Disputes: History and Essence – Rabbi Michael Abraham – Lesson 8

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[Rabbi Michael Abraham] All right, because that was obvious to them. I’m only saying that obviously there too they examined things; they weren’t living in fantasies. But there will be lots of things, there will be cases, or there will be topics where it’s obvious to you, so you don’t bother checking. So there will be such cases, and it could be that disputes about reality are points where it actually was possible to check, but fine—if it’s obvious to you that this is how it is, then you don’t go check. It’s harder to say that when there are two people who disagree. With Aristotle there was one position and nobody disagreed. For two thousand years nobody disagreed.

[Speaker D] So it had no practical implication? What? They dealt with most things more or less; in things where it had practical implications it developed more, and when it mattered less to them then it didn’t bother them.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but I’m saying that in a place where you establish some claim that seems obvious to you on logical grounds, and everyone agrees, then I can see why people wouldn’t go check. In a place where there’s a dispute, that really is a harder claim. If there’s a dispute and it’s something checkable, and you already see that he doesn’t agree with you, meaning his mind works differently from yours, who says your mind matches reality? Maybe his mind matches reality. Check, check and see. In that sense it is a significant argument. Meaning, assuming they’re not idiots, meaning they understand that if there’s something you can check, then settle the dispute empirically—why are you insisting? If everyone agrees, I can understand: fine, if everyone agrees and it’s very logical, then there’s no point in checking. When there’s a dispute, it’s harder to say such a thing. So that’s why I’m saying that as far as the early sources, and even later authorities, and the Talmud itself are concerned, there really is no basis for this notion that there are no disputes about reality. On the contrary, it’s quite clear that there are many disputes about reality. But still I want to qualify that a bit. I’ll give you the example of absorption in the sinew. What the Rashba says here is: check—what’s the problem? It has the capacity, so check and see: does sinew impart flavor or not? Here that’s not a simple question; I’m puzzled by this Rashba. But it’s not just this Rashba—this already appears in Talmudic passages. The Talmudic texts talk about giving it to a professional taster to taste, and regarding flavor in meat and milk, and regarding the flavor of a forbidden substance inside a permitted one, the Talmud’s assumption is simply that a person can taste and see. As I told you, tell me whether there is one part in sixty of forbidden substance inside the permitted substance, and whether that imparts flavor at one in sixty—fine, that’s the accepted assumption. There is one in sixty of forbidden substance inside the permitted substance, pork inside cow meat. Pork has a somewhat different taste. If there’s two percent pork in a dish, will you feel that taste in the dish? I’m not sure. Even ten percent, in many cases, I don’t think you’d feel it. So this assumption that any person can taste and say there’s forbidden substance here—that’s true starting from a certain percentage. If it’s half pork and half cow, then apparently someone who knows the taste will know: this is pork taste; there’s pork taste here, not just cow. One in sixty is very hard. Now beyond the problematic halakhic ruling—because from the halakhic sources it seems this really is just a matter of checking: give it to a non-Jew and he’ll tell you whether there is forbidden taste in it or not. Leave that aside for the moment. I’m not talking now about Jewish law but about reality itself. From what percentage? If you had to set the Jewish law, then not one in sixty. From what percentage would you set it? It’s very unclear. There’s a continuum. The question is how noticeable the taste has to be, how dominant.

