A few years ago, Rabbi
Marc D. Angel
brought out a book called Maimonides, Spinoza and Us: Toward
an Intellectually Vibrant Judaism
. I haven’t read it, but in a review for The Forward newspaper, Steven
Nadler posed the question: “What does a 12th-century rabbi in Egypt, arguably
the greatest thinker in Jewish history, have in common with a 17th-century
Jewish philosopher in Amsterdam who was ‘expelled from the people of Israel’
for ‘abominable heresies and monstrous deeds’ and who would go on to become the
most radical philosopher of his time?” He answers that, “If the topic is the
relationship between virtue and happiness, as well as how to eliminate
irrational beliefs and superstitious behaviors from society, then Maimonides
and Spinoza have a great deal in common. In fact, from this perspective,
Spinoza carried Maimonides’s rationalist project to its ultimate logical
conclusion.”
They have something else in common: both had younger brothers whose main
occupation was to run the family business. Spinoza himself did actually make an
effort to contribute to the enterprise, putting his shoulder to the wheel for a
good six or seven years before calling it a day. Maimonides, however, had an
understanding with his brother that he, Moses, would devote himself to his
studies and his writing, while David would keep the show on the road.
As Sherwin Nuland, author of Maimonides
(Nextbook, 2005 pp89-90), puts it:
David saw to it that the mind of his older brother was never beset
by worldly cares that might divert a probing intellect from its chosen path.
As the business grew, it became necessary for David to do ever more
travelling. At first this involved joining mercantile caravans that went from
place to place in North Africa and then Egypt, but in time it was required that
he make sea voyages of varying duration…Moses would pray for his brother’s
safety at these times. He would send a letter, essentially a prayer for his
safe return to the place of embarkation.”
The final letters from David to Moses and vice versa have been
preserved. Cambridge University Library has the last letter that Moses received
from David, in which he bemoans the tradable purchases available in the Sudanese
port of Ayhdab:
“To my
beloved brother R. Mos[es, son of R.] Maimon -- the memory of the righteous be
blessed!
David, your
brother who is longing for you – may God unite me with you under the most happy
circumstances in his grace.
I am writing
this letter from Aydhab. I am well, but my mind is very much troubled, so that
I walk around in the bazaar and do not know – by our religion – where I
[am...], nor how it is that I did not imagine how much you must worry [about
m]e.
…
To cut a
long story short: I arrived in Aydhab and found that no imports had come here
[...] at all. I found nothing to buy except indigo. So I thought about what I
had endured in the [des]ert [...]; then it appeared a simple matter for me to
embark on a sea voyage…
My company
in the Mala[bar] sea will be [...], Salim, the son of the broker and his
brother's son, Makarim al-Hariri and his b[rother], and the brother of Sitt
Ghazal.
Now, despite
all of this, do not [worry]. He who saved me from the desert with its [...]
will save me while on sea. [...]
And, please,
calm the heart of the little one and her sister; do not frighten them and let
them not despair, for crying to God for what has passed is a vain prayer (M. Berakhot
9:3). [...] I am doing all of this out of my continuous efforts for your
material well-being, although you have never imposed on me anything of the
kind. So be steadfast; God will replace your losses and bring me back to you.
Anyhow, what has passed is past, and I am sure this letter will reach you at a
time when I, God willing, shall have already made most of the way. But the
counsel of God alone will stand (Proverbs 19:21). Our departure will probably
be around the middle of Ramadan.
Moses wrote to David as he embarked for India in 1174:
"The
Lord alone knows the anguish and dreariness in my heart
When
parting from my beloved brother and friend.
May the
Lord guard him from harm, and reunite me with him in Egypt, if the Lord so
wills.”
Which apparently, he didn't. The ship sank. With the loss of the
gems that David was planning to trade, the family’s financial position declined
significantly. According to
Nuland, “The news of his brother’s death shook Maimonides and he became quite
ill following the grief.” He spent a
year in deep depression, but then began to make a living and a reputation as a physician.
Moses never completely recovered, however. In a letter to his friend, Japhet ben Iliahu, dayan of Acre, he wrote:
“Eight years have since passed, and I still mourn, for there is no
consolation. What can console me? He grew up on my knees; he was my brother, my
pupil. He was engaged in business and earned money that I might stay at home
and continue my studies. He was learned in the Talmud and in the Bible and an
accomplished grammarian. My one joy was to see him.”
The nature of the relationship between Baruch and his brother
Gabriel is unfortunately not recorded. However, it seems that Baruch took his
filial duties seriously joining his father’s fruit importing business in 1649.
According to Nadler in his own book Spinoza’s Ethics: An Introduction (Cambridge
University Press):
Spinoza
may have excelled in school, but, contrary to the story long told, he did not
study to be a rabbi. In fact, he never made it into the upper levels of the
educational program, which involved advanced work in Talmud. In 1649, his older
brother Isaac, who had been helping his father run the family business, died
and Spinoza had to cease his formal studies to take his place. When Michael died
in 1654, Spinoza found himself, along with his other brother Gabriel, a
full-time merchant, running the firm “Bento y Gabriel de Spinoza.” He seems not
to have been a very shrewd businessman, however, and the company, burdened by
the debts left behind by his father, floundered under his direction.
Spinoza
did not have much of a taste for the life of commerce anyway. Financial
success, which led to status and respect within the Portuguese-Jewish
community, held very little attraction for him. By the time he and Gabriel took
over the family business, he was already distracted from these worldly matters
and was devoting more and more of his energies to intellectual interests.
In 1656, Spinoza was ready for a career change and managed to extricate
himself from the business and its debts. In any case, that same year, he was subject
to the famous herem (commonly
regarded as an excommunication, though issued by the lay leadership of the
community – the Ma’Amad – rather than
its rabbinical authorities), which would have made a continued role in the
business untenable, even if he’d wanted to continue to play a role. It seems
that Gabriel soldiered on in the business. In 1664, he left for Barbados. In 1671, he moved to Jamaica, became
a naturalised British subject and spent his last years there
