Dispute and Truth – Lesson 8
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
- Pluralism and monism in Jewish law
- Harmonism and “These and these are the words of the living God”
- Practical differences between a pluralist and a tolerant monist
- A method of clarification: from thought to practical Jewish law
- Causing someone to stumble in prohibition as a test case between the positions
- The topic of sukkah decorations and the incident involving Rav Nachman
- Ritva, Chullin, and the distinction between a noticeable and an unnoticeable prohibition
- A ruling in favor of tolerant monism and the threefold litmus test
- Three circles: truth, legitimate error, and illegitimate error
- Reasoning versus bottom lines and majority rule in halakhic rulings
- The paradox of judgment and examples from the High Court of Justice
- A practical justification for the majority rule on the bottom line
Summary
General Overview
The text presents three positions regarding halakhic truth and tolerance: pluralism, which recognizes a multiplicity of halakhic truths; monism, which recognizes one truth and divides into tolerant monism and intolerant monism; and it proposes a way to examine the question not through ideological manifestos but through the actual behavior of Jewish law in practice. It argues that the phrase “These and these are the words of the living God” fits monism by means of harmonism, in which the reasons on both sides are correct but only one weighing is correct, and that tolerant monism is distinguished from pluralism not only in motives but also in listening, openness, and the radius of tolerance. From passages in Sukkah and Chullin and from Ritva, a ruling is presented in favor of tolerant monism, and later a distinction is discussed between reasons and the bottom line in majority rulings, including the paradox of judgment and a practical justification for following bottom lines despite the aspiration to truth.
Pluralism and monism in Jewish law
The text divides the positions into three: pluralism, which recognizes multiple halakhic truths; monism, which recognizes one truth; and monism, which divides into tolerant monism and intolerant monism. Tolerant monism holds that there is one halakhic truth but treats someone who lives in error with tolerance out of the moral consideration of respecting autonomy, while intolerant monism holds that there is one truth with no value of tolerance toward those who disagree. The text argues that pluralism and tolerant monism look practically similar but differ in motivation, because the pluralist does not coerce since the other person is also right, while the tolerant monist refrains from coercion out of restraint in light of the value of autonomy, even though he thinks the other person is mistaken.
Harmonism and “These and these are the words of the living God”
The text proposes harmonism as a monistic reading of “These and these are the words of the living God,” in which both sides present correct reasons, but only one side is right in the overall weighing, and therefore only one Jewish law is true. The text attributes to Rabbi Yosef Karo the claim that Beit Hillel were right even though they were less sharp, because their method was more correct: they stated the words of Beit Shammai before their own and listened before forming their position. The text states that in disputes between intelligent people, the reasons are usually correct on both sides, and the argument centers on the weight given to the different reasons, so one can say “the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel because they are right” without contradicting “These and these are the words of the living God,” because the reasons of Beit Shammai are still correct even though their weighing is mistaken.
Practical differences between a pluralist and a tolerant monist
The text states that a pluralist has no value-based reason to listen and be open to additional arguments, because he is a priori resigned to the impossibility of reaching truth, and there is no meaning to being more right or more wrong, whereas a tolerant monist believes in one truth but need not be certain that the truth is with him, and therefore it is worthwhile for him to listen in order to learn and because it may turn out that he was mistaken. The text adds a difference of “the radius of tolerance,” in which a substantive pluralist is supposed to relate equally to every opinion regardless of the price or the way it was formed, while a tolerant monist sets a boundary beyond which he will not relate with tolerance. The text presents parameters for determining the radius, including the price of the possible harm and the level of seriousness with which the position was formed, and explains that in tolerant monism non-intervention is sometimes the result of tension between the desire to prevent harmful error and respect for autonomy, so in some cases the first value may prevail and coercion may appear.
A method of clarification: from thought to practical Jewish law
The text rejects clarification through introductions to books of thought and books of Jewish law, because people write there “without responsibility” and do not stand behind those statements as they do in practical halakhic rulings. The text argues that a practical halakhic position is stated seriously because a person is prepared to desecrate the Sabbath on its basis and it is the result of deliberation, not an ideological declaration. The text proposes looking for a halakhic passage that can decide between pluralism and monism through the law in a case where one person causes another to act in a way that, according to the person caused to stumble, is forbidden, but according to the one causing it, is permitted.
Causing someone to stumble in prohibition as a test case between the positions
The text argues that according to pluralism, it is forbidden to cause someone to stumble in something that he considers forbidden, because from the pluralist’s perspective it is truly forbidden for him, and therefore it is a transgression for him. The text argues that in monism the situation is the reverse, because the monist thinks he is right and the other is wrong, and therefore apparently there is no barrier to causing him to stumble in something that he considers permitted, and the claim “maybe I am mistaken” does not cancel acting in accordance with one’s conclusion, because “a judge has only what his eyes can see.” The text presents the Brisker school as a de facto pluralism that leads to stringency in order to satisfy all opinions because of unwillingness to decide which of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) is right, and tells about Rav Chaim, who sent questions to Rabbi Yitzchak Elchanan in order to receive a yes-or-no answer without reasons because he would raise counterarguments to every reason, and about how Rav Chaim would send questioners to Rav Simcha Zelig because he generally did not answer halakhic questions.
The topic of sukkah decorations and the incident involving Rav Nachman
The text cites Sukkah 10b: “Decorations of a sukkah that are distant from it by four [handbreadths],” where Rav Nachman says it is valid, and Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna say it is invalid. The text describes how Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna happened to come to the house of the Exilarch, and Rav Nachman seated them in a sukkah whose decorations were four handbreadths below the roofing, even though according to them the sukkah was invalid, and they remained silent until Rav Nachman asked whether they had retracted, and they answered: “We are agents engaged in a commandment and are exempt from the sukkah.” The text concludes that Rav Nachman’s action is a case of causing someone to stumble in something that, according to the person caused to stumble, is forbidden, and according to the one causing it, is permitted, and therefore Rav Nachman was not a pluralist, and it notes that the Jewish law is ruled in accordance with Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna in Maimonides and the Shulchan Arukh. The text states that the fact that the proof comes from Rav Nachman even though his view is not the accepted Jewish law is not troubling, because “we do not multiply disputes,” and there is no proof that Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna disagree with him on the basic meta-halakhic question.
Ritva, Chullin, and the distinction between a noticeable and an unnoticeable prohibition
The text quotes Ritva, who emphasizes that Rav Nachman seated them there “according to his own view,” even though he still did not know that they had retracted or that they were agents engaged in a commandment, and formulates the issue as “placing a stumbling block before one who can see.” The text cites in Ritva an anonymous opinion that from here one learns that if a person feeds his fellow something that is permitted according to his own view, there is no violation of “do not place a stumbling block” even if he knows that his fellow forbids it, and then cites Ritva’s conclusion that this applies specifically when the prohibition is noticeable to the other person, so that if he does not agree he will not eat, but when it is not noticeable to him it is forbidden. The text brings as proof the passage in Chullin, “Far be it from the descendants of Abba bar Abba to feed him something he does not hold by,” and presents Ritva’s resolution that the contradiction between Sukkah and Chullin is resolved by distinguishing between a visible prohibition and a hidden prohibition, and adds: “And so my teacher, the Rabbi, instructed me,” while noting a reservation that where the Jewish law has already been decided, of course one should not act otherwise.
A ruling in favor of tolerant monism and the threefold litmus test
The text argues that Ritva’s distinction is incomprehensible if one chooses only between pluralism and intolerant monism, because a pluralist would prohibit even in a noticeable prohibition, while an intolerant monist would permit even in a prohibition that is not noticeable. The text states that the distinction is explained precisely by tolerant monism: it is permitted to cause stumbling when it is obvious, because the autonomy of the person caused to stumble is preserved to choose according to his own view, and it is forbidden when the matter is hidden, because his autonomy to make an informed decision according to his own position is harmed. The text concludes that the three positions yield three different answers: pluralism always forbids, intolerant monism always permits, and tolerant monism permits only when the prohibition is noticeable and forbids when it is hidden, and therefore only tolerant monism explains both Sukkah and Chullin. The text attaches this to an earlier claim according to which, in the dispute itself over the interpretation of “These and these,” one cannot be a pluralist with regard to the question whether pluralism is correct, and presents the passages as halakhic proof in favor of tolerant monism against pluralism and against intolerant monism.
Three circles: truth, legitimate error, and illegitimate error
The text describes three circles in Jewish law: the halakhic truth according to the monist, legitimate errors that lie within the radius of tolerance, and illegitimate errors outside the radius of tolerance. The text interprets “These and these are the words of the living God” as expressing a tolerant attitude even toward opinions that are not correct when they are legitimate errors of Torah scholars who raise correct reasons and err in the weighing, and by contrast states that regarding the positions of an ignoramus that are not based on correct reasons, one does not say “the words of the living God.” The text uses this to answer the question why one should not also recognize Reform Jews, Christians, and pagans as “the words of the living God,” and states that the answer is that this is tolerant monism, in which tolerance stops according to a radius affected by cost and by the seriousness with which the position was formed.
Reasoning versus bottom lines and majority rule in halakhic rulings
The text presents a double perspective on Jewish law: on the level of reasons, “everyone is right,” while on the level of the bottom line only one is true, and it raises questions about situations where there is a majority for the bottom line but not a majority for the reasons, when the judges agree on the result for different reasons. The text cites Choshen Mishpat section 25, paragraph 2, in the name of Maharik through the Rema, that one follows the majority “even if the majority do not agree for the same reason,” as long as they agree regarding the legal ruling, and cites the Shakh, who qualifies this by saying that in a Torah-level prohibition, from written works one should not follow a majority of lenient positions based on two different reasons, because the majority are not before us and it may be that with regard to each reason the main view follows the stringent side. The text states that according to the Shakh, when the majority are before us in an actual discussion, then “it is obvious that we follow them” even without a single reason, because we do not find that the Sanhedrin must state one reason, and adds that it has been attributed to the Chazon Ish that there is no obligation to follow the majority of halakhic decisors when they did not discuss the matter with one another.
