The name Halévi (in Hebrew ha-Lévi, "the Levite") designates less a family in the narrow sense than a tribal affiliation: that of the descendants of Lévi, son of Jacob, dedicated to the service of the Temple of Jerusalem. Borne by countless households throughout the Jewish world, this patronym reached its highest illustration in medieval Spain, when a man born in Castile or Navarre at the end of the 11th century — Yehuda ben Shemuel ha-Lévi — gave the Hebrew language some of its most beautiful verses and Jewish thought one of its masterworks, Le Kuzari. His renown is such that, in the collective Séfarade memory, to speak of the "Halévi" is often to evoke his figure first: poet, philosopher, and physician, he embodies in himself the synthesis of faith and culture that defines the golden age of the Jews of Spain.
This Great Book sets out to trace the lineage in the broad sense: the Andalusian milieu that shaped Yehuda Halévi, the work that assured his posterity, and the long descent, real or claimed, of those who bore after him the name of Lévi across the Séfarade and North African diasporas. Like Maïmonide, with whom he stands in sharp contrast, Yehuda Halevi embraced several worlds: poet, philosopher, and physician, he is known today for his religious and secular verse, including his celebrated "songs of Zion," and for Le Kuzari, an exposition of Judaism in the form of a dialogue. [Halkin, 2010] We will distinguish throughout, by an honest marker, what belongs to the established archive and what belongs to the transmitted tradition.
The patronym ha-Lévi belongs to an ancient statutory category of Judaism. The Levites, descendants of the tribe of Levi but not of the priestly lineage of Aaron (the Kohanim), retained in post-Temple liturgy specific prerogatives: the second calling at the Torah reading, and the washing of the priests' hands before the priestly blessing. This filiation, transmitted patrilineally, explains the universal dispersion of the name, from Yemen to the Rhineland of Europe, and its early adoption as a hereditary name in Muslim Spain. Joseph Toledano, in his compendium of the names of the Jews of North Africa, places Lévi and its variants among the most widespread patronyms of the western diaspora, precisely because of this tribal foundation [Toledano, 2003].
The Spain of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, divided between Muslim al-Andalus and the Christian kingdoms of the North at the height of the Reconquista, offered Jewish scholars an exceptional framework. The centers of Cordoue, Grenade, Lucena, and Séville saw the flourishing of a bilingual culture, Arabic and Hebrew, in which secular poetry, grammar, medicine, and Neoplatonic and Aristotelian philosophy intertwined with rabbinical study. It is this golden age that Raymond Scheindlin describes: a Hebrew literature that adopted the metrical and thematic forms of Arabic poetry — wine, love, friendship, praise — while bending them to the distinctive genius of the biblical language [Scheindlin, 1990]. Zion Zohar underscores how deeply this period shaped the Sephardic identity, articulated around an ideal of literate convivencia and intellectual excellence recognized by both Muslim and Christian powers [Zohar, 2005].
It is in this fertile ground that there was born, around 1075, the one who would become the most illustrious of the Halévi.
The biography of Yehuda Halévi interweaves documentary evidence and areas of uncertainty that modern scholarship has partially illuminated. He is said to have been born in Tudèle, in Navarre, or in Tolède, in Castille, around 1075 — the very uncertainty over his birthplace illustrates the fragmentary nature of the sources. Educated in the Christian North, he quickly made his way to al-Andalus, where he formed a friendship with the great grammarian and poet Moïse ibn Ezra, who praised his early talent. A physician by profession, he practiced notably in Tolède and then in Cordoue, living for decades under the twofold pressure of political turmoil between Christians and Muslims and the rising intolerance of first the Almoravid and then the Almohad movements.
The decisive contribution of contemporary scholarship lies in the Cairo Genizah, that repository of documents discovered at the end of the nineteenth century in the Ben Ezra synagogue in Fustat. As Hillel Halkin reminds us, it is thanks to these archives that the poet's final years and his famous journey toward the Land of Israel have been reconstructed. Drawing on the remarkable discoveries of the Cairo Genizah, Halkin reconstructs the mystery of Halevi's last days, with his fateful voyage toward Palestine, which became a haunted legend. [Halkin, 2010] The letters and receipts recovered show a man received with great ceremony by the communities of Alexandrie and Fustat during his passage through Egypt, around 1140–1141, as he prepared to press onward toward Jerusalem.
