Talmud Torah Lesson 2

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Last time I spoke a bit about the relationship between learning and—that is, between Jewish law and aggadic literature—or really also, among other things, about the purpose of learning. Is the purpose of learning to know what to do, or does learning have value in itself? I’ll give a short recap with a few clarifications, and then I’ll continue, because later on there’s a point I maybe didn’t sharpen enough. First of all, I said that I brought Rabbi Israel Salanter, who proved from the Talmudic passage about the stubborn and rebellious son—that it never was and never will be—why then was it written? “Study it and receive reward.” So he asks: why do we need these verses? We have enough Torah even without those three verses. And then he says that this comes to teach the principle of “study and receive reward.” Not that those three verses were written so that we get reward for them, but rather they come to teach us the principle that even something that is not at all meant for implementation, not even ever destined to exist, still has to be studied. Why? Because the purpose of learning is not implementation. And therefore from here we can build a general model for the rest of Torah as well, including those parts that are meant for implementation—that there too the purpose of learning is not implementation, but rather learning has a purpose of its own. I’ll come back to that point, but that’s the first point. Now beyond that, I brought Nefesh HaChaim, where he talks about the relationship between Jewish law and aggadic literature, and one can understand from his words—he never says this completely explicitly anywhere, but I think in many places you can see it—that he distinguishes there between what is called God’s will and what is called God’s word. God’s will is Jewish law. What does the Holy One, blessed be He, want from us? What are we supposed to do? In what sense, he asks, does aggadic literature also have the value of Torah study—things that are not practical? So he says: because it is God’s word. Meaning, the Holy One, blessed be He, so to speak uttered these things, and when we engage with them we are engaging with God’s word. And he says that the Holy One, blessed be He, and His will are one; the Holy One, blessed be He, and His word are one. And since that is so, engaging in His will and engaging in His word are a kind of cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He. Meaning, that is basically the fundamental claim. And again, this means that the purpose of learning is not performance; learning itself is the goal because that is the meaning of cleaving to God. And from that it emerges that the main form of learning really is Jewish law, or God’s will, because clearly the halakhic parts are both God’s word and God’s will—they are part of Torah in both senses. The non-halakhic parts are God’s word, but they are not God’s will. And therefore the essence of learning, as is accepted in yeshivot, really is halakhic learning. And the non-halakhic parts are less significant things. After that I added another point, and that’s the one I want to sharpen a little. I spoke about the fact that Torah study in the sense of studying Jewish law has a kind of objective value. It doesn’t matter whether I’m studying an opinion that was not accepted in practice, or I’m studying analytical literature whose reasoning doesn’t seem persuasive to me. I can argue with the arguments there. There, in any case, it is what I called a Torah-object. By contrast, intellectual study is Torah in the person, not Torah in the object. Torah in the person means that if it really speaks to me, if it builds my worldview, my way of seeing the world and Torah, then it has value and it is Torah study. That depends on the person. But if I study something that does not speak to me at all, that is alien to me—the language, the considerations, they don’t make sense to me, I don’t agree with them, and they don’t build anything in me—then I don’t know whether I’d call that outright neglect of Torah study, but at least it’s close. And I think that is another difference between thought and Jewish law, and I tried to explain it. I said that I think you can see that when a person writes a halakhic book—not necessarily a shorthand code, even a book of analytical halakhic study—that book is written with a consciousness of interpretation. Fundamentally, Torah was given at Sinai, and ever since then it has been interpreted. Now obviously the human being is involved in interpretation, no doubt. That’s how disputes arise. The fact is that two people interpret the same Talmudic topic or the same law differently, so that means that the person himself is also involved in the interpretive act. So clearly there are subjective dimensions that enter into interpretation. But if you ask the halakhic interpreter what he is doing, he’ll say: no, I’m interpreting the Jewish law as it was transmitted to us. He is understanding it. In other words, the consciousness is an interpretive consciousness, and therefore Jewish law is basically the tradition of Torah. Torah that is transmitted through tradition—that is Jewish law. Meaning, Jewish law passes from generation to generation, each generation of course interpreting and sometimes disagreeing as well; it’s not all or nothing. But at the root, we are simply trying to understand what is written. In works of thought, by contrast, it’s hard to shake the feeling that this is not the operative consciousness there. Meaning, even the Maharal, who brings a great many rabbinic midrashim and relies on them, it is quite clear that he is not first understanding the midrashim, discussing them, and then reaching a conclusion based on his interpretation of them or what seems right to him in their interpretation. Usually it works the other way around. The Maharal has something that seems right to him, he writes it, and then he recruits all kinds of midrashim—some fit better, some fit less well—but everything gets brought in there. In other words, the basic consciousness is not a consciousness of interpretation. You’re not asking yourself, okay, what do these things that came down to me mean? Rather, the opposite: I understand from my own conceptual framework, from various intellectual sources, that this is the correct idea, and now I’ll show you that it also appears in this midrash or that midrash. But the direction of the work is the reverse of the halakhic process. Not to mention that the Maharal at least brings many rabbinic midrashim, but Maimonides in The Guide for the Perplexed already brings fewer. The Kuzari, Saadia Gaon, and various other books rely even less on the sages. Of course they bring them here and there, but it is perfectly clear that these are worlds generated out of the thought of the sage who wrote the book. And therefore it is perfectly clear that there is no intellectual tradition being passed from one to the next in which each one interprets his predecessors. There is no such thing. None of the Jewish thinkers I just mentioned—which is in any case only a very small part of the sages throughout the generations—really dealt with these topics very much; I said this is the less central part. But even those who did deal with them do not bring the words of their predecessors and interpret them and explain them and argue with them. There is no tradition at all. Each one presents his own doctrine. The conceptual system is completely different from one to the next. They hardly speak to each other. In other words, the modes of thought are all different. Each one reinvents this entire world. So that’s why I say it’s hard to relate to this corpus of thought in the same way one relates to the halakhic corpus. The halakhic corpus is built over the generations; each generation tries to interpret what was there in previous generations, adds to it, explains it, disagrees with it—yes, in the way of Torah. But in the world of thought, from time to time there is a wise Jew who creates an intellectual doctrine. There is no tradition being transmitted from Mount Sinai down to us. Of course there is belief in the Holy One, blessed be He, there is providence, there are things written in the Torah here and there—but all the details, all the differences between these doctrines, are simply the result, in my sense of it, not of interpretation but of different modes of thought. They are influenced, of course, by the world in which they lived—the external world, not only the Torah world in which they lived, at least not always. And therefore it seems to me that there it is hard to view this as interpretation of the Torah that came to us from Sinai generation after generation. And since that is so, I called it Torah in the person. That is, if the Maharal builds someone’s worldview, then excellent—let him study Maharal, and for him that is Torah study. Someone to whom the Maharal does not speak—it’s a waste of his time; that’s neglect of Torah study. If the intellectual world the Maharal built doesn’t speak to him, meaning it doesn’t help him at all, then if it doesn’t help him it isn’t worth it. In Jewish law it’s not like that. Someone who studies Ketzot or Rabbi Chaim, and their way of thinking doesn’t appeal to him—fine, then he studied Torah, and afterward he can disagree with them. But he studied Torah, because they are interpreting the Torah that was given to us, and there are different interpretations of Torah. Fine. So therefore—just one second—I just want to summarize, and then I’ll hear questions. The claim is as follows: these two parts, God’s word and God’s will, are not only different from each other in their relation to the Holy One, blessed be He, but also in their relation to us—in our relation to Him. That is, the halakhic world, which is God’s will, as Nefesh HaChaim calls it, is basically the main thing that was given at Sinai, with all the different interpretations that are of course the overwhelming majority of the Torah we possess. The various interpretations that arose throughout the generations, but the infrastructure is a kind of construction, floor upon floor upon floor, each generation adding its own floor. That is what is called tradition. Tradition is dynamic, but it is still tradition. Meaning, in the end we are dealing with Torah as it came to us from Sinai. And therefore that is Torah in the object: whatever you did with it, you studied Torah. By contrast, Torah in the person is a mode of thought. A mode of thought—if someone connects to a certain mode of thought, excellent; if not, then not. That’s a subjective matter. That’s why I called it Torah in the person. Now the point I only wanted to sharpen is that there is no attempt here to establish a hierarchy. Meaning, I am not necessarily saying that Torah in the object is more important to engage in than Torah in the person. Not necessarily. More precisely, in my lecture there it may have sounded like yes, but from the description I’ve given now, not necessarily. The claim is that this is a different character of Torah. Meaning, if there is someone, say, to whom Maimonides’ intellectual doctrine speaks, then for him that is Torah in the person, and it is Torah in every respect. It can even be more important than a halakhic prohibition. Maimonides himself writes that the Account of Creation and the Account of the Chariot are a great matter, whereas the discussions of Abaye and Rava are a small matter. That’s from the sages, yes, and Maimonides quotes it. Meaning, Maimonides himself writes that thought is a great matter. Fine—you can also disagree with that—but I think it does not necessarily contradict what I’m saying. The claim is that if Maimonides’ intellectual doctrine speaks to you, then for you—or for whoever it speaks to—that is the Account of Creation and the Account of the Chariot. And if someone finds that in the Maharal, or in Rabbi Kook, or Rabbi Tzadok, or whoever exactly, then for him that is the Account of Creation and the Account of the Chariot. Jewish law is not connected to the question of what speaks to you and what doesn’t. You study the halakhic topic with the various opinions, with the various explanations—what you studied is Torah. That is something objective. So there is no attempt here to determine what is more important and what is less important; the attempt is to distinguish between subjective and objective. Or, in the object and in the person. Just one example to conclude this segment: look, in Maimonides, at the beginning of the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah, there are a few chapters dedicated to the spheres, the separate intellects, and all of Aristotelian physics. Now, does anyone seriously take the fact that this is Torah? It is obvious that, first of all, it is simply not correct. Today we already know—we’ve been there. We don’t need to speculate about what is up there. We’ve been there. So Aristotle’s speculations are incorrect. Now, in Maimonides’ day, of course, this was seen as scientific truth. So Maimonides built his language of thought, not all of it but in part, on that outlook. Now this is, I think, a particularly sharp example of what I’m saying. Because it seems to me that today learning those parts is actually neglect of Torah study—those parts of the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah. It’s not true. It is based on some notion, and Maimonides presents it as foundations of Torah—as a great matter. There too he writes that the great matter is not the discussions of Abaye and Rava, and that doesn’t contradict what I’m saying. Since in his time that’s how nature was conceived, that’s how the world was understood, so then, in his day, that was the Account of Creation and the Account of the Chariot. That is both its strength and its weakness. Its weakness is that it is subjective and changes, and over the generations it may become clear that previous generations were mistaken in this area—and precisely because we are not talking about tradition. Maimonides did not take this from the Rif. Maimonides took it from Aristotle. Therefore this is not a tradition that comes from Sinai. This is an intellectual world that a person constructs out of his worldview, out of the world in which he lives, and that is exactly the point. Because of that, not everyone has to connect to that tradition. Someone who wants a different tradition can have a different tradition. Each person takes from these things whatever they build within him. And of course it can also turn out that certain parts are simply mistaken. In tradition the assumption is, broadly speaking—and even there too there are mistakes, and we’ve already discussed that—but basically, if something comes from Sinai then it is true, then it is part of Torah. Whereas here, if someone has now invented some intellectual doctrine, or uses the conceptual world as he understands it, that too may be mistaken. There is no obstacle to that, and in fact some of it is mistaken. So one has to know that the meaning of these two worlds is different. And again, that does not necessarily mean that one is more important than the other, or more fundamental than the other, or prior to the other. Maimonides certainly did not think so. Yes.