[Speaker A] And obviously it also differs from one person to another—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Person. It differs from one meat to another, it depends what is mixed into what, it’s not always one in sixty, that’s obvious. Obviously they drew the line here in some technical way. But here again, in the sources of Jewish law it seems they do not understand this as a technical cutoff, because they say: what’s the problem? Taste it, let someone taste it. They only set the one-in-sixty rule because you don’t always have a non-Jew at hand who can taste it for you, so they established a fixed rule of one in sixty because that’s the indication. But in principle I should have had a non-Jew taste it. All right? But I’m saying beyond that, even apart from the question of whether a non-Jew should taste it or not, there’s some assumption in the Talmud and afterward in the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) that there really is here a factual question that can be decided by experiment. I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think it’s true, because the question is: how sure do you have to be that there’s forbidden substance here in order to say, “I tasted it and there’s forbidden substance here”? Do you need to be 20% sure, 50% sure, only if there is doubt at 50%—how sure do you need to be? It’s a whole continuum, and of course it varies from case to case. Of course I’m not even talking about a mixture of pork in cow meat, which is something well-defined. Even there, there’s still a continuum of degrees—how distinct it is, how significant it is. So the absorption of taste in sinews—what does it mean that it absorbs? Obviously the sinew absorbs. The question is how much it absorbs. Does it absorb in a significant way or not in a significant way? Now what counts as significant? Is significant an absorption of 10%, 20%, 40%? I don’t know. So the dispute whether a sinew absorbs or does not absorb can definitely be a dispute that is not a dispute about reality, but a dispute about the question of what threshold is called absorption. Suppose the sinew absorbs at 30%, all right? Then there is a dispute whether 30% is enough or not. One says only from 50% is it called absorption, and one says from 20% it’s called absorption. So everyone agrees about the reality—that the absorption is 30%. There’s no dispute about reality. The dispute is about how to judge the reality, or where to place the threshold. And very many of the disputes about reality—like the shade example I brought earlier from the Ran, there too. It’s a question of from what shade of gray on the floor we regard it as “the sunlight is greater than the shade.” It may be that everyone agrees on what shade of gray is present here, but we cannot determine: with this shade of gray, is it more than 50% shade or less? What is the brightness level of this shade? How do you evaluate such a thing? That’s not a simple question. Even today scientists who try to examine it don’t know how to tell you. Nobody knows. Is it half dark and half light when you look at it? Is it 70% dark, 30% light? I mean in terms of the shade of gray. How close is it to black? People will argue, because you can’t measure it; it’s only a question of how we see it. You can interview people and ask them, tell me how you would quantify it—70%, 30%—and do averages. And over those averages there are major disputes, whether it’s a power law or a logarithmic law or various things of that sort, what the relationship is between physical intensities and mental intensities.

[Speaker A] You can do a survey.

[Speaker D] A logarithmic survey, yes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s what people do. There’s no other way to measure it.

[Speaker D] Rabbi, every Passover eve when I look at the knife and I said, what leavened food is here in this? I looked at the knife and said, come on, seriously, what leavened food is here? Is it absorbed or not absorbed? And I have gluten sensitivity, I’m not allowed to cut—it’s forbidden for her to cut an onion, not an onion, an apple with a knife that I used to cut bread. Now every time I look at it I say, what is absorbed here?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But that, for example, in Jewish law isn’t clear, because you need something sharp and a knife.

[Speaker D] No, I’m talking about leavened food, leave aside sharpness.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but with forbidden food, if it’s not sharp then it’s just a knife and this—

[Speaker D] Zero, no, if you washed the knife, then basically zero, and every time it was leavened food I said, what leavened food is here? And with gluten and sensitivity, it affects things like crazy.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s obviously a question of quantities. Rabbi Ben-Zion Abba Shaul writes somewhere that they asked him whether it is permitted to drink water from the Kinneret. Understand that there are people who put cloth on the faucet on Passover, because after all in the water reservoirs slices of bread or pitas or things like that can float around. Not only can—they do. The fishermen throw all kinds of things, and so on. And leavened food on Passover is prohibited in even the tiniest amount, meaning it is never nullified at any percentage. So he said that even “the tiniest amount” has a minimum measure.

[Speaker D] He told him that’s only a different problem.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What?

[Speaker A] No, that’s not a tiny amount, there’s one problem there.

[Speaker D] What? Namely that specifically where he lived the water wasn’t from the Kinneret at all.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, fine, no—they asked him—

[Speaker D] But it all came from the wells at Sha’ar HaGai.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Eighty percent of the water there was from there.