The paradox of judgment and examples from the High Court of Justice
The text presents the paradox of judgment by means of a contract that requires two determinations, one factual and one interpretive, and demonstrates a situation in which there is a majority on the bottom line of exemption but there is a separate majority for each component of the reasoning that leads to liability. The text brings an example from a High Court of Justice ruling on a child abduction under the Hague Convention, in which all the judges determined that there had been an abduction, but they disagreed over whether there had been “consent” or “acquiescence,” so that two judges exempted on two different grounds and one judge required return, while on each individual ground there was a majority that it had not been fulfilled. The text states that in law and in Jewish law in practice one follows bottom lines, and illustrates that even in capital law one can formulate a situation in which there is a majority imposing death, but each judge gives a different type of labor as the reason, so that on the level of reasons there is no majority for any one type of labor.
A practical justification for the majority rule on the bottom line
The text proposes an explanation that preferring the bottom line is not giving up on truth but choosing a simple rule that does not require complicated calculations of dependence, probability, and the quality of judges. The text describes a statistical claim according to which, when one combines chances of error in two separate reasons, it may be that the probability of the combined result is less than one-half even if each component has a majority, and presents an illustrative calculation of 0.7×0.7=0.49 under an assumption of independence. The text explains that there is no practical way to perform such calculations because of assumptions that cannot be measured and the lack of independent feedback on the correctness of the judges, and therefore Jewish law needs a sweeping and simple rule like following the majority on bottom lines. The text adds that if there were judges of exceptional caliber, one might consider not following the majority on the bottom line, but concludes that the simple rule is what enables the system to function.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, last time I spoke about—or rather, I finished the discussion of pluralism and monism in Jewish law. And we saw that there are three possible approaches. There is pluralism, which advocates a multiplicity of truths; there is monism, which speaks about one truth; and monism itself is divided into two subcategories: tolerant monism and intolerant monism. Tolerant monism is a view that says there is one halakhic truth, but I contain, or relate with tolerance to, people who don’t think that way, but think differently, who live in error, let’s call it that. And intolerant monism is a monism that says: the truth is with me, anyone who acts or thinks differently is mistaken, and I do not have the value of tolerance—that is, I don’t relate to him in a tolerant way. Last time I spoke about the idea of harmonism, because the question according to the monistic conception—of one halakhic truth—is how do I read the first half of the heavenly voice that says, “These and these are the words of the living God”? So the claim is that both sides are really speaking in terms of correct reasons, but the weighing is not necessarily correct. As for the weighing, one is right and the other is mistaken. That’s what I spoke about last time. And the claim is that generally, in arguments that take place between intelligent people, or between groups that contain intelligent people, these are arguments in which the reasons on all sides are probably correct. And therefore this is not only in Jewish law, it’s generally true. Usually the argument is only about how to weigh the reasons: which of them is more important, which less important, what weight to assign each reason. And in that argument you can definitely say that the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel because they are right. We saw Rabbi Yosef Karo saying that Beit Hillel were right even though they were less sharp, because they had a more correct method: they stated the words of Beit Shammai before their own and listened before they formulated their own position. And still, that does not contradict the statement that “These and these are the words of the living God,” because both sides offer correct reasons for their positions. But in the weighing, only Beit Hillel are right. That’s the truth. Beit Shammai are not right. Meaning, in that sense it’s not that both Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai are right, but rather that the reasons of all sides are correct. I brought various examples for this, the chocolate example and other examples as well. I said that maybe one last point: I said that although pluralism and tolerant monism on the face of it look very similar on the practical level—in other words, practically speaking, this is a person who holds a certain position and relates tolerantly to a person or groups that hold another position—that is true both in the pluralist picture and in the picture of tolerant monism. The difference is in the motives. The pluralist does it because he thinks the other person is just as right as he is, so there is no reason at all to coerce him or interfere in his life. The tolerant monist does it out of a moral consideration. That is, he claims that a person has a right—or even a duty—to act autonomously, and therefore he does not interfere in his life. But I said there can also be differences on the practical plane, not only on the plane of reasons. On the practical plane I mentioned two differences. One difference is listening and openness. That is, for a pluralist there is no point in listening and no point in being open to additional arguments, because from the outset you are resigned a priori to the possibility of reaching the truth. So hearing more arguments this way or that way won’t make you any more right or wrong than anyone else, because there is no such thing as more right or more wrong. That’s his claim. So for a pluralist there is no reason at all to listen or to be open.
[Speaker B] Maybe just because it’s interesting.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, it’s interesting, but that’s not a reason in the moral sense—it interests you, fine, everyone has his own interests. I’m talking right now about whether it has value. In contrast, a tolerant monist—a tolerant monist is someone who believes in one truth, and also thinks the truth is with him, but he is not necessarily arrogant. Meaning, he is not necessarily sure that the truth is with him and that it can’t be that he’s mistaken. And since that’s the case, it’s worthwhile for him to listen to other positions because… he can learn things he hadn’t thought of. It may be revealed to him that he was actually mistaken and that the truth is otherwise. Precisely because you think there is truth, that is exactly why you need to listen, because even if there is truth, that doesn’t mean you hold it, that you have necessarily reached it. And therefore precisely in the monistic picture of one truth, there is a reason to listen to other opinions and hear other views and so on. That is one difference between a pluralist and a tolerant monist. The second difference is a difference in the question of the radius. That is, the substantive pluralist is really supposed to relate equally to every opinion. It doesn’t matter what its costs are, how far it is from him, how that opinion was formed—all those things are irrelevant, because there is no right and wrong in any substantive sense. That’s his claim. In contrast, for a tolerant monist there is some boundary beyond which he will not relate tolerantly. So that is another practical difference between pluralism and tolerant monism. What is that boundary? I called it the radius of tolerance. I said that this boundary can be determined by several parameters. For example, the question of cost. At the end of the day, if I am a monist and I think I am right and you are mistaken, and as I said earlier I also think your mistake is harmful, and I have the ability to influence you or change your conduct, and I’m not afraid, and all those things hold—then really, why not intervene? Only because I respect your right, and even your duty, to act autonomously. But here that is already the result of some tension or dissonance between two things. After all, I have a reason to intervene. What you are doing is mistaken and harmful, and I care about you, so in that sense I have every reason to intervene. On the other hand, I respect your autonomy, and therefore I nevertheless restrain myself and don’t intervene. In other words, the pluralist does not intervene because he has no reason to intervene. The tolerant monist does not intervene because he restrains himself. Meaning, there is a reason to intervene, but he stops himself. It is the result of tension between two poles. Now when there is tension between two poles, it may be that in one place the first pole prevails and elsewhere the second pole prevails. For example, if I see someone about to take an irreversible step, and it is clear to me that he has not weighed it properly, he has not really made a serious judgment, it may be that I will intervene and coerce him. I will impose it on him—why? Because I know that what he is doing is mistaken, I know that this mistake is harmful, and here I do not respect his autonomy to err or to act as he thinks, because the price is so heavy that I think this outweighs, or overrides, the value of tolerance. For example. Even if—
[Speaker B] You don’t trust his judgment—say someone wants to commit suicide and you arrive at some conclusion about the value of life, and you say, here I would intervene?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maybe not, maybe not. I didn’t say I would intervene there. It depends where each person draws the line. I’m only claiming that on the principled level, a line can appear in tolerant monism in a way that cannot happen in pluralism. Where exactly is the line? Whether to draw it specifically when you think someone is about to commit suicide or not—that’s another question, you can debate it, it’s not clear at all. It may be not. It may depend on whether I understand that this is clinical depression that can in fact be treated with medication, or whether I understand that he is truly in a terrible life situation and there is nothing he can do about it, and then maybe I would respect it. I don’t know. Those are already specific considerations that I won’t get into here. Another parameter that might perhaps affect the placement of this radius—the radius of tolerance—is the question: with what level of seriousness did you formulate your position? That is, you deserve a respectful attitude toward your position if you formulated it seriously enough. You examined the alternatives, you thought, you weighed, you heard the arguments from all sides like Beit Hillel did with Beit Shammai, and then you weighed them and reached the conclusion you reached. So I say: even if I disagree and think you made a mistake, I respect it because you made your judgment and that is your autonomy to act as you think. But if someone doesn’t invest even one gram of energy in hearing other arguments, then am I supposed to tolerate and absorb all the costs and respect his autonomy just because he decided to think differently with no responsibility and no serious judgment? No. Then I will not respect his autonomy in such a case, because he himself is not really acting autonomously. There is nothing there for me to respect. It is not truly autonomous action. You are a person—yes, in contexts—I brought those examples, in contexts of disputes between religious and secular people, for example. So secular people want me to respect their secular position. I am willing to do that if they hear what I have to say, listen very carefully, weigh it, and tell me: you didn’t convince me. I think otherwise. I will respect any conclusion you reach. But if you want me to respect your unwillingness even to listen—that somehow entitles you to respectful treatment for the position you formed—I won’t do that. I will not take seriously a halakhic position of someone who does not know how to learn. I don’t respect such a thing. What I do with that is another question, but certainly I am not going to respect that kind of position. It’s not serious. In other words, if you yourself don’t treat it seriously, how can you expect me to treat it seriously? Up to here, that is what we saw. Now, at the end of last time I began and said that if we want to move toward a decision—who is right? The tolerant monist, the intolerant monist, or the pluralist?