Conceptual Analysis – Lesson 18
This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- Choshen Mishpat versus Yoreh De’ah: flexibility, rigidity, and rights
- The law of the kingdom, general stipulation, and the question of the blessing over Torah study when studying law
- Torah as theoretical truth and the will of God even without implementation
- Rashi, saving oneself through another’s property, and the standing of Torah law in the face of noncompliance
- A fire on the Sabbath, rabbinic law, and a decree that was not accepted by the public
- Coercion in commandments versus coercion in Choshen Mishpat and seizure of assets
- Conceptual analysis: defining concepts in the style of Aristotle
- A transaction, sale, and gift as an exceptional case in Choshen Mishpat
- A loan as essentially a gift and as a legal transaction that creates debt
- Repayment of a debt as a commandment, orphans, and the status of coercion in a loan
- A loan is given for spending, betrothal through a loan, and driving away a lion
- Where this is going next: a loan, acquisition through money, and the nature of money
Summary
General overview
The text presents Choshen Mishpat as a field that contains both great flexibility and great rigidity at the same time, because it is built on obligations imposed on a person by virtue of another person’s rights, unlike Yoreh De’ah, where the obligations are not derived from someone else’s rights. He argues that Torah is not identical with practical Jewish law, because the law in practice can also be determined by custom and by the law of the kingdom, whereas “Torah” is the theoretical truth of the will of God even when it is not implemented. From that he explains why studying Torah passages about monetary law remains “Torah” even when, in practice, the public is bound by state law or by contractual terms, and he applies the same principle to Rashi’s comments in matters that people are unlikely to obey. Later he completes a distinction between coercion in Yoreh De’ah and coercion in Choshen Mishpat, and then begins a conceptual analysis of “loan”: in essence it is a gift of the time-use of money, for which interest may not be charged, but legally it is defined as a transaction that creates debt and a lien, in order to explain how a future obligation can exist without the problem of “his acquisition has expired,” and from there he tries to explain the idea that “repayment of a debt is a commandment,” the laws relating to orphans, and the rule that “one who betroths through a loan is not betrothed.”
Choshen Mishpat versus Yoreh De’ah: flexibility, rigidity, and rights
Choshen Mishpat carries two opposite meanings: on the one hand it is the most flexible thing in the world, and on the other hand it is the most rigid thing in the world. The basis of both qualities is that these are obligations imposed on me whose foundation lies in the other person’s right, unlike Yoreh De’ah, which is just obligations imposed on me and the other person has no rights. The possibility of stipulating around monetary laws, such as the laws of bailees, stems from the fact that the practical result can change by agreement of the parties, but the principled truth of Torah law remains intact, and what changes is only a waiver or gift on the part of the one who holds the right.
The law of the kingdom, general stipulation, and the question of the blessing over Torah study when studying law
When there is state law or the law of the kingdom, the stipulation becomes general, and the default established by the state in monetary law is binding halakhically as well, as though the whole public stipulated that way. The claim is that studying law in order to know what is practically binding is not Torah study and does not justify reciting the blessing over Torah study, because it is wrong to identify Torah with Jewish law. Jewish law can be derived from custom, from the law of the kingdom, and from other factors as well, and the fact that something determines practice does not turn the king’s law into part of Torah. The analogy given is mathematics used as a tool for implementing Jewish law, such as calculations of a mikveh’s volume or distances, which is not considered Torah but at most a means that enables a commandment.
Torah as theoretical truth and the will of God even without implementation
Torah is defined as pure theoretical truth and the will of God, even if it is never implemented in the world at all. The example is the stubborn and rebellious son, who “never was and never will be,” and was written only so that one may “expound and receive reward”; the value lies in knowing what the law would be in truth if the criteria were met. In the same way, the study of the laws of a paid bailee is not mainly meant to tell us what to do in practice, but to tell us what the Holy One, blessed be He, wants in that situation, even if it is hypothetical. Even when the parties stipulate and exempt one another, the truth is that under Torah law the depositor is entitled to payment, except that he waives it in favor of the bailee; therefore the truth does not change even if in practice people choose to depart from it through gifts or waivers.
Rashi, saving oneself through another’s property, and the standing of Torah law in the face of noncompliance
The answer to Ezra’s question about Rashi is built on the distinction between the truth of Torah and implementation in practice. Even if in practice people will not obey, and will save themselves through another person’s property and then pay afterward, learning the prohibition that a person may not save himself through another’s property is still Torah study because that is the truth. He cites the Talmudic distinction between a formulation of a condition that tries to change the law itself and a formulation that presents a gift or waiver from the person, such as the difference between “on condition that the Sabbatical year not cancel my debt” and “on condition that you not release me during the Sabbatical year,” where one may stipulate only in a way that does not touch the truth that the Sabbatical year cancels debts, but rather obligates the borrower to give a gift. From this he concludes that even in monetary law one does not alter Torah law itself; one can only create different results through gifts and agreements, and therefore Rashi’s words remain true even if they are not observed.
A fire on the Sabbath, rabbinic law, and a decree that was not accepted by the public
He presents the Jewish law that one may not save property from a house burning on the Sabbath, except for food for three meals, sacred writings, and the clothes one is wearing, because of concern lest one come to extinguish the fire. He emphasizes that extinguishing in order to stop the fire is labor not needed for its own sake and, according to most halakhic decisors, only a rabbinic prohibition, whereas Torah-level extinguishing is when one needs the charcoal or a charred wick. He asks how many people would withstand losing all their property because of concern that they might come to a rabbinic prohibition, and raises the possibility that a rabbinic law not accepted by the public may be nullified as “a decree that did not spread among the public.” He distinguishes this from Rashi’s statement, which in his view is a Torah-level law of theft and is not nullified even if the public does not observe it; therefore one cannot say that because people will not comply, we stop stating the law.
Coercion in commandments versus coercion in Choshen Mishpat and seizure of assets
There is a rule that commandments are enforced, as in: “If one says, ‘I will not build a sukkah,’ ‘I will not take a lulav,’ they compel him until his soul departs.” But there they do not seize his property in order to fulfill the commandment in his place; rather they force him to do it himself. In Choshen Mishpat, when a person owes money to another and does not pay, the court seizes his assets, takes from them, and gives to the person entitled to it; this is called seizure of assets. The explanation is that with commandments and prohibitions, the goal of coercion is that the person himself fulfill his duty, so doing it in his place does not fulfill his commandment; whereas in Choshen Mishpat the goal of coercion is result-oriented, to preserve the rights of the one entitled to them even without the debtor personally performing a commandment.
Conceptual analysis: defining concepts in the style of Aristotle
Conceptual analysis is presented as a process of placing a concept in its context through the category to which it belongs and distinguishing it from other concepts in that same world, as in defining a human being as a “speaking animal.” He describes conceptual analysis as moving “upward and sideways”: identifying the broader heading and then identifying what distinguishes the concept from other species under that same heading. Thus “law” was defined as belonging to the normative sphere but distinguished from morality and from the non-legal parts of halakhah, and in the same way he wants to approach the concept of “loan” before entering into specific disputes.
A transaction, sale, and gift as an exceptional case in Choshen Mishpat
A typical transaction is defined as an exchange between two sides, such as money for merchandise or labor for wages. A gift is presented as an exception in which there is no formal consideration, though there is still a social dimension of expected return as described in Marcel Mauss’s essay “The Gift.” The laws of gifts belong in Choshen Mishpat not because they involve reciprocal rights, but because they deal with the mode of acquisition, the moment ownership passes, and the consequences for the prohibition of using something without permission. Prohibitions related to gifts, such as the prohibition of “do not show them favor” by giving a gratuitous gift to a gentile, belong to Yoreh De’ah because they are obligations not derived from the recipient’s rights.