[Speaker A] No—

[Speaker D] I’m saying also where he lived it was—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] They asked him, people who perhaps do rely on Kinneret water. But never mind. In short, what I want to say is that many cases that we would classify as cases of dispute about reality are in fact disputes about evaluating reality or judging reality, and that is basically a normative dispute, not a factual dispute. And you have to know: in many cases it’s really like that. Better to dwell as two than to dwell alone, right? On what basis is a woman not willing, from the outset, to become betrothed? In what case, had she known, would she have refused the betrothal? When is there a mistaken transaction in betrothal? There are all kinds of disputes. If the husband is an apostate, if his brother is an apostate and she would fall before him for levirate marriage, if the husband beats her, if the husband has boils—disputes. So what is this, a dispute about reality? What a woman would refuse and what she wouldn’t? There are women who would refuse this and women who would refuse that. The question is: how many women refusing counts as an assessment that says an ordinary woman would refuse such a thing? Is twenty percent enough? Twenty percent? Yes, exactly. What is the standard of the reasonable person? That’s not a dispute about reality. You can come and say what determines it is the majority. Conduct a proper survey and see: if it’s 51% or more, then the majority determines it, because in Jewish law we follow the majority. Fine? But here what I said before comes in. The Sages didn’t conduct surveys. They didn’t conduct surveys; they got a rough impression of women’s opinions and said, okay, there is a significant segment of women who think this way, so I say yes; if not, then no. What does “significant” mean? So if you say 51%, then fine. But when you don’t measure, there’s no way to quantify. It’s significant enough—and that’s it. Like with a cubit, with all the measures. Once, you put out your hand and see whether there’s a cubit here or not. Today we measure it in centimeters. I’m saying again, because that’s how we are built. I have no criticism of that. That’s how we are built, and for us that’s correct. Today we could not do what people did once. Today we are too attached to science, to technology, to very formal thinking, so there has to be a uniform standard. So first of all, that removes from the picture many disputes—very many of them are disputes where, if you look closely, you’ll see that the reality is actually agreed upon. The whole question is how to evaluate it, how to judge it, and that really is not a dispute about reality. But several examples have already been brought here, and there are more examples; it’s clear that there are also disputes about reality. And then the question is what to do with that. And he brought something that I also read once and very much enjoyed, things that Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner wrote in one of his holy letters. He says: “And surely you know that such topics are found in the Talmud in great number.” There are disputes about reality. “And you must know that when so-and-so holds that the boards of the Tabernacle were made in a certain known way different from how reality actually was, he is simply mistaken.” So he was mistaken—what is there to discuss? That’s obvious. “But when…” We have a solution for that. We have no way of checking. In a place where we have no way of checking, can there be a dispute about reality? According to Rabbi Hutner’s view, he assumes not. He says there cannot be a dispute about reality, because there is no such thing as a sage who errs. You see, Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner felt compelled to solve the problem, to solve it. Regarding the boards of the Tabernacle, we have no way to check—how would we know what was there? Now there can be a dispute about reality. Why does that bother him? It bothers him and he looks for an answer because in his view there cannot be a dispute about reality. Because the problem is not “go check and see instead of arguing.” The problem is: how can it be that one side is wrong? After all, “these and those are the words of the living God.” That’s what bothers him. So he found a very nice solution that basically ends up bringing us back to the second conception. He says: “But when a sage presents from the tradition of the Oral Torah,” skipping a bit, “for they are the counselors of the Creator of the world—when he holds that the boards of the Tabernacle were made in a way different from how reality actually was, this is nothing but a concealment within the power of knowledge.” There is a concealment of knowledge, of information. “Just as the physical Tabernacle was hidden away according to the will of God, so too there is a process whereby the knowledge of its matter and its structure is consigned to concealment—concealment within the cognitive power of the sages of the tradition. If a sage from the sages of the tradition of the Oral Torah did not align with the reality of the physical structure,” meaning what he said does not match what actually was there, “then precisely thereby he aligned with the will of God. And consequently the Jewish law that emerges from the reasoning of this sage is the true Jewish law. And every reality has its own truth, and the truth of Torah reality is alignment with the will of God. So when two Amoraim dispute the manner in which the boards of the Tabernacle were made, the meaning of their dispute is how the image of the boards of the Tabernacle is now revealed before us.”

[Speaker A] That’s almost postmodernism.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. “And because the Jewish law that emerges from this dispute does not depend entirely on the actual reality of the boards of the Tabernacle, but rather on the way they are revealed, and the dispute of the Amoraim is how we are to interpret the verses dealing with this matter—since the interpretive exposition of verses by the sages of the Oral Torah is itself the will of God”—and here too there is a practical halakhic implication—“in the revelation of this matter through the power of cognition. And every detail of the actual reality of the Tabernacle itself that the sages of the Oral Torah found no place to derive from the verses or from their own reasoning is nothing but concealment. About any other opinion found in the world, we say one of two things: either it is mistaken or it is correct. But all the reasonings and opinions and expositions of the sages of the tradition of the Oral Torah are removed from the very distinction between correct and incorrect—these and those are the words of the living God.” This is the source here. Fine, what is he actually saying? He’s saying something that on the face of it is certainly a plausible idea. Meaning, when you get to the question of exactly how things functioned in the Tabernacle there, how the boards were made and fashioned—how do you arrive at that? You arrive at it through interpretation of the verses. You try to understand how the verses—the Talmudic passages, whatever, depending who you are—the Sages, say, tried to interpret the verses. Now clearly in reality one side was right and the other was wrong—either they made the boards this way or they made them the other way. Or maybe there is a third way.

