Intention in Mitzvot – Lesson 1

This transcription was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.

🔗 Link to the original lecture

🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, what we found regarding prohibitions, the case of acting unawares, seemingly applies to positive commandments as well. And that is the meaning of intention of the first type in the Mishnah Berurah. Simply, that you not be acting unawares. Let me give an example. For instance, let’s take what an unintended act is. The difference between an unintended act and acting unawares is a pretty subtle difference, at least in certain circumstances. But in the simple case, let’s say in the laws of the Sabbath, if you drag… an unintended act applies throughout the Torah, but let’s take an example from the laws of the Sabbath. If you drag a bench and a furrow is made in the ground, but you dragged the bench in order to move it from place to place—you did not want to make a furrow—then that is an unintended act. Right? Fine. I’m not talking right now about an inevitable result, but when it is not an inevitable result, that is called an unintended act. Okay? Now what happens if I am not even paying attention to the fact that I am dragging a bench? I was just walking, and the bench got dragged behind me. Then that is acting unawares. I would say more precisely: it is not even a matter of being occupied with dragging the bench; the acting-unawares has to be with respect to the furrow. Because the prohibition is not dragging the bench. You need to be unaware of the prohibited action, not of the action that I am doing which causes the prohibition. Therefore the more precise analogy is if I drag the bench and I am not at all aware that it is making a furrow. I do not notice that the ground here is soft ground. Okay? I know that I am dragging the bench, but the prohibition is not dragging the bench; the prohibition is the furrow. As for the furrow—I am not aware of it at all. I do not even notice that a furrow is being formed here in the ground. That is not an unintended act; that is acting unawares. In an unintended act, he knows that a furrow will be made, or could be made—otherwise it is an inevitable result. He knows that a furrow could be made. It is not that he doesn’t know, that it happened to him suddenly out of the blue, that he did not notice. No—he notices, everything is fine. Therefore many people make a mistake about this. An unintended act is not an exemption of the type of compulsion. It is not one of the types of compulsion, an unintended act. What? No, that is another discussion—when he does not know—that is Rabbi Akiva Eiger and the Taz. No, it is not exactly the same thing. I gave here an example where the doubt is a doubt in knowledge, but that is not really correct, because the furrow in the ground is actually presented as a doubt not in knowledge, which is harder on Rabbi Akiva Eiger. Fine, but that is… So what I want to say is that we distinguish between an unintended act and acting unawares with transgressions. With commandments too, one can make a similar distinction. If I do the commandment not in order to fulfill my obligation, that is similar to an unintended act. I am dragging the bench not in order to make a furrow, but in order to move the bench. I am not aware of the transgression involved in that. If I am not aware of the very fact that a furrow is even being made here—I am dragging the bench and did not notice that there is some kind of ground here in which a furrow could be formed—then that is acting unawares. The same with a lulav, for example. With a lulav, I can say that I do not intend to fulfill my obligation. That is the unintended-act type over which there is the dispute whether commandments require intention. But there can also be the unintended act of the first type we used—even though this is not a verbal commandment—waving the lulav, or taking the lulav; waving is another whole issue. Why, what is the unintended act of the first type in waving the lulav? That you are acting unawares. Suppose you pick up the lulav in order to move it from place to place, not in order to take it as a commandment. Yes, you are not even paying attention to the fact that you are taking it. So this is more than just a plain unintended act where you do not intend to fulfill your obligation. There is also that. But it is more than that—you are not even aware that you are picking up the lulav, that you are taking the lulav. You are just moving it, as it were. You are not in a mode of being aware that you are even moving the lulav. Which means that the intention of the first type that appears in the Mishnah Berurah, even though the examples he brings are examples of verbal commandments, where on the face of it that is the most natural case—in my humble opinion this is an intention that applies to all commandments, not only to verbal commandments: that you not be acting unawares. And if that is so, then why did he choose examples only of speech? It is strange that he brings דווקא examples of speech. He brings four examples, not just one. If there was one, fine, he brought one and it happened to be a commandment that… But he brings four examples, all of them verbal commandments. I do not know whether he was aware of this distinction. It could be that he really understood the intention of the first type as intending the words, and intention in verbal commandments. I do not know. Because the first formulation, for example, he says—look here—A: directing the heart to the commandment itself. And B: intending to fulfill one’s obligation through it. “Directing the heart to the commandment itself” is a more general formulation; it is not specifically speech, it is not “the meaning of the words.” At the beginning he does not actually mention words; he speaks about commandments in general. So I do not know. In the formulation at the beginning he speaks about all commandments; in the formulation later on he speaks only about verbal commandments. But regardless of what he means, I will tell you what I mean. It may be that he does not mean this. What I want to say is that in verbal commandments there are two layers. And in regular commandments there are three layers. In regular commandments there are two layers. Okay? In verbal commandments, the third layer is indispensable according to everyone. If you are not thinking about the words at all, then according to everyone that is indispensable—you are not thinking about the meaning of the words. If you do not understand the context in which you are acting, then you are acting unawares. But if you are thinking about the words in verbal commandments, yet you are acting unawares—or in commandments like taking the lulav, you are acting unawares—then that is the first intention, which ideally according to everyone is required, but after the fact according to everyone it does not invalidate. And the intention discussed in the question whether commandments require intention is intention of the third type, namely the intention to fulfill one’s obligation. And there there is a dispute whether ideally according to everyone it is required—“do things for the sake of their purpose”—and after the fact there is a dispute whether commandments require intention, meaning whether it invalidates. And the view that commandments do not require intention holds that it does not invalidate. Could it not be the second intention? Because he…

[Speaker C] If he is not aware at all of what he is doing, then how can there be an intention to fulfill his obligation? Obviously there won’t be.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Obviously there won’t be; I didn’t understand.