A loan as essentially a gift and as a legal transaction that creates debt
A loan is presented, in essence, as “lending as a gift” and as renting out money, which is forbidden as interest, with interest defined as “payment for the waiting time of money,” meaning payment for the time one is allowed to use the money. He presents the distinction between a borrower and a bailee: the borrower receives the money for his own use, whereas the bailee returns the same envelope and may not use the money. By force of the rule that “a loan is given for spending,” money given as a loan becomes the borrower’s, and he returns an equivalent sum, not the same coins. In order to explain how a future obligation to repay is created, he points to the principle of “his acquisition has expired” and explains that something must already be created now, namely the debt, which is not identical with an immediate duty of repayment but rather the reality of “you owe me,” which then allows a practical obligation to repay later on. He adds that in exchange for giving the money, the lender receives a legal right of debt, a lien on the person, and a lien on assets, even though he presents this as a legal fiction because in essence the loan is not a transaction in which the lender receives some real benefit.
Repayment of a debt as a commandment, orphans, and the status of coercion in a loan
The Talmudic statement cited in the name of Rav Pappa, that “repayment of a debt is a commandment,” places repayment of a loan within the framework of a commandment, and a practical difference is made regarding minor orphans, because “minors are not subject to the performance of commandments,” and therefore they are not obligated to repay until they grow up. He explains that a loan is a hybrid creature: in essence it is a gift and therefore would belong to Yoreh De’ah, but in order to create a defined monetary obligation it is constructed as a transaction that creates debt and a lien in Choshen Mishpat. He argues that the legal lien accompanies the commandment itself as the Torah defined it, and therefore when there is no commandment for minors, there are also no legal consequences of seizure of assets with respect to them, although when they become adults an obligation will apply to repay from the property they inherited.
A loan is given for spending, betrothal through a loan, and driving away a lion
He explains the rule that “one who betroths through a loan is not betrothed,” and suggests that this is not only because there is no tangible giving here, but because the lender has with the borrower not even an “abstract value” that belongs to him, but only the potential for a future commandment of payment. Forgiving a debt is presented as “driving away a lion,” meaning preventing a future loss rather than giving something, and therefore it cannot serve as the giving required for betrothal. He brings proof from tractate Nedarim that a person forbidden to benefit from another may still pay that other person’s debts to third parties, because this is only “driving away a lion” and is not considered as though he gave him monetary benefit. From this he argues that if a borrower has one thousand and owes one hundred, he may give away the entire thousand as a gift to someone else, because within that money there is no part defined as belonging to the lender; the debt is a description of a future obligation, not the lender’s present ownership of some specific value.
Where this is going next: a loan, acquisition through money, and the nature of money
He concludes that the present discussion is an introduction to the next two lectures, in which he will finish the topic of loans and move on to a discussion of acquisition through money and the question of the nature of money. He emphasizes the importance of conceptual analysis as a foundation before entering into details and disputes in passages from Choshen Mishpat.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I spoke about the meaning of Choshen Mishpat, and I explained there that it has two opposite meanings. On the one hand it’s the most flexible thing in the world, and on the other hand it’s the most rigid thing in the world. And then I explained that the basis of both of those things is that they’re two sides of the same coin, because the root of it is that we’re dealing here with obligations imposed on me whose basis lies in the other person’s right, unlike Yoreh De’ah, where these are just obligations imposed on me and the other person has no rights. Now, it seems to me that I still didn’t get a chance to comment on this, so maybe this is a good opportunity to complete it, but it’s also an answer to what I just said to you now. There’s a question here: since it’s possible to stipulate around monetary laws, for example the laws of bailees. So a paid bailee can stipulate that he’ll be exempt from theft and loss, even though according to the law he is liable, but he can stipulate that he’ll be exempt, or the other way around, an unpaid bailee can stipulate that he’ll be liable for theft and loss—everything depends on the agreement of the parties. Now in a place where, for example, there is state law or the law of the kingdom, then the stipulation is general. Meaning, if the law determines the default regarding the laws of bailees—unless they made a special contract, but if they didn’t make a contract and the state set some kind of default—then that is what obligates from the standpoint of Jewish law as well, because it is as if we stipulated, the entire public made this stipulation, and now an unpaid bailee would be liable for theft and loss. Now the question is, when I study Torah, am I actually—when I study law, do I need to recite the blessing over Torah study? Because after all, the practical laws that obligate me in reality are what is written in the law books and not what is written in the Shulchan Arukh. The Shulchan Arukh is not relevant where state law has ruled—let’s speak about monetary law—in monetary law, when state law has set certain definitions for some contract or whatever it may be, that is what obligates also halakhically. So what is the meaning of all the passages that talk about the laws of bailees, and in the yeshivot people spend hours and years on this and invest huge amounts of energy in clarifying the unpaid bailee and the paid bailee, what the Torah said here—this whole business is completely irrelevant. And if there are different laws of bailees, that’s not binding, it’s not relevant. So what is the meaning of these passages? Is this still Torah? In what sense?
[Speaker B] And I think the claim is that yes,
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] it is Torah, and studying law is not Torah, even though in practice that’s what I need to do—specifically what the law says and not what Jewish law says. Because it’s wrong to identify Torah with Jewish law. Jewish law can be derived from additional considerations besides what the Torah says. It can be derived from custom, from the law of the kingdom, from all kinds of things of that sort. But that doesn’t turn the king’s law into part of Torah. It’s something that is not Torah; I don’t recite the blessing over Torah study on it. Just like if I use a mathematical formula in order to make a calculation for the sake of implementing Jewish law—I don’t know, to calculate the volume of a mikveh or the distance between graves—there are all kinds of mathematical calculations I make in order to implement Jewish law, I need to calculate various things. Is the study of the mathematics involved in that something over which one can recite the blessing over Torah study? No. Why not? Because the mathematics is a means to know how to implement Jewish law, but it is not Torah, it is not something connected to what was given at Sinai, the word of God, and so on. The same is true of law. I may need to study law in order to know what to do, but that doesn’t turn law into Torah. At most it is a preparatory means for a commandment, but it is not Torah itself. So what is the definition of Torah? The definition—and here I return to the question with which I opened—is that Torah is pure theoretical truth, even if it is not implemented in the world at all. The stubborn and rebellious son never was and never will be—why was it written? “Expound and receive reward.” So this is something not intended for implementation and that never will be implemented. So what is the value of such a thing? The value is to know that according to the truth, if there were a stubborn and rebellious son who met these and those criteria, this would be his law, and this is the will of God, this is the Torah’s determination. And that truth is what you have to learn—that’s what is called Torah—without any connection to the question of whether it is implementable, whether it was ever implemented. The very fact that this is the will of God—I am learning the will of God—that is what is called Torah. The same thing with bailees, for example. When I study the laws of a paid bailee, I’m not studying them in order to know what to do. I’m studying them in order to know what the Holy One, blessed be He, wants in that situation, even if it is hypothetical, in that situation, because the will of God is what is called Torah, and learning it is the value, regardless of whether it is implemented or not implemented. And in that sense—and I think I did mention this—suppose the depositor and the bailee stipulate around the law. They exempted the paid bailee from theft and loss. Still, the truth is that the depositor deserves payment for theft and loss. That’s obvious. That is the pure truth; it cannot change. What they can achieve by their stipulation is to say that the depositor waives the payment owed to him from the bailee. But the fact that he deserves such payment is a clear truth, that is the will of God, and that cannot change. And that is where Torah lies, not in what happens in practice. Seemingly, if we waived it, then in practice something entirely different happens. Doesn’t matter. So we waived it; people are allowed to give gifts, that’s not relevant. Torah means what the Holy One, blessed be He, wants in every situation. And it doesn’t matter at all whether afterward I can give gifts, circumvent it, do this or that—it doesn’t matter. The Torah aspect of it is what truth says is the right thing to do in this situation. And you’re entitled to choose not to behave according to the truth. That’s fine; you’re allowed to give gifts. But still, the truth remains as it was. No one can touch it. That’s the truth. And truth is what is called Torah, regardless of the degree of implementation. That