—then the way people usually do this is to try to look in books of thought, yes, pluralism, not pluralism, in introductions to books of Jewish law, where people usually lay out their ideological or meta-halakhic outlook and so on. And I said that I am usually skeptical about forms of clarification like that, because in that kind of text people basically write without responsibility. They write whatever seems right to them, this idea, that idea, but they do not really stand behind what they wrote. I brought the example of Maharshal, I think. I think the more correct way to examine such a question is to check how Jewish law itself behaves in practice. Can I find a halakhic statement that will help me decide among these three possibilities? Why? Because where a person expresses a halakhic position, usually he does so seriously. That means it is something he stands behind, he checked it, he is prepared to desecrate the Sabbath for it. In other words, it is the result of deliberation. It is not some Torah-style journalistic manifesto or ideological declaration, but something he is really prepared to stand behind. And the question is how to find a question or halakhic passage through which I can try to decide this dispute or dilemma among the three options: pluralist, tolerant monist, and intolerant monist. So I said—this was at the end of the previous lecture—I said there is an obvious case through which one can test this, and that is the case of causing a person to stumble in an act that according to the person stumbling is forbidden, while according to the person causing it, it is permitted. This is at the end of Sukkot. Yes, in tractate Sukkah. If I cause someone to stumble—I cause him to eat something that according to him is forbidden and according to me is permitted. So let’s do the calculation. If I am a pluralist, what should the halakhic answer be here? Am I allowed to cause him to stumble? Am I forbidden to? Forbidden, right? Since if according to him it is forbidden, and I am a pluralist, then from my perspective it is truly forbidden for him. And from my perspective it is truly permitted as well, because there is a multiplicity of halakhic positions. That is the pluralist conception. So that means I may not cause him to stumble in a transgression, because from his point of view it really is a transgression. Wait, one second, we’ll get there in a moment. That is with regard to pluralism. With regard to monism, the situation is the opposite, because as a monist I think I am right and you are wrong. So the fact that you think it is forbidden means you are just living in error. Why shouldn’t I cause you to stumble in this matter, since I’m not causing you to stumble in anything—I think it’s permitted. Now one can raise objections, yes, but maybe you are wrong? Who says you are right? Maybe he is right? After all, we said that even if I am a monist, that doesn’t mean I also have to be arrogant, absolutely sure that I am right. I think there is one truth, and I am not sure that I am right and you are wrong, so maybe he is right. That is not an argument. Why is it not an argument? Because at the end of the day I am supposed to reach my conclusions, and I always know my conclusions are not certain, but this is the conclusion I have reached. As long as no one has convinced me otherwise—I can talk with him, argue with him, let him try to convince me that I’m mistaken, all fine—he didn’t convince me, I heard everything. So if this is my position, I act on that basis. I am not worried, maybe I’m mistaken. Otherwise, in every halakhic question, I think X but there are people who think Y, maybe I’m mistaken, so I won’t act as I think. No. A person—“a judge has only what his eyes can see.” In the end, a person is supposed to do what he thinks. I mentioned in a parallel series what is customary in the Brisker school, yes? It is well known that they are very, very stringent. They try to fulfill all opinions, all the opinions of the medieval authorities (Rishonim), and therefore in practice they are very stringent in Jewish law. Okay? People think this is the result of fear of Heaven. Exactly—the reason is pluralism. Meaning, the reason for it is that in Brisker thinking they do not believe in their ability to decide who is right. All the medieval authorities (Rishonim) are equally right, so how can you determine who was right, Maimonides or Rashba? Yes, after all we don’t ask why but only what—we only describe what the medieval authorities (Rishonim) said, we are not of sufficient stature to put our heads between the lions. We cannot decide who is right and who is not right. In such a situation, at least de facto, you are a pluralist. From your point of view, de facto, all the positions are correct, because you do not allow yourself to decide who is right. Once you are a pluralist in that sense, then you have to be stringent according to all the positions, because after all you do not know who is right and who is mistaken. So therefore you really ought to be stringent according to all the positions, to satisfy all the positions.
[Speaker B] And that approach can’t make decisions?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, right. It’s from the well-known stories about Rav Chaim—you know—that he sent a question to Rabbi Yitzchak Elchanan and asked him to answer only yes or no, without reasons. Why? Because if he gave reasons, for every one of his reasons I would raise three counterarguments. Rav Chaim knows better how to present arguments. What he doesn’t know is how to decide. To decide who is right, whether it is permitted or forbidden. So for that he turns to Rabbi Yitzchak Elchanan, to tell him permitted or forbidden, and that’s what he’ll do. Or alternatively, yes, there was Rav Simcha Zelig, the judge there in Brisk, and generally when people came to Rav Chaim with questions, he would send them to Rav Simcha Zelig—go ask Rav Simcha Zelig. He generally did not answer questions in Jewish law. I don’t assume it was always like that, but generally it was like that, even though he received a salary to be the city rabbi. He was the city rabbi, yes. And nevertheless he sent them… why? Because he couldn’t make decisions. He knew that if he answered, he would be stringent according to all positions, and he didn’t want to impose that on all the questioners, so he told them: ask Rav Simcha Zelig. Meaning, incidentally, as a pluralist he also understands that if Rav Simcha Zelig gives them a certain answer, that is fine from his point of view—he is a pluralist, that is also fine. Only if you ask me, from my point of view everyone is right, so I would be stringent like all of them. So that is pluralism layered on top of pluralism, yes? That is the Brisker conception. But for our purposes, my claim is that if you are a pluralist, then everyone is really supposed to act according to his understanding, and therefore you may not cause someone to stumble, even if according to your own view it is permitted, so long as according to the person being caused to stumble, this thing is forbidden. If I am a monist, then no, because if I am a monist then I do allow myself to decide. Once I have decided, from my point of view that is the truth. And I am not arrogant—meaning it is clear to me that maybe I’m mistaken. Therefore I check, I heard the different reasons, like Beit Hillel who put the words of Beit Shammai before their own. But in the end they formed a position. And when they formed a position, the heavenly voice ruled that the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel. Why? Because after I heard the different positions from all directions, there is a decent chance that I am closer to the truth. And for me, at the moment, that is the truth, and whoever says otherwise is mistaken—unless they prove to me that I was mistaken, and that’s fine. But as long as they haven’t proved it, doubt does not override certainty, and the Torah was not given to ministering angels. I am a human being, this is my conclusion, so from my point of view that is how I act. And if I am a monist and I reached the conclusion that X is permitted, then even if you think that X is forbidden, and even if I am not 100 percent sure that I am right, because I can always be mistaken—still, if I think it is permitted, then according to my position it is permitted. I assume it is permitted and that is how I act. And therefore there is no obstacle at all to causing you to stumble in such a matter, even if according to your view this thing is forbidden. So apparently, the case we are looking for, the one that will decide between pluralism and monism, is this case. And what remains for us to do is to try and check in the Talmud, in the medieval authorities (Rishonim), in the halakhic decisors, what the law is in such a case. Am I allowed to cause someone else to stumble in something that according to him is forbidden and according to me is permitted? If I find such a case, then I’ve managed to find a ruling—you could call it, in a certain sense, empirical. I check, I run an experiment, and I ask whether the pluralist is right or the monist is right. If it is permitted to cause stumbling, then that means the monist is right; if it is forbidden to cause stumbling, then that means the pluralist is right. Now all that remains is for me to look for the relevant passages and see what is ruled in those passages. So it turns out there is such a passage in tractate Sukkah, and the Talmud there brings a dispute between amoraim regarding sukkah decorations. When the sukkah decorations—the ornaments—are distant, suspended four handbreadths below the roofing, yes? Four handbreadths—the distance between the decorations and the roofing is four handbreadths. The question is whether I am allowed to sit beneath those decorations. Or am I sitting under invalid covering—they can contract impurity, or whatever, they are not fit to use as roofing—the question is whether I can sit there or whether I may not sit there. So it turns out that in Sukkah 10b, the Talmud says this: “It was stated: decorations of a sukkah that are distant from it by four [handbreadths]—Rav Nachman said: it is valid. Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna said: it is invalid.” Fine, a dispute among amoraim. Now, unbelievably, Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna happened to come to the house of the Exilarch, and of course this was during Sukkot. They happened to come to the house of the Exilarch. And of course the one who stood at the head of the Exilarch’s house—meaning, the one who controlled what happened there in the Exilarch’s house—was Rav Nachman; he was the chief rabbi. What? He was his son-in-law. Yes, but he was also the chief rabbi. So he was basically the one managing the—yes? Back when the chief rabbi still knew how to learn. Then people came to visit the Exilarch’s house, yes, these two disputants, Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna, “and Rav Nachman seated them in a sukkah whose decorations were distant from it by four handbreadths.” Rav Nachman seated them in a sukkah whose decorations were four handbreadths down. I remind you that according to Rabbah bar Rav Huna and Rav Chisda, this is forbidden, while according to Rav Nachman himself it is permitted. Here is our case. This is exactly our case. And Rav Nachman did it. He caused them to stumble in something that according to them was forbidden and according to him was permitted. Okay. Yes, yes, apparently intentionally. “They were silent and said nothing to him.” They were silent, sat there in the sukkah, yes, ate there under the decorations, everything was fine. He said to them: “Have the rabbis retracted from their teaching?” Meaning: did you retract from your view in the laws of sukkah? They said to him—yes, they must have been dying of laughter—they said to him: “We are agents engaged in a commandment and are exempt from the sukkah.” In other words, we fooled you. Yes, you think we were born yesterday. No—we fooled you. We’re agents engaged in a commandment, so we don’t need to eat in the sukkah; we could also have eaten in… had, yes, a little gathering outside. Meaning, it’s not… we weren’t obligated in the sukkah to begin with. What? They told him, “we fooled you”? Yes, so we are agents engaged in a commandment—apparently on some mission, perhaps redeeming captives, perhaps, I don’t know exactly what—and therefore they were exempt from the sukkah. That’s the story. So meanwhile, what does this seem to show? For our purposes, it looks like—without… intolerant. Rav Nachman was a monist, and what were they? Intolerant. He was a monist—we’ll soon see whether tolerant or intolerant, we’ll still discuss that. But apparently he was a monist, right? He allowed himself to cause them to stumble in something that according to them was forbidden and according to him was permitted. So he was not a pluralist. And what about the pluralist?