[Speaker C] No, if you…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That is connected to the next distinction I’m about to make. One second. The next distinction between these two kinds of intention appears in the Mishnah Berurah. Notice: he says, if one is required to intend—that is the dispute regarding whether commandments require intention—if one must intend before beginning the commandment to fulfill his obligation by performing that commandment. Meaning, the issue of commandments requiring intention refers to intention before performing the commandment, not during the performance of the commandment. About the famous “for the sake of unification,” even if one does not need to say it, the intention needs to be that as I prepare to perform the commandment, I need to intend that I want to fulfill my obligation. It is not said about during the action; it is said about the preparation beforehand. This unintended-act case—and this is the answer to what you said—it could be that afterward I suddenly become acting unawares, and I do not even notice that this is what I am doing. Human beings are complicated creatures. You can prepare for something, and afterward—you know, “some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we mention the name of God,” as is known. Yes, there are people who, in order to travel to the United States, have to buy a ticket on El Al. We only “mention the name of God”; you begin the Amidah and you are already in the United States. So it can be like that here too: after we intended—or did intend—to fulfill our obligation, afterward suddenly we can become people acting unawares. Yes.

[Speaker D] Do you mean in the Shulchan Arukh itself, in the Jewish law in the Shulchan Arukh? What do you mean?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That maybe this is only in speech. No, no, obviously not. How could that make sense to say? Torah-level commandments maybe yes. Yes. I think for Torah-level commandments, yes. Well, according to Maimonides the commandment of prayer is Torah-level, and prayer is after the recitation of the Shema. Tefillin, fringes, he spoke about. Yes, tefillin and fringes are an exception—we’ll see in a moment. Tefillin and fringes are an exception. Aside from tefillin and fringes, it could be that this is the first one, if I remember correctly. Anyway, in short, we have learned that there are two—or at least even three, I think—three kinds of intentions. One of them, in verbal commandments, is indispensable according to everyone. In all commandments there is one that according to everyone does not invalidate, but is still required. “Commandments require intention” means the intention to fulfill one’s obligation, and there is a dispute whether that invalidates or does not invalidate, but according to everyone ideally it is required. And what about acting unawares? Not certain—we will see it in the passage. The Ran and the Rashba bring acting unawares here in connection with whether commandments require intention; we will still talk about this. What you said earlier about speech? What do you

[Speaker J] mean? What you said earlier.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But he said that it does not invalidate—the Mishnah Berurah. Intention of the first type does not invalidate. So how can acting unawares

[Speaker J] be what… no—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t understand.

[Speaker J] There is the intention in speech, after all, where you thought it made sense that it is unclear how speech could even exist without the intention of the words accompanying it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, in acting unawares you do the action. If I took the lulav, did I take the lulav? I did—only I was not aware of it. In speech, if I am not aware of it, then it is not speech at all. It is not an external condition. If you are not aware of it—

[Speaker J] then you didn’t speak.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You didn’t speak. You moved your lips and let out air. Obviously. Speech is communication. It is to convey content that is within me to someone else. If you are just moving your lips, it is like—you know—the endless arguments with atheists, about monkeys jumping on a keyboard and by chance producing “to be or not to be.” You know that example? On every atheist website they talk about it. Monkeys jump on a keyboard and by chance they produce “to be or not to be,” yes, Shakespeare’s line. Okay? Can that happen? What is the probability that such a thing would happen by chance, and so on. But I will ask another question now. Let’s say it did come out that way—did they really say “to be or not to be”? Obviously not! They jumped on the keyboard and by chance that is what came out. You cannot say that they wrote “to be or not to be.” That is not the action at all! Unlike waving the lulav, which is a physical action. If you waved the lulav, you waved it. You didn’t intend? Fine. Now we need to discuss whether intention is an external condition, whether it invalidates or not, but the action itself you did perform. In speech, the thought is part of the very definition of the action itself. And if it is missing, then there was no action at all—you did not speak. Yes, so here I write, for example: what about the prayer of a secular person? There are books like that that have come out in recent years, all kinds of secular prayers and all kinds of nonsense like that. What is a secular person’s prayer? How do we relate to such a thing? Yes, they trot out a secular person, they invite a secular person to the minyan so he will complete the quorum for us, so he will join the minyan. And let’s even say he mumbles from the prayer book what is written there. Is that prayer? Is that not prayer? Some intention is missing there—which intention is missing there? So that is an interesting question. Because obviously there is no intention there to fulfill one’s obligation, because he does not recognize the very notion of fulfilling one’s obligation. No problem—I’m not talking about someone who slacks off, but someone who does not recognize at all the whole system of commandments and the obligation toward them. Okay? So the intention to fulfill one’s obligation is certainly not there. So that becomes a question of whether commandments require intention or do not require intention; that is a dispute. According to the one who says commandments require intention, that invalidates—it is worth nothing. What? Wait. Now the next question is whether there is the second intention. He intends the words. Fine? He intends them; he understands the words he is saying and intends the words he is saying. What does “intends” mean? He understands the words he is speaking. Okay? Is there here the third intention that I added? I’m not sure at all. What? So I’m saying: it seems to me—seems to me—that he is acting unawares. It seems to me that he is acting unawares. Even though—what do you mean?—he says something and means what he said, but the whole context is not a context that exists for him. From his point of view it is irrelevant. Therefore it seems to me—food for thought, I’m not… but it seems to me that such a thing is acting unawares, completely acting unawares. One second. Yes, I do not think you can count such a person for a minyan. Flowerpots do not count for a minyan; I mean, you need ten people praying. What? No, not acting unawares—a secular person. He does not count for a minyan. If he is nothing, he is secular, he does not count for a minyan.

[Speaker D] So what if there are six or seven people praying—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] and four who would be praying, but they already prayed? Ah—but he is not praying; he is a cactus. What is he doing there? He is planted there to do you a favor. He is not—you cannot count him as one of the ten people praying. That has no meaning.