completes the previous lecture. But now I return to Ezra’s question about Rashi, and in the same sense I’ll answer here too. Meaning, you say that what Rashi says is basically not implementable because no one will obey it; people will save themselves through another person’s property and afterward they’ll pay. But no one will obey a law that says a person may not save himself through another person’s property. That may be true, but still, studying that prohibition—that a person may not save himself through another person’s property—is called studying Torah. Because that is the truth. That is what really ought to be done in such a situation. The fact that people won’t do it and afterward we’ll find one workaround or another—fine, that’s like a stipulation, like the law of the kingdom, it doesn’t matter. But the truth is that in such a situation you are forbidden to put your hand on another person’s property and you have to die—that is the pure truth. Whether you do it or don’t do it is another discussion. Sometimes it is even legitimate not to do it; in this case, according to Rashi, it is not legitimate. But even if it were legitimate, it still wouldn’t matter, because it still wouldn’t change the fact that this is the truth. I mentioned—I don’t remember whether I mentioned this in correspondence with Malia—but I raised this point: the Talmud distinguishes between forms of stipulation. Since in monetary matters one may stipulate around the law—I said this—there are two formulations. I can lend money on condition that the Sabbatical year not cancel my debt, meaning that if the Sabbatical year comes the debt won’t be cancelled and you’ll have to repay me the loan; that is a stipulation against what is written in the Torah. But if I stipulate on condition that you not release me during the Sabbatical year—not that the Sabbatical year not release me, but that you not release me during the Sabbatical year—that is permitted halakhically. That’s Rabbi Yehuda, a dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Meir, but that is permitted. Why? Because “on condition that the Sabbatical year not cancel my debt” means I’m trying to change the law itself. The Sabbatical year cancels debts; that doesn’t depend on you. The Sabbatical year cancels debts, period. Therefore you can’t stipulate that, even in monetary matters. Because even in monetary matters, the halakhic truth is the halakhic truth; it’s not in your hands. What the Holy One, blessed be He, determined—that is the truth. What you can do is say to the borrower: know that I’m giving you this loan on condition that you will give me a gift even though you don’t owe me the money. And that’s what is meant by “on condition that you not release me during the Sabbatical year.” Meaning, on condition that you not release me during the Sabbatical year, not on condition that the Sabbatical year not release me. With the Sabbatical year I cannot negotiate; by definition the Sabbatical year cancels the debt. I can negotiate with you and say: you should not release me during the Sabbatical year; you should give me gifts even though I’m not entitled to them. Fine, that I can stipulate with you, and that is exactly the point. In other words, even in this flexible area called monetary law, I still can’t really touch Torah law itself. What I can do is give gifts. Fine, anyone can give gifts, but even in monetary law one cannot touch Torah law. Torah law remains that way forever; it is not in our hands, we cannot touch it. And in that sense, what Rashi says here—that a person may not save himself through another’s property—that is Torah law, that is the truth. When one studies that, yes, one studies Torah. The fact that afterward people in practice will choose not to obey, and later pay—fine, that’s their choice, not relevant. But when we establish this law, we are not establishing it only in order to make sure people will implement it. Even if I am sure people won’t implement it, still this is the law and we must state it because this is the truth. Therefore the fact that Rashi says it should not disturb him even if he agrees with Ezra’s assessment that no one will obey it; it should not disturb him. This is the truth. If you won’t obey, then you won’t obey—what can I do? But that doesn’t change the truth. Once I thought about another example. There is a prohibition against extinguishing a fire that breaks out on the Sabbath. Sorry—there is a prohibition against extinguishing fire in general on the Sabbath. Right? Extinguishing is one of the primary categories of prohibited labor. There is a prohibition against saving things from a burning house on the Sabbath. Why? Out of concern lest a person be panicked over his property and forget that it is the Sabbath and come to extinguish the fire. Talmud, chapter 16 of tractate Shabbat, the chapter “All Sacred Writings.” Now you have to pay close attention: the prohibition against extinguishing in such a case, as later authorities pointed out, is a rabbinic prohibition. Because Torah-level extinguishing is only extinguishing when you need the charcoal. You extinguish the wick so that a charred wick remains that can later be lit, like preparing candles for Sabbath candle-lighting. So you light and extinguish, and then it’s easier to light the candle because its tip is already charred. Right? So extinguishing that is a Torah prohibition is extinguishing in order to produce charcoal, or a charred wick, or actual coals. But extinguishing because I don’t want the fire—that is not a Torah prohibition; it is labor not needed for its own sake. A dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda, but according to almost all halakhic decisors except Maimonides, the law follows Rabbi Shimon that labor not needed for its own sake is not a Torah prohibition. Now here there is something amazing. You’re telling me that I am forbidden to save my property from the house, apart from food for three meals and sacred writings and the clothes I’m wearing. That’s it. Those are the only things I’m allowed to save from the house. Everything else I have to let burn. Okay? And why all this? Because of the concern that I may come to extinguish the fire. And even if I do extinguish, even if I do come to extinguish it, that is only a rabbinic prohibition. And because of that I’m supposed to forfeit all my earthly possessions? My house is gone, all the property in my house is gone, that’s it, nothing remains. Because of concern that I might come to a rabbinic prohibition. It’s amazing. Now I ask: how many people would stand up to that? Suppose this happens. How many people—I’m not even talking now about actually extinguishing the fire itself, which is also only a rabbinic prohibition. And in a case of major loss, why shouldn’t we violate a rabbinic prohibition? Such a loss justifies a rabbinic prohibition. But here it’s not even a rabbinic prohibition; it’s concern lest you come to extinguish, which itself is a rabbinic prohibition. In other words, you’re taking the items and removing them from the house—there is no prohibition in that at all. There’s only a concern that if they permit you to do that, you’ll come to extinguish, and that would be a rabbinic prohibition. So here we’re not even talking about a rabbinic prohibition but about concern lest you come to a rabbinic prohibition, and because of that all your property is wiped out. And now the question is how many people would stand by that and truly obey. And wouldn’t it make sense to say: listen, I’m saving all my property, and let the Holy One, blessed be He, call me to account for concern lest I come to a rabbinic prohibition. Fine, I’ll deal with that, but at least I’ll be left with some minimal kind of life for the rest of my days. You understand that someone who loses all his property—it’s insane, it changes your whole life. This is a law that is hard to grasp. So it seems to me that this law too can be attacked in the same way. In other words, who is going to obey such a law? How can you establish such a law when no one will obey it? And here even more so, because here it’s a rabbinic prohibition. And a rabbinic prohibition generally, if it is not accepted by the public, if it did not spread among the majority of the public, is nullified. So I don’t even know how practical this law really is, because it is obvious that almost no one will keep it. And once they won’t keep it, since this is a rabbinic law, then from the outset it is not valid. Rashi is speaking about a Torah prohibition. Rashi says: you are forbidden to save yourself through another person’s property. This is not a rabbinic decree but because of the prohibition of theft. He argues that the prohibition of theft stands even in the face of danger to life. A Torah prohibition is not nullified even if no one observes it. Not like rabbinic law, where a decree not accepted by the public is nullified. In Torah law, this is the law, regardless of whether the public observes it or not. If the public doesn’t observe it, then they are not okay—but this is still the law. Therefore I think that when Rashi says this, it should not trouble us; he says it because this is the truth. Okay, up to here this is both a completion of the previous lecture and an answer to Ezra’s question. I want to move on. Maybe I’ll first add one more introduction, which is also connected to the previous topic and will be an opening to today’s topic. There is another difference between laws that belong to Choshen Mishpat and laws of Yoreh De’ah. I think I mentioned this briefly. It has to do with coercion. The rule is that there is such a thing as coercion regarding commandments. If someone says, “I will not build a sukkah,” “I will not take a lulav,” they compel him until his soul departs. Meaning, they beat him. In addition there are also legal coercive procedures. Someone who does not pay something he is obligated to pay—the court ruled that he must pay and he does not do it—they compel him to pay. In other words, there is coercion both for prohibitions and commandments in Yoreh De’ah, and also for legal rights. But there is a difference between the two kinds of coercion, in the simple understanding. There is a difference between the two kinds of coercion. In coercion regarding a commandment, we won’t take his money and buy him a sukkah and put it in his yard. Rather we beat him until he builds a sukkah or sits in the sukkah. In the case of someone who doesn’t repay a loan or doesn’t pay money he owes, there we won’t even bother beating him; we’ll simply take his money and give it to the person entitled to it. That is called seizure of assets. So there is coercion regarding