[Speaker E] What about them? They were pluralists because they found a way to defend themselves. I mean, that answer wasn’t really necessary.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, they don’t need to explain why he caused them to stumble—he has to explain that. They need to explain why they sat there. So that’s not connected. As for them—I don’t know, with regard to them I know nothing. Right? They can be whatever you want. Rav Nachman was a monist. What? Fine, they had already challenged him, but he wasn’t persuaded—they had already had this argument earlier. So that’s not… the sukkah was his. So from his point of view, clearly there was causing someone to stumble here, because he could have not seated them there, or not allowed them to sit there. They can’t throw him out of his own sukkah. They can try to persuade him, but he wasn’t persuaded. That’s his position. So apparently Rav Nachman was a monist, and Rabbah bar Rav Huna and Rav Chisda—what? Tolerant monists. We’ll see, I haven’t yet spoken here about tolerance; so far this is just pluralist or monist. We’ll get to tolerance, that’s still coming. What? I don’t know, maybe yes, maybe no. But Rav Nachman was a monist. Okay? That’s clear. Rabbah bar Rav Huna and Rav Chisda are an open question; we can’t know, right? By the way, who is the Jewish law like?
[Speaker C] They were not pluralists, otherwise they would have told him… they were not pluralists. Why? Because otherwise they would have adopted his approach and said fine, no problem—they wouldn’t have had to say “agents engaged in a commandment are exempt,” all that. Why?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t understand. He asked them why they were sitting there, so they answered him why they were sitting there. What does that have to do with pluralism?
[Speaker C] It could—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It could be that if they were pluralists, then they should have rebuked him for… causing them to stumble. That maybe yes, I don’t know. But he was a monist, and as for them, there is no clear proof what they were. Let me add a more interesting remark, an interesting point: who is the Jewish law like? No. Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna say it is invalid. You see here the halakhic ruling. “Sukkah decorations that reduce its height or reduce its width—if the sukkah decorations were distant from its roof by four handbreadths or more, it is invalid.” That is what Maimonides says. Fine? And so too in the Shulchan Arukh. So the law follows them. Now this is an interesting point, because many times when we look for a proof to a certain question we are dealing with, we might bring a proof here from Rav Nachman that Jewish law is monistic, let’s say for the sake of discussion. But who says that Rabbah bar Rav Huna and Rav Chisda do not disagree with him on this point? After all, the law follows them. Now true, regarding them I can’t know. It’s open, as we said before. But on the other hand, you don’t really have proof of monism here. The proof is from Rav Nachman, not from them. So can I bring proof from such a passage when I’m relying on an opinion that was not accepted as the halakhic ruling? In many places you see that the halakhic decisors do this. And why do they do it? Because if in the passage itself you have no proof that Rabbah bar Rav Huna and Rav Chisda disagree with Rav Nachman on this question of monism, then what is called “we do not multiply disputes” applies. What does that mean? We don’t increase disputes where there is no basis for doing so. We know that they have a dispute regarding sukkah decorations—that is explicit in the Talmud. We know that Rav Nachman was a monist; that too we know. Why invent another dispute between him and Rabbah bar Rav Huna and Rav Chisda? Why assume there were two disputes between them? Usually we try to minimize dispute as much as possible, to the necessary minimum. If there is a dispute, there is a dispute. Anything beyond that, the simple assumption is that there is no reason to create a dispute where there isn’t one. So here, doubt does not override certainty. Rav Nachman was certainly a monist; Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna are open—we don’t know. In any case, there is no reason to assume they thought differently on this question. They thought differently on the question of decorations distant from the roofing, and that is the dispute explicitly written in the Talmud between them. That’s clear. But why invent that there was yet another dispute between them—two disputes? The assumption is that they disagreed not on two things but only on one thing. Incidentally, we will also get to this discussion itself at a later stage in the series.
[Speaker C] Isn’t there a whole issue here of “do not place a stumbling block before the blind” and all that?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Obviously there is. That’s exactly the question we’re discussing here. So Rav Nachman says there’s no issue of “do not place a stumbling block” here because he’s a monist. No—Rav Nachman says: I’m a monist, so there’s no “stumbling block” here. There’s no obstacle here. I’m a monist, so there’s no “do not place a stumbling block” here. That’s our whole discussion: is there a problem of “do not place a stumbling block” here or not? So therefore the fact that the proof comes from the view of Rav Nachman, which was not accepted as Jewish law, shouldn’t bother us. Because we do not multiply disputes unnecessarily. As long as it’s not clear that Rabbah bar Rav Huna and Rav Chisda disagree with Rav Nachman on this point, the assumption is that if Rav Nachman held this way, then apparently they do too. Meaning, this is also the law in practice. On this issue the dispute was not joined. Now let’s open the Ritva on this passage. The Ritva says as follows: “Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna happened to come to the house of the Exilarch. He lodged them in a sukkah whose decorations were suspended four handbreadths away from the roofing.” Meaning, even though Rav Nachman still did not know whether they had retracted their teaching or whether they were emissaries engaged in a commandment—later he asked them, “Tell me, did you retract?” and they answered, “No, no, we didn’t retract; we are emissaries engaged in a commandment.” But when he seated them there at the outset, he didn’t know either that they had retracted or that they were emissaries engaged in a commandment. Meaning, from his perspective, they think this is forbidden and that they are obligated in a sukkah, because they are not emissaries engaged in a commandment—and nevertheless he seated them in such a sukkah, which according to their view is invalid. “He lodged them according to his own understanding,” he seated them in the sukkah according to his own view, “and was not concerned that this was digging a tunnel of prohibition for them,” that they were sitting in an invalid sukkah and reciting the blessing there improperly, “and this is like placing a stumbling block before one who can see.” Here we are talking about placing a stumbling block before the blind, right? Here the Ritva says this is placing a stumbling block before one who can see. Why? Because the seeing person isn’t an obstacle. Exactly—the seeing person sees the obstacle, after all… Clearly it’s forbidden. Forbidden—that’s the Talmud. The Talmud says it’s forbidden to place a stumbling block; it’s forbidden if a nazirite asks me for a cup of wine to drink, on opposite sides of the river, and I hand him the cup of wine. And he knows he’s a nazirite, he knows he is forbidden to drink wine, right? I’m forbidden to cause him to stumble. Now why? He can take the cup of wine and pour it out. Did I cause him to pour it out? I’m not enticing him in any way; he wanted it and I only gave him the cup of wine. He can pour it out. I didn’t do anything. It’s forbidden—that’s “do not place a stumbling block.” Meaning, placing a stumbling block before one who can see is forbidden. The Sages say that someone who commits a transgression is considered blind with respect to that matter; his impulse blinds him, whatever the explanation is, but bottom line: you are forbidden to place a stumbling block even before one who can see. And therefore the Ritva says here: true, this is placing a stumbling block before one who can see, but placing a stumbling block before one who can see is also forbidden. So what he is really asking here is: how did Rav Nachman do such a thing, when he caused them to stumble in something that according to their view is forbidden? And the fact that they can see doesn’t matter, because placing a stumbling block before one who can see is also forbidden. Right—one second—that’s his discussion, but first of all he says: notice, there is a problem here of causing a forbidden act. The fact that he can see is irrelevant. Don’t tell me “but he can see”—that doesn’t matter, because it is also forbidden to cause one who can see to stumble. Yet we still see that Rav Nachman did it. “There are those who say,” says the Ritva, “that from here we learn that one who feeds another person something that is permitted according to the feeder’s own opinion, this does not involve ‘do not place a stumbling block,’ even though he knows that according to his fellow’s opinion it is forbidden to him.” And his fellow is a learned person—meaning, if he’s an ignoramus and he thinks that way, who cares, right? I’m a Torah scholar, and the fact that he’s an ignoramus—why should I respect what he thinks? But if he’s a Torah scholar and he thinks differently from me, okay? If according to me it is permitted and according to him it is forbidden, then these “there are those who say” hold that I am permitted to cause him to stumble. We see here in the Talmud that it is permitted to cause him to stumble. That’s what Rav Nachman did here. Because he still didn’t know whether they had retracted their teaching, whether they were emissaries engaged in a commandment; he thought they really held that way and that they were obligated in a sukkah, and nevertheless he caused them to stumble. What do we see? That one may cause them to stumble in something that according to their own view is forbidden, even though according to his view it is permitted. Yes—“for the feeder too was fit to issue rulings and relied on his own opinion to feed himself and others according to his own view.” Rav Nachman is also a Torah scholar. So what do I care that they are Torah scholars? I think it is permitted. And since I think it is permitted, this is not causing someone to stumble. There—monism in its purest form, right? If I think it is permitted, then the fact that they think it is forbidden means they are mistaken. Why should I care? He says—now look at the continuation: “And it seems to me that here specifically, it is because the prohibition was evident to his fellow, and if he did not agree, he should not eat. But where it is not evident to his fellow, no.” The entire permission of Rav Nachman here to cause them to stumble is only because the prohibition was actually evident. They saw it—the decorations were in plain sight. Say I give someone a piece of meat to eat and it’s actually non-kosher, it wasn’t slaughtered properly—that isn’t visible; he doesn’t know how it was slaughtered and so on. He gets cooked meat and eats it. In that case it would indeed be forbidden. Only because here we are talking about decorations that are visible to everyone, and everyone can see that the decorations are four handbreadths away from the roofing—only because of that was it permitted here. And he has a proof for this from a Talmudic passage in tractate Chullin, also a similar question, where it says: “Far be it from the descendants of Abba bar Abba that they would feed him something he does not hold by.” In the chapter “All Meat,” yes, the Talmud in Chullin. There the case is that they gave him Babylonian kutach—doesn’t matter, something involving kutach—fish in kutach. And the question is whether it is permitted or forbidden, and the Talmud there says: “Far be it from the descendants of Abba bar Abba”—that is, Rav—“that they would feed him something he does not hold by.” It cannot be that he caused him to stumble in something that he himself thinks is forbidden. Ah—does that contradict our Talmudic passage? Rav Nachman here caused them to