[Speaker A] What? Or they were both wrong.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, at least one of them was wrong, and it could be both of them were wrong. But for us, what really happened is not important, because what matters is the meaning of the description of reality that appears in the Torah. Because from our point of view, when the Torah is written it documents reality, and what determines the laws of Sabbath is how the Holy One chose to describe what was there, not what really was there. That is what determines it. If so, then this is a dispute in interpreting the Torah, not a dispute about reality, and a dispute in interpreting the Torah is “these and those are the words of the living God.” Meaning, then, you are basically saying: what emerges from the Torah? If what emerges from the Torah is that the boards were such-and-such—after all, definitely it could be, for example, like “It is not done so in our place, to marry off the younger before the elder,” like Laban says to Eliezer. So the claim that Laban said that—the Magen Avraham says this as Jewish law. The fact that Laban said it, that he told him, this is not done in Aram Naharayim—so what? Tell me, how does that obligate Jews in Jewish law? What does that have to do with anything? The claim is that if the Torah wrote it, then the Torah wanted to tell us “It is not done so in our place.” It’s not merely a historical description of what happened there. The way the Torah chooses to describe something is not only to convey historical information but to teach me something I am supposed to learn from it.

[Speaker A] Not only—and maybe not at all.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He claims not at all, that history is of no interest. That’s what he claims. Fine, it’s like all the pilpulim about—well, this is of course famous—all the pilpulim that Vashti and Ahasuerus disagreed in the dispute between Rabbi Akiva Eiger and the Tzelach. What does that really mean? It is obvious that—I mean, even if you take these absurdities seriously—but what stands behind it? What stands behind it is that obviously Vashti and Ahasuerus did not disagree over that dispute. It’s only that the verses describe Vashti’s position and Ahasuerus’s position in such a way that the verses leave room for Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s interpretation and for the Tzelach’s interpretation. The one who wrote this with divine inspiration framed it in a way that can be interpreted like Rabbi Akiva Eiger and the Tzelach. It’s not about Vashti and Ahasuerus. All right? That’s what stands behind these things. So that’s what he really wants to claim: Jewish law does not depend on historical reality; Jewish law depends on the Torah’s description of historical reality. And in the Torah’s description, this one understands from the description that what happened was such-and-such, and that one understands from the description that what happened was such-and-such, and therefore that is what determines it. And one practical implication, for example, is what would happen if Elijah came and told me what really happened there. It doesn’t matter. Here, “these and those are the words of the living God” in the case of the concubine at Gibeah—

[Speaker A] It doesn’t matter.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The sage who disagrees will remain with his opinion and he will not be persuaded by what Elijah said. Why? Because from his point of view, at least regarding the lesson we understand, the lesson is—yes, a fly—I read the verses and from the verses what emerges is “a fly.” I’m not interested in what historically really happened there.

[Speaker A] He probably misread it if there really was a fly there. What? The Tabernacle was a specific thing and the Torah did not describe something incorrect.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, yes—it described it in such a way as to clarify for me the laws of Sabbath that obligate me. It chose to describe it in a way not necessarily corresponding to reality, because from its point of view—rather, it is faithful to what I need to learn from what happened there, because practical implications emerge from that. That’s the claim. And that he calls the concealment of knowledge. Just as the Tabernacle was hidden away, the knowledge or information about what happened there in the building of the Tabernacle was hidden away as well. What does “hidden away” mean? Hidden away in the minds of the sages of the Oral Torah, or hidden away in the Torah. And now you uncover what is inside the Torah, and that is already a question of interpretation. He uncovers it this way and he uncovers it that way. And then he claims—there is still some concession here. Clearly each side was mistaken—one of the sides was mistaken, sorry—in the historical sense. But it’s not really a mistake, because they were not claiming something about history; they were claiming something about the literary description of history, the biblical description of history. And here you can say “these and those are the words of the living God” completely. That really is what matters; it doesn’t matter what actually happened. Yes, just like the Sages return to the questions with Maimonides, yes? About the angels who came to Abraham—was it a parable or did it really happen? That too is a dispute. It doesn’t matter right now, meaning, because it is only a dispute about what happened, but what happened is not important. What matters is the lesson that emerges from it. And the lesson that emerges from it—whether it was a parable or not a parable—the Torah wrote it in order to teach me that lesson, so as far as the lesson is concerned, what difference does it make? Therefore the dispute between Maimonides and other commentators who interpret it literally is not really a significant dispute. It is not really a historical dispute. In the historical dispute, one is right and one is wrong, but it is not a dispute in Torah outlook. In Torah outlook, the question is always whether you derive a conclusion from it. If you derive a conclusion from it, then there will be “these and those are the words of the living God,” because basically you can interpret the verses this way and you can interpret the verses that way. So if the Torah can be interpreted this way or that way, that means there is room for both these conceptions. And that is what matters here. “These and those are the words of the living God” applies to the Torah lessons, the halakhic lessons, and not to factual reality. And I say, all this is on the assumption that there really cannot be a dispute about reality, because there cannot be error, as he assumes. He claims the dispute is not about reality but about how we see reality.