commandments, where we do not seize assets but only make sure the person fulfills his duty, or avoids the prohibition and fulfills the commandment, whereas in Choshen Mishpat coercion also includes seizure of assets. In other words, there is a difference—even though there is coercion here and there—in how the coercion is carried out. For example, someone who needs to give charity to a poor person. In principle—I’m not getting into this now because here there are actually differing views—but in principle we do not seize his assets, take the money, and give it to the poor person, because it does not belong to the poor person, it is not his right. Rather, we beat him until he gives the poor person money. But he has to give the money. In contrast, someone who doesn’t repay a debt to his lender—we won’t even want to beat him; we’ll simply take his money and give it to the lender. We’ll seize the assets and do it in his place. What’s the difference? The difference is that coercion in commandments and prohibitions is meant to ensure that you yourself perform your duty. Now, if we build a sukkah in your place or buy a lulav in your place, then you didn’t perform the commandment, or if we give charity from your money in your place, you didn’t perform the commandment—we did. So what did we accomplish? Our goal is not that the poor person have money; our goal is that you fulfill your obligation, your commandment. Therefore there we beat you so that you will do what you need to do, but we won’t do it in your place and gain nothing. In Choshen Mishpat, the purpose of coercion is to ensure that the other person’s right is not harmed. Say the lender lent me money and I don’t pay. The purpose of coercion is not to make sure I fulfill the commandment of repaying a loan. The purpose of coercion is to ensure that the lender receives his money, that his rights are not infringed. Therefore there they do not make do with beating me until I pay him, but will take the money from me and give him the money directly. Why? Because the goal is result-oriented. The goal is that his money return to him, regardless of whether I fulfilled the commandment or did not fulfill the commandment. In coercion regarding commandments, the goal is to ensure that I fulfill the commandment. In legal coercion, the goal is that the other person’s rights not be harmed. Therefore there they seize assets. Okay? So that is another completion of the distinction between Choshen Mishpat and Yoreh De’ah, and I’m going to use that today as well, which is why I made this completion. Today I want to talk about the concept of a loan. This is really a continuation of the previous discussion. The previous discussion dealt with Choshen Mishpat, monetary law, the legal layer of halakhah versus its other layers. And now I want to apply that to a loan, and after that to talk about acquisition through money, and more generally what money is. That will be the subject of the next two lectures, which are really a continuation of the same discussion, and of course I’ll try to show the importance of conceptual analysis in all these topics, because that is our subject. In the context of Choshen Mishpat, it seems to me that in the previous lecture everything I did was conceptual analysis. I used certain laws, but of course I didn’t go into details, I didn’t bring sources or anything like that; rather I tried to define what law is. What is the legal world as against halakhah, and from there to distinguish that within halakhah there is also a part that is legal and not only a part that is halakhic. So that is dealing with the definition of a concept. Now I want to talk about the concept of a loan, and there too I want to show that it is very important to do conceptual analysis before jumping in and drowning. The concept of a loan is a very complicated concept legally and halakhically, but before entering into those issues, often people don’t do this—and that’s a shame—but it is important to do conceptual analysis. So I want to try to analyze the concept of a loan, which again is connected to Choshen Mishpat and to what we did in the previous lecture. So when I approach conceptual analysis, one of the lessons we already drew from the first lectures in this series is: what does it mean to define a concept? What is conceptual analysis? Usually what we are supposed to do—or what we are also supposed to do—is to place the concept in its context. That means to see to what conceptual world this concept belongs, and what distinguishes it from other concepts that belong to that same world. Just as, according to Aristotle, we define a concept through the genus to which it belongs and its species as against other species. For example, when we define a human being—we talked about this—we define a human being as a speaking animal. “Animal” is basically the genus, living creature, which of course includes humans but not only humans, it includes other things too. So that is the general genus of which the human is one species. Therefore I need to state the general genus and define how this species differs from other species that belong to that genus. So first I say “animal”—that is the genus. “Speaking”—that means the species of man, as distinguished from the species of fish or cows or birds or something like that, is that he speaks. That is what distinguishes him from the other species. Therefore conceptual analysis always moves upward and sideways. First I look upward and see what heading stands above the concept. Then I look sideways to see, within that broad heading, what defines this concept as against sibling concepts, additional concepts that belong to the same heading. That is basically definition according to Aristotle, and that is basically the goal of conceptual analysis. We saw a few more things, but that is the primary infrastructure. That is basically what I want to do in every conceptual definition. When I did a conceptual definition of the world of the concept of law, I tried to show to what conceptual sphere it belongs. It belongs to the normative sphere. But within the normative sphere there are several types. There is morality, there is law, there is halakhah that is not legal, the non-legal parts of halakhah. Therefore on the one hand I say it belongs to the normative sphere and not the factual one, and on the other hand I want to distinguish it from the other species that belong to that sphere—morality, non-legal halakhah—in order to define what this species of norms called legal norms is. Okay? If you notice, every conceptual analysis I’ve done has basically worked in this scheme. It’s an attempt to say to what genus this thing belongs and what distinguishes it from other species that belong to that same genus.
[Speaker C] And can there be a concept that belongs to two species, to two genera, or to two species as well?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, right. I want to do the same thing with the concept of a loan. So let’s try to think in exactly this pattern about the concept of a loan. First of all, the context: now that I’m already aware of how conceptual analysis is done, when I ask myself how to look at this, this is just a lesson that’s very important to apply afterward when you approach learning Talmudic topics. Meaning, how do we approach learning something connected to a loan? First of all I want to know: what is a loan? People usually skip this stage. They go straight into, yes, so the Shakh says this and the Rashba writes that and Maimonides, and a dispute, blah blah. Wait, wait—just a second. What is a loan? What is a loan? That’s not at all a simple definition. And very few people deal with it. It’s not the kind of thing that usually occupies halakhic decisors or commentators—maybe in passing remarks, in obiters as they say, side comments—but there isn’t really discussion, or there’s very little discussion, of the thing itself. So I’m trying to apply the scheme we’ve developed until now to this matter. So I ask myself first of all: what is the category within which I place this thing called a loan? What family of things does a loan belong to? Money. What? Money. Yes—meaning transactions, or Choshen Mishpat basically, right? That’s why I say this is a continuation of the previous lecture. Basically, types of monetary transactions between people. Right? A loan is a certain kind of transaction. So notice, this is already an interesting point: if you internalize the scheme I’m talking about, then it’s very clear what needs to be done in principle. Meaning, you don’t have to reinvent the wheel every time. I look at a question, I enter a topic, and the first thing I want to know is: what is this concept, a loan? That’s a stage that, as we learned, usually isn’t done. So I say: okay, when I want to know what the concept of a loan is, what am I supposed to do for that? That too we already know. What do you need to do? Look for the category of things to which a loan belongs, and try to distinguish it from the other things under that same category. Right? That’s basically what we need to do. So now our goal—we’ve already identified the category: legal acts, legal assets between people, legal transactions between people. What distinguishes this transaction from other transactions? That’s what I need to complete in order to understand this concept of a loan. But before I get into that, I need to understand what a transaction is. What is a monetary transaction between people? Usually the classic transaction I want to talk about, before the big definitions—what’s the most typical transaction? A sale. Right? A transaction that has two sides: I give you money, you give me merchandise. Exchanging money for goods, okay? Or exchanging one thing for another. If you want, exchanging labor for wages—labor is also merchandise, okay? You can even betroth a woman through the benefit of labor that I do for her, or if I dance before her, because if I dance before her you can betroth a woman that way. So the basic structure of a legal transaction is an exchange of things between two sides, between two legal entities. Two people or two legal entities—it could be partners or a corporation, whatever—but an exchange of rights or an exchange of things between two sides. So I give you money, you give me a field; I give you money, you give me a cup, I don’t know; I give you a mug, you give me a book, okay? That too can happen—that’s also a kind of transaction. A transaction has two sides. You have something that I want, I have something that you want, and we exchange them, okay? We give one in return for the other. That more or less characterizes transactions, the typical transactions.