[Speaker D] So you’ve basically destroyed all the minyanim.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, all the minyanim—the minyanim where the secular person is one of the ten, you prayed without a minyan. Yes. And the Kedushah that you said and so on—that becomes problematic. Anyway. Yes, so in terms of interpersonal morality, he gets the president’s medal for helping others. He is there in order to help you; he has nothing to do with the Holy One, blessed be He. You simply need a minyan, so he comes and completes the minyan for you. Wonderful—truly an excellent person, very good morally—but it has nothing to do with the commandment of prayer. If he does not believe in it, what good will it do to tell him? He does not believe in it. Again, I am not talking about all secular people. I mean a secular person of the kind who does not believe in this whole story—no obligations, nothing. There are many secular people who do believe; it just does not suit them, they slack off, whatever, for all sorts of reasons. Okay? Traditional Jews, in this context, do count—they are basically part of the matter and so on; they just slack off in certain things. But they definitely belong in prayer. On the one hand they are much worse than atheists, because they know and do not observe. But on the other hand, regarding counting for a minyan, this is not a sanction. It is not a question of how wicked you are. It is simply that you cannot count someone for a minyan if he is a flowerpot. He does not know what he is doing here; he is just sitting here like a flowerpot in the corner. There is no difference between the two of you. A traditional Jew, in this context, is not like that, because he does know to whom one prays; he is praying. The fact that he does not always do it or that he slacks off—fine, okay, but here he is praying; he is one of the ten. Okay? Good. What? I think it is not that—it is worse than that. He is not at all subject to commandment observance. Fine, but that is what I intend to get to in the last lesson, after we go through the whole process. We will not start with all the provocations at the beginning. In the Shulchan Arukh, in section 8, it says as follows: “When wrapping himself, he should intend that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded him to wrap himself in it so that we remember all His commandments and perform them.” The source is the Tur. The Shulchan Arukh here copies the language of the Tur, that one must intend when wrapping himself in fringes that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded him to wrap himself in it so that we remember all His commandments and perform them. Where did the Tur invent this from? From the Torah. Right? “And you shall see it and remember all My commandments.” Right? But it is still an invention. Because things that are written in the Torah—if they do not appear in the Talmud, we usually do not take them into account. Generally that is the case. There are examples of this. I once wrote an article about it; I called it “uprooted halakhot.” There are things written explicitly in the Torah, and nobody relates to them as Jewish law. For example, the Sabbath rest of one’s son: “so that your son and your daughter may rest,” and so on. “Your ox and your donkey”—that is the rest of one’s animal, right? That is explicit Torah-level Jewish law. What about the Sabbath rest of one’s son in that same verse? “Your son and your daughter” is also written there. Where is the Sabbath rest of one’s son? In tractate Shabbat 117, the Talmud says: “If a minor comes to extinguish, we do not tell him ‘extinguish’ or ‘do not extinguish,’ because his rest is your responsibility.” And then the Talmud there begins to discuss whether, if a minor eats forbidden carcasses, the court is commanded to separate him from it or not commanded to separate him. What? I heard. Both in Yevamot and in Shabbat.

