Footnote ⁵⁹ Isaac Israeli,Footnote ⁶⁰ and Shlomo ibn GabirolFootnote ⁶¹ in the Jewish world; Dionysius the Areopagite, Scotus Eriugena, and Augustine in the Christian world; and al-Farabi in the Islamic world.Footnote ⁶² Concepts of emanation were common currency, and though not always in direct association with the concept of creation, they usually played an active part in the Neo-Aristotelian cosmological system as well.

Following the Neoplatonic systems, theosophical kabbalists proposed their own conceptual mixture of emanation and creation. Promoting creatio ex nihilo does not preclude asserting a concept of primordial matter combined with a concept of emanation. On the contrary, it seems that this kind of mixture was common not only in the Jewish world but in the Christian and Muslim worlds as well.Footnote ⁶³ In many respects, kabbalah, alongside rabbinical and midrashic views and Jewish Neoplatonic conceptions, tended to reinterpret creation in terms of emanation.Footnote ⁶⁴ The second heretical position discussed and rejected by Maimonides concerning primordial matter refers to a Platonic and Neoplatonic theory that stands at the heart of the theosophical traditions. Thus, Ezra of Gerona, a prominent kabbalist active in the first half of the thirteenth century, openly discards Maimonides's rejection of the second position.Footnote ⁶⁵ Ezra of Gerona agrees that his interpretation of primordial matter is no different from that of Plato,Footnote ⁶⁶ but that it also is strongly rooted in ancient Jewish tradition—not only in Pirqē Rabbi EliezerFootnote ⁶⁷ but in other sources as well.Footnote ⁶⁸

Theoretically, advocating for creatio ex nihilo contradicts the very principle of an emanative system.Footnote ⁶⁹ But this theoretical contradiction did not seem to pose a problem for theosophical kabbalists; on the contrary, it proves a true understanding of creation according to the esoteric tradition and offers an all-encompassing theory. This associative character of theosophical kabbalah has been described in scholarship as eclecticism or philosophical incoherency but never laid out as a theological method. The tension between the two concepts was ignored in order to integrate them into a stratified system with creatio ex nihilo at the first level of the emanative system.Footnote ⁷⁰ The names given in the theosophical tradition to the first two sĕfirot—something (yēš) out of nothing (mē’ayin)—are clear testimony to such a manipulation.Footnote ⁷¹ Creation (yēš mē’ayin) can thus be understood as the emanation of the sĕfirāh ḥokhmāh out of keter, and subsequently the creation is relayed to lower realms.Footnote ⁷² A similar manipulation can be seen with the term will (rāṣon), which is associated with the first sĕfirāh. The identification of will with keter implies the integration of the act of creation in the emanative process, now understood as God's will.Footnote ⁷³ It follows, in both cases, that the act of creation is enclosed in an emanative system and therefore subordinated to it. In the same vein, the Neoplatonic principles of primordial/first matter and form were also incorporated into the theosophical system.

The shift from advocating for creatio ex nihilo to totally misreading its basic assumption is very subtle. In creatio ex nihilo two disconnected phases can be identified: before the creation and after the creation. In contrast, theosophical kabbalists such as NachmanidesFootnote ⁷⁴ and Azriel of GeronaFootnote ⁷⁵ worked out the intricacies of the two notions. Naught is not simple nothingness, the absence of anything, but rather God himself and therefore indicates the fullness of his concealed being. Where an antithetical relationship might have been expected between the being and the naught, their differences are instead blurred. It can be argued whether or not philosophical concepts were intentionally manipulated and subordinated in order to fit them into the theosophical system, but the more important point is that the theosophical system here represents once more the main explanatory system and therefore the legitimate interpretation.

In short, behind the consensus on creatio ex nihilo that unified the Neo-Aristotelian and Neoplatonic schools hide other conceptions deemed heretical by theological standards. In fact, these two schools of thought shared more than a consensus on creatio ex nihilo: they also shared controversial heretical views on that very topic. Neo-Aristotelian systems have at their core the heretical Aristotelian concept of the eternity of the world, whereas for Neoplatonic theosophical systems, the heretical view lies in their conception of primordial matter that precedes the creation. In both cases, albeit for different reasons, the controversy lies in the transformation from eternity to temporality.

Following Neoplatonic traditions, creatio ex nihilo has been reinterpreted in an emanative system, and in this context theosophical kabbalah presents an extreme emanationist position among the different combinations of creation and emanation found in Jewish Neoplatonic philosophy. Furthermore, while for followers of Maimonides creatio ex nihilo allows for a clear distinction between the periods before and after the creation and between the physical and the metaphysical, for theosophical kabbalah the opposite is true. The emanative system, displaying an intradivine conception of creation, promotes a system in which continuity prevails; in the Neo-Aristotelian philosophical system, however, creatio ex nihilo serves the ontological dichotomy between creation and its Creator. The theosophical system, on the other hand, drawing on the Neoplatonic tradition, sees the creation as one step in God's revelatory process. To some extent, as in the case of faith, creatio ex nihilo—a philosophical notion intended to mark the passage from God to his creation and from the divine to the human realm—is relocated in the theosophical inner dynamics in the divine. Explaining the creation as an extension of the divine provides theosophical kabbalah with a basic paradigm, an all-encompassing theology. The theosophical system of emanation is not only an explanation of God's creation but is also the divine structure where creation takes place. This appropriation is possible due to accumulation, the expression of an associative and combinatory system that surpasses the explanatory mode. To view emanation/creation as encompassing everything was a major theological innovation, and in this respect the theosophical emanative system not only distinguishes itself from the Neo-Aristotelian system but also from the Neoplatonic conception of creatio ex nihilo.