Now in that sense there is an exception: a gift. A gift is a transaction that really has only one side. I give you something but don’t receive anything from you in return. And in fact there’s an essay by some French philosopher named Marcel Mauss, published by the infamous Resling press, called The Gift. It’s an essay on the gift, and there he wants to argue that a gift is a transaction in every respect. When I give you a gift, it actually creates an obligation in you toward me. He talks, for example, about wedding gifts—we all know this: wait, what did he give me? And based on that I decide what I’ll give him. Meaning, of course we know that I’m not legally obligated, nobody can take me to court if I give less or something like that, but in fact when I give a gift it does create some expectation of reciprocity, at least gratitude. He really wants to argue that this is an obligation—he takes it a bit far—but there is a certain dimension of transaction even in giving a gift. But of course not in the formal sense. In the formal sense, if I got a gift from you, I owe you nothing in return. I’m not obligated; you can’t sue me for anything. Maybe I feel some moral obligation of one sort or another, but I’m not obligated. And therefore a gift really shouldn’t belong to Choshen Mishpat, because these are not monetary transactions between two people. So why do the laws of gifts appear in Choshen Mishpat? Here’s why: they appear there, but they appear differently from other laws. Let’s say the laws of loans are laws that determine the mutual rights of the two sides. Or torts: you damaged me—what rights are granted to me as a result of your damaging me? Okay? Or bailees—what are the mutual rights of the two sides in that transaction? In a gift there is no discussion of what rights the two sides have, because neither side has any rights. I decided to give you a gift, you received a gift, that’s it. So you won’t find in the Shulchan Arukh any discussion of the rights of the two sides in the laws of gifts. What do they discuss in the laws of gifts? Only the question of how you do it. There’s an act of acquisition, and what the consequence is: after you received the gift, now it’s yours and not mine, so I’m forbidden to use it, others are forbidden to use it. Meaning, the consequences of this are ordinary legal consequences. Once you got the gift, now it’s yours. And property law certainly belongs to Choshen Mishpat. Once it’s yours, others may not use it without permission, because I’m no longer the owner. So in that sense you need to define the legal status, the laws of ownership, and therefore it belongs in Choshen Mishpat. But you won’t find there any obligation to give a gift or prohibition on giving a gift, or all sorts of things of that kind. That’s irrelevant. There are no rights here. I owe you nothing and there is no prohibition to give anything; rather, if I decide to give, then I give. Choshen Mishpat only tells me how to do that so that the gift becomes legally acquired. Okay—how do you transfer it? For example, there are prohibitions on giving a gift to a gentile, a prohibition on giving a gratuitous gift to a gentile—"do not show them favor." Okay? Those prohibitions won’t appear in Choshen Mishpat. Those are prohibitions in Yoreh De’ah. Because it really isn’t relevant here; these are prohibitions imposed on me not because of your rights. It’s not that the gentile has no right to receive a gift and therefore I’m forbidden to give it—that’s irrelevant, there’s no right involved here. The Torah forbids me to give him a gift, a gratuitous gift. So that will appear in Yoreh De’ah, and indeed not in Choshen Mishpat. Therefore a gift occupies a place in Choshen Mishpat only in a very, very technical sense. Not in terms of rights—not like a loan, not like the laws of bailees, not like all the other laws, where the whole context is a legal context, a transaction between two sides. A gift is not. But of course it’s necessary to define how the act of acquisition is done, when it becomes yours, when it’s still mine. You have to define exactly when, what is the precise moment at which the gift passes from my ownership to yours. Those are legal questions, because they have implications for the rights and obligations of others with respect to that object, okay?
So now maybe we understand a bit better the concept of a transaction, with the gift as an exception that sharpens the concept in general. And now let’s try to see what happens in a loan, because we said that a loan is basically one type of transaction. So transactions are the category, and a loan is a particular type that differs from other transactions. Now let’s see what makes it unique. When you look at a loan essentially, a loan is actually a kind of gift—or, if you like, at the most basic level it’s lending in the sense of a gift. I lend you money, okay? I give you the money, you return it to me, so I didn’t really give you anything. In fact, you know that the prohibition of interest is defined in Jewish law—interest is defined in Jewish law as payment for the waiting period of money. What does that mean? You use my money, so the time during which I give you the money for your use is itself worth money. Pay me for that time, for the time during which you hold my money. You’re not paying me for my money, because I’ll get my money back. I didn’t give you the money; I left it for your use for two weeks, so pay me what should be paid for two weeks’ use of such an amount of money. The interest payment is basically rent on the money, renting out money. A loan is a kind of renting out of money—except that the Torah forbids taking interest. The Torah is basically saying you’re not allowed to rent out the money; you have to lend it. And lending means renting without money, okay? Without compensation. Not without money—I’m lending money here—but I don’t receive compensation for that lending. So in effect, the person standing opposite me received something from me, but he didn’t receive the money. The money is mine. What he received is time of use of the money—that’s what he got. Except that whatever he should have paid in return is defined in Jewish law as interest, and therefore we are forbidden to stipulate payment for the use of money. That’s an interesting question by the way: why? Why am I allowed to rent out anything else but forbidden to rent out money? What’s wrong with renting out money? I’m allowed to rent out an apartment, I’m allowed to rent out a car, I’m allowed to rent out a hammer or a drill, so why is it forbidden to rent out money? What’s the difference? Fine, interesting question. But the claim is this: although it isn’t true that this is a gift, what you receive from me is not the money. You receive from me the time during which you can make use of my money, or this money. And afterward you return me the money because your time is up. You received the money for a fixed time, okay? And in the meantime you can use it. Contrast that, for example, with a deposit. When I deposit my money with you, that’s something completely different, because there you have to keep that money in an envelope and you may not do business with it or use it, because there you’re a custodian, not a borrower. That’s the difference between a custodian and a borrower, even though in both cases I give you money and you give it back to me after two weeks. But the borrower receives the money for his use during those two weeks; the custodian has to guard the envelope for me—the envelope with the money—and return it to me after two weeks. In principle he has to return those same coins, not different coins of the same amount—in principle, okay?
So in effect it comes out like this: there is an element of gift here. The gift element is the value of the money, the use value of the money, or the time of use of the money. So you received money from me for a period of time. And what are you supposed to return to me? After all, this is a transaction, right? In transactions we said there are two sides. What are you supposed to return to me? In principle, interest. Interest is the payment for holding the money, for the waiting period of money. But there is no interest; the Torah forbids it. So basically this is a gift. The gift, again, is not the money—it’s the money-for-a-time, that is the gift. Time of use of the money, that’s the gift you receive. And in return there is no compensation. You don’t pay me for that anything, anything else. On the contrary, anything at all—even interest that is not monetary interest but verbal interest, yes? Somebody suddenly says hello to me; he never used to say such a warm hello to me. After I lent him money, suddenly he gives me some heartfelt blessing, hello. Forbidden—that’s verbal interest. He’s doing something because he received money, so that’s an extra compensation beyond the return of the money itself. That’s forbidden. Okay? In principle this is a transaction that is essentially defined as one-sided. I give him the money for a period of use, and he’s forbidden to pay me for that in any way. So in what sense is there a transaction here? Why is this a transaction? Here it’s not even like the discussions about gifts, of when you acquire it and so on, because there you have various objects given as gifts, each acquired differently. But here in a loan, the moment you took the money, you took the money. What is there to write here about the laws of loans? What’s relevant? Basically all of this should have appeared in Yoreh De’ah.