[Speaker L] In Shabbat it is 117; in Yevamot it is 113.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I am not talking about the source for intention. So the claim, in the end, is that the Torah says, “so that your son and your daughter may rest.” And indeed Rashba, at the beginning of the chapter “One Who Was Overtaken by Darkness”—not there at the source—argues that “if a minor comes to extinguish, we do not tell him ‘extinguish’ or ‘do not extinguish’” because of “so that your son and your daughter may rest.” And therefore it is different from all the other laws in which if a minor eats forbidden carcasses, the court is not commanded to separate him. You are not obligated to separate a minor who is committing a Torah prohibition. On the rabbinic level, there is the law of education incumbent on the parents, and so on, but on the Torah level you do not need to separate him; he can eat pork to his heart’s content. But in the laws of the Sabbath, says Rashba, since it says “so that your son and your daughter may rest,” just like “your ox and your donkey,” there is a Sabbath rest of one’s son. But none of the medieval authorities (Rishonim)—all of them engage in pilpul there, Tosafot and everyone—asking how this can be, how this fits with coercing by hand and with a minor eating forbidden things; nobody even imagines saying “the Sabbath rest of one’s son and the Sabbath rest of one’s daughter.” It is written explicitly in the Torah. This Jewish law is written explicitly in the Torah; it does not appear in the Talmud, so—gone. The Jewish law does not exist. There are—well, there are some very strange things indeed. There is Minchat Chinukh, who says that he wants to argue that causing a blind person to stumble on the road is not prohibited, since the Sages said that this only means dishonest advice or causing someone to sin. So then what is written in the Torah is not prohibited at all. Well, that is absurd. Obviously that too is prohibited; the Sages only added further interpretations—not “sermons”; “sermons” is a pejorative word. They added interpretations. But there are places where there really is a blunt ignoring of things written explicitly in the Torah. I once collected several such examples. Anyway, for our purposes: here the Tur decided not to ignore it, and he says that when we wrap ourselves in fringes, we need to intend in order to remember all His commandments and perform them—“and you shall remember all My commandments and do them,” and everything written in the verse. That is what the Shulchan Arukh copies. So the Bach there on the Tur writes as follows: “He should intend when wrapping himself.” What compelled our master the Tur to rule in this matter that one should intend when wrapping himself—and similarly in the laws of tefillin, section 25, and the laws of Sukkah, 625—it appears that since it is written in the passage of fringes “so that you may remember,” and in tefillin “and it shall be for you a sign, so that the Torah of God may be in your mouth, for with a strong hand God brought you out of Egypt,” and in Sukkah, “so that your generations may know that I caused the children of Israel to dwell in sukkot”—this indicates that the essence of the commandment and its fulfillment depends on its intention, namely that one intend at the time of fulfilling the commandment. This is unlike other commandments, in which one fulfills his obligation even though he does not intend regarding the matter, except simply that he is doing the commandment for the sake of God who commanded him to do it. See what he wrote in the laws of Sukkah.” This is the well-known Bach, found in the laws of Sukkah, and in fact there is such a Bach also in the laws of fringes. So what is the Bach saying? There are places where it is written in the Torah that the Torah itself adds a certain intention, or a reason, or a certain purpose of the commandment, and the Torah did not write it for nothing. Rather, it wrote it in order to teach us that here a special intention is required of us. And this is not the ordinary intention of fulfilling one’s obligation, but rather “so that your generations may know that I caused…” or “to remember My commandments,” and so on. But these are specific, particular intentions in those commandments where the Torah itself explicitly adds that intention. Okay? There are such places—that is the Bach’s claim. What? It is not clear according to his view whether this invalidates or not. There is discussion about this… What? Other commandments have no such intention even ideally—what do you mean? It is not written. What do you want to intend when you wave the lulav? Here the Torah adds certain specific intentions in these commandments. Among the later halakhic authorities there is a dispute whether this intention of the Bach invalidates or not, but in a moment I will bring one example. But this is an interesting point. It basically means that in these commandments it is very similar to what I said earlier about verbal commandments. In these commandments the Torah itself adds the reason for me. Why does it add the reason? Because it wants to say—after all, in most commandments the Torah does not write the reason, and we disagree—and there is that dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda whether one derives law from the reason of the verse or does not derive law from the reason of the verse, right? Why? Because when we see a commandment and the reason is not written, then when we derive the reason, that is an interpretation we make on our own; it is not written in the Torah. Okay? Usually in commandments the reason is not written. What happens in commandments where the reason is written? So Maimonides, in his fifth root before Sefer HaMitzvot—he has “roots” there—says in the fifth root that even in commandments where the reason is written, one does not derive law from the reason of the verse. Even a commandment where the reason is written. And that apparently means that the reason why one does not derive law from the reason of the verse is not because of concern over error, as people usually understand—that we do not derive law from the reason of the verse because who knows, maybe you made a mistake. Right? Which is itself a strange explanation, even apart from Maimonides. And maybe you did not make a mistake? What do you mean, maybe you made a mistake? And what if one really should? And what if it is really correct and you did not do it? No—but they do not say to be stringent. They say one does not derive law from the reason of the verse. That is not only for stringency; it is also for leniency. So it is a strange explanation in itself; therefore it cannot be correct. But in Maimonides it is indeed written—he shows this, he argues that there is such a Tanna. Interestingly, he invents a Tanna there from some Mishnah. And he says that even in a place where the reason is written, one does not derive law from the reason of the verse. Maybe because the reason is that deriving law from the reason of the verse will never add anything. That is, if you do what is written, then you will also hit the reason. No—if you derive law from the reason of the verse, that means that if following the reason and following the plain sense lead you to different results, then you have a dilemma about which to follow. If they lead to different results, that means you did not understand the reason correctly. Follow what the Torah says; it formulates itself correctly. Fine. So that is with regard to commandments where the reason is written. These three commandments that the Bach mentions are commandments where, seemingly, the reason is written, right? “So that you may remember all My commandments”—the reason for the commandment of fringes, and so on. The Bach apparently understands this not as a reason. The Bach understands it as the definition of the commandment. The reason is not the definition of the commandment. Say, “you shall not take ransom for the life of a murderer,” and “you shall not pollute the land.” Yes? If I take ransom for the life of a murderer instead of killing him, then I am polluting the land, defiling the land in some way, or something like that. Okay, so the prohibition on taking ransom for the life of a murderer is so that the land not be polluted, whatever exactly that means. Okay, but that is the reason for the thing. In these three commandments—Sukkah, tefillin, and fringes—the Bach understands that what the Torah adds is apparently not a reason but the definition of the commandment, the parameters of the commandment. This is how the commandment must be fulfilled. When you put on the fringes, intend to remember the commandments and do them. And in the sukkah, intend that “I caused the children of Israel to dwell in sukkot when I brought them out of the land of Egypt.” So here the Torah, he apparently understands, is adding this not as a reason but as a definition; the Torah is adding how exactly I am to fulfill the commandment, what I am to think when I perform this commandment. There are several interesting points to discuss here—briefly perhaps. For example, think of one of the examples that comes up there in the root—actually it comes up mainly in Nachmanides’ glosses on the root; Maimonides does not mention it there—about the prohibition against the king taking many wives. “He shall not multiply wives for himself, lest his heart turn away.” So “lest his heart turn away” is the reason why he may not multiply wives—for the king, yes.

[Speaker H] An interpretation that is not written in the Talmud.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The medieval authorities connect it to deriving law from the reason of the verse, and I said earlier that I do not think that is correct. It does not make sense. In any case, in Maimonides it is certainly not correct. At any rate, the claim is that there was room to say that if the Torah says “he shall not multiply wives for himself, lest his heart turn away,” then what is the prohibition? Is the prohibition on multiplying wives? In order that—