[Speaker C] How do you deal educationally with what you’re saying? In school, or high school? Suddenly they find something that isn’t correct—so what does that say about everything else the person said? Let’s assume it’s not Maimonides and it’s not halakhic. You said something, and it’s not right. There’s something in the picture, I don’t know. Yes, okay, fine, we understand you. So how do you deal with these questions when you teach Maimonides’ Laws of the Foundations of the Torah or his fundamentals, and then suddenly you say: this isn’t relevant, it isn’t right, it isn’t true, it’s not correct. You need a filter.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] How do I—okay, look, this really is a serious educational question. But I’ll give you two answers. First of all, obviously in more complex thought, that conclusion does not necessarily follow. You have to educate for complexity. You have to educate a person to understand that there are certain aspects where yes, and other aspects where no. Not everything has to be accepted wholesale or rejected entirely. Fine? That’s the first point. The second point: what is the alternative? What are you suggesting—that I tell people this falsehood: “Friends, there are spheres, and they’re here, and these talk to those,” and that there are souls and all sorts of things of that kind, when I know it’s all taken from Aristotle? So now what—people will laugh at me. That is not an educational foundation; these people will eventually grow up and stop swallowing the nonsense I’m feeding them. I’m inside an educational problem, so I’m in a bind. It may be that what I’m proposing is also more educationally problematic, but the alternative is not better—in my view it’s worse. Therefore I say: the only way out I see here is to try to educate people toward complex thinking. That is, to tell people: look, sages were first of all human beings. With all my respect—and I have enormous respect for Maimonides and for the sages; we live by their words, I live by this all the time—but they were human beings. And once I stop describing them as ministering angels—which on the face of it is very educationally convenient, but you pay a heavy price later on when you see that these ministering angels miss things now and then—so I say: instead, I pay the educational price at a young age. At a young age it’s hard to grasp that Maimonides was tremendously great in Torah, but in thought there are sometimes problematic things in him. But I think that at an older age this builds something healthier. So you have to be careful at a young age how you do it—that’s more a matter for educators; I don’t feel sufficiently qualified in educational techniques. But as guidance, I think it’s a price worth paying rather than the opposite price. Because the opposite price, in the long run, won’t hold. In the short run it is very convenient to educate children that Maimonides had wings and was an angel, meaning that he never made a mistake and everything he says simply comes straight from the Almighty. It is very convenient to educate that way. The children will do everything Maimonides said, it will be wonderful, everything is fine—until eighth grade. Nowadays even before eighth grade. In fact, only yesterday I met a seventh-grade child with these problems—a very smart seventh grader asking the questions that until a few years ago were asked by twelfth graders or twenty-year-olds. People run into this in the end because the world is open. I don’t think there ever really was an option anymore to shut a person away and tell him: listen, yes, Maimonides was a ministering angel, the sages never erred. Once there may have been such an option, because a person could grow up in an environment where he would never encounter a contrary claim, and maybe he himself would never think of it or notice that there’s a problem here. But in our open world today, in my opinion, that is not an option unless you put the person in a bubble. So yes, there are educational costs—I don’t know what to say, of course there are educational costs—but I think it’s better. Yes.