[Speaker E] It becomes relevant if he doesn’t want to pay it back.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, then afterward it becomes relevant in the laws governing judges. If someone doesn’t want to repay, then the judges have to deal with it. Okay, so that’s in the laws of evidence—you need to discuss it there—but that’s not connected to the laws of loans. The laws of loans as such have nothing in them. But the laws of loans do appear in Choshen Mishpat; they do appear in Choshen Mishpat. Now look: in principle, although you receive the money for a period of time, the Talmud says in several places, “a loan was given to be spent.” What does that mean? The money that you received becomes entirely your money. You don’t have to return to me that same money itself—after all, you use it, you buy, you do transactions with it, and so on. You have to return to me the same amount but in other bills or coins, in principle, okay? So in fact you receive the money itself as a gift too, not only the time of use of the money. Why isn’t the money completely a gift? Because you have an obligation to repay. But again a problem arises here, because halakhically there is such a principle called “his act of acquisition has expired.” What does that mean? If I performed an act of acquisition—or betrothal, or whatever—and I want the acquisition to take effect only in a month, there’s no such thing. Once you did the act of acquisition, if something is supposed to take effect it has to take effect now. If it doesn’t take effect now, it won’t suddenly arise from nowhere in a month.
[Speaker E] Unless I made a condition.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] With a condition it doesn’t work that way. Look in Beit Yishai, section 35 in the first volume—he elaborates there on why there is no problem of “his act of acquisition has expired” in the case of a condition. He argues that the obligation under a condition happens immediately. Even in a condition phrased as “if,” which is only supposed to be fulfilled when the condition is met—not in a condition of “on condition that,” which means from now—even there the obligation is basically created now. It’s just that, as he calls it, there’s a “destroying angel,” yes? Some kind of demon that keeps the legal effect suspended in the air, not letting it take effect yet until the condition is fulfilled. But the legal effect is created immediately. There is no such thing as a delayed legal effect. If you completed the act of acquisition, then now whatever can come into being must come into being; whatever does not come into being now will not come into being later. It’s kind of a physicalist conception, as though the legal act produces something, so once the legal act is over, if it didn’t get produced, how will it suddenly come into being a week later from nowhere? It’s somewhat similar to the view of physicists.
[Speaker F] There’s the whole Rabbi Shimon Shkop who explains this whole matter. Can’t hear? There’s the whole Rabbi Shimon Shkop who explains this whole matter. There’s the whole Rabbi Shimon Shkop who explains this whole matter with the condition until thirty days and so on and so on.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, lots of people explain it, Rabbi Shimon Shkop too, yes. But on “his act of acquisition has expired” Rabbi Shlomo Fischer speaks about it. It reminded me, for example, of physicists. When we study physics in high school, how do we study it? Two masses standing at a certain distance exert a force on each other inversely proportional to the distance between them, right? The square of the distance. Yes—the field is inversely proportional to the distance, the potential; the force is by the square of the distance. It’s the product of the masses divided by the square of the distance. So ostensibly it comes out that there is what’s called action at a distance. There’s a mass here and another mass there, and they exert force on each other from a distance. But physicists don’t accept such a thing. There is no such thing as action at a distance. Meaning, if one mass acts on another, then apparently some wave is sent from this mass to that one, and that wave pulls it. They can’t act on each other at a distance. Action is never done at a distance; action is always an action of contact. And if the mass doesn’t touch the other mass, then it sends some agent to touch it and do what needs to be done. Those are gravitational waves, never mind, gravitons and things like that. So too with electrical force: when two charges stand opposite each other, the force between them is proportional to distance—to the square— inversely proportional to the square of the distance, the product of the charges divided by the square of the distance. And again, they basically send waves that pull each other; it’s not action at a distance. In a similar way, that’s the principle of “his act of acquisition has expired,” except here it’s on the axis of time, not the axis of distance. There cannot be action at a distance on the axis of time. Meaning, if I perform a legal act now, the result cannot arise from nowhere in a month. There has to be contact on the axis of time between the cause and the effect. The moment the cause occurs, immediately afterward the effect has to appear. If the effect didn’t appear immediately afterward, it won’t appear later, because there’s nothing to bring it about. After all, the cause has already ended. What will bring it? You see? That’s exactly the idea of action at a distance, except here the distance is on the axis of time, not the axis of space. In other words, there cannot be an action at a distance on the axis of time.
I return to loans. So how exactly, in a plain thirty-day loan, does your obligation arise in thirty days to return the money to me?
[Speaker F] You have my money?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No—that’s what I said, no, it’s not my money. “A loan was given to be spent”—you can do what you want with the money. In a month you have to return money to me. How is that born? You tell me it’s born from the act of the loan, which is basically a transaction. I give you money and in return you have to return me money, that same money—it doesn’t matter, some kind of exchange of the same amount of money I mean, not the same coins. Okay? The same sum of money. So yes, there is some sort of two-sided transaction here. I give you money and you undertake to return me money in a month. But even so, this obligation that suddenly arises out of nowhere in a month—that doesn’t work. It can’t happen. Because the act that created that obligation was done today. So how does an obligation suddenly arise in a month? Something must already be created now. That something is called a debt. I gave you money, and a debt is immediately created. Debt doesn’t mean that right now you must pay me. Debt means that right now you owe me. When do you have to realize the obligation, to repay the loan? In a month. But that month is no longer from nowhere, because the debt exists. The debt was created at the moment of the loan. The debt is the result of giving the money, and after a month the debt that already exists is the reason why now there is a practical obligation on you to repay the loan, meaning to clear the debt. Okay? That is the mechanism of a loan.
Now you see why a loan is a transaction. Because a loan is a two-sided transaction. And not regarding the payment for the waiting period of the money. The payment for the waiting period of the money—which is really what you received—that isn’t a transaction at all, that’s a gift; you receive it as a gift, because paying for it is interest. So how do we define the act of the loan? In order for the act to be legally valid, in order for me to succeed in creating your obligation to repay me, there is no choice, and what we do is define the loan as a transaction. And what we say is this: you received money, and I in return received a debt. A right was created for me against you. That right is called a debt. You owe me money. Okay? So what you return me afterward—that money—is your money. It’s not my money coming back to me. It’s your money. What I get when I gave you the money is not money back; it’s a debt. In thirty days you have an obligation to clear the debt, to nullify it, yes, to make it disappear. How do you do that? By returning the amount of money you received. That is the meaning of debt. By the way, parallel to that there is also a lien—another legal definition that also basically comes to ensure that in the end you really do return the money to me. A lien has two dimensions: there is a lien on the person and a lien on property. A lien on property is subject to a dispute whether it is Torah-level or rabbinic, but the lien on the person certainly exists. The person has to return my loan to me. And also his property—you can go after his property—that is certainly Torah-level, unrelated to whether lien is Torah-level or rabbinic. The Torah-level/rabbinic issue regarding lien is connected to the question of what happens if I already sold the field to someone and now suddenly the lender comes and wants to take the field from the buyer. That is the discussion whether it is Torah-level or rabbinic. But the lien on property, or the lien that exists on me myself and on my free assets—not property already sold—that is Torah-level. So this lien is also part of the laws of the transaction of a loan. But the whole definition of this thing as a transaction is a fiction. It’s not really a transaction. After all, essentially the only interest here is your interest as the recipient. I have no interest in this transaction. I would be very happy not to give you the money, not to receive a debt, and not to get mixed up in all the laws of debt collection. Do I need this headache? I have the money now; let it stay with me and that’s it. So it’s not really a transaction in the essential sense. It’s a transaction in which I give and you don’t give back—what Peres once called “give-and-give.” Not give-and-take, but give-and-give. I give you and receive no compensation. But because of the legal difficulties I described earlier, Jewish law defines this as a two-sided transaction. And therefore it appears in Choshen Mishpat. The two-sided transaction basically says: I give you money, and you give me, as it were—or there is created in you—a debt. That is the compensation I receive for the gift of the money. And again, this is not substantive compensation. I don’t want the debt and don’t want anything; I’d prefer not to give you the money at all. I gain nothing from it. But as a legal definition, it is the definition of a two-sided transaction. I give you money and you become obligated to me. A debt of yours toward me is created. That is basically the essence of the transaction of a loan.
