While the Talmud speaks of esoteric knowledge, and there are mystical Jewish texts of considerable antiquity, most scholars date the emergence of what is now known as Kabbalah (literally “tradition,” or “thing that is received”) to a group of rabbis in medieval Provence, whose teachings then spread into northeastern Spain. Tamar Marvin considers how to make sense of their teachings:

Kabbalists themselves, including contemporary ones, emphasize the antiquity and continuity of esoteric traditions; they are of necessity (small-c) conservative, in the sense of conserving ancient, even primeval, knowledge. Scholars of Kabbalah, in contrast, tend to stress the novelty of medieval esoteric circles and what they describe as their sometimes-radical creativity. Each of these perspectives comes laden, of course, with its own ideological lens. I would offer that on the one hand, the many streams of antique esoteric Jewish thought nourished medieval Kabbalah deeply, while on the other, medieval thinkers applied their own spiritual needs, curiosities, and intellects to this ancient wellspring of tradition.

As for what changed with these Provençal thinkers, Marvin adds:

Until the 13th century, with a few exceptions, kabbalistic secrets were not written down, but transmitted orally from master to disciple. . . . Two students of [the pioneering kabbalist] Rabbi Isaac the Blind, Rabbi Ezra ben Shlomo (died 1238 or 1245) and his younger contemporary Rabbi Azriel of Girona, were instrumental in formulating kabbalistic thought. Azriel, who was also interested in philosophy, systematized kabbalistic concepts and introduced to them a vocabulary inflected with philosophical terminology. Evidently, Azriel and Ezra—often confused due to the similarity of their names—began disseminating the teachings they had received in writing, prompting a stern missive from Isaac the Blind imploring them to stop.

If Iran succeeds in obtaining nuclear weapons, the war in Gaza, let alone the protests on college campuses, will seem like a minor complication. Jonathan Schachter fears that this danger could be much more imminent than decisionmakers in Jerusalem and Washington believe. In his view, Israel seems to be repeating the mistake that allowed it to be taken by surprise on Simchat Torah of 2023 and Yom Kippur of 1973: putting too much faith in an intelligence concept that could be wrong.

Israel and the United States apparently believe that despite Iran’s well-documented progress in developing capabilities necessary for producing and delivering nuclear weapons, as well as its extensive and ongoing record of violating its international nuclear obligations, there is no acute crisis because building a bomb would take time, would be observable, and could be stopped by force. Taken together, these assumptions and their moderating impact on Israeli and American policy form a new Iran concept reminiscent of its 1973 namesake and of the systemic failures that preceded the October 7 massacre.

Meanwhile, most of the restrictions put in place by the 2015 nuclear deal will expire by the end of next year, rendering the question of Iran’s adherence moot. And the forces that could be taking action aren’t:

The European Union regularly issues boilerplate press releases asserting its members’ “grave concern.” American decisionmakers and spokespeople have created the unmistakable impression that their reservations about the use of force are stronger than their commitment to use force to prevent an Iranian atomic bomb. At the same time, the U.S. refuses to enforce its own sanctions comprehensively: Iranian oil exports (especially to China) and foreign-currency reserves have ballooned since January 2021, when the Biden administration took office.

Israel’s response has also been sluggish and ambiguous. Despite its oft-stated policy of never allowing a nuclear Iran, Israel’s words and deeds have sent mixed messages to allies and adversaries—perhaps inadvertently reinforcing the prevailing sense in Washington and elsewhere that Iran’s nuclear efforts do not present an exigent crisis.