[Speaker E] A person who invests a lot of time in, say, The Guide for the Perplexed or something, and after a year or more says, “This doesn’t speak to me.” Okay, so is that neglect of Torah study under compulsion?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Neglect of Torah study under compulsion—he will receive reward for a good thought; a good thought the Holy One, blessed be He, joins to the deed. If someone spent all that time building a sukkah, and in the end it turned out that the sukkah was invalid—he didn’t learn the laws of

[Speaker E] sukkah—does he receive

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] reward? Fine.

[Speaker E] I want to say something about Hasidism, I read—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The intention was excellent, he’ll receive reward for a good intention. I want to build a very large and magnificent sukkah, like the Temple, thirty cubits high so it can be seen from afar—but a valid sukkah is only up to twenty cubits. What can you do? So if I discover that at the end, then it turns out there was good intent. I assume the Holy One, blessed be He, will give me reward. I genuinely did something out of good intentions. Fine—but nothing came of it; what can you do. Trying is part of the matter. We have to try. I’m not saying one has to be overly cautious with every attempt. You have to learn, you have to check, you have to see, until you form your view. And the Holy One, blessed be He—don’t worry—the Torah was not given to ministering angels, so He’ll know how to relate to these things, certainly much better than I do. Yes.

[Speaker F] One more comment and then a question. Regarding your question, I think Maimonides himself also says that if you rely on the words of the sages in medical matters, then you’re

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] not especially expert in that.

[Speaker F] That doesn’t mean he invalidates the Talmud, right. That’s one comment.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maimonides himself is the father of this kind of complex thinking.

[Speaker F] Or magic—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, there are all kinds of striking remarks Maimonides makes, yes.

[Speaker F] So basically two questions. The first question: in the previous lecture we discussed the topic of the Hebrew Bible, and you said that thought is, in a certain sense, not even really God’s word—it’s human speech. Okay, so the Hebrew Bible maybe in a certain sense is God’s word, but it does rely on tradition, and still you placed it in a different category.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, so I’m saying—it’s not God’s will. It really is some sort of intermediate category. If you’re already putting the Hebrew Bible here in the center, it seems to me it lies somewhere in the middle. The Hebrew Bible is certainly God’s word. In the Hebrew Bible there are no errors; it is prophecy—that’s not the issue. And there is an interpretive tradition. I think there is some sort of tradition there, though not completely. Meaning, biblical commentators for the most part do not quote other commentators, argue with them, produce forced harmonizations, and so on. Rather, they offer their own interpretation. Here and there you mention others, yes, but it’s not like Jewish law. In Jewish law there is no halakhic book that begins: okay, the verse says such-and-such, therefore sorting on the Sabbath is forbidden. There’s no such thing. There is the Talmud, and then the Rif comes, and Maimonides, and we argue here, and Rashba says this, and there’s a difficulty from that Talmudic passage there, and in the end the conclusion is such-and-such. In other words, the whole consciousness in Jewish law is an interpretive consciousness in that sense, much more so than in the Hebrew Bible. Which also—if I spoke earlier about learning habits in yeshivot traditionally—then look what place the Hebrew Bible occupies in yeshivot. And very often there were criticisms of that. The feeling is that this is a reaction to the maskilim, and to a certain degree that’s true. But the reaction to the maskilim only says that one must not study the Hebrew Bible at all. Yet the amount of Hebrew Bible study was already very low long before the maskilim. When they studied in yeshiva, or when a yeshiva student studied, he studied Jewish law; he did not study the Hebrew Bible. They studied the Hebrew Bible and found some half hour a day for it.

[Speaker F] Even though you’re speaking in terms of the distinction in Nefesh HaChaim, and in fact the place where they restored the Hebrew Bible was in Volozhin.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In Volozhin they did everything, you know. That wasn’t the official heads of the yeshiva. Even though the Netziv gave a lesson on the weekly Torah portion there, he gave it on Friday night.

[Speaker F] Meaning he didn’t write interpretation—he did write interpretation—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ha’amek Davar, right, right, so that someone reading on the Sabbath wouldn’t be idle. But during the regular study sessions, he didn’t let them do that, at least as far as I know. There they learned Talmud. Now under the benches everything went on there—physics and languages, everything came out of there. So that’s true. But I’m saying: as a policy, that’s not what they did. Also today, by the way, in yeshivot, under the benches you’ll find a lot of other things. But the question is what is done on top of the benches—that says something. I’m not saying that the policy of the leadership must always be right, but I think the tradition—and I was talking about tradition precisely—our tradition says this: that the main thing is Jewish law. That is, the Hebrew Bible, thought—wonderful or not wonderful—but when we say Torah study, Torah study means Jewish law. And that’s before all the Talmudic sources here and there and all the quotations. What do we actually see?

[Speaker F] There’s also another question: could it be that Nefesh HaChaim speaks of God’s will specifically in Jewish law as practical Jewish law? Then we’ve gone full circle, so to speak.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Now I’m coming to that contradiction. I mentioned it at the end of last time—the contradiction between the two parts of his words: that basically we do not learn in order to do, and on the other hand practical learning is the core of learning. So I didn’t understand—if so—