[Speaker E] his heart not turn away.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The prohibition is on the turning away of the heart, right? Your heart must not turn away. Only—how does one come to a turning away of the heart? Through multiplying wives. The practical difference is: what if I multiply righteous wives who will not turn my heart away? There is a dispute of Tannaim there in Sanhedrin 21. So it really could be that there would be no prohibition. Or if I do something else that turns my heart away—not multiplying wives, something else that turns my heart away—that too would be prohibited. And then it turns out that if I take seriously the reason written in the Torah, then in essence the prohibition is the reason, not the act. The reason is the prohibited thing. It is forbidden for your heart to turn away; multiplying wives is only the practical scenario, how one gets to a turned-away heart. But the prohibition itself is really the turning away of the heart. But that is not how it is generally understood, right? The prohibition is on multiplying wives, and we have a reason—lest it turn his heart away. Then the question is what the relationship is between the reason and the commandment, “a reason in the verse,” and all these matters. But indeed, the fusion between the reason and the commandment is a fusion that does not always exist, at least on the plain level. Here, however, “so that the Torah of God may be in your mouth” is not a reason but the definition of what needs to be done, according to the Bach. Okay? That is basically his claim—this is how he understands these verses in the Torah. There, in the Shulchan Arukh, one of the commentaries, Olat Tamid, writes: “And it appears that he did not say this as an absolute requirement.” The intention in fringes, to wrap oneself in order to remember all the commandments—he did not say it as an absolute requirement, because the conclusion later is that commandments do not require intention. What do you say about that claim? Right—first of all, it is not at all the conclusion later that commandments do not require intention. The Shulchan Arukh brings both views and rules that they do require intention. So it is not so clear why he assumes that this is the conclusion. But even if it were true—even according to the view that commandments do not require intention—the Bach here argues that this is true according to all views, even according to the view that commandments do not require intention, because this is not by virtue of the general rule that commandments require intention; it is because the Torah itself requires it here. So what does this have to do with the dispute whether commandments require intention or not? Olat Tamid apparently understands that this addition, according to the Bach, is simply added on to the regular law of intention—you also need this intention. And if intentions do not invalidate, then this one does not invalidate either. But on the face of it, there is no reason to say that. I think this argument is very strange. “And so it is proved from the language of the Talmud, for when it says ‘and you shall see it and remember and do,’ the seeing leads to remembering and remembering leads to doing—and from the fact that it says ‘leads,’ it implies that it will of itself lead to remembering, not that you need to remember the commandments, but that it will bring you to remember the commandments.” That is indeed a point. But the first point is a problematic one. What? Does it challenge the Bach? No, it challenges the Bach, and I am saying it is not really a challenge. It challenges the Bach. Yes. He says that it appears not to have been said as an absolute requirement. Why? “Because we hold that commandments do not require intention.” But all the Bach is claiming is that this is unrelated to the law of commandments requiring intention. Yes. There it is in addition to the intention

[Speaker M] of the act; here they are saying also the thought—what am I supposed to do in the commandment?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The opposite. In these three commandments, the Torah itself requires this thought of me, so why should it not invalidate? It certainly should invalidate. “Commandments require intention” is some kind of general rule, and the question is whether it invalidates or not. Yes. “And from the Bach’s words it seems that if he did not intend this, he did not fulfill the commandment properly, and this does not appear correct.” In my humble opinion, it does appear correct. And in the Mishnah Berurah there, in section 8—all that we saw earlier was in section 60 on the Shema; here it is in fringes—he says: “And this is ‘he should intend when wrapping himself,’ and this is besides the intention that he must intend in the wearing, to fulfill the commandment of fringes. And the Bach wrote that the same law applies to tefillin and sukkah, even though with other commandments one fulfills his obligation even if he does not intend regarding the matter, except simply that he performs the commandment for the sake of God who commanded him to do it. These are different, for with fringes it is written ‘so that you may remember,’ and with tefillin, ‘so that the Torah of God may be in your mouth,’ and with sukkah, ‘so that your generations may know.’ Nevertheless,” the Mishnah Berurah adds, “it appears that all this is only ideally, in order to fulfill the commandment in its fullest form. But after the fact, even if he intended in all these only to fulfill the positive commandment, he has fulfilled it.” Is that the same thing as Olat Tamid? Pretty similar, but not exactly.

[Speaker N] Again, he distinguishes between two kinds of intentions, unlike—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] unlike Olat Tamid, he understands that there are two different kinds of intentions. Right? He says this is not connected to the law of commandments requiring intention; he does not make it depend on the dispute whether commandments require intention or not. Still, he says, true, this is an additional law, but even this additional law does not invalidate. By the way, it seems he says this even within the view of the Bach himself; he is not coming to argue with the Bach. Because Olat Tamid claims that in the Bach it seems this also invalidates. In the Mishnah Berurah he does not say “unlike the Bach”; he thinks he is explaining the Bach himself. He means to say that the Bach writes that it is required, but it does not—it does not invalidate. Even though it is the definition—what?