stumble in something that according to their view is forbidden. The Ritva says: from this contradiction it follows that the distinction is probably that in our Talmudic passage the prohibition was evident to him. When the prohibition is evident, I may cause you to stumble in something that according to your view is forbidden. But if he gives you something to eat and you don’t know what you’re eating—it’s not evident—then even if according to you it is permitted, if according to him it is forbidden, he may not cause you to stumble. And that is the Talmud in Chullin. Seemingly, seemingly—we’ll see in a moment. But from the contradiction between the passage in Chullin and the passage here in Sukkah, the Ritva says it is proven that on the one hand here it says one may cause someone to stumble in something that according to your view is forbidden and according to his view is permitted. There it says one may not cause him to stumble. Here we are dealing with an evident prohibition; there we are dealing with a hidden prohibition, not visible. Apparently that is the distinction. In a visible prohibition it is permitted; in a hidden prohibition it is forbidden. That is his conclusion. “And so my teacher instructed me,” yes, the Ra’ah who appears there on the passage. “However, where the law has been decided”—that is already another whole issue. Once the law has been decided and it is already clear what the practical law will be, then no. Because then even if you think otherwise, the law has been decided, and then it is forbidden. But for now, when there is a dispute, I can cause someone to stumble so long as the prohibition is a visible one. Now we need to understand what this actually means. On the face of it, as I said earlier, there really is no distinction between whether the prohibition is visible or not visible. There is a prohibition against causing one who can see to stumble just as there is a prohibition against causing one who is blind to stumble. So the Ritva’s words are not clear. Either way—if this is called causing someone to stumble, meaning if you are a pluralist, then it is forbidden to cause stumbling whether the prohibition is evident or not evident. And it will be forbidden for you to cause someone to stumble in a prohibition even if he knows that the thing is forbidden, like a nazirite with a cup of wine. And if you are a monist and you think it is permitted to cause someone to stumble, then it should be permitted whether the prohibition is evident or not, because in the end I am a monist. So what difference does it make whether the prohibition is evident or not evident? I think it is permitted, therefore this is not causing someone to stumble, and I am allowed to do it. Where does the Ritva’s distinction come from between a situation where the prohibition is evident and one where it is not evident? That is really the question. Monist or pluralist? The answer: he is a tolerant monist. What does that mean? It means this: basically I am a monist, therefore in principle I am permitted to cause you to stumble in something that according to your view is forbidden. There is no “do not place a stumbling block” here because I am a monist, and if I think it is permitted, then according to me it is permitted, as far as I’m concerned it is permitted, okay? But because I am a tolerant monist, I also accept or respect your autonomy. Even though in my opinion you are mistaken, I am not allowed—or I’m not supposed—to interfere in your life; you need to make your own decisions. Therefore, if the prohibition is visible, and you can in fact see that the decorations are four handbreadths away from the roofing and you chose to sit there—that’s your decision. I did not infringe your autonomy; you made the decision, so that’s perfectly fine. If the prohibition is not visible, then true, I did not cause you to stumble, because I am a monist and according to my view it is permitted—but I did violate your autonomy by not allowing you to make decisions according to your own view, because you do not know the truth. And if so, something very interesting comes out here. This passage is really a kind of triple litmus test. Every approach will produce a different color on this test strip. And that’s what is nice here: it doesn’t only distinguish between monism and pluralism. It distinguishes between tolerant monism, intolerant monism, and pluralism. Each of those three views will give a different answer to this question. So we have here a sharp decision. What answer would pluralism give? It is forbidden to cause stumbling no matter whether the prohibition is visible or not, because within the laws of “do not place a stumbling block,” it is forbidden to cause even one who can see to stumble. Once I am a pluralist, if I feed you something forbidden—feeding you something that according to your view is forbidden is considered feeding you a forbidden thing. Once I am feeding you a forbidden thing, I am forbidden to do that even if you can see, even if you know it is forbidden and you are making the decisions. It is still forbidden, like the cup of wine to the nazirite. Therefore the pluralist should answer as follows: both in Chullin and in Sukkah it is forbidden to cause stumbling. That is the pluralist. The intolerant monist—yes, one who does not have the value of autonomy in his arsenal—says: it is permitted to cause stumbling both in Chullin and in Sukkah. Why? Because this is not causing stumbling. You think it is forbidden and you’re just being silly—you’re mistaken, it is permitted. So I did not cause you to stumble. And if I didn’t cause you to stumble, why should I need to tell you, or why should it have to be visible? I didn’t cause you to stumble, there’s no problem; it is permitted whether it is visible or not visible. There is no causing stumbling here at all. So according to the intolerant monist, in both Sukkah and Chullin it would have been permitted to cause stumbling. According to the tolerant monist—which is the Ra’ah and the Ritva here—it is forbidden to cause stumbling when the prohibition is hidden, and permitted to cause stumbling when the prohibition is visible. We see three different answers. According to each of the methods, you get a different answer. And the contradiction between the passages tells us that this is not just Ritva and Ra’ah—it is the Talmud. Because the Talmud contains a contradiction between the two passages, and the Ritva and the Ra’ah are merely pointing to it and resolving it. But anyone who wants to defend pluralism will have to explain the Talmud in Sukkah. Because according to his view, even when the prohibition is visible, it is forbidden to cause stumbling—so why did Rav Nachman cause them to stumble here? Someone who is an intolerant monist will have to explain the Talmud in Chullin, because the Talmud in Chullin says it is forbidden to cause stumbling when the prohibition is hidden. But if you are an intolerant monist, why should I care whether the prohibition is hidden? Bottom line, there is no prohibition here at all; you’re simply mistaken in thinking it is forbidden. Only a tolerant monist can explain both the Talmud in Chullin and the Talmud in Sukkah without any difficulty. And that means we have here a halakhic proof in favor of tolerant monism, against pluralism and against intolerant monism. And I think this passage is really a beautiful resolution, because it shows us a very sharp litmus test that yields different answers in the three meta-halakhic options, and the answer that emerges from the passages is tolerant monism. That is what emerges here. And this joins what I said last time—I think it was last time—when I argued there in favor of monism, irrespective of tolerance, in favor of monism and against pluralism, the claim that in this very dispute itself about “these and those are the words of the living God,” where some interpret it pluralistically and others interpret it monistically—in that very dispute you cannot be a pluralist. So the monist is right there too. Meaning, with regard to this very question itself—pluralism or not pluralism—you cannot be a pluralist. Okay? And that itself is a proof against pluralism, in favor of monism. Now we are going one step further, and I am saying that from the passages here the proof is not only in favor of monism but in favor of tolerant monism, emerging from this implication of the permission to cause stumbling. Okay, so that is regarding the question of halakhic truth and tolerance. Basically what this means is that we have—maybe I mentioned this last time—that we actually have three circles in Jewish law. Let’s say I think that X is permitted, and someone else thinks that X is forbidden. Will I be tolerant toward him or not? So I said that unlike pluralism, in tolerance there is some kind of radius. Up to a certain point I will be tolerant; beyond that I won’t be tolerant. Okay? What does that mean? So basically we have three categories. One category is the halakhic truth in my view. Fine? The second category is what I regard as an error, but that itself splits into two subcategories. There are legitimate errors, which are within the radius of tolerance, toward which I display tolerance; and there are illegitimate errors, farther out, beyond the radius of tolerance, and toward those I will no longer relate in a tolerant way. Okay? Therefore, when I speak about “these and those are the words of the living God” from a monistic perspective—tolerant monism—I am basically saying: these and those are the words of the living God; I am tolerant even toward opinions that are not correct. As a monist I think this is what is correct, but I am also tolerant toward incorrect opinions. Beit Hillel considered the words of Beit Shammai, reached their own conclusion, the law follows them, but they still treat the words of Beit Shammai as the words of the living God. Why? Because we relate to them tolerantly even though they are mistaken. Why? Because their error is a legitimate error; it lies within the legitimate range. It is an error—that is not pluralism, it is monism. Their position is mistaken, but it is a legitimate error because it is within the radius of tolerance. Why is it legitimate? As I said before, because the reasons—the 150 reasons they offered—are valid reasons. They made an error in weighting the reasons against one another; there Beit Hillel are right and Beit Shammai are mistaken. But they are not mistaken in the sense of producing absurd reasons that are simply false. They are not making foolish errors. I do not relate tolerantly to people who are not Torah scholars. People who are not Torah scholars do not raise good arguments, true arguments; it is not a problem of weighting—their reasons are simply not correct. By contrast, Torah scholars generally raise valid reasons. The question is how to weigh the reasons against one another; there they may be mistaken. But that mistake is a legitimate mistake because you are, after all, relying on sound reasons. We disagree about the correct weight. To such errors I will relate tolerantly. But if some ignoramus comes and says he too has an opinion, then no one will say of him, “These and those are the words of the living God.” Why not? Because his error is an illegitimate error. Meaning, in the monistic view one must understand that in the pluralistic view there is no such thing as error; in the monistic view there is error. But even when there is error, you have to distinguish among errors: there are legitimate errors and illegitimate errors. Okay? That is why when people say, “But it says ‘these and those are the words of the living God,’ so why don’t you accept the positions of everyone under the sun? Why aren’t the Reform, the Christians, the pagans, everyone—the words of the living God? Everyone is right, no? We’re pluralists, aren’t we?” So where did your pluralism suddenly stop? The answer is: we are not pluralists, we are tolerant monists. Pluralism indeed would not stop. But a tolerant monist—his tolerance stops at a certain radius. At the radius where the errors are too costly, the positions were not formed with sufficient seriousness, everything I spoke about last time. Therefore positions of that sort will not receive a respectful attitude, a tolerant attitude. They are not called the words of the living God. Those are illegitimate errors. “The words of the living God” applies to legitimate errors.
