Who Was Ibn Gabirol? The Poet-Philosopher Behind the Well-Known Street

A Fragile Body, a Mighty Soul

For many today, “Ibn Gabirol” may simply conjure images of a busy street lined with shops. But who was the man behind the name? The word “Ibn” means “son of” in Arabic, so his name means “Shlomo, son of Gabirol.” Gabirol was a respected man in Córdoba, the capital of Andalusia. In 1013, when the Jews were expelled from the city, Gabirol fled to Málaga, where his son Shlomo was born. Because his father was well-known, Shlomo was referred to by his father’s name.

Rabbi Shlomo Ibn Gabirol became one of the most influential figures in Jewish intellectual history. He was a Torah scholar, philosopher, and poet. Yet his life was painfully short and filled with suffering. He endured chronic illness and passed away at just 37 years old.

From birth, he suffered from a painful skin condition, and wrote about himself: “My pain is great and my wound severe; my strength has vanished and my bones are weak; there is no escape, no refuge for my soul, no place to find rest.”

Yet his physical weakness stood in sharp contrast to the strength of his spirit and the depth of his soul, which shines through in his many unique poems.

His masterpiece is the piyyut (liturgical poem) “Keter Malchut” (“Crown of Kingship”), recited on Yom Kippur night. Though rich in philosophical ideas, the work has also been embraced by kabbalists for its mystical allusions. On Tisha B’Av, his lament “Shomron Kol Titen” is traditionally read.

In addition to his poetry, he authored halachic works such as Azharot, which was later meticulously explained by Rabbi Shlomo ben Tzemach (the Rashbatz). He also wrote Sefer Tikun HaMiddot (“Book of Moral Improvement”), a classic of Jewish ethics.

Scholar, Legend, and Forgotten Identity

Legends of his brilliance spread far and wide. According to Rabbi Yosef Shlomo Delmedigo, Ibn Gabirol created the first artificial robot, a wooden woman that served him. When accused by the authorities, he disassembled the figure into its wooden parts, proving it was not a living being. Similar tales were widespread, particularly in Ashkenaz.

During the Middle Ages, a Latin work called Fons Vitae (“The Fountain of Life”) was a cornerstone of Christian theological study. The book explored the existence of the Creator, Divine providence, free will, prophecy, and other central tenets of faith. For centuries, it was assumed to be a Christian text, until the 19th century, when scholar Solomon Munk proved that it was a translation of Mekor Chaim, written by Ibn Gabirol. Despite strong Christian resistance to the idea that a Jew authored such a foundational work, Munk presented solid evidence: a historical order by Bishop Raymond of Toledo commanding the translation of “the book of the Jew Solomon of Saragossa,” the Christian name for Ibn Gabirol.

Ibn Gabirol possessed a sensitive and tormented soul. His poetry stands out for its depth and emotional intensity. His well-known piyyut“Shalom LeVen Dodi,” sung by Sephardic communities, is filled with longing and love. Another poem, “Elohai Eli Ata,” recited by some on Yom Kippur, is infused with awe and submission: "My God, You are my God, heal the crookedness of my heart, see the decayed and rotted frame... Answer me when I cry to You, when my heart whispers a plea." In a Purim piyyut, he writes: "When my wine is gone, my eyes weep rivers of water... I am as lowly as a frog, crying out with its people, for my mouth knows no better."

A Life of Wanderings and a Death Wrapped in Legend

As a young man, Ibn Gabirol was taken in by Rabbi Yekutiel Ibn Chasan, a wealthy man in Saragossa. It was in his patron’s palace that Ibn Gabirol composed many of his writings and earned the title “The Poet of Saragossa.” However, tragedy struck again when Rabbi Yekutiel was assassinated. Ibn Gabirol was just 25 years old and forced into exile once more.

Plagued by illness and hardship, he wandered through Spain, offering his wisdom, poetry, and scholarship to both Jewish and Christian scholars. For a brief time, he received support from Rabbi Shmuel HaNagid, but this too did not last.

According to legend, during his travels, a jealous Turkish immigrant believed that Ibn Gabirol’s wisdom was a cover for hidden wealth. When he found only scrolls of poetry and Torah insights in Ibn Gabirol’s bag, he became enraged, murdered him, and buried the body. A fig tree then miraculously grew over the grave, bearing fruit long before any other tree in Spain. Locals, sensing something unusual had happened, dug up the spot and discovered Ibn Gabirol’s body. The murderer was caught and hanged from the very fig tree that betrayed him.

Today, Rabbi Shlomo Ibn Gabirol is celebrated across Spain. Statues of him stand proudly in his hometown and other cities, honoring the Jewish poet whose words continue to resonate a thousand years later.