[Speaker F] According to Nefesh HaChaim, then what is the stubborn and rebellious son? According to Nefesh HaChaim, what is it?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] is halakhic study in every sense. So that’s what I’m going to talk about now. This is exactly the point I’m at. In other words, I said this at the end of the previous session in one sentence: basically, the two parts of the previous class seemingly contradict each other. Because on the one hand I said that the goal of study is not action; rather, study is a value in itself. On the other hand I’m saying that the main thing in study is practical study, Jewish law, and not the other areas. So what’s the main thing if we’re not studying for practice? Then what’s the difference between thought and Jewish law, or the Hebrew Bible, or whatever? What difference does it make? So it seems to me that here we need to understand well what it means to study in order to do. Earlier someone mentioned, last time, and I said I’d come back to it: “Great is study, for it leads to action.” “One who studies in order to do.” First of all, in “one who studies in order to do” there’s an interesting linguistic point. What does “on condition that / in order that” mean in the language of the Sages? “On condition that” is a condition, right? “On condition that you have no claim on me for food, clothing, and conjugal rights.” I betroth a woman on condition that you have no claim on me for food, clothing, and conjugal rights. So what does that mean? That the purpose of the betrothal is not to provide the woman with food, clothing, and conjugal rights? “On condition that,” as if that’s the purpose, that’s why I’m betrothing her? Of course not. The term “on condition that” is a term of condition. I betroth the woman in order to marry her, in order to live with her. I don’t want there to be an obligation of food, clothing, and conjugal rights. If there is such an obligation, the betrothal is void. The term “on condition that” is not a term that means “for the sake of.” When I do something “on condition that,” in our language today we understand that to mean I’m doing something in order to achieve something else. “One who studies on condition that he will do” means, in our ears, I study in order to act. I’m claiming that there, “on condition that” means a condition. I study in order to study. It’s just conditioned on doing. Meaning, if I don’t fulfill what I learned, then the learning is worth nothing. But the learning is not for that. Like: I betroth a woman on condition that tomorrow morning she stand on one leg. Okay? What does that mean? That the betrothal was done so that tomorrow morning she’ll stand on one leg? That that’s the reason I betrothed her? Of course not. That “on condition” means that if she stands on one leg tomorrow morning, the betrothal—no, not void, what did I say? I don’t remember, the condition is that she stand, so if she doesn’t stand on one leg tomorrow morning, the betrothal is void. A condition is something that suspends the principal act. There is a condition preceding the act, right? The laws of conditions: there’s an act and there’s a condition. The act is what I actually intend. The condition is something secondary, which I make the act depend on. When I say to study on condition of doing, that’s conditional language. The study is the main thing. It’s just conditioned on my actually fulfilling what I learn—that’s the “on condition that I do.” If I don’t do it, then I don’t get reward even for the study, so the study is worth nothing. But that doesn’t mean the study is for the sake of doing.

Now look, “Great is study, for it leads to action” is already a stronger statement; here it’s no longer just “on condition.” But let’s look at the Talmudic text there. What does it say? They discussed there, right, whether study is greater or action is greater. They concluded: “Great is study, for it leads to action.” Now on the face of it, that’s an absurd sentence. You want to explain to me that study is greater: “Great is study, for it leads to action.” And what’s the explanation? That study leads to action. I don’t understand—does the greater depend on the lesser? In other words, the value of study is that it leads to action, therefore study is great? Then action is what’s great.

[Speaker C] The action includes the study.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ah. Meaning, what is “Great is study, for it leads to action”? It’s not that the reason study is great is that from study one reaches action, that the purpose of study is really action. Rather, what is great is that whole chain: study-that-leads-to-action. These aren’t two separate things, and that’s the “on condition.” Meaning, if you study, but in the end it doesn’t conclude in action, then your study is worth nothing. It’s exactly the same thing as the condition.

Now we need to understand what that actually means. Basically, what this means—I’ll say the conclusion first, and then we’ll look at a few interesting sources. Basically, I think that what Torah is about, and in this case mainly Jewish law, is to bring abstract ideas down into the practical world. That’s what the giving of the Torah is all about; we learn it from the giving of the Torah. Not for nothing did I aim these classes before the holiday of Shavuot. The giving of the Torah means that the Torah descends from heaven to earth, “and truth was cast to the ground.” And “truth was cast to the ground” doesn’t just mean taking the Torah that was there and placing it here. Part of the Torah still remains there, and the goal of the giving of the Torah is that what is there should find expression here. Now, for what is there to find expression here, there has to be some kind of link, some kind of connection, between the above and the below. That connection is Torah. Not the lower realm itself, not the act at the end, but the act done out of abstract conceptions that are there. That is Torah.

I’ll maybe illustrate this a bit, sharpen it a little more. I don’t think there are almost any groups—or even isolated individuals, though there are more of those—who take a set of abstract principles and make day-to-day decisions on that basis. No matter what principles, it doesn’t matter at all. Most human beings conduct themselves more or less as they see fit; they don’t make some intellectual analysis, some analysis according to normative principles that determine what to do at every moment—and not even at every moment, almost never does that happen. And the whole point of Torah is basically—let’s formulate it this way—the whole point of Torah is to create a rational person, a rationalist person. We spoke about rationalism and empiricism. A rationalist person, in this context—that’s not exactly the meaning I meant there—is a person whose conduct is guided by principles. Which principles? That’s another question. There are correct principles and incorrect principles. But even before getting into the question of which principles are correct, the very fact that you create a person whose conduct is conduct guided on the basis of principles—that itself is basically the essence of Torah. I think a person should not act just because that’s what he thinks, because that’s what he feels like, because that’s just how he lives. Rather, he makes the calculation, examines what is right to do, and then does it.

And in that sense—there are here, I don’t remember if I ever talked about this—there are three grave sins for which one must give up one’s life: idolatry, forbidden sexual relations, and bloodshed. Idolatry is a sin of thought, a philosophical sin, a mental sin. Forbidden sexual relations is a sin of the body. And bloodshed is a sin of the hyphen, of the connection between body and soul. In bloodshed, you break apart the connection between body and soul. The body is still here even after you shed its blood, but it’s no longer connected to the soul. The soul has separated from it. One transgression in the soul and one transgression in the connection between them. Okay?

Now, in this context too, one can see Torah as looking at the principles in heaven—the metaphorical heaven, meaning the abstract principles, the philosophy. Okay? One can see Torah in practice, and the body as against the soul. I think the correct conception of Torah is the hyphen. And therefore that is what is written: “Great is study, for it leads to action.” It’s not study by itself and not action by itself, but study-that-leads-to-action—that is what is great. Because in the end, when you study and what emerges is a conclusion telling you something to do in this world—whether you do it or not doesn’t matter, but it tells you something to do in this world—then you have learned Torah. Torah means instruction, right? That’s the root. Meaning, instruction for practice. And of course, when you study something theoretical that has no relevance to practice, that is a less important study, less Torah. But relevance to practice does not mean that in the end you’ll actually carry it out. Whether you carry it out or not is a different issue. The study has to conclude in practical instruction. To “derive the teaching according to Jewish law.” In the end, you need to conclude the topic with a practical conclusion. That is the form of study. Not because the goal of study is action, but because that is the correct form of study. And that is the meaning of “Great is study, for it leads to action”: study of the kind that ends in a practical conclusion—that is study. That is why it serves as an explanation for why study is great. Meaning, study is great—but which kind? Study that ends in action.

Yes? Like the famous stories: a mathematician doesn’t need to be a triangle, right? Those familiar jokes. In Torah it’s not like that. In Torah, if you reach some conclusion, you also need to carry it out. It’s an instruction that obligates you. And that’s the greatness. The greatness is not the actual performance, but this link, this connection, between the theoretical conclusion you reached and the fact that this is what you need to do in life. A person has to use his head, arrive at a conclusion about what is right to do, and then do that. That is Torah. That chain—that’s what Torah is called. It isn’t correct to look at study as a means to action, or action as the purpose of study. This defines the form of study. The form of study has to end in practical instruction.

Now, say we return to the stubborn and rebellious son. We asked: what is the stubborn and rebellious son in this picture? The stubborn and rebellious son is halakhic study in every sense. Maimonides has laws of the stubborn and rebellious son. The Talmud says that it never was, never will be, and never is destined to be. So what are the laws of the stubborn and rebellious son? What is Maimonides doing—why is he wasting the trees of Brazil’s forests writing laws that no one will ever use? Halakhic rulings—I’m not talking about study. Study, fine, you can say, “expound and receive reward.” But Maimonides wrote a book of law, not a study book. He says what must be done. Why are you writing the laws of the stubborn and rebellious son? It will never happen. Who needs this? For Maimonides, Jewish law does not mean what has to be done or what one transgresses, but what should in principle be done if there were a situation of this sort—that is the practical conclusion. Whether it will happen or not, what do I care? What difference does it make? In the end I want to know how the abstract principles translate in our world. That is the meaning of Torah.