Here, the archive and tradition answer one another. Jewish Memory has preserved the account of a Halévi who reached the gates of Jerusalem, treading the dust of Zion and falling beneath the hooves of a horseman at the very moment he was reciting his most celebrated elegy. The documents of the Genizah confirm the journey and the death that occurred shortly after his arrival in the East, without validating the legendary detail: the boundary between established fact and edifying narrative remains porous here, and caution requires the word "probable."
The work of Yehuda Halévi is divided between secular and sacred poetry. In the Andalusian vein, he composed court poems, songs of wine, love and friendship, eulogies and elegies, wielding with virtuosity the quantitative meter borrowed from Arabic. But it is in religious poetry — piyyutim intended for the liturgy, selihot of penitence — that he reached his fullness, and more still in the cycle of the Zionides (Shirei Tziyon, the "songs of Zion").
These poems, the most celebrated of which opens with the invocation "Zion, do you not ask after the welfare of your captives?", express an ardent longing for the Land of Israel and a call to return. They stand apart from the purely aestheticizing aesthetic of court poetry: Halévi subordinates art to a spiritual and national vocation, making the desire for Zion the center of gravity of all authentic Jewish existence. Scheindlin has shown how these compositions mark the apex and, in a sense, the transcendence of the Andalusian poetic tradition, by injecting into it an unprecedented religious intensity [Scheindlin, 1990]. Several Zionides have entered the liturgy of Tisha B'Av, the day of mourning for the destruction of the Temple, and are recited to this day in communities throughout the world — tangible proof of the enduring nature of this work.
The poetic tradition of the Levites of Sefarad did not die with him. A century later, in Tolède itself, Todros ben Yehuda ha-Lévi Aboulafia (1247–after 1300) perpetuated, under another Levitical name, the art of the Hebrew diwan, blending court poetry in the service of the Jewish notables of Castile with a satirical strain. His work, preserved and edited to this day, attests to the continuity of a Levitical poetic culture on Iberian soil [Sefaria, 2024].
Yehuda Halévi's major prose work is The Kuzari (full title: The Book of Refutation and Proof in Defense of the Despised Religion), written in Judeo-Arabic and completed around 1140, shortly before his departure for the East. The book takes the form of a dialogue inspired by a historically attested event that has been reinterpreted: the conversion to Judaism of the king of the Khazars, a Turkic people of the Pontic steppe, around the 8th century. The king, in search of the true path, successively questions a philosopher, a Christian, a Muslim, and then a Jewish scholar (the Haver), whose responses occupy the greater part of the work.
The Kuzari develops a critique of pure philosophical rationalism and defends the primacy of Israel's historical experience — the Revelation at Sinai witnessed by an entire people — as the foundation of religious certainty. Halévi asserts therein the distinctiveness of Israel and the organic bond of the people to its language, its law, and its land. This thought makes him a counterpoint to Maimonidean rationalism, and continues to fuel debates on Jewish identity well into the modern era.
Adam Shear has traced the long career of the book: from an Andalusian manuscript, the Kuzari became, through its medieval Hebrew translations and printed editions, a canonical text of Jewish culture, continuously reread, commented upon, and instrumentalized from the 12th to the 20th century to redefine what it means to be Jewish [Shear, 2008]. This reception makes the Kuzari one of the rare Jewish philosophical works to have sustained collective consciousness without interruption. It should be noted, as a counterpoint, that the Sephardic philosophical tradition later gave rise to dissenting heirs: it was from this same exiled Iberian world that the figure of Spinoza emerged in Amsterdam, whose radical critique at once extends and overturns the medieval rationalist legacy [Nadler, 2005].