[Speaker B] Can a tolerant monist accept an opinion that may be far-fetched but has no harmful consequences?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, yes, possibly. I’m saying there are these two parameters, and each person can decide his own mix of them. I am not determining how a tolerant monist ought to behave. There are many tolerant monists. Each one sets his radii wherever he sets them. And the question is, from his perspective, whether what matters is the cost; maybe what matters is the seriousness with which you formed the position; maybe both, I don’t know; maybe something third. There can be all kinds of sub-shades of models within this whole idea of tolerant monism, but all of them are tolerant monism. And in tolerant monism you would expect a radius to appear. It does not have to, but you would expect it. Therefore wherever each person places the radius, each according to his own conception. On that matter I don’t know how to speak definitively. I assume it is some sort of combination: if it is not serious at all, you’re simply not a Torah scholar, then I won’t relate tolerantly to anything of yours, even if it has no cost. Why should I relate tolerantly? You’re simply not serious. If there are heavy costs, then maybe even if you related with the greatest seriousness, I still won’t accept it. Medium costs—then maybe medium seriousness as well, I don’t know, for example. Fine, but I don’t know—here it is already open-ended. Everyone forms the radius as he forms it. Okay, so that is regarding the question of legitimate error and illegitimate error, where I think a very important parameter in distinguishing between those two kinds of errors is the question of how far the reasons on which you rely are actually valid reasons. And this connects to the harmonism I spoke about in the previous class: whether the 150 reasons that you weigh more heavily than the other 150 reasons are valid. If so, then even if in my opinion you are mistaken, the mistake is still a legitimate mistake. You are engaged in a study-hall discourse; you think this, think that, fine. We have a dispute, but nobody here is speaking nonsense. Okay? Someone who speaks nonsense is outside the game. Okay? Now that brings me to the next discussion, and I want to talk a bit now about the question of reasons versus bottom lines, rationales versus bottom lines. Because as I presented it now, we have a bottom line. In the bottom line only one side is right. In the reasons everyone is right. One hundred fifty reasons to declare the creeping thing impure, one hundred fifty reasons to declare the creeping thing pure—everyone is right. So there is really a double perspective on Jewish law. I can look at the reasons—that is one perspective—and I can look at the bottom lines, what is permitted or forbidden—that is a second perspective. Now this raises various questions. Until now we have discussed what happens when there is a disagreement in the weighting of the reasons, which leads to different bottom lines. Okay? There is agreement about the reasons; there is disagreement about how to weigh them, and therefore about the bottom lines. But there are similar questions—for example, what happens when there is a dispute in a religious court among judges, two against one, say, in a court of three there are two against one, but the two rule from different reasons? Same law, but different reasons. Is that considered a majority or not? You understand that this will depend on the question whether I follow reasons or whether I follow the bottom line. In the bottom line there are two against one. But on the level of reasons, there are three reasons, each judge holding one reason. There is no majority on the level of reasons. But also—
[Speaker E] Wait, if all the reasons are correct, it’s not a matter of… what? But if you go on the level of reasons, I also believe the reasons of the other side are correct.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Sometimes that’s true, and sometimes it’s a question of weighting, so each person weighs them and the weighting determines the bottom line. Let’s say there are three valid reasons, and one person weighs reason A as much more important than B and C; the second weighs reason B as much more important than A and C; and the third weighs reason C more than A and B. Now C leads to permitted, while A and B lead to forbidden. Okay? So when you look at the reasons, there is no majority for any opinion; all are on the same level, right? When you look at the bottom line, there is a majority for permitted—two say permitted and one says forbidden. What do we do? Do we follow the majority or not? This is in a religious court, but not only in a religious court; it could also happen in disputes among halakhic decisors. There too I can discuss it—and it is even more common there. I can discuss what happens with different reasons: is there significance to a majority that comes together from different reasons? So in that sense the reasons do count—even though the reasons are different, they reached the same target, the same conclusion.
[Speaker G] In what sense are the reasons not right?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Rather, you’re saying to follow the bottom line. It doesn’t belong to the reasons; on the contrary, then you’re saying: let’s go by majority in the bottom line regardless of reasons.
[Speaker H] I don’t know—if we treat this as a majority, then it’s like two people who, not through the same form of reasoning, reached the same goal.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] They reached it for different reasons—so what does that mean? It means nothing. Each of them rejects the other’s consideration. After all, each of the two rejects the other’s consideration. Against each of the three there are really two. It came out at the level of bottom line. That is exactly the question: do we go by the bottom line? I’m not offering an answer right now; I’m saying there are two possibilities. Do we follow the majority at the level of bottom line, or do we follow the level of the reasons? Okay? So seemingly, seemingly if in every—
[Speaker E] In court today they go by the bottom line.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] By the bottom line. In Jewish law too, simply speaking, it is accepted that we go by the bottom line; I’ll talk about that in a moment.
[Speaker E] Wait, can you create a situation where the majority of reasons says one thing but…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, there is complexity—I’ll get there in a moment. What is called the doctrinal paradox; I’ll get there in a moment. But then the question is whether to go by the bottom line, to check the majority on the level of the bottom line, or to check the majority on the level of the reasons. I want to return for a moment to a point that came up in one of the previous classes. I spoke about the difference between a democratic majority and a majority in halakhic ruling and in a religious court. A democratic majority does not aim to reach the truth, but only the question of what the public wants. That is one kind of following the majority. In Jewish law, in a halakhic dispute or in a religious court, following the majority—as the Sefer HaChinuch says—is a means of drawing close to the truth. We read that Sefer HaChinuch. Okay? Now if indeed in halakhic decision-making I am looking for the truth—as we saw with Rabbi Yosef Karo, that the law follows Beit Hillel because the truth is with them, not as a prize for good behavior—if in Jewish law I am looking for the truth, then I would actually expect us to go by the reasons and not by the bottom line. You want to know what is really true. The fact that two different opinions happened to converge here on the same bottom line—what does that have to do with anything? The question is what the truth is, and on the plane of truth I would seemingly expect us to focus precisely on the reasons. So let’s see. In this case there is no—
[Speaker C] majority.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, there is no way to decide. Therefore the possessor keeps the money in his possession.
[Speaker C] In such a case there is no majority.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. There are also laws of doubt; that too is part of the decision process. I have no decision. Will there be a heavenly voice? Yes.
[Speaker C] That’s half the cases.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, it’s not half the cases, but it can happen. In a moment I’ll even bring examples. So look—there is a passage in the Shulchan Arukh, Choshen Mishpat, section 25. It says there, paragraph 2—the Rema brings it in the name of Maharik. Let’s look for a moment in section 25. Good. “And likewise, if there was one against many, we follow the many in every place. And even if the many do not agree for one reason, but rather each has his own separate reason, since they agree regarding the law”—the bottom line—“they are called the many, and we follow them.” That is what Maharik writes. Okay? So the Shakh there, in subparagraph 19—a long Shakh—qualifies this somewhat. And he says: “And even if the many do not agree for one reason,” etc.—“and in my work Siftei Kohen on Yoreh De’ah I concluded that in a Torah-level prohibition we do not follow the many if they agree to be lenient for two different reasons.” Yes? So he says in Torah-level prohibitions, if they agree to be lenient for two different reasons, we do not follow the many. See there. He is not talking about a court. He is talking about disputes among halakhic decisors. Yes, there is some halakhic issue, you survey the halakhic literature, and you conclude that the majority of decisors say forbidden and a minority say permitted. Should we follow the majority? The Shakh says no. Why not? Because it could be that those in the majority, if they had heard the reason of those who permit, they would have conceded to them. Maybe if there had been an actual discussion here, then the minority would have convinced the majority that they were right. They didn’t speak to one another. Once they didn’t speak to one another, what significance does the majority have? It could be that the minority hit upon the correct reason and the majority did not. In a case where they sit together in a panel of three, all in one place, and exchange positions and reasons, and in the end still are not convinced—remember? I’m willing to respect someone who hears my reasons and is not convinced. I won’t respect someone who didn’t hear my reasons. Right?
[Speaker C] Or because, as you said, they didn’t talk to each other?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, it’s not connected.