So my claim is that studying Jewish law really is the more central thing, the more important thing, the more basic thing. And on the other hand, that doesn’t mean that study is a means to implementation. Rather, the form of study is such that it has to end in practical Jewish law. Meaning, it has to end in a practical conclusion. Because if you just study here and there and here and there, that’s not complete study. For example, what they do in yeshivas a lot of the time, in my view, is an injustice. Earlier I spoke in their praise, but what they do in yeshivas, seemingly at least—maybe in a moment I’ll qualify this—is that they basically study the Talmud this way and that way, that this possibility exists and that possibility exists, and then they move on to the next topic. And studying Jewish law—how do you know what to do? So in the morning you sit with the Mishnah Berurah, you learn half an hour every morning until you know what to do.

[Speaker C] That’s not studying in order to do. But the Talmud doesn’t necessarily have to be Jewish law. Okay.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The Talmud really is not a halakhic text, and that’s another matter. The Talmud is some kind of infrastructure for halakhic study. If the Talmud were a halakhic text, it would have had to be written like Maimonides. And I think what they’re doing in yeshivas is basically that you raise possibilities, you teach a person how to think—which is very important—but you don’t end with a conclusion. And the conclusion you then take from the Mishnah Berurah. I think that’s a sin in both directions. The analysis too is less serious. Why? Because you’re not going to violate the Sabbath on the basis of your conclusion. If you study a topic and it comes out that a certain act is permitted on the Sabbath, and the Mishnah Berurah says it’s forbidden, liable to a sin offering—liable to stoning or a sin offering, right? Liable to stoning or a sin offering. Then do I desecrate the Sabbath? If that’s what came out to me from the topic, that’s what I do. “To derive the teaching according to Jewish law.” If that’s what came out to me, that’s what I need to do, if I’m qualified. Again, not somebody who is just unserious. But if someone is already at the level where he knows how to draw conclusions, he knows the matter—then he should conduct himself according to what he thinks. He has to reach the halakhic conclusion; that is how study ends. Study doesn’t end before you reach the conclusion. So here you fail both in the learning—because the form of study needs to end in action, to study on condition of doing, or study that leads to action—and also in the practical sense, because you’re not doing what you really ought to do. What you really ought to do is your conclusion from the topic, not the Mishnah Berurah’s conclusion from the topic. Of course, read him carefully, think hard about what he says before reaching your conclusion. You are still a Jew who would do well to hear what he says. But in the end, your conclusion is what obligates you. It’s a mistake in both directions.

I said I would qualify this, because in yeshivas it’s only a preparation for life. It’s not so terrible that they do it. In yeshivas you’re only teaching the guys how to think, how to learn, how to analyze. So it’s okay; it’s not so terrible to spend a few years that way as preparation for Torah study. The study there is a preparatory instrument for the commandment; it’s not really Torah study, it’s a preparation for the commandment. Meaning, you use those techniques so that in the end he’ll know how to learn too. The problem is that some conception has taken root there that this is where it ends, and all one’s life one studies basically in this way and keeps going, even though this was only supposed to be preparatory school—and after preparatory school you also have to get to the university, meaning you also have to study. So that’s why I say: it’s criticism, but qualified criticism, not all that far-reaching.

[Speaker D] So why do we need detailed study? I mean, when I study, if I see something that applies only to priests, I skip it; something about outside the Land of Israel, I skip it. I only aspire—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Absolutely not, absolutely not, the opposite. I study the stubborn and rebellious son, and I study the laws of priests, and I study the laws of the Temple that doesn’t exist today—I study everything. But I need to reach a bottom line in every such topic.

[Speaker D] But we’re not obligated—if the Temple doesn’t exist, then…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So what? That’s exactly the point. The goal of study is not action; the goal of study is the practical conclusion. Not the action. Meaning, if the stubborn and rebellious son never existed, I still need to know what the law would be if there were a stubborn and rebellious son. That is the end of study. Until I get there, I haven’t studied. The instruction, yes, the instruction—even though it will never actually come about—that’s exactly the point. It doesn’t matter. I need to get there in order to know what practical instruction emerges from the principles of that topic.

[Speaker D] Suppose it were to happen.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Suppose it were to happen. But it’s not in order to know what to do when it happens. It’s only the form of how one defines correct study. “On condition that” is a condition, right? “One who studies on condition of doing.”

[Speaker C] Yes, exactly.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s the will of God. After all, what—exactly, that’s the conclusion. Maybe that really was the sentence missing from what I said. When we study, what we really want to clarify is the will of God. Right? We spoke about that earlier. That is the meaning of study according to Nefesh HaChayim. So what difference does it make whether I do it or not? I want to know the will of God. But in order to know the will of God, I need to know what He wants. There is a stubborn and rebellious son—what should be done? The moment I know what should be done, I have clarified one more little piece of the will of God. Whether I do it or not, that’s—

[Speaker E] already a condition. Meaning if it comes into your hands—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] then that’s what I’ll of course have to do.

[Speaker E] Because otherwise the whole study is worth nothing.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But if it never comes into your hands, then what happened? So I clarified the will of God, and in the end it never came into my hands. What happens if I study the inauguration service? There was a case once in history, and I know it won’t happen again. It doesn’t matter. Also with the stubborn and rebellious son, you know it won’t happen. There, in principle—no, not in principle. The Talmud tells you it never was and never will be, according to one view. Fine, according to that view, what do you say? Okay, but in principle it doesn’t matter. Also the inauguration days, again, that’s not something—no, not because maybe. In the inauguration days too, again, I’m studying the will of God. I think I spoke about this in one of the first classes. I spoke about the Talmud in tractate Sanhedrin, page 15. The Talmud says there: “The Sinai ox—by how many judges?” By how many judges did they judge the ox that went up the mountain? “Take heed lest you go up the mountain or touch its edge,” right? “Also the flocks and the herds shall not graze facing that mountain,” right? That’s what is written at the revelation at Mount Sinai. Again, timely matters, okay? So now suppose there was an ox that did approach the mountain. There wasn’t, completely theoretical discussion of course, but say there were such an ox—how many judges would have to sit on the court judging that ox? The Talmud discusses there whether the death of the ox is like the death of its owner, and just as the death of the owner requires twenty-three judges, so too the death of the ox requires twenty-three judges. So was the Sinai ox also like that? So the Ran asks: what practical difference does it make? What—fine—what—whoever heard that before? So why study it? It was. What was, was. Meaning, there was the revelation at Sinai and that’s it; it was a temporary prohibition. What does that have to do with us?