The expulsion of 1492 dispersed the Jews of Spain toward North Africa, the Ottoman Empire, Italy, and the United Provinces. The name Lévi — in its forms Halevi, Levy, Lévi, Allevy and their equivalents — thereafter appears in all the lands of refuge, carried by families who claimed Levitical ancestry and, sometimes, the prestige of the great poet. Caution is warranted here: a shared name does not prove direct descent from Yehuda Halévi, whose biological posterity remains undocumented. This is why this section belongs to transmitted Memory more than to the archive.
In the Ottoman Empire, the patronym was notably distinguished in Salonique, the Sephardic metropolis par excellence. The Saadi Halevi family held a place of foremost importance in intellectual and journalistic life: Saadi Halevi was the editor of the Judeo-Spanish periodical La Época, one of the great newspapers of the Sephardic press of the Balkans at the turn of the twentieth century [Saadi Halevi, 1911]. This example illustrates how Sephardic Levites transposed into modernity — press, printing, the Ladino language — the literary heritage of which Halévi had been the medieval emblem.
In North Africa, the name became embedded in a dense communal fabric, where Levitical patronyms stood alongside those of great rabbinical families. Joseph Toledano documents the ancient presence and diffusion of these names in Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia, underscoring that Levitical attachment conferred a liturgical prestige transmitted from generation to generation [Toledano, 2003]. Family tradition, more than the notarial record, is here the principal vehicle of Memory.
Within North African Judaism, the memory of Levitical lineages intersects with that of other great rabbinical families whose genealogical and heritage sites keep their memory alive today. The Ankawa / Encaoua family, illustrated notably by Rabbi Raphaël Ankawa of Salé, an eminent figure of Moroccan Judaism, is the subject of rich scholarly and family documentation that illuminates the mechanisms of transmission of rabbinical authority and genealogical memory in the Sephardic Maghreb [Foundation for Sephardic Studies, 2024] [Ner Tzaddik, 2024].
These memory endeavors — genealogical platforms, official websites, collaborative databases — constitute a precious source for reconstructing family ramifications, while also calling for critical examination. The data gathered by Geneanet on the Encaoua family and by the dedicated family platform offer material in the form of extensive genealogical trees [Geneanet, 2024] [Encaoua.org, 2024], part of which rests on oral tradition and retrospective reconstruction. The official website dedicated to Rabbi Raphaël Encaoua extends this work of heritage preservation [RabbiRaphaelEncaoua.com, 2024].
The value of these sources for a broadly conceived History of the Halévi lies in what they reveal about the intersection between tradition and archive: where family memory asserts a filiation, the genealogist confronts the records, the communal registers, and the colophons of manuscripts. This confrontation often leads to a nuancing of claims to prestigious ancestry, without dismissing them out of hand — hence the "probable" status assigned to this section. The continuity of the Levitical name and function, however, remains the solid thread that connects the poet of Tudèle to the Sephardic and Maghrebi families of subsequent centuries.
The lineage of the Halévi lends itself to reading at two scales. At the scale of the individual, it culminates in the figure of Yehuda ben Shemuel ha-Lévi, whose life, partially reconstructed through the Cairo Genizah, and whose work — the Sionides and the Kuzari — have durably shaped Jewish sensibility and thought. Like Maimonides, with whom he contrasts sharply, Yehuda Halevi embraced several worlds. [Halkin, 2010] His nostalgia for Zion, rendered in verse, has become a living liturgical heritage, and his defense of the particularity of Israel a reference text read without interruption from the Middle Ages to the present day [Shear, 2008].
At the scale of the community, the name Lévi traverses exile and the diasporas, from Salonique to the Maghreb, carried by families who inherit the Levitical function and, for some, claim a connection to the great poet. This continuity owes in part to the archive — deeds, colophons, Séfarade press — and in part to transmitted memory, which must be distinguished with honesty. The Great Book of the Halévi is thus less the register of a single lineage than the narrative of a name which, from the service of the Temple to Andalusian poetry and to modern communities, has never ceased to bind the Jewish people to its most ancient Memory.