Medieval conceptions of God's unity provide another striking example of how philosophy and kabbalah are built upon similar categories, while nonetheless holding very different views.Footnote ⁷⁶ In what follows, it was no longer the philosophical model (the Neo-Aristotelian concept of eternity or the Neoplatonic concept of primordial matter) that was in danger of being characterized as heresy but rather the theosophical model. The difficulty lies in the confrontation between two different models of unity: simple philosophical unity versus complex theosophical unity. Faced with such a dilemma, kabbalists were forced to secure their conception of divine plurality while simultaneously ensuring a conception of divine unity/unification, which they did by means of a complex conception of unity and a unique use of the category of heresy. I will now focus on the kabbalistic category of theurgic heresy and how it helped to redefine the borders of theosophical divine unity.Footnote ⁷⁷

While it is not pertinent to this discussion to deliberate at length on the question of divine unity in philosophical traditions, it should, however, be recalled that the major renewal inspired by the encounter of the philosophical tradition with Abrahamic religions resulted in growing interest in the unity of God. Furthermore, God's unity became the core of every theological system. At the risk of dismissing the diversity of philosophical conceptions of God's unity, it can nevertheless be claimed that there was a theological consensus regarding the conception of a transcendent, simple, and undifferentiated unity of God.Footnote ⁷⁸ Given this prevalent theological model, it is therefore not surprising that from the outset kabbalah, with its conception of the sĕfirot and the introduction of multiplicity, was accused of heterodoxy.Footnote ⁷⁹ The problems raised by the kabbalistic conception of divine unity were verbalized in traditional milieus, as can be seen in the letter of Meir ben Shimon of Narbonne, who nevertheless embraces the philosophical conception of divine unity:

Kabbalists were consequently accused of heretical practice due to their belief that God's unity comprises a plurality of powers (sĕfirot): “And he who puts together the name of God and some other thing, ought to be uprooted from the world.” The confrontation between the two conceptions of God's unity becomes even more acute later on in the letter: “For the creature must not be associated with its creator, nor matter with its molder, nor the emanated with the emanator, saying, for example, that His unity is perfect only when it is together with them.”Footnote ⁸¹

The difficulties raised by the conception of the sĕfirot are confirmed not only in R. Meir's letter but also in a polemical letter by Abraham Abulafia:

The growing interest and concern in divine unity also found its way into theosophical discourse but only as a means of defending its own concept of divine unity. Theosophical kabbalists answered this accusation of heresy with their own category of heresy, switching paradigms from theological to theurgic heresy. Thus, in yet another famous letter, by R. Isaac the Blind, one of the first theosophical kabbalists, the phrase “cutting the plants” is used to describe the heretical practice of another group of kabbalists.Footnote ⁸³

The phrase “cutting the plants” was appropriated by the theosophical discourse, as can be seen in Meir ben Shimon's letter.Footnote ⁸⁴ Abulafia also gives an example of such an appropriation when he describes theosophical kabbalah as based on a notion of unity that is unification—a unification that will not be broken, for whoever does so is “cutting the plants” and destroying them.Footnote ⁸⁵

This category of heresy, with its dualistic overtones, is mentioned already in the Mishnah and in the literature of Hēkhālot and is revisited and reformulated in early kabbalah.Footnote ⁸⁶ The pardēs, the object of the mystic's ascent, is now the sefirotic tree, and “cutting the plants” becomes the theological reference to any theurgic deviation, defined as separation or rupture, which is introduced in the divine realm:

From a theological and theurgic perspective, heresy is defined by the act of isolation and separation of one dimension from another.Footnote ⁸⁸ The dualistic and gnostic overtones of the category of “cutting the plants,” as it appears in the Mishnah and the literature of the Hēkhālot, is now used to imply any rupture in the sefirotic realm. Furthermore, any change of perspective in the organization of the inner unity, i.e., generalizing (taking a part for the whole) or particularizing (taking the whole for a part), belong to the same category of separation. Such a position indicates a move from the category of heresy as dualism to that of heresy as fracturing the divine unity, from a theological heresy to a theurgic one.

“Cutting the plants” should thus be understood in the kabbalistic context as an innovation. The emphasis on the necessity of keeping the divine unified shows a change of categories that should be understood within the context of kabbalah's argument with philosophy. Theosophical kabbalah seems to have adopted the model of simple unity with its theological ultimatum. However, this unity was open to some amendments that suggest another subversive conception. This new category of heresy shifted the attention to the theurgic level and by doing so validated a conception that had itself been deemed heretical.