So the Ran brings two answers there. The second is: it has practical implications for a nazirite. If a nazirite vows naziriteship on condition that the Sinai ox was judged by twenty-three, the question is whether he is a nazirite or not. And that has practical implications for betrothing a woman, which we talk about in yeshivas. And clearly he’s joking. What does that joke say? That joke says that it’s not—so what if it will never happen? I want to know the will of God in that situation. That’s the point. If he really means it rigorously, then even learning how to build a chair has practical implications for betrothing a woman.

[Speaker E] The Talmud specifically asks why you’re asking this—it’s dogmatic, the Talmud—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] asks—that’s the sibling of the didactic. In the end, the Talmud asks: what practical difference does it make? “What practical difference does it make” means that it wants to know, between these two positions, where the practical ramification of the difference will be. Not in the sense that it will actually come to expression in what I need to do. It may never come to expression—that doesn’t matter. But in order to define the two positions properly, they ask me where the practical ramification of the difference will be. What practical difference does it make. Because precisely since study must end in a practical implication, if you tell me there are two sides and they have no practical implication whatsoever, then what have we done? What does it mean? Not that “practical implication” means there has to be such a situation. The practical implication can also relate to something that will never happen—that doesn’t matter.

[Speaker E] But if sometimes the Talmud says, “What was, was,” “what concerns us not—what happened, happened,” then—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You have to look at each topic on its own. In the places I’ve seen, there is never really such a question. I once went through this issue because I wrote something about it once. There is never really a question exactly like that; there are always questions where you can see in the commentators that it’s not that.

[Speaker A] What I understand from what you’re saying is that the purpose of study is clarifying the will of God. I understand the claim, but instinctively it seems that the purpose of study—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] is to fulfill the will of God.

[Speaker A] To fulfill it if, suppose, you encounter it?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Otherwise, as I said, if that’s the case then the clarification is only preparation for the commandment. Then I go back to the previous class: if it’s preparation for a commandment, then it isn’t a commandment. If you see it as a means, then the commandment of Torah study is not a commandment. After all, I brought proof from women: women too need to study in order to fulfill, so why are they seemingly exempt from Torah study? After all, I also don’t need to fulfill the laws of priests, right? So first of all, why do I study them? And second, why am I considered commanded in Torah study while women are not? I’m obligated exactly like women; everyone is obligated to learn what he needs in order to fulfill it. So why are women called not obligated in Torah study? Because Torah study is not that. Torah study is not studying in order to. I spoke about this last time: Torah study is not in order to know what to do.

I’ll perhaps bring—well, I’ll go straight to the Baal HaTanya. There’s maybe just one sentence from Nefesh HaChayim. In Gate 4, chapter 3, he says a few sentences, but the truth is: “The matter of ‘for its own sake,’ speaking about Torah study for its own sake, the meaning of ‘for its own sake’ is for the sake of the Torah.” For its own sake means for the sake of the Torah, not for some other purpose outside the Torah. In this he went out against the Hasidim, whose goal is deveikut, experiences of cleaving, and the like. “And the matter is as the Rosh explained on the statement of Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Tzadok in Nedarim 62: ‘Do things for the sake of their Maker, and speak of them for their own sake.’” Yes, that’s the phrase. “‘Do things for the sake of their Maker’—for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, who made everything for His sake. ‘And speak of them for their own sake’—all your speech and your engagement in words of Torah should be for the sake of Torah, such as to know and understand and add learning and analysis, and not in order to provoke or to become proud.”

Now notice, says Nefesh HaChayim, he was careful to explain the difference in Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Tzadok’s wording: regarding doing he said “for the sake of their Maker,” and regarding speaking he said “for their own sake.” What’s the difference? Why is “do things” for the sake of their Maker, while “speak of them”—meaning study them, Torah study—is for their own sake? So he says: doing things needs to be for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, for the sake of heaven, but learning does not need to be for the sake of heaven; learning needs to be for the sake of Torah. Torah is a goal in itself—not the Holy One, blessed be He, but Torah. “The Holy One, blessed be He, and the Torah are one”—yes. But the goal is to know the Torah. I learn in order to know Torah, not for any purpose outside the learning itself. Therefore, regarding action he explained “for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, who made all for His sake,” and regarding study he explained “for the sake of Torah.” “And his intention is clear—namely, that the performance of the commandment certainly should be, at the choicest level, with cleaving and the purest thought of thoughts, according to one’s intellect and grasp, so that it may rise to bring about rectifications in the worlds and upper powers and orders; and this is ‘for the sake of their Maker,’ for all the work of God is for His sake. And although certainly in commandments, the main thing that is indispensable is the actual deed, and the extra intention and purity of thought are not indispensable at all”—he means the pure thought, not whether commandments require intention; intention to fulfill one’s obligation is a dispute whether it is indispensable or not. He is speaking about intentions in the sense of the inner content of things. “Still, the holiness and purity of his thought join the actual deed in order to arouse and effect rectifications. But regarding a person’s conduct at the time of engaging in Torah, in the laws of the commandment and their rules”—not in performing the commandment—“he said, ‘and speak of them.’ Meaning, the speech concerning commandments and their laws should be for their own sake—that is, for the sake of words of Torah, namely to know and understand and add learning and analysis.” That’s it. Meaning, not for any purpose outside the learning. And what’s the idea here? It’s what he says at the beginning: we read his words at the beginning of the gate, where he says that study is not a means to cleaving; study is the cleaving itself.

[Speaker A] But doesn’t he qualify this there to things that have practical instruction? What? Here he doesn’t qualify it to practical instruction? Meaning that the main study—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Instruction that is not practical—you certainly don’t do that for practice, because it isn’t practical.

[Speaker A] So in order to reach a conclusion of practical instruction, even if I don’t fulfill it?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Here, maybe conceptually you could say—doesn’t matter—you could include, for example, philosophical studies, say—

[Speaker A] ideology, Jewish thought, things of that sort.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, it could be. This distinction appears from chapter 6 onward; we’re in chapter 3. So there’s room to discuss what he says there. My guess is that there too he would say maybe to reach a conclusion, but not a practical conclusion. It’s a conclusion, but yes, the character should be similar. This is Torah study and that is Torah study; both are Torah study. I already said that they are both Torah study. So in intellectual study, obviously that’s not—there the question isn’t whether it’s for action or not for action, because there is no action. On the contrary, Maimonides in his Commentary on the Mishnah writes in three places that in matters that do not relate to practice, one does not issue halakhic rulings. There is no such thing as a halakhic ruling. Which is exactly to say that things not related to practice—thought is subjective; there is no halakhic ruling. If it speaks to you, then go with it; and if the other one speaks to you, then go with that. So even in that sense, there is no halakhic ruling.

Now he has his great counterpart, the Baal HaTanya, who writes very, very similar things. Just yesterday I saw some letter of the Lubavitcher Rebbe that we studied, where he says it seems to him that Nefesh HaChayim saw the book Tanya, even though he has no proof of that. Because there really are many similar things; the comparison between these two books is fascinating. And people are always trying to find some subtle differences, because after all he came out against him; that’s why the book was written. So the book is against him, but he writes almost exactly the same things. So maybe in subtle points you can find differences, if at all—I don’t know.