[Speaker C] Here they’re all together.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The idea is literally to sit together before one another; it’s not about technical halakhic concepts. So the claim is that if they all sit together and exchange views, try to convince one another, as in a religious court for example, and in the end they vote—there, certainly we follow the majority even if it comes from different reasons. Regarding… yes, but there it was not from different reasons. Beit Hillel had one reason and Beit Shammai had another reason. But the majority was not a majority assembled from different reasons. It was a majority based on one reason. Now we are talking about a case where there is a majority from different reasons. So he says—the Chazon Ish also writes on this that there is no obligation at all to follow the majority of decisors in halakhic issues, since the decisors did not hear one another and did not discuss with one another. Following the majority and “incline after the majority” applies when we are speaking about a religious court, because in a religious court all the judges sit together, exchange views and reasons, and at the very end vote if they have not been convinced. Fine? So there we follow the majority, and it does not matter whether it is for different reasons. But if in a halakhic question we are going by books, then… the majority has no significance.
[Speaker E] The assumption is that the truth is more persuasive, not that the truth is easier to find? I didn’t understand. Basically, when you say if they are disconnected then not the majority, that’s because it’s not necessarily easier to find the truth.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If you don’t hear the reasons, then no.
[Speaker E] But it is easier to be persuaded by the truth. So if they talk, then presumably…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Beyond persuading, there is nothing else you can do. What can you do? I can try to persuade you, bring you reasons, try to convince you; either I succeeded or I didn’t. There is nothing beyond trying to persuade. I can beat you up so that you adopt my position, but that’s not… there’s nothing else to do. What about ego? What about ego? Yes, but I’ve spoken about that in other contexts. Rabbi Ovadia knew very well how to maneuver with the opinions he brought. Meaning, he knew exactly… in the end, he also knew how to rule what he thought. It wasn’t just some ruling method of counting opinions and following the majority, even though he often presented it that way; he was more sophisticated than that. In any case, that is what the Shakh says, and I think other decisors say this too. And the Chazon Ish, as I said earlier—I at least heard it in his name, I don’t remember whether I saw it written—that if they do not sit together, then a majority from different reasons has no significance. But if they do try to convince one another and in the end remain in dispute, then even if the reasons are different, in the end they combine. Fine?
[Speaker B] And there’s an element of ego here. Try to think about people sitting together and trying to persuade one another—there’s an element of ego, of showing that I’m more right.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So the assumption is that they will overcome the ego. That is what is incumbent on them, what is required of them. We are all human beings; you can never know. But you can’t… if you suspect people of ego, then you can suspect them of all sorts of things; then maybe he just formed his opinion in an unobjective way. I give a presumption of integrity. If people formed a position, the assumption is that this is their position. We are all human; there is no other way.
[Speaker C] In their discussion, to persuade…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, I understand. But suspicions can exist even without a discussion among them. Suspicions can always exist. We do not suspect unless there is good reason to suspect. For example, in a place where there is a rabbi and his students, there indeed it is not counted as separate opinions, precisely for that reason. Is it because of that reason? A similar reason. Because the students ultimately say what their rabbi says, so you cannot count them as separate opinions. For example, even in textual versions of books, the Rema writes as practical law in Yoreh De’ah, the laws of a Torah scroll—he says that if there are Torah scrolls and we found Torah scrolls with a different wording in a verse in different scrolls, do we go by the majority? The answer is yes, we go by the majority, and that determines the correct wording. But if I know that those scrolls are not independent, meaning one of them was simply copied from the others, because every scribe looks at a scroll and writes the scroll he is writing—if these scrolls belong to the same cluster, then they are not counted as separate scrolls. So each is counted as one. Same thing with a rabbi and his students—each is counted as one; it is not considered multiple voices. Because clearly there must be independence. Fine, but assuming it looks independent, I do not indulge suspicions. Meaning, my assumption is that there is independence here.
[Speaker C] How does that fit with the Shulchan Arukh? There? That the Shulchan Arukh took three—the Rif…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He chose to rule that way, but that doesn’t… I don’t know whether there is some statement there that this is also how one must act.
[Speaker C] No, he did it as a majority…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, and he also chose the three among whom he made the majority. There are many other decisors as well. He made all sorts of choices there. I don’t know whether one can draw a conclusion from that… a majority among the three he chose. Fine, so what do you derive from that? Now I’ll choose three others and make a majority among them. Does that fit the Shulchan Arukh?
[Speaker C] So I—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m asking: if I now take three other decisors and make a majority among them, does that fit the Shulchan Arukh’s method or not? I also don’t… the question is what exactly you are selecting from the Shulchan Arukh. You know, he decided to do it this way—fine, that was his prerogative. I don’t think he has authority, so therefore… it was his prerogative to choose… to rule as he wanted, but I’ll rule as I want. Anyway, the question really is: why do you combine them after they heard one another and remained unconvinced? Why do you combine people with different reasons? Fine? If they didn’t hear one another, then no—the Shakh says no. Many decisors say yes even then. But the Shakh says no, and the Chazon Ish also says no. But if they did hear one another and are in a joint discussion, then you count people—you count bottom lines, not reasons. The question is why. On the contrary—after they weren’t convinced in the end, they examined the reasons and were not convinced. On the contrary, now you should check which reason wins the majority of opinions, not which bottom-line position wins the majority of opinions. Fine? This still requires explanation in light of what we saw earlier, that we are seeking the truth. Look, there is—you asked about a case, so here, look. This is called the doctrinal paradox, and I didn’t invent it; it is something known in the literature. Think of a situation where Reuven and Shimon sign a contract. Okay? Now Shimon claims that Reuven breached the contract. He did X, and that contradicts the contract. The judges sitting on the case need to decide whether Reuven has to pay. In order to decide that he has to pay, they need to make two decisions: one factual decision and one interpretive decision. The factual decision is whether he really did X. Reuven can deny it—he didn’t do X, who says he did X? So that is one question. The second is an interpretive question: the contract must be interpreted—does this contract forbid doing X or not? Fine? That too can be disputed. Now let’s say Reuven argues alternatively against both the factual claim and the interpretive claim—yes, “I don’t have a sister, and even if I do she isn’t a prostitute,” as the saying goes. Meaning, in the legal world it is very common to make alternative arguments. Right? I say… I claim that I didn’t do it at all, and besides, even if I did, it doesn’t violate the contract. Fine? Now the judges have to decide. So here, look at the distribution of opinions. You see the table? There are Judge A, B, and C. Judge A, on the interpretive question, says that indeed the contract forbids doing X. On the factual question, he says that indeed Reuven did X. Conclusion: Reuven must pay. One, yes? Meaning one here marks that Reuven must pay. Judge B says: on the interpretive question, the contract does not forbid doing X. You’re right that factually Reuven did X, but who cares? It’s not forbidden. Therefore Reuven is exempt according to Judge B. Judge C says: on the interpretive question, the contract really does forbid doing X, but Reuven did not do X, so what do you want? He is exempt. So look at the left column—in the left column there is a majority of judges that Reuven is exempt. One judge says Reuven is liable, so as practical law we rule that Reuven is exempt, right? Now let’s check the reasons. On the interpretive question there is a majority of judges that the contract… doing X. So first of all, regarding the interpretive question, we determine that the contract forbids doing X. Fine? On the factual question there is a majority of judges who say that Reuven in fact did X. Meaning there is a majority saying the contract forbids it, and a majority saying Reuven did X; conclusion: Reuven must pay. In other words, if you go by the reasons, the result is one thing; if you go by the bottom lines, the result is zero. That is the doctrinal paradox. Okay? Now if you tell me that I manufactured a case here just to create a paradox, but that this does not really happen in life—well, I’ll show you that it does happen in life. Not only does it happen in life, but I myself personally saw it in a Supreme Court ruling. In a Supreme Court ruling there was a story—simple enough—of a woman who came to me regarding annulment of a marriage, doesn’t matter, I worked on that matter, and afterward my son happened to discover that this very same woman, with the child who was involved there, had gone through several legal instances that I knew nothing about when we were dealing with the case. In any case, what happened there was as follows. She took a child—her husband was abroad, they were separated—she took the child to Israel and refused to return him to the husband. Their child, belonging to both of them.
[Speaker B] Yes. She dragged him to Israel, yes, came back—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] To Israel, and he remained there abroad, and he demanded the child and she refused to return him. Fine? Now this case was adjudicated under the Hague Convention on child abduction. The Hague is very popular these days, so the Hague Convention on child abduction is the framework within which this discussion takes place. Now according to the rules of that convention there are criteria for what counts as child abduction. All the justices—all the judges in the Supreme Court, three judges sat there—all the judges decided that there was abduction here. It met the criteria for abduction. Okay? But in the convention there are two reservations: consent and acquiescence. If the husband consented at the time of the abduction—implicitly, doesn’t matter, consented—then she does not need to return the child to him. Even though it counts as abduction. It meets the criteria for abduction, but you can show that de facto he consented. Fine? So if he consented, she does not have to return the child. I’m not getting into the details now; just look at the logical structure. If he acquiesced after the fact—that is no longer at the time of the act but after the fact—acquiesced to the abduction and it can be shown that he acquiesced, again she does not have to return the child. Okay? Now all the judges said there was abduction. One judge says there was consent, one judge says there was acquiescence, and one judge says there was neither consent nor acquiescence. So the majority of decisors say—the majority of judges say—
[Speaker C] that she doesn’t have to return the child.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right? One because of consent, one because of acquiescence, and one says she has to return him. So there are two against one. But now if you look at the question whether there was consent, there are two against one that there was no consent. If you look at whether there was acquiescence, there are two against one that there was no acquiescence. But if there was neither consent nor acquiescence, then she has to return the child. Yes. Meaning, if you go by the reasons—it is exactly the doctrinal paradox. In other words, if you go by the reasons, we should have required her to return the child. If you go by the bottom line, the child is not returned. Okay? So really the discussion is whether in truth—what? What did you say, the opposite? There? Meaning, in terms of if—
[Speaker E] If you go by the reasons or by the claims, she has to return him.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If you go by the reasons, then there’s a majority that there was no consent and no acceptance, so the child should be returned. That there was no consent and no acceptance. I don’t know what I said, but that’s what’s correct. Okay? If you go by the bottom line, then you don’t need to return the child, yes. What? What do you usually do? Not return. You go by bottom lines. Yes, no, it’s clear both legally and halakhically / in Jewish law that you go by bottom lines. That’s a clear fact. The question is why. Okay?