[Speaker I] Even though it is written in the Torah.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s written in the Torah, and that doesn’t invalidate it. Yes, true, that’s an interesting question. If you think that it really is written in the Torah, then something written in the Torah ought to be indispensable. Only with sacrificial offerings do we require that the verse repeat it in order for it to be indispensable. Right? With offerings, it has to be written twice for the rule to be indispensable. If it’s written only once, then it isn’t indispensable. But here this isn’t offerings, so why shouldn’t it be indispensable? If that’s the purpose, then forget it altogether—it’s like all the other reasons, so why does the Bach even bring this into the definition of the commandment? The Bach does indeed bring it into the definition of the commandment. That’s why I said it doesn’t look like a mere reason. Okay. But after the fact, even if he did not have all these in mind, and only intended to fulfill the commandment, the positive commandment, he has fulfilled it. Yes, the commandment in the usual sense of discharging one’s obligation. And afterward I found in Pri Megadim that he wrote this as well, and so too it seems from Olat Tamid? I don’t think so. And in the Biur HaGra, that even regarding tzitzit the intention is not indispensable. Fine, that’s what he claims. I’m not sure at all. Meaning, in the simple understanding it seems to me that the Bach also thinks this is indispensable. And if the Bach is right—you can argue whether the Bach is right, because I think what is not necessary in the Bach can be understood by saying that these things are reasons like all the other reasons. And reasons never enter into the definition of the commandment; they’re just reasons, not the legal definition of the commandment. Okay? But the Mishnah Berurah claims that even in the Bach עצמו this thing is not indispensable. That, I don’t know—it doesn’t seem that way from the Bach. Olat Tamid is apparently right in saying that in the Bach’s plain meaning it seems indispensable. He should intend according to the Bach’s view that with tzitzit and tefillin, in Magen Gibborim, since it says in them “so that,” the Torah was particular about intention—“so that.” The Torah was particular about intention, that one must intend the intention of the commandment, and it is not enough, as with all commandments, that one intends and does it solely for the sake of God’s commandments. And in truth this is a novel idea and is not mentioned in the halakhic decisors. And from the language of the Tur there is not such strong proof, especially regarding tzitzit and tefillin, where the phrase “so that” does not refer to the reason for the commandment. And apparently Magen Avraham also holds this way, because here regarding tefillin he did not mention his words, while in the laws of sukkah, section 625, he did bring it. Here he says the question is: what is this “so that” written there? The Bach suggests some kind of innovation here, because he understands that the “so that” is the reason. But what is the “so that”? It’s not the reason? So what is it? Maybe what he means is that “so that” here is the result that will occur if you do it. But that is the reason, isn’t it? The reason is: do this so that such-and-such a result will happen. Why is that not the reason? There’s something here that means it’s not—that it’s… The question is whether the things written there are the reason or the definition. Yes, what is written… There, apparently, that is exactly the distinction he is making. Exactly the distinction he is making. There are places where it seems it is the reason, and places where it isn’t. “So that” really, simply, is the result. There are those who say that in all places “so that” is exactly that. But the Bach says no, fine. And Magen Avraham distinguishes: for sukkah yes, for these no. But what—what is the point here? The question is how you understand these additions in the three commandments of tzitzit, tefillin, and sukkah. Or only two, depending whether you follow the Bach or Magen Gibborim. You can say that it’s the reason. And if it’s the reason, then indeed, it should come on its own, as they said there. The reason is that you have to do it so that such-and-such will happen. And then there is no halakhic obligation to intend that. Incidentally, there may be some advantage. There may be some advantage in intending that, because you help the commandment achieve what it is meant to achieve. But that does not enter into the halakhic definition of what one must do, not even ideally. But if you understand that this is the definition of the commandment, then the Torah is telling you what you have to do. It’s not the reason. You have to put on tzitzit “so that you remember all My commandments.” Okay? That’s how you have to put on the tzitzit. The Torah is defining the commandment this way. So it’s the definition, not the reason. Many times students in yeshivot, since the rule is that according to Jewish law we do not expound the reason of the verse, and in many places we do find that we do expound the reason of the verse, in many, many places, then the question always comes up: wait, but we don’t expound the reason of the verse. No—it’s not a reason, it’s a definition. Nobody ever really defined when something is a reason and when it’s a definition. Rav Gedaliah Nadel somewhere proposes some definition—the book by Rabbi Shilat brings it in his name. He proposes some definition, but in most places where people distinguish between reason and definition, it’s just a declaration. Just so things work out for us. It seems to me that the distinction that will work in most places is this: when we say we do not expound the reason of the verse, that is in places where the commandment is written explicitly in the Torah, and you are estimating what the reason is. You want to expound the reason and derive halakhic conclusions from it. Right? Thinking about what the reason is—of course there’s no problem with that; all Torah commentators do that. “Expounding the reason of the verse” means using the reason to derive halakhic conclusions. That’s what we do not do, okay? But in places where the law is not written explicitly in the Torah and comes out of interpretation, there we certainly do expound the reason of the verse. And that resolves the overwhelming majority of these questions of how we expound the reason of the verse. Notice carefully: the examples always brought in the Talmud for “we do not expound the reason of the verse” are only commandments written explicitly in the Torah. Torah-level commandments, not rabbinic commandments. But those that come out of interpretation, that are not written in the Torah—regarding those there is no problem at all in expounding the reason of the verse. On the contrary. And why? Very simple. Think, for example, of the Talmud in tractate Pesachim 25. The Talmud brings there that Shimon HaAmsuni used to interpret every occurrence of the word “et” in the Torah, until he came to the verse “You shall fear the Lord your God” and could not do so. What? 22. Okay, yes. Then Rabbi Akiva came. And yes, he said: just as I received reward for the interpretation, so I will receive reward for refraining, and he abandoned all those interpretations, okay? Then Rabbi Akiva came and said: “You shall fear the Lord your God”—this comes to include Torah scholars. What was the discussion there? Shimon HaAmsuni thought there was such a rule; in principle he belongs to Rabbi Akiva’s school of interpretation. Rabbi Akiva’s school includes things. And the word “et” includes, right? He says okay, so from the word “et” we include. In various places he found what to include, but at “You shall fear the Lord your God” he did not find it. But not only did he not find it—he had a good reason why such a thing cannot be at all. How can it be that in addition to the Holy One, blessed be He, we include someone else? That’s duality. That’s partnership in idol worship. Okay? There cannot be some inclusion here from the word “et.” And therefore he said: clearly no—not “I didn’t find it and it requires further study,” but rather there cannot be such a thing here. So he said apparently this rule of deriving things from “et” is not correct. He withdrew. And incidentally, even after Rabbi Akiva came, he still held his ground. How do I know? Because the Talmud there says “like these tanna’im.” It brings a dispute among tanna’im and then says that this is like these tanna’im, Shimon HaAmsuni and Rabbi Akiva, and it seems the dispute remained even after Rabbi Akiva appeared. Okay? What does Rabbi Akiva say? That there is a rule that the word “et” comes to include, so I choose the thing that is least implausible. He too understands that there is a difficulty in including, but there is an “et,” and you have to include. So choose the least implausible thing. Okay? What does that mean? It means that all the interpretive principles you know are always principles that tell you what the textual trigger is for carrying out an interpretation. For example, gezerah shavah, verbal analogy. There is the word “lah” with a Hebrew slave, the word “lah” with a woman—“lah, lah,” verbal analogy. What do we learn from slave to woman? That is the interpreter’s