So he says as follows in chapter 4: “And every divine soul has three garments, which are thought, speech, and action, of the 613 commandments of the Torah. When a person performs in action all the practical commandments, and in speech engages in the explanation of all the 613 commandments and their laws, and in thought comprehends all that it is possible for him to comprehend in the Pardes of the Torah, then all the 613 organs of his soul are clothed in the 613 commandments of the Torah. And in particular, the faculties of Chokhmah-Binah-Da’at in his soul are clothed in the comprehension of Torah that he comprehends in the Pardes according to the capacity of his comprehension and the root of his soul above. And the qualities, which are fear and love and their branches and offspring, are clothed in the fulfillment of the commandments in action and in speech, which is Torah study that is equal to them all.” He elaborates, not important right now. Then he says: “And behold, these three garments from the Torah and its commandments, although they are called garments for the nefesh, ruach, and neshamah”—thought, speech, and action are the three garments. Thought means understanding Torah, speech means speaking it, and action means carrying it out, right?—“although they are called garments for nefesh, ruach, and neshamah, nevertheless their level and greatness infinitely surpass the level of nefesh, ruach, and neshamah themselves. As it is written in the Zohar: ‘The Torah and the Holy One, blessed be He, are entirely one.’ Meaning: the Torah is the wisdom and will of the Holy One, blessed be He”—notice that: the Torah is the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, exactly like Nefesh HaChayim—“and the Holy One, blessed be He, in His own glory and essence, is entirely one with it, for He is the Knower and the Knowledge,” and so on, “as we wrote above. And although the Holy One, blessed be He, is called Infinite, and His greatness is unsearchable, and no thought can grasp Him at all, and likewise His will and wisdom are ungraspable, as it is written, ‘There is no searching of His understanding,’ and ‘Can you find out God by searching?’ and ‘For My thoughts are not your thoughts’—concerning this they said: ‘In the place where you find the greatness of the Holy One, blessed be He, there you find His humility.’ The Holy One, blessed be He, contracted His will and wisdom into the 613 commandments of the Torah and their laws, and into the combinations of letters of the Hebrew Bible and their expositions in aggadic literature and the midrashim of our Sages of blessed memory, so that every soul or spirit or living soul in the human body could grasp them in its knowledge and fulfill them, as much as can be fulfilled, in action, speech, and thought. And by this, all ten of its faculties are clothed in these three garments. Therefore the Torah is compared to water: just as water descends from a high place to a low place, so too the Torah descended from the place of its glory, which is His blessed will and wisdom”—“the Torah and the Holy One, blessed be He, are entirely one, and no thought grasps Him at all”—“and from there it traveled and descended through the hidden gradations, from level to level, in the chain-like unfolding of the worlds, until it clothed itself in physical things and matters of this world, which are most of the commandments of the Torah.”

We deal with oxen, cows, thieves, liars, legal presumptions—that’s the stuff of this world. But the Torah clothes itself, the wisdom and will of the Holy One, blessed be He, clothes itself, in the matters of this world. “And therefore, when one grasps His blessed will and wisdom as clothed in the Torah and its commandments, then one grasps the Holy One, blessed be He, because the Torah and the Holy One, blessed be He, are entirely one. And although the Torah is clothed in lower physical things, this is like embracing the king by way of analogy: there is no difference in the level of closeness and cleaving to the king whether one embraces him while he is wearing one garment or while he is wearing several garments, since the king’s body is within them. And similarly if the king embraces him with his arm, even though it is clothed within his garments, as it is written, ‘His right hand embraces me,’ and that is the Torah, which was given from the right side, the aspect of kindness and water.”

Meaning, when I embrace the king, even if he is clothed, I am embracing the king. The only way I can grasp the king is through His desires, as they find expression in oxen and cows. But what I’m learning there is not what to do with oxen and cows. What I’m learning there is what the Holy One, blessed be He, wants in that situation. I’m learning some little piece of the will of God. It makes no difference whatsoever through what medium it is clothed. Think about it: how could the Holy One, blessed be He, tell us His will detached from all the concepts of this world? How could He even speak to us? What is He supposed to do?

[Speaker A] It’s not only His will; it’s with regard to a specific act.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, no. There are abstract desires here. There is an expression of those abstract desires in an ox goring a cow. And there are some abstract desires here, abstract desires such that theoretically, in the world of angels where there are no oxen and cows, there is still a law of an ox goring a cow. But not in oxen and cows; there it is formulated as the sefirah of Hod colliding with Netzach, whatever, I don’t know. Meaning, that’s not the point. The point is— I once mentioned the book by the German philosopher Eugen Herrigel, about Zen in the Art of Archery; that’s the title of the book. A German philosopher came to Tokyo and asked his friend, a professor of law, to let him study Zen with a Zen master. So he passed him on to some Zen master. The Zen master asked him: tell me, what do you want to learn—marksmanship, archery, fencing, or flower arranging? He said: not this, not that, not that—I want to learn Zen. He said: yes, I understand, but flower arranging, fencing, or archery? Then he explained to him that it makes absolutely no difference what medium I use to teach you the thing. The thing I am teaching you is the same thing whether you go by this route, or this route, or this route, because I’m not teaching you flower arranging. I’m teaching you a certain way of looking, a certain way of relating.

Now, I can’t teach ways of relating unless they are grasped in something, unless I use some medium through which the whole business works. You know that all waves, except light, need a medium in order to move. There is no sound wave in outer space where there is no air. A sound wave can’t pass there, because a sound wave is changes in pressure, right? If there’s no air, there are no pressure changes. But does that mean the sound wave is just air vibrations? No. The sound wave is that energy, which cannot pass unless there is some air through which it advances. The wave can’t move unless there is a medium. Information too—certainly information from the Holy One, blessed be He, drawn from other worlds, from completely different conceptual worlds—cannot reach us except through a medium familiar to us. And it makes absolutely no difference whether I study oxen, cows, liars, menstruation, impurity, purity—it makes no difference at all. It’s all taken from our world, but we are not studying the law. We are studying the abstract idea whose clothing, with respect to the cow and the ox, appears as an ox goring a cow. That abstract idea—I don’t know how—think, for example, of talking about horseness without talking about horses. If there were no horses here, would we understand what horseness is? The idea of horseness, Plato’s form. If there were no horses, nobody would know what on earth you were talking about, right? But that doesn’t mean that when you study the laws of horseness, you need them in order to ride horses. That’s not the point at all.

[Speaker A] Maybe say it’s not will? What? Will is when I want something to happen. Right—will, will. You’re talking about knowledge; horseness is knowledge.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, horseness is a parable. But I’m saying: on the contrary, it is will.