[Speaker B] If you make one more bottom line, summarize the bottom lines and draw a new conclusion. What does it mean to summarize bottom lines?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There are three bottom lines from three judges. So that’s what we do: two against one on the bottom lines. That’s exactly what we do. But if you summarize the opinions regarding the reasons, you get a different answer, a different conclusion. The question is what to do: should we summarize the reasons or summarize the bottom lines? Summarizing the reasons leads to a different bottom line. Right. So the point is this, look. How do we explain this? If we’re looking for the truth, then really we should have discussed the reasons. Right? Think, for example, of a religious court sitting in judgment over so-and-so for desecrating the Sabbath. Okay? Now there are fifteen, twenty-three judges sitting, because this is a capital case. And this is a Sanhedrin of twenty-three. Fifteen say he is liable to death, and eight say he is not liable to death. But the fifteen who say he is liable to death, each one says he violated a different prohibited labor. One says he trapped, one says he selected, one says he harvested, it doesn’t matter, each one a different labor. So the law is that they execute him. Okay? But in terms of the reasons, think about it: the opinion that got the most votes is the opinion that he did no prohibited labor at all, because the opinion that he trapped has one against twenty-two, the opinion that he selected has one against twenty-two. So in the end, if you go by the reasons, you don’t need to reach very sophisticated paradoxes; this too is a kind of paradox. In the final analysis, in terms of the reasons, he is not liable to death, and in terms of the bottom lines, he is liable to death. Okay? So look, the truth is that this really is the question: if we’re looking for the truth, then why not go by the reasons? Why go by the bottom lines? Right, that’s really the question. But the truth is that this isn’t such a simple matter. Why? Once I gave this lecture, and one of the listeners there said that maybe on the statistical level, if you sum up the probability that he is liable to death for this reason and that reason and that reason, in the end you’ll discover that most likely he really is liable to death, never mind that it’s for different reasons. If you ask me whether he is liable to death, then even on the level of probability—that is, what are the chances that I’m right if I execute him—most likely I’m right. What difference does it make that it comes from different reasons? In the end the question is whether he is liable to death. Even in the context not of liability to death but of the contract, the doctrinal paradox, right, so let’s now sum up—or of the kidnapping, right, it’s the same thing—let’s now sum up the probabilities. So what am I saying? Basically there’s a certain probability, because two against one say that the contract says it’s forbidden to do X, right? Two against one say that he also did X. But two against one doesn’t mean they are certainly right. There’s some chance of error regarding reason A, there’s some chance of error regarding reason B. It’s small, the majority says no, but there’s some chance. Now you can combine the minority from here and from here, and it can still be that most likely the bottom line really is correct. Do you understand what I’m saying? Again. Let’s go back to the doctrinal paradox. Look. Look at this. I’m saying here: if I go with the interpretive question, there are two against one that interpretively the contract forbids doing X, and there are two against one that factually the person did X, right? So wait—no, it’s not exactly sixty-six percent, the matter is more complicated—but there’s a majority on the interpretive question and a majority on the factual question. Okay? But there’s also a minority on the interpretive question and a minority on the factual question, and it’s enough that either the interpretive question alone or the factual question alone is not correct for us not to obligate him to pay. Now it may be that we need to combine the probabilities, because in order for him to be liable, I need both the interpretive point and the factual point to be true.
[Speaker C] So—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If there’s a probability that I was mistaken on the interpretive question, even if it’s a small probability, say forty percent, fine, and on the factual question I was also mistaken, again the probability is forty percent, then the probability that I was mistaken either factually or interpretively may be over fifty percent. Or in other words, right, the question is how we—this calculation is more complicated, but I did it, by the way, you can see it—but I’m saying on the basic level, think for example—let’s say that on the interpretive question it comes out that there’s a seventy percent chance you’re right because there are two judges against one: a seventy percent chance that on the interpretive question the contract says it is forbidden to do X, and it also comes out that there’s a seventy percent chance that on the factual question he did X. What is the probability that he both did X and the contract forbids it? Assuming independence—which is also something that needs discussion—forty-nine percent, right? So you have seventy percent on the interpretive question, seventy percent on the factual question, but practically speaking, if you ask me what the probability is that he is liable, it’s only forty-nine percent. Zero point seven squared. So I’m saying, what do you mean, is that correct? If this is seventy percent and this is seventy percent, then yes, it comes out to forty-nine percent.
[Speaker C] You’re saying that it’s independent.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Assuming it’s independent, fine. I’m saying there are assumptions in this calculation, but on the principled level there definitely are situations in which, even if each reason by itself has a majority, I still need to take into account the possibility that the majority was mistaken. And if that majority was mistaken in one of the interpretations, that’s enough for me not to obligate him—either on the interpretive question or on the factual question, right? Now I need to combine, in some more sophisticated way, it doesn’t matter, but I need to combine the possibility of error in both reasons. It’s not so simple that if I decide the interpretive question two against one and the factual question two against one, then the truth is that he is liable. Not true. It’s not even true that he is probably liable. Fine, so I’m not going to do the calculations here; I did them. If you want, I can upload it to the model if you like. The question is what assumptions are involved here. Right? Once Rabbi Shabtai asked me here—suppose there is a judge. Let’s denote the quality of the judge by p. Okay? Zero point—let’s say p has to be above one-half, right? A judge’s quality is measured as above one-half, because otherwise you might as well do a blind lottery; the chance of being right or wrong is the same. Meaning, the quality of a judge at zero is one-half. Everything above one-half is what measures the judge’s quality. And let’s say there are reasonable judges, or good ones if you like, with a quality of zero point seven. Okay? Now there are two judges who say that so-and-so murdered, and one judge who says that so-and-so did not murder. It seems to me that if the probability that one judge is right is—then the probability that the two judges are right is zero point forty-nine. So in fact, apparently, the majority of judges are probably mistaken. The minority may very easily be right more often than the majority. Why do we think the majority is more likely to be right? So that is of course a mistake in Bayes’ theorem, right? When you apply Bayes’ theorem, you discover that it’s not true. Meaning, it does work. That is, you can do the calculation—I did this calculation too. But you can do the calculation and that isn’t true. Of course, the majority of judges, assuming more than one-half, assuming that p is more than one-half, then the majority of judges reaches the truth with a higher probability than one judge, than the minority. Okay? That does come out true. But think about it: if the probability that the two judges are right is zero point forty-nine, then why is the probability that both of them are wrong zero point fifty-one? The product of what? They each have a zero point three chance of being wrong. The probability that both of them were wrong is zero point zero nine, only nine percent. So forty-nine plus nine doesn’t even add up to one hundred percent. That’s just a consideration—it’s not statistically correct, right? Obviously, you need the full probability formula here.
[Speaker E] There are other cases besides both of them.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, of course. Here you need to sum up all the cases. In any event, for our purposes, I’m saying: if you do a similar calculation here, and assume the judge has quality p, say with respect both to the interpretive question and to the factual question, then what turns out is this. If I have high-quality judges—that is, above the square root of two divided by two, that’s what comes out, meaning zero point seven zero seven—okay? Then if we go by the reasons, we’ll be right, and if we go by the bottom lines, we’ll probably be wrong. But if the judges are not of such high quality, between one-half and the square root of two divided by two, then really going by bottom lines is more correct, and not going by the reasons. Now of course there is really no way to do this calculation, and we talked about the fact that there’s no way to do this calculation. Right? Because there is no independent feedback telling us whether the judges were right or not. And therefore you have to establish some fixed procedure that will be valid in all cases, without getting into questions of calculations and how many judges there were and what the quality of each judge was and whether it’s independent—there are lots of assumptions here, and you can’t really do the calculation. And therefore it’s obvious that Jewish law cannot work that way. Jewish law has to work by means of some sweeping, simple rule that gets the job done. So I take the majority of the bottom lines. That’s very sensible; it’s the simplest rule, and it even works sometimes. At least up to the square root of two divided by two it works. Okay? But beyond that it really doesn’t work. That’s true. But there’s no choice. I can’t make it depend every time on a calculation, and I need to establish something sweeping. So you do something sweeping and simple that won’t require calculations from me, and therefore—. But for example, if you were to ask me, suppose there are three heavyweight judges, real top guns, okay? And I really know that they truly are heavyweights. I’m not sure I would go by the majority of the bottom lines. Because there you can have quite a significant error if those judges really are of excellent quality. Okay? Without doing the quantitative calculation, because it’s hard to measure the numbers here. But in principle, the reason we go by bottom lines and not by reasons is not because we’re not looking for the truth. It will produce the truth in some cases. And I go by it all the time because it’s the simplest thing, and I’m looking for the simplest solution. That’s all. Okay, we’ll stop here.