All the obligations that accompany the transaction of a loan—for example, the prohibition of interest, or the commandment to lend to the poor, because there is such a commandment—all that will appear in Yoreh De’ah, not in Choshen Mishpat. Because in truth, in essence a loan is a gift. A gift of time, of the waiting period of the money. Okay? So essentially it isn’t a transaction at all. But the legal definition of a loan, so that it will be possible to implement this kind of monetary relationship between people, to create lender and borrower, requires us to define it as a two-sided transaction: I give you money and in return a debt to me is created in you. Now, there is a very interesting phenomenon here, because the Talmud in several places says that repayment of a debt is a commandment. A statement of Rav Pappa in several places. What does that mean? The Talmud says, for example, that since it is a commandment, coercion is applied. But we already saw that coercion regarding commandments is coercion without going after property, right? I beat you until you pay me the debt. Whereas coercion regarding a loan involves going after property. In that sense it’s like coercion in Choshen Mishpat. Another practical difference, the Talmud says, concerns orphans. Do orphans have to pay their father’s debt? We’re talking about money they inherited from their father. So the Talmud says: minors are not subject to performing commandments. Minors are not obligated in commandments. Repayment of a debt is a commandment. Minors are not obligated in commandments, so they are exempt. When they grow up, they will be obligated to pay. Obligated to pay, again—not from their own money, but from the property they inherited from their father.
Now again: this means that repayment is a commandment. That belongs not to Choshen Mishpat but to Yoreh De’ah. Because understand: if, for example, the father of those orphans stole from me and he has my cow in his possession, then I’m not interested in whether the orphans are minors. The cow is mine; I come to take it. It’s not a commandment upon them to return my cow. They have no commandment—they didn’t steal. Their father stole. “And he shall return the theft that he stole”—that commandment is on their father. They have no commandment at all. The claim here is monetary: my cow is by you, hand it over. I simply take it because it’s mine, not because they are obligated in commandments. But in a loan—I think if I asked you, you’d say it’s the same thing. What does the commandments of the orphans have to do with it? They have money that is mine; I want my hundred shekels. No. The Talmud says repayment of a debt is a commandment, and the orphans are not subject to performing commandments, so they don’t have to give. Wait—but there’s money of mine there! No, there’s no money of mine. The money is not mine. I gave the money as a gift, only there is a commandment after thirty days to return, or after a year, however long you decide—there is a commandment to give me a gift back. The orphans are not subject to performing commandments.
Now the point that emerges from this is really that on the one hand a loan very much looks like—maybe I’ll sharpen this a bit more. Suppose I promised to give you a hundred shekels. Just like that. I promised that in a month I’d give you a hundred shekels. And in a month I don’t feel like giving it, so I don’t. Can you sue me in a religious court? The answer is no. I promised; I didn’t promise to make it legally enforceable. I don’t owe you; you have no right to receive it. I promised to give. I swore to give. Not just promised—I swore that I’d give you. Even then you can’t sue me. The court will compel me to give so that I won’t violate “he shall not break his word,” by virtue of coercion regarding commandments. But that is coercion of Yoreh De’ah, not coercion of Choshen Mishpat. The laws of oaths appear in Yoreh De’ah, not Choshen Mishpat. It’s not like coercion where someone whom I damaged can sue me to pay him. Okay? But a loan, seemingly, is the same thing. You have a commandment to pay me a hundred shekels in a month. So plainly I should not have been able to sue you at all. The court might perhaps compel you to fulfill the commandment resting on you. But that’s not the case. A loan appears in Choshen Mishpat, and you can compel even by going after property if you don’t pay. So what is it? Is it a commandment? Is it a transaction? Is it a legal obligation? How should we relate to this thing? It’s some kind of hybrid creature, as if it’s a transaction but not really a transaction. It’s Choshen Mishpat but basically resembles Yoreh De’ah. What kind of animal is this?
So again, without getting into all sorts of disputes and details, I’ll present at least what I think is the bottom line. The bottom line is that, as I said earlier, from the conceptual analysis of a loan it came out as follows. In its essence, a loan is not a transaction. In its essence, a loan is a gift, and afterward there is a commandment on you to give me a gift back. It should have appeared in Yoreh De’ah. Why does it appear in Choshen Mishpat? Because in order to create your obligation to give me the money back, we have to define the act of the loan as a two-sided transaction. I give you money and in return receive a debt. Once it is a transaction, it belongs to Choshen Mishpat. Now Rav Pappa’s claim that repayment of a debt is a commandment basically means the following. At base, repaying the debt is a commandment. It is not a legal obligation; it is a commandment. But the Torah says that once you have the commandment to repay the debt, it also establishes a legal lien upon you. But all that is only if you have the commandment. The orphans, who are not subject to performing commandments, do not have the commandment of debt repayment. Since they do not have the commandment of debt repayment, the lien likewise does not exist. Because the lien is not really created by the transaction; the lien is created because the Torah gave a commandment, and the Torah fixed the definition of that commandment such that the one upon whom the commandment rests is legally obligated to the lender. A debt is created; the lender has, as it were, a right to collect the loan. But it all begins from the fact that this is a commandment. There is a very strange hybrid creature here inside this world of transactions and Choshen Mishpat.
Now I asked: why do we go after property in the transaction of a loan? After all, it’s a commandment. Seemingly this should be coercion like Yoreh De’ah: you need to force him to pay, but not take his money and give it to the lender. The answer: because this transaction, this loan, is defined as a transaction once someone is obligated in the commandment. And if you, the borrower, are obligated in the commandment to repay—repayment of a debt is a commandment—the Torah defines your obligation to repay as the lender’s legal right. But the Torah defined it that way. And now, since I have a legal right, we can go after property. So on the one hand, we go after property like any monetary transaction; on the other hand, the orphans are not subject to performing commandments—it’s a commandment, it’s Yoreh De’ah, not Choshen Mishpat—so they do not have to pay. Why? Because going after property is not really due to a transaction. It is defined as a transaction after the Torah determined that there is a commandment to repay. But that all applies only to someone upon whom the commandment to repay rests. The orphans do not have the commandment to repay, so the legal consequences that accompany it do not exist with respect to them, and therefore one also does not go after property. When they grow up, that’s something else. Now, that is the principled definition.