[Speaker A] What is will without material?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Will without material is a will that in every other material would look different. It is will; it’s something potential, such that when it enters a certain material it appears one way, and in another material it appears completely differently. But it is the same will. The will is the abstract thing. And think about the relation between the form of a logical inference—a pattern of argument, as it’s called—and an actual argument. For example, when I say: all chairs are yellow; this thing is a chair; therefore it is yellow. That’s a valid inference, right? But it doesn’t depend on whether chairs really are yellow or not yellow, or whether I’m even talking about chairs. I could have said: all fairies have four wings and three horns. Okay? This book is a fairy; therefore this book has four wings and three horns. That too would be a valid inference. Okay? And there is something shared by these two inferences even though they deal with two completely different things. The medium in which the principle appears is totally different. Here it’s in the laws of fairies, and here it’s in the laws of yellow chairs. But the idea is exactly the same idea. It says: if every X is Y, and A is X, then A is Y. That’s a pattern, right? It’s an abstraction—Aristotle. Torah is the pattern. It’s not the concrete argument I’m speaking about; it’s the pattern. You can’t do without the concrete argument. How will you explain to a person the sentence “Every X is Y, A is X, therefore A is Y” if you don’t give him examples from his world? But what you are trying to teach him is not whether chairs are yellow or not. You are trying to teach him how to think, how to relate, how to draw conclusions. So I’m saying, that’s a good example of what we’re talking about here.

Maybe I’ll just finish with what he says one chapter later. He continues.

[Speaker F] Has anyone gotten to this nuance? Maybe through self-understanding someone has reached this nuance, that behind the practical details that’s really what’s going on? You’re saying that’s the ultimate goal, to abstract it. Right. Because he goes to learn archery in order to recognize the—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but no, the abstraction doesn’t have to be conscious for you. You can be engaged in the detail and still be engaged in the same thing. That’s what he says: it doesn’t matter whether you embrace the king while he is clothed or whether you understand that it is actually the king standing behind the garments. Meaning, even if you’re not conscious of it—that’s the claim, of course it’s on a lower level—but even if you’re not conscious of it, what sits within you is still the will of the Holy One, blessed be He. That’s the true connection with the Holy One, blessed be He, because He and His will are one. When your mind is clothed in thought about something that is the will of God, that is our way of cleaving to Him. Now if you also know how to formulate that idea, as Aristotle did with logic for example—strip the idea down and formulate it detached from the medium through which it appeared—even better. But that really depends on each person according to his level and wisdom. Still, it gives everyone, at every level, the possibility of truly embracing the king. It doesn’t matter whether it’s through three garments or five garments—that’s what he says here.

[Speaker A] But that’s the thought. What is that? You understand something that is—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I understand the will of the Holy One, blessed be He. That is the thought. Why thought? I understand that this is the will of the Holy One, blessed be He. I cleave to the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, in my thought. If I fulfill it, then I cleave to the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, in action as well. That’s what he says: thought, speech, and action—in all of them. But in all of them, I am cleaving to the will. No, it’s not merely intellectual. It’s not a factual statement. There is will here, and will means a demand made of me. He writes later on in chapter 5, and says as follows: "Now, whenever the intellect understands and grasps with its intellect some intelligible object, the intellect seizes the object and encompasses it within its intellect, and the object is grasped, encompassed, and clothed within the intellect that has apprehended and understood it." This is basically a kind of connection between the information and the intellect that grasps it. "And the intellect is also clothed within the object at the time that it understands it and grasps it with its intellect. For example, when a person understands and fully grasps a certain Jewish law in the Mishnah or in the Talmudic text correctly and thoroughly, then his intellect seizes and encompasses it, and his intellect is also clothed in it at that time. And behold, this Jewish law is the wisdom and will of the Holy One, blessed be He, for it arose in His will that when Reuven argues such-and-such, for example, and Shimon argues such-and-such, the ruling between them should be such-and-such. And even if this matter never was and never will be brought to judgment regarding these claims and demands"—even if it never actually materialized in practice, it makes no difference whatsoever—"nevertheless, since this is what arose in the will and wisdom of the Holy One, blessed be He, that if one claims such-and-such, then so-and-so will be the ruling, therefore when a person knows and grasps with his intellect this ruling as Jewish law set out in the Mishnah or Talmudic text or halakhic decisors, then he grasps and seizes and encompasses within his intellect the will and wisdom of the Holy One, blessed be He, of whom no thought can grasp Him, except through their being clothed in the laws set before us. And his intellect is also clothed in them. And this is a wondrous union, the like of which and anything comparable to it does not exist at all in physicality, for them to become truly one and united from every side and aspect." So what he’s saying, basically, is exactly like Nefesh HaChayim: the purpose of learning is simply to cleave to the will of the Holy One, blessed be He. And it makes no difference at all whether in the end that will is ever actualized in practice, whether I will encounter a situation in which I will need to do it. It doesn’t matter. What we say—that what the Sages say, that after the Temple was destroyed, when we study the laws of the sacrifices it is as if we offered a sacrifice—that is not a metaphor. It’s literally true. Meaning, to study the laws of the sacrifices is not in order to know what to do. Offering a sacrifice is in order to connect with the Holy One, blessed be He, on the practical plane, and with the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, on the practical plane. Studying the laws of the sacrifices today is exactly what that was then: it is to cleave intellectually to the will of the Holy One, blessed be He. So in practice, today we cannot do that, that part. In thought, yes; in intellect, yes. Therefore, the purpose of learning is that learning is a value in itself; it is not a means in order to act. On the other hand, learning has to end with a conclusion about what should be done. You do not have to actualize it in practice, but that is the end-point of learning. The end-point of learning is what to do. And in that sense it differs from all philosophical conceptions, and mathematics, and all other forms of wisdom, where you learn in order to know, in order to gain understanding. Yes, it’s the story I mentioned earlier—the mathematician who is not a triangle. That is, they saw some philosopher teaching ethics who behaved like an animal. So they said to him, what is this—you teach us such beautiful things, lofty and exalted things, and this is how you behave? He said, and does a mathematician have to be a triangle? So someone who is a mathematician does not have to be a triangle, and someone who studies ethics does not have to be ethical. So that is the difference. Rabbi Kook begins Orot HaKodesh with this distinction.

[Speaker D] So why do the Haredi yeshivas really need never to put these things into practice?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In a place where you encounter the matter, you are obligated to put it into practice. It is for the sake of—if not—

[Speaker D] Then the learning is worth nothing. But if they never experience it, then it sounds like that’s not what they’re learning.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. The Haredi yeshivas came along—Nefesh HaChayim was the father of the first Haredi yeshiva, the first Lithuanian one in Volozhin. And that’s where it came from; that’s clear.

[Speaker D] But wouldn’t it still be even better actually to put it into practice?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Instead of learning? No. No. If I encounter it in the practical world, then of course I need to fulfill it. And if not, then not. Then I learn.

[Speaker D] But to be a farmer and really realize what you

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] learn—isn’t that the best? The best is to learn everything, know everything, and also do everything. But usually, someone who does lacks in knowledge. We are human beings; we can’t manage everything.

[Speaker D] But not as a collective? Haredi yeshivas sitting and learning all the time and never

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] putting it into practice?

[Speaker F] Is that legitimate? It’s legitimate.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t—I don’t have to oppose them in everything they do. I think there is a lot of truth in this. That doesn’t mean that someone who doesn’t do this is invalid. Everyone takes his own role. There is a person who connects with the Holy One, blessed be He, in action and in thought; there is a person who devotes himself only to thought. Fine? What’s the problem? This is a connection and that is a connection. It doesn’t invalidate anything, but there’s also no need to invalidate the others because of it. It’s not either-or. Okay, have a happy holiday.