A Shabbat Story: The Rambam’s Unusual Prescription for Rabbi Ibn Ezra

The life of Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra renowned Torah commentator, poet, and philosopher was filled with brilliance but also deep personal hardship. Though he left a legacy of wisdom across many fields, including Torah, science, mathematics, and grammar, his life was marked by sorrow and poverty.

He lost his wife at a young age. His only son brought him little joy. And perhaps most difficult of all, no matter how hard he tried, Rabbi Ibn Ezra never managed to earn a stable living. It was as if misfortune clung to him wherever he went.

Despite his towering intellect, his situation often made him laugh at his own fate. In one of his poems, he wrote with sharp irony: “If I sold candles, darkness would never come. And if I sold burial shrouds, no one would die as long as I lived…”

One day, Rabbi Ibn Ezra heard about a great sage living in Egypt, Rabbi Moses ben Maimon, known to us as the Rambam (Maimonides). The Rambam was not only a master of Torah and Jewish law, but also a brilliant doctor. People said he could diagnose illnesses just by glancing at a person’s face. Every evening, long lines of people would gather outside his home, hoping to be seen as he returned from his post as the royal physician to the Sultan.

To some, he would hand an ointment or herbs. To others, he would give advice for proper nutrition or guidance for healing their minds, which are sometimes in more pain than the body.

Rabbi Ibn Ezra decided to travel all the way from Spain to Egypt to meet the Rambam. His goal wasn’t physical healing, he was healthy. But he wondered if perhaps the Rambam could offer some remedy for his “disease” of poverty.

The journey was long and difficult, and even when he arrived in Egypt, nothing came easily. He wandered for days before finding the Rambam’s home. Finally, he found himself standing in the long line of patients, waiting to be seen.

As the Rambam passed through the crowd, briefly examining each person, he finally came upon Rabbi Ibn Ezra. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned to his servant and gave a shocking command: “Take this man and throw him into the goat pen. Lock the door.”

Before he could even react, two strong servants grabbed Rabbi Ibn Ezra and tossed him into a cold, dark stall filled with noisy goats. One even licked his face. He was stunned. He wasn't sick. Why was he being humiliated like this?

Alone with the goats, confused and heartbroken, Rabbi Ibn Ezra began to cry. Not soft tears, but deep, long weeping. Hours passed. His tears poured out until his whole face was wet. He tried to understand what he had done to deserve such treatment.

Then the door creaked open. A tall shadow stood in the light. It was the Rambam himself.

“Do you understand now?” the Rambam asked gently.

“I saw in your eyes a dangerous condition that had been there for a long time,” he continued. “It was not a physical illness but a heaviness in the soul. The only cure was to cry and to really release everything that’s been locked up inside. If you hadn’t cried, it could have harmed your sight. That’s why I placed you here.”

Rabbi Ibn Ezra, though still stunned, began to understand.

The Rambam then bowed his head slightly. “You are a man of wisdom. Please, honor me by being a guest in my home.”

It was a lesson that went far beyond medicine. Sometimes the greatest healing comes not through herbs or procedures, but through understanding, humility, and the gift of being seen by someone who truly cares.