Whereas philosophy held a conception of God's unity that was exclusive, theosophical unity was inclusive: on the one hand, we have God's immutable unity, and on the other, a dynamic divine unification. The claim for the unification of the divine is one of the cornerstones of theosophical mysticism, the very theological algorithm that sustains every theurgic activity.

It is important to understand that this reinterpretation of the category of heresy within a theosophical and theurgic context was the kabbalists’ answer to the same attacks made against kabbalah as represented in R. Meir's letter. By using the category of heresy directed against them to defend themselves—shifting from a theological heresy to a theurgic heresy—the kabbalists thereby defended the theosophical system against any misunderstanding. In this way, the motto “cutting the plants” came to establish an important theurgic boundary without which divine unity could be misunderstood as divine plurality.

The rise of kabbalah has been understood historically as the emergence or reemergence of esoteric Jewish traditions under the influence of a new intruder: philosophy. It was with the philosophical model in mind that kabbalists set their new esoteric and exoteric boundaries. While the implications of this supposition far exceed the few cases discussed in this article, the pattern displayed does not exclude other possible paradigms. Not only are there other models of relations, but there are also important aspects concerning the development of kabbalah that are entirely independent of its relationship to philosophy.

In this article I have shown that kabbalists were not solely defending their new normative system but were also answering the philosophical challenge. I have, moreover, discussed the complex interaction between kabbalah and philosophy, particularly where they seem to share the same stance but are actually hiding profound differences. Such a statement is not meant to point to a difference of perspectives but rather to an intriguing pattern, that of an inverting mirror. Three paradigmatic heretical discourses have been discussed: philosophical heresies, competitive philosophical heresies, and finally kabbalistic heresy.

The description of philosophical heresies gives us a clear understanding of what was at stake for major medieval kabbalistic figures. The different points of contention all touch upon God's involvement in the world: providence, the role of prayers, and the creation. It is with this in mind that I have explained the changes that occurred in the categories of heresy and ’emunāh in Maimonides's philosophy and, likewise, the response of theosophical kabbalah to new philosophical standards in its own category of ’emunāh. The decision to locate ’emunāh in the divine should be understood as a response to its epistemological treatment in Jewish philosophy. This is only one case among many. It is evident that the divinization of different aspects of the human world, which was at the core of theosophical kabbalah's renewal, presented a new theological structure that was antithetical to Neo-Aristotelian Jewish philosophy in more than one respect. The theosophical system should, therefore, be viewed as a theological answer to the danger presented by what was considered philosophical heresy.

In the second test case discussed, Maimonides's philosophy and theosophical kabbalah adopted the same exoteric lore setting forth a conception of creatio ex nihilo but differed in their esoteric lore. In this case it was their views concerning heresy that competed: the theosophical interpretation of creatio ex nihilo embraced a conception of emanation and primordial matter, while, for some, Maimonides's philosophy appears to have assumed a concept of the eternity of the world. The concept of emanation offers an ontological continuity, whereas the concept of the eternity of the world reinforces a model of absolute transcendence. In this case, theosophical kabbalah relied on the Neoplatonic tradition as opposed to the Neo-Aristotelian one. At the core of their divergence stands once more the difficult question of God's encounter with the world. Kabbalah, yet again, adopted the tradition that reinforced ontological continuity as a theological answer to the problem raised by a philosophically remote God.

The third case of heresy could have imperiled theosophical kabbalah, and forced it instead to examine its response to the accusation of heresy and justify its theological anomaly. This category of heresy, “cutting the plants,” turned this time by theosophical kabbalists against those who would threaten theosophical unity, should be understood as a theological answer to the previous accusation of heresy. It set new theological borders that came to validate a subversive conception of divine unity, replacing simple unity with a model of unification.

The cases discussed have not only shown different aspects of kabbalah's attitude toward philosophy but have also introduced a wider paradigm through which their differences and similarities should be understood. This paradigm follows a pattern where similarity and difference are combined in a very peculiar way. Precisely where their systems look identical or at least very similar lurk profound differences. Similarity and difference do not alternate but exist simultaneously in an inverted reflection in a way that allowed theosophical kabbalah to present a different theology while embracing crucial philosophical concepts. When philosophy offered new patterns and established new theological standards, theosophical kabbalah followed suit and adopted some of them—for example, the concepts of faith, creation, and divine unity—but with some major amendments. Thus, precisely where their resemblances seem to indicate identical theological structures, profound theological differences can stand. These differences are not arbitrary: rather, theosophical kabbalah offered an alternative theology, and, what is more, a counter-theology. The inverting mirror paradigm highlights the complexity of kabbalah's relationship to philosophy with its special combination of fascination and rejection. In a way the tremendous influence of philosophy on kabbalah was not merely in the reception of philosophical ideas, but philosophy also served as a catalyst for kabbalah's own theological renewal.