[Speaker B] Now I want to continue one more step further and say,
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I mentioned earlier the Talmudic statement that “a loan was given to be spent.” Yes, therefore the Talmud says that if someone betroths with a loan, she is not betrothed. Meaning, I gave a woman a loan of a hundred shekels. Okay? Now she owes me a hundred shekels. Now I say to the woman: with this debt that you owe me, I want to betroth you. Meaning, take the hundred shekels that you owe me, and with that I betroth you. The Talmud says she is not betrothed. Why? Because a loan was given to be spent. What does that mean? It’s what I described to you earlier: when I gave you a loan of a hundred shekels, those hundred shekels are not my hundred shekels that happen to be in your possession. They are your hundred shekels. You can do with them whatever you want, give them as a gift, do transactions with them. In thirty days you’ll have to return me a hundred shekels. But those hundred shekels that you received became a gift. “A loan was given to be spent.” The money of the lender was given to be spent; you can spend it, you can do what you want with it. You don’t have to keep it for me and return it after a month. Usually people understand “a loan was given to be spent” to mean that the very coins I gave you become yours. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have with you a value of a hundred shekels that you owe me. You just don’t have to pay it specifically with those coins, but with any money you want. That is the usual conception of a loan. The usual conception of a loan is that yes, the money I gave you became entirely yours and you can do what you want with it. But still, I have with you the value of a hundred shekels—not specific hundred shekels. I have with you the value of a hundred shekels, and that is the debt you owe me.
[Speaker B] But look, it’s not so simple.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maybe before I say why it’s not so simple: then why is “betrothing with a loan” invalid? Because in effect I didn’t give the woman anything; the things were already hers. The money I gave her is hers, so with what did I betroth her? What do you mean, I betrothed her with the debt? There was a value of a hundred shekels that she owed me and I waived it. That isn’t called a concrete transfer. You didn’t give her something concrete. And that’s usually how people understand it—that there is some rule in betrothal and also in acquisitions, because in acquisitions too you can’t acquire through a loan; the same law applies to a purchase just as with betrothal, because in order to perform an act of acquisition you need to give a concrete transfer. And the money you gave beforehand, which was a concrete transfer, is already hers. And the debt is not a concrete transfer. That’s how it is usually understood. But it seems to me that this is not the correct understanding. I want to argue, following the analysis I made earlier, that the money you received becomes entirely yours and I have nothing with you—not even the value of a hundred shekels. I have nothing with you. In a month you will have to pay me a hundred shekels. In between, what there is is a fiction of debt. You owe me a hundred shekels; in a month that will be realized in the form of your having to give me a concrete hundred shekels, but it is not correct to define it as if I presently have with you an abstract value of a hundred shekels. Then it becomes much clearer why you can’t betroth with a loan. Because what exactly does it mean to betroth with a loan? What am I giving her? She has nothing there that is mine that I am now giving her. At most you can say that I forgave her the obligation that in a month she would have had to pay me, to give me back a gift of a hundred shekels. That is not called giving. That is called waiving something that in the future she would have had to give. It’s not that she received something from me; rather, I prevented her loss. In halakhic jargon that is called driving away a lion. I basically drove a lion away from her. Think of a case where a lion comes to devour your lamb, and I fought the lion and saved the lamb for you. Did I give you something? The lamb was yours and remained yours; I didn’t give you anything. I prevented a loss for you. I didn’t give you some addition you didn’t have before; I prevented a potential loss. That is called driving away a lion. The claim is that in betrothal with a loan, when I want to tell her, okay, so in a month you won’t have to give me a hundred shekels, that is not called giving her something. I drove away from her the lion that would have taken a hundred shekels from her in a month. That isn’t called giving; it’s called preventing a loss. Because the assumption—and this is the perspective—is that right now all that money is hers and I have nothing at her disposal. In a month a lion will come and devour a hundred shekels from her; she will have to give me, from her own money, a gift of a hundred shekels, and that is what I prevented. I saved her from that future lion. Okay? That is not called giving. Therefore you can’t betroth that way, and you can’t acquire that way with monetary acquisition, because she received nothing.
I’ll give another example. The Talmud in tractate Nedarim, for example, says that someone who is forbidden to derive benefit from his fellow may nevertheless repay his debt. Meaning, suppose Yossi is forbidden to benefit from me. Okay? I imposed on Yossi a prohibition to benefit from my property; he may not benefit from my assets. Now I know that Yossi owes money to Avraham, so I go to Avraham and pay Yossi’s debt. Am I allowed to do that? After all, he is forbidden to benefit from my money. The Talmud says yes, and so too it is ruled in Jewish law—yes, it’s allowed. What’s the explanation? The Talmud explains in Nedarim 33, I think, that it is because he is merely driving away a lion. What does “driving away a lion” mean? It means that I didn’t actually give Yossi anything. I removed from him a potential loss that was expected to happen to him in a month. In a month Avraham would have come and taken a hundred shekels from him—but he would have taken from him a hundred shekels that are now entirely Yossi’s, not Avraham’s. And therefore in fact Yossi had a hundred shekels and remained with a hundred shekels. When I repaid his debt to Avraham, what I actually did was prevent the potential loss that he would have had to lose a hundred shekels. That is not called giving him anything. There isn’t with him a hundred shekels that he received from me; rather, I merely prevented a possible loss of a hundred shekels. That is not called benefit, and that is permitted even in a case of one forbidden to derive benefit. I think this is an excellent proof for this conception of a loan. Because it means that when I say you owe me money, that doesn’t mean that with you there is a value of a hundred shekels that belongs to me. Because then I gave you money, it belonged to me, and now I transferred it to you. That’s not driving away a lion; I gave you value. But if not, I claim—what nonsense, there’s nothing with you. There is only the fact that in a month there will arise upon you a commandment to give me a hundred shekels. That commandment is what I neutralized. So I prevented your loss; I didn’t give you money. Preventing a loss is not a transfer that can betroth a woman. The fact that I prevented a woman from suffering a loss isn’t called betrothing her. In order to betroth her, you have to give her something, not prevent her losses. Therefore with a debt one cannot betroth. Because when I waive her debt, I haven’t given her anything; I only prevented her loss resulting from the future commandment that was expected to rest on her, that she would give me a hundred shekels.
And then we arrive at a very interesting definition of the concept of a loan. In fact, the debt that is created against the money is not even what people usually think on the legal plane—a value of a hundred shekels of mine that is with you. Not specific hundred shekels, but the value of a hundred shekels. No. Rather, it is a kind of potential for a future commandment to give me a hundred shekels. A potential that in a month will generate a commandment upon you to give me a gift of a hundred shekels. That is what is called debt. Therefore, if I waive your debt, it is only driving away a lion; it is preventing a loss. It isn’t giving you anything. If you had with you a value of a hundred shekels of mine and I waived it, then that value would have been mine and become yours—I would have given you something. But waiving a loan isn’t giving anything. Let me maybe give you—this is what I started saying earlier—why the ordinary conception of a loan is problematic. Suppose you have a thousand shekels and you borrowed from me; you owe me a hundred shekels, you borrowed a hundred shekels from me. You have a thousand shekels. Now you go and give a thousand shekels as a gift to someone else, and you’re left with nothing to repay me. Are you allowed to do that? Are you allowed to give him a thousand shekels? The answer is yes. There is nothing there that is mine—not even an undefined hundred shekels within the thousand. One might have thought to say that this is like a kind of selection, yes? That some particular hundred shekels within the thousand are mine, without defining which hundred shekels. If that were the definition, then you would have been allowed to give away one hundred and another hundred and another hundred up to nine hundred, but in the end the last hundred remaining with you would already be forbidden to give away, because they would belong to me. But the claim is that halakhically you are allowed to give away the entire thousand shekels as a gift. That means that I do not have with you a hundred shekels—even an undefined hundred shekels I don’t have with you. So what is debt? Debt is a potential that will give rise to a commandment upon you to give me a gift back in a month.
Okay, we’ll stop here. I’ll continue a bit next time. As I said, we’ll finish the subject of loans, and after that we’ll discuss what money is, monetary acquisition, barter, all the simple things—understanding the foundations. What are transactions? What is Choshen Mishpat? Conceptual definitions of the basic concepts. Okay. Thank you very much. If anyone wants to comment or ask, you can. Very difficult.
[Speaker D] What? Very difficult. Can’t hear. It’s very difficult. This whole line of thought is really hard. Nice.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay then, all the best, goodbye, Sabbath peace.
[Speaker B] Goodbye, Sabbath peace.
[Speaker D] Peace.