decision, right? There is no hint in the Torah about that. All there is is a textual hint. Here, you need to make a comparison between slave and woman—but with regard to what? Not everything. We don’t write the word “woman” with an ayin because it’s like “slave,” so then we should write it with an ayin too, right? Some things yes, some things no. Why? Because the Torah tells me: here, interpret, or here, make a comparison. What to compare is the interpreter’s reasoning. The same thing with “et comes to include.” What does it include? You see in the give-and-take between Shimon HaAmsuni and Rabbi Akiva that the “what to include” is the interpreter’s judgment. Shimon HaAmsuni did not find one, and Rabbi Akiva suggested a possibility. That did not come out of the Torah. From the Torah all that comes out is that here there is a word “et,” so you must include; what to include is your decision. And so with all interpretive principles. In all interpretive principles, the trigger is a textual trigger—not counting the logical principles, meaning the two forms of binyan av and kal va-chomer, leave those aside. The other ten. Okay? So the trigger is a textual trigger telling me: compare, include, exclude, things like that. Okay? With regard to what to compare, what to include, what to exclude—that is the interpreter’s decision. How does he decide? By tradition? No, of course not. Of course not. Those are the inventions of Ralbag, who says that all interpretations are merely supported interpretations that we received by tradition. There are explicit Talmudic passages against that. Maimonides writes that aside from—almost all interpretations except maybe three or four are productive interpretations, in his responsum to Rabbi Pinchas the Judge of Alexandria. Almost all interpretations are productive; they are not merely supported. They create a new law. How is it created? From the interpreter’s reasoning. The textual trigger—that’s an interpretive principle, that’s a law given to Moses at Sinai. We received that when there is an equal word you make a verbal analogy, when there is “et” it comes to include, all sorts of things like that, general and specific, specific and general, all those things. But what to do with it—that is the interpreter’s reasoning. So how could we not expound the reason of the verse? The whole interpretation sits on reasoning, on the interpreter’s rationale. So obviously you can and must expound the reason of the verse. The whole dispute whether we do or do not expound the reason of the verse applies only to laws that are explicitly written in the Torah. I did not derive them, so here my own reasoning is not involved; the Torah told me the law. So don’t derive interpretations based on your own reasoning. And therefore almost every place where you see people asking this—one borderline case is, for example, the exemption for tooth and foot damage in the public domain. The exemption for tooth and foot damage in the public domain—there is the dispute between the Rif and Tosafot regarding a plank that was lying in private property while its other side extended into the public domain, and the animal walked in the public domain but damaged an object that was located in the damaged party’s property. Now, tooth and foot in the damaged party’s property is liable; tooth and foot in the public domain is exempt. The question whether this is liable or exempt is a dispute between Tosafot and the Rif. Okay? Now the Rif explains why it is exempt. The Rif says exempt. Why exempt? Because the reason for the exemption of tooth and foot in the public domain is that a person has a right to walk with his animal in the public domain; that’s what it is for. Right, that’s the rationale, and Maimonides and the Rosh write in somewhat different styles but go more or less in that direction. Right? Tosafot says it’s a scriptural decree; he does not accept that rationale. So there, I think it’s the Yam Shel Shlomo who asks: you’re giving the reason of the verse—how are you expounding the reason of the verse? After all, the exemption for tooth and foot in the public domain… Now here this is a borderline case. Why? Because it says, “and it consumed in another’s field.” It is almost written explicitly in the Torah that you are liable in the damaged party’s courtyard. You can say that the Torah spoke in typical cases—usually where are things placed? In the damaged party’s courtyard. Then you’d say it doesn’t mean specifically the damaged party’s courtyard, and then the rule that liability applies only in the damaged party’s courtyard and not in the public domain is a kind of interpretation and is not written explicitly in the Torah, and then you can expound the reason of the verse. So Tosafot thought that this is not an interpretation—it is written explicitly, and therefore we do not expound. And the Rif apparently thought that it is not explicit in the Torah, and therefore we do expound. Okay? Good. So this basically means that when he says here that it refers to the reason for the commandment, he means the definition of the commandment. The Bach does not say it is a reason. If it were a reason, we would not need to intend it. The reason is that it would come out by itself, as we saw above. It is the definition of the commandment. The Torah is telling me what needs to be done; this is the content of the commandment. That is how one must perform the commandment. Without that, you did not do it—therefore even according to the Bach. By means of speech—then you did not speak. It is not some external issue of whether it is indispensable or not indispensable. You simply did not perform the act of speech at all. So what sense is there in discussing whether it is indispensable or not? Okay. Okay. Now we begin a bit with the rule of “for its own sake,” lishmah. Up to this point this was an introduction to the concept of intention. There is a kind of cousin concept to intention, and that is the rule of lishmah. We find it in several places in Jewish law. The most prominent and intensive place is sacrificial offerings. The Mishnah in Zevachim 46: for the sake of six things is a sacrifice slaughtered: for the sake of the sacrifice, for the sake of appeasement, for the sake of fragrance, for the sake of the owners, for the sake of holiness, and so on—six things—for the sake of God. Another place where this is discussed a lot is divorce. A bill of divorce has to be written for the sake of the woman, lishmah. “And he shall write for her”—for her sake, yes. There is a sukkah that has to be made for the sake of shade. There is matzah that must be guarded, yes, for the sake of matzah, not just against leavening. There is tzitzit that must be spun lishmah, and so on. There are a few more here and there… A Torah scroll too, yes. People speak about Torah study lishmah, although there in a moment we’ll see whether it’s the same thing or not. But yes, there are certain commandments where we learn that there is a rule of lishmah, and there are sources for it, and for each such thing there is a source why we require that it be lishmah. Now there are later authorities, several later authorities, who mix up the rule of lishmah with the rule of intention—that commandments require intention. That cannot be right. It cannot be right from the Talmud itself, even before the conceptual arguments. The Talmud nowhere makes the rule of lishmah depend on the dispute whether commandments require intention. And in terms of content too, one of the intentions—one of the six intentions in offerings—is for the sake of God. Maybe that can come close to doing it in order to discharge one’s obligation. Maybe, although “for the sake of God” is not exactly the same thing as discharging one’s obligation. But maybe. What about all the other five? In terms of content, it is not similar to the content of “commandments require intention,” which means for the sake of the commandment, yes, to discharge one’s obligation. And if that were so, then why does the rule of lishmah exist only in these commandments and not in all commandments? “Commandments require intention” is said about all commandments. In short, the whole Talmud screams that this is not the same rule. Not the same thing; these are two completely different things. But for example in Keren Orah at the beginning of Zevachim, somehow throughout it seems that for him it is the same rule. “They did not count for the owners toward their obligation.” Yes. So Keren Orah there discusses the matter at length—the discussion there is about lishmah—and somehow it seems that he ties it to the rule that commandments require intention, this rule of lishmah. Then of course it would have to come out that everywhere lishmah is indispensable, that is only according to the one who says commandments require intention. And what will the one who says commandments do not require intention say? These are mishnayot. Because whether commandments require or do not require intention is a dispute among amora’im. So this whole story really does not seem connected; it seems like a very, very strange connection. Anyway, lishmah is another topic that we’ll get to later, but in a moment—not in a moment, in a few moments. So that is the rule of lishmah. And what is the practical difference between the commandment of tefillin and them—what