[Speaker B] That’s true, I assume, in the story of the angels. The dispute between the commentators, as I understand it, is what the plain meaning is. It’s known that you can expound the Torah through plain meaning, hint, homiletics, and secret, and there are seventy facets to the Torah. But when there’s a dispute between commentators on the Torah, it’s a dispute about what the plain meaning is. For you to tell me, as a homiletic reading, that the angels—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no—that’s what I’m saying. Even the dispute between Maimonides and those who disagreed with him in interpreting the Torah, whether it was a parable or it really happened—one was right and one was wrong, because it either happened or it didn’t happen. Right, of course. But Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner says, fine, but that doesn’t matter, because the dispute really is not there. The real dispute is about what lessons I will learn from there. And the lessons I learn from there—it doesn’t matter whether it was a parable or not a parable. These and those—

[Speaker B] Maimonides says he isn’t interested in what happened in the plain meaning?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no—

[Speaker D] He’s interested in the plain meaning only—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Only insofar as there is a practical implication for what lesson I learn from there. That’s the claim. If you want to know what happened, then fine, let’s have a dispute between archaeologists. Then one is right and one is wrong. But who cares? What matters is the lesson I learn from there. And even if it was a parable, the Torah wrote it—the visit of the angels—in order to teach me that, you know, hospitality is greater than receiving the Divine Presence. There are many lessons learned from those angels. So it never happened and was never created, fine, according to Maimonides. But the Torah wrote it in order to teach me that lesson.

[Speaker E] So why not say the lesson explicitly? What? Why not state the lesson explicitly? Why choose—?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s already the question of why the Torah chooses to convey things through literary messages. Fine, sometimes that’s a better way of conveying messages—when you tell a story rather than saying it in a prosaic, direct way.

[Speaker D] By the way, with Laban too there was a dispute about reality, because he said to Jacob, he told him, “It is not done so in our place.” He tells him, don’t make a fuss—where we are, that’s just how it’s done, it isn’t done otherwise here. Why get hung up on details?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, okay. But that wasn’t a dispute at all. “It is not done so in our place”—it’s agreed that that’s how it wasn’t done there.