[Speaker D] What do I need to think for intention, and what do I need to think for lishmah?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Every commandment has its own lishmah. In sukkah it’s for the sake of shade, in divorce it’s for the sake of the woman, in matzah it’s for the sake of matzah. No, for the sake of something specific that depends on the commandment in question. No, not for the sake of the commandment—on the contrary, that’s not the content of intention. Tefillin is for the sake of making the tefillin. In a moment I’ve already let out something from what comes next; in a moment it will become clearer. So the Talmud—the Mishnah at the beginning of Zevachim there—says: all sacrifices that were slaughtered not for their own sake are valid, except that they did not count for the owners toward their obligation, except for the Passover offering and the sin offering—the Passover offering in its proper time, and the sin offering at all times. Rabbi Eliezer says—it doesn’t matter, the details—also the guilt offering. The Passover offering in its proper time, and the sin offering and guilt offering at all times. Then the give-and-take begins. In any case, this is one rule of lishmah. The Talmud says there: why do I need the Mishnah to teach “except that they did not count for the owners toward their obligation”? Let it just say, “and they did not count for the owners.” What is the “except that”? “And they did not count for the owners toward their obligation.” This teaches us: for the owners they did not count. They did not count for the owners toward the obligation, but they remain in their sanctity, and it is forbidden to alter them. The offering is valid, but atonement was not achieved. The owners did not bring a valid offering as far as their obligation is concerned, but the offering is a valid offering. The sacrifice is a sacrifice, and you cannot change it, and you cannot misuse it, and it remains in its sanctity, because there are things that remove it from its sanctity. As Rava said: a burnt offering that was slaughtered not for its own sake—it is forbidden to throw its blood not for its own sake. Since it was slaughtered not for its own sake, it is still a burnt offering, and there is still sanctity on the blood, and therefore it is forbidden to throw the blood not for its own sake. So basically there is some kind of interplay here between what happens to the sacrifice itself and what happens to the owners. Incidentally, it is very tempting to say that what happens to the owners is connected to the rule that commandments require intention. And what happens to the sacrifice is a special rule in offerings. Fine? But then you get the opposite result. Because then it comes out that although the offerings are valid, they still did not count for the owners toward their obligation, so in terms of “commandments require intention,” what is written here is that commandments require intention. Therefore they did not count for the owners toward their obligation, because the commandment aspect here was not fulfilled. Okay? It somewhat recalls—do you know the Minchat Chinukh? There is a Tosafot in Sukkah, page 9 I think, that says there: why do we need a verse to disqualify a stolen sukkah? “Yours,” and not stolen property. Yes? Why do we need that? Let it follow from the fact that this is a commandment that comes through a transgression. There are several answers there in Tosafot, two answers in Tosafot, rabbis—never mind. The Minchat Chinukh says he has another answer. What’s the answer? If we had learned it from the rule of a commandment that comes through a transgression, then I would have thought that when I sit in a stolen sukkah, I did not fulfill a commandment, but I also did not eat outside the sukkah. I ate in a sukkah—the sukkah is valid, only my commandment was invalidated. So I don’t have a commandment, but you can’t say I ate outside the sukkah; I don’t even have a transgression. I ate in a valid sukkah, only the commandment was invalidated. Fine—later authorities disagree with him and do not accept this. I actually think what he says does make sense, but that’s another discussion. The later authorities—Rabbi Chaim, Rabbi Shimon, Rabbi Shmuel, all of them—do not accept this distinction. They argue that if you did not do the commandment, it is as though you also ate outside the sukkah; there is no difference. But I think here there is a very similar distinction: the sacrifice is basically valid, but you were not atoned for. What about

[Speaker K] Is a commandment that comes through a transgression rabbinic?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] One of Tosafot’s answers is that it’s rabbinic, I said that, yes. But the Minchat Chinukh proposes another answer. In any case, it is tempting, or natural, to connect this rule that concerns the owners to the aspect of intention in a commandment. Meaning, if I ask whether I fulfilled a commandment, the answer is no. Was the sacrifice offered? Yes, it was offered; it is a sacred sacrifice and it is forbidden to alter it and everything remains in place. So this very much resembles the distinction of the Minchat Chinukh. But then that really means that a commandment—for example, according to this, if I ate in a sukkah without intention—not the Bach’s intention of the first night, but without intention to discharge my obligation, okay? What happens then? It could be that according to the Minchat Chinukh it comes out that I did not eat outside the sukkah, but I also have no commandment. Exactly like eating in a stolen sukkah. Right? And the rule of intention very much resembles that distinction of the Minchat Chinukh. And well, here I’ll have to stop, but later we’ll see that the Brisker Rav proposes something like this. I’ll continue with that next time. In the meantime, you should run through the topic, okay? Starting from the Mishnah and then in the Talmud on page 28a at the bottom.