[Speaker D] No, he told him, “It is not done so”—he—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He told him, come on, let’s make this bigger—it doesn’t matter that that’s how people do it. There is no dispute there; there is no dispute in the interpretation of the verse there. Okay, so that’s regarding disputes about reality. So if I summarize—I see this took me more time than I thought—if I summarize, then basically I’d say this: in most cases, the dispute really is not about reality. That’s true. Not because I have some motivation to say so, but because it really is not a dispute about reality. It’s a dispute about evaluating reality; in essence it’s about how to define the threshold. How much is called taste, how much is called shade, all kinds of things of that sort. It’s only a question of what the threshold is. How much must a woman object, how many women, what percentage of women have to refuse such a betrothal in order to say that the average woman does not accept a betrothal of that sort. When there really is a dispute about reality, then there are different possibilities. One possibility is to say: okay, there is a dispute about reality and one is right and one is wrong. So what? Who said there’s no such thing? True, in a place where you can settle it by checking, then what’s the point of disagreeing—just check. In principle. And even about that I said: fine, the mentality then was not necessarily such that they were aware that every time you simply need to go to reality and check. I can understand disputes that remain unresolved without checking, even though I say that when there’s a dispute, unlike Aristotle’s assertion, then it really is harder. When you have a dispute, why sanctify the two opinions? Go do an experiment for two minutes and check. What’s the problem? Check who is right. And that is a significant argument. So according to this conception there are disputes about reality, but not in a place where it can be checked—certainly not where it can be checked easily. By the way, it’s like the laws of doubt. In the laws of doubt too, if you are in doubt that doesn’t mean you may be lenient in a rabbinic-level doubt. If you can check it, then it isn’t called that you are in doubt. Check. Something that can be checked—what do you mean, I’m in doubt so I may be lenient? That’s not called doubt. Those who go further are the ones who basically say there is no such thing at all as a dispute about reality. Like Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner’s assumption. Why? Because it cannot be that a sage of the Oral Torah is mistaken. Such a thing cannot be. I said that the Minchat Chinukh applies this even to the medieval authorities (Rishonim), not only to the Sages. He brings a dispute among the medieval authorities about whether the blood is “stored in place” or “uprooted from its source”—there’s a passage in tractate Ketubot. That’s one example; there’s another example in the Minchat Chinukh regarding the question of how blood is contained in a virgin woman—when one has intercourse with her, blood comes out. And the question is: how is the blood there? Is it deposited, as if in a kind of pouch, or is it actually absorbed into the organs—“stored in place” or “uprooted from its source”? That has practical implications for the question of whether intercourse is prohibited on Sabbath and under which category of labor, and so on. In any case, the Minchat Chinukh says there—what, there cannot be a dispute about reality as to whether the blood is “stored in place” or “uprooted from its source,” and therefore he explains those views differently. Meaning, he assumes that even among the medieval authorities there cannot be a dispute about reality. There is no such thing. Because then one of them turns out to be mistaken. I said that doesn’t necessarily bother me, but even if we adopt that, there is still Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner’s way out, where he takes it all the way and basically says: okay, true, it cannot be that one of the sages of the Oral Torah erred, and therefore whenever there is something that seems to you like a dispute about reality, first check whether it really is a dispute about reality or only a question of where to set the threshold. Second, the dispute is about how I interpret reality or where I set the threshold, and not a dispute about what really existed in reality. Good. That’s the first part. The second part is really about the social disputes, what I mentioned. Maybe I’ll give some introduction. It says in Avot: “Any dispute that is for the sake of Heaven will in the end endure; a dispute that is not for the sake of Heaven will not endure. What is a dispute that is not for the sake of Heaven? The dispute of Korach and his congregation. A dispute for the sake of Heaven? The disputes of the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai.” An interesting point, because the Jerusalem Talmud describes the dispute between the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel as reaching the point of killing one another. I mentioned this one of the previous times. And that is called a dispute for the sake of Heaven. Meaning, the definition of a dispute for the sake of Heaven versus a flawed dispute is not necessarily a question of how extreme it is and how it is conducted. Again, I said, we clarified that they didn’t literally kill each other, but apparently there was something there that was rather violent and extreme. Today, very often, the tendency is to think it depends on how you conduct the dispute. Meaning, if it’s extreme then it’s a dispute not for the sake of Heaven, and if it’s for the sake of Heaven then it has to be conducted gently and so on. I do not accept that at all. On the website this comes up quite a bit too, and harsh expressions—as if harsh expressions are automatically illegitimate or not. I’ve often repeated this: in my view the question is whether it is substantive or non-substantive. That’s not the same as how sharply you write. Fine, I’m saying maybe there is a value in not being sharp, and maybe sometimes I go too far—I’m willing to accept criticism. I only claim that on the principled level I do not accept that as a criterion for what is legitimate and what is not legitimate. I say, if I talk about his mother’s profession or his sister’s profession, speculate about his mother’s or sister’s profession—at least unfounded speculation—then that’s not substantive. Because what does that have to do with anything? Discuss the issue itself. But if I speak sharply, and I say you’re stupid, you’re an idiot, you’re this—so what? That can be substantive. If I really explain that he’s stupid and an idiot, if I bring reasons and show that he’s stupid and an idiot. So I said, so what if I said something harsh? Maybe one should speak moderately; there’s room to discuss when yes and when no. But I’m saying again, moderation is not the criterion for whether this is a legitimate dispute or not and whether it is for the sake of Heaven or not for the sake of Heaven. What?

[Speaker E] The medieval authorities used—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, and in the Talmud too they say someone is stupid. Right, Nachmanides says, “Any judge who rules in this manner is no judge at all.” In the Talmud, tractate Bava Metzia 36 apparently, Abaye and Rava say to one another: any judge who rules like you is not a judge at all. Abaye and Rava. Not judges at all. Or the Ba’al HaMaor and Nachmanides—Nachmanides says, “ancient words from the mouth of a newly old man.” Well, here comes another newcomer, a newly old man. The Ba’al HaMaor wrote, as a young boy, objections to the Rif; Nachmanides was appalled by that. Meaning, the Rif was considered very exalted—you weren’t supposed to touch him, because he was holy. The Ba’al HaMaor was seventeen. What did he write? He wrote it at seventeen. He wrote objections to the Rif, so Nachmanides got worked up at him, as if to say: sit down, grow up first, study a bit before you write. But the fact is that he bothered to answer him, meaning there was respect together with the—

[Speaker D] If you answered him, then—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You already wrote an entire work to answer the objections of the Ba’al HaMaor, with all the engagement. But Maimonides less so.

[Speaker D] Also the Ra’avad and Maimonides, no? What? There are age differences between them. Between whom? Between the Ra’avad and Maimonides. The Ra’avad was a bit older when he wrote his objections to him.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, but—it could be, I don’t remember exactly at what stage he read Maimonides and then responded. Clearly Maimonides was young. Eighty—twenty-seven. Could be.

[Speaker D] Or because it was for Rabbi Michel.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Sometimes it’s even something silly but you have to address it because people will think it’s serious. Could be. In any case, I’m saying, the sharpness of the expression—I don’t think it’s all that relevant at all. I’m saying, you can argue about manners and etiquette, and you can argue about tactics—meaning what helps and what works, what’s effective and what isn’t effective. But often people see that as significant. Meaning, if you speak sharply, then it’s illegitimate. And it’s a dispute not for the sake of Heaven. I absolutely do not accept that. You can insult, revile, and skewer the other person—I have no problem with that, including if it’s me myself—as long as you substantiate it, you show that what you said is really true, that I spoke nonsense, that I’m an idiot. So tell me I’m an idiot. Fine, what’s the problem? I’ll argue with you and say I’m not an idiot, but I have no problem with the fact that you said it. Meaning, that’s exactly the point. Yes, that post about my being a heretic—people were terribly offended on my behalf. What’s the problem? That really is what he thinks. It fits the definition of a heretic, so he’s right according to his own view. Now you can argue whether I agree with him or disagree with him, but what’s illegitimate about saying it? That’s the dictionary definition of the term according to his view, and that’s what he says. What’s the problem with that? And the fact that there are stupid people—of course there are stupid people. So if I say to someone that he’s stupid, is that necessarily illegitimate? It’s illegitimate unless I showed that he’s stupid. Meaning, if I show by arguments that he’s stupid and I say he’s stupid, then it is completely substantive. You can say again, it’s not useful, not tactical, not this—fine. Let’s argue tactically. But that’s not the point. And a dispute for the sake of Heaven can be conducted in a very extreme way. And many times it was conducted in a very extreme way, and that doesn’t mean it wasn’t for the sake of Heaven. The dispute—I don’t know, all the crazy fanaticism of Satmar, whatever, all kinds of things of that sort, yes? In my view that is in principle a dispute for the sake of Heaven. Including the ugliest actions. Informing to the authorities against the Zionists—not today; I’m talking about the beginning of Zionism. That’s not Satmar already, but the opposition to Zionism or to the Enlightenment. They would inform on one another to the authorities and things of that kind. In my view that is a dispute for the sake of Heaven. A dispute for the sake of Heaven in which they may have done things they perhaps should not have done or were forbidden to do, but the dispute is for the sake of Heaven. You really think the other person is harmful and needs to be put in prison by the Russians so that he won’t lead the children of Israel away from their minds or from their religion. Fine. Now I can argue with you whether it is right to do that, whether it is permitted to do that, but according to your own view you are doing it for completely substantive reasons. You are not doing it because you just hate me for no reason. That is a dispute for the sake of Heaven. What about killing? What? Killing? At a certain level of extremity, even killing? Yes. I’m saying again, I can disagree, but the fact that I disagree—take Yigal Amir, for example, yes? What do you mean, “what about killing”? So I say: it was an act entirely for the sake of Heaven. And I can disagree with him, but it was an act for the sake of Heaven. He didn’t do it just because he felt like killing Rabin, I think—I don’t know him—but because he hated him. He thought that by this he was preventing disasters. That’s what he thought. Now, it could be he was mistaken, and it could be that even if he would have prevented disasters it still would not be justified to do it. That’s a dispute on the substantive level. But if that really is what he thought, then it is a substantive act for the sake of Heaven.

[Speaker A] “For the sake of Heaven” doesn’t necessarily mean good? What? “For the sake of Heaven” doesn’t necessarily—when the Talmud says, “A dispute that is for the sake of Heaven will in the end endure,” it brings that as praise for a dispute for the sake of Heaven.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, it really is praise.

[Speaker A] Why? That’s what I said about Yigal Amir, what I just said.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And the fact that he did it not for his own lusts does not—

[Speaker A] Mean that it’s a good thing.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t say it’s a good thing; there’s no connection. I said it’s not a good thing, and I said it’s praise. Two different things. He did it for the sake of Heaven and I disagree with him. He did something wrong. Two different things. So I give him the credit for what he deserves credit for, and I condemn him for what I think I disagree with. That’s what I’m saying. Hillel and Shammai wanted to kill each other, or did kill one another. I do not necessarily praise that matter; in fact I’m not inclined to praise it. But I do see it as a dispute for the sake of Heaven. The Mishnah says it is a dispute for the sake of Heaven, the dispute of the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai. It is a dispute for the sake of Heaven. Fine. Even a dispute for the sake of Heaven may need limits, but the definition of whether it is for the sake of Heaven or not, in my view, is a definition based on whether it is substantive or not. The dispute of the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel was a substantive dispute; they really thought the other was mistaken, harmful, whatever it was, and therefore they did what they did. So I can argue that what they did was wrong. But it is a dispute for the sake of Heaven.

[Speaker D] And where is Korach, where in his case it’s not for the sake of Heaven?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What?

[Speaker D] Where is Korach, where in his case it’s not for the sake of Heaven?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because Korach apparently—that’s the claim of the Sages, I don’t know. And the Sages’ claim was not because he disagreed with Moses our teacher. The substantive claims are a cover for other motivations. That was the claim. At least that’s how I interpret it. And therefore we see that it is not a dispute for the sake of Heaven. He wanted a position for himself; he wanted that Moses our teacher should not be the leader but that he should be the leader. Yes, “Why do you exalt yourselves?” Now if you really make that claim in the name of democracy, then it’s a dispute for the sake of Heaven. But if you make it because you want to be the leader and not someone else, then it’s a dispute not for the sake of Heaven. Because you are basically doing it because you have an interest. Okay? That’s exactly the point. It is not at all a question of how sharply Korach did it. That’s not the point. The question is why he did it. Was it substantive or non-substantive.

[Speaker E] You can’t take the label “for the sake of Heaven” and in its name give legitimacy to the prohibition of murder. One must die rather than transgress. What, because it’s for the sake of Heaven, then—?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t say I was giving legitimacy.

[Speaker E] You said it’s for the sake of Heaven. But that means you’re giving him praise, you’re commending him.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I commend him and I say it’s for the sake of Heaven, but that does not mean it’s legitimacy.

[Speaker E] You can’t praise something like that.

[Speaker A] You can’t praise the classification of the dispute?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This thing is bad in one respect and good in another respect.

[Speaker E] Do you think that in that way we are contaminating the meaning of “for the sake of Heaven”?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t agree. I think that evaluating events and opinions and the way people conduct themselves can be a complex evaluation. I can disagree very strongly with someone and still greatly appreciate him for his approach, for what he does according to his approach. We once talked about suicide terrorists. Same thing. I think the self-sacrifice—their self-sacrifice—is very worthy of appreciation in my view. I don’t know whether I myself would be so ready to sacrifice myself for what I think is true. At the same time, it’s clear to me that they need to be killed, that they are harmful, and that this must be prevented by every possible means. Because I don’t agree with what they’re doing. Not only do I not agree, I’m also, of course, a potential victim. But I’m saying that this doesn’t prevent me from appreciating them. In my view, on the contrary, contaminating the discourse means mixing up the different planes. We need to relate to phenomena in a nuanced way. They have this aspect and they have that aspect. Each thing on its own merits. And I claim that a dispute for the sake of Heaven or not for the sake of Heaven is not a question of how it’s conducted. That doesn’t mean I have no criticism of the way disputes are conducted. There can be criticism of that. But that’s criticism of a dispute that is for the sake of Heaven, because even that has ways it should and shouldn’t be conducted. That’s a different argument. But a dispute that is not for the sake of Heaven is a dispute that says your motivation is an extraneous motivation, not for the sake of Heaven. And here that is not true. You can conduct a dispute in a very ugly and extreme way and it can still be a dispute for the sake of Heaven. Everyone laughs a lot at all those people who, yes, do everything, and of course it’s all only for the sake of Torah, right? And people always say that ironically and cynically. I don’t see it cynically. I think that very often—not always, but very often—it really is a reflection or expression of the person’s true position. He thinks that this is how one ought to act. I can argue with him—not only argue about the position itself, but also argue that even if this is your position, it’s still not right to act this way. But I still understand that you think it is justified to act this way according to your approach. And again, this is not postmodernism, as we said earlier. Because I will still oppose him, and I will put him in prison, or I will prevent what he is doing. It’s not that I’m willing to let everyone do whatever he wants. But I can still also appreciate him according to his approach. That’s the complexity. It’s not that everyone is right; rather, even in someone who is not right, there can be aspects that are indeed aspects one can appreciate and acknowledge, or all kinds of things of that sort. So therefore, if I just sum up the introduction, because I only began this point, then we’ll continue a bit next time and then start the next topic. We’ll see how much more we continue. The criterion of for the sake of Heaven or not for the sake of Heaven is not the question of how the dispute is conducted, but the question of what its motivations are. Whether the motivations are substantive or not. And I also don’t think it’s true that the manner of conduct is an indication of the motivations. That too is not true. The manner of conduct not only does not in itself define whether the dispute is for the sake of Heaven, but it is also not necessarily an indication that the motivations are not proper. That’s not true. There are people who truly are zealots, and they are zealots and they do it for the sake of Heaven. You can argue with zealots, you can disagree with them, but you can’t say that it is not for the sake of Heaven necessarily. It depends—there are some for whom it is, and some for whom it isn’t. Okay. We’ll stop here.