The Mundane and Holiness – Rabbi Michael Avraham – Lesson 7

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[Rabbi Michael Abraham] People even today—I saw this, I think I mentioned it once—we were once at some rabbis' conference of Tzohar, I think, in Tzohar's offices. I don't even know how I got there; they invited me there too, I don't remember anymore. And there was a lecture there by someone named Yoav Ben-Dov, someone who has since passed away. Who passed away. He was an interesting Jew, dealt with all kinds of interesting things from philosophy, from physics.

[Speaker A] He has an interesting book, Quantum Theory.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. So among other things he was also a researcher—he researched trance parties, tarot cards. He dealt with millions of things like that; with some of them he was really involved, not just researching. With tarot cards he actually dealt with them, I think. But trance parties—he researched that phenomenon. He filmed it, checked it, interviewed people, and he gave—back then it was very fashionable, this was many years ago already, it was really on the agenda. There were actually parties like that, and it came up in journalistic reports and so on, people encountered this phenomenon, which was a pretty widespread one. And there were people there of all kinds, people you would not expect to find in places like that. People in the professions, educated, with families and everything, dancing there for two days with all kinds of Indian idols, sending all kinds of mantras into the air while doing it—religious mantras—Shiva and Vishnu and things like that, names of Indian idols, and I assume a large part of them didn't even know they were saying the names of Indian idols. And in insane ecstasy—I mean, they dance 48 hours straight. It's inconceivable. You enter some kind of adrenaline level where apparently you manage to do things that in a normal way you can't do. And I remember that it really aroused in me some feeling that…

[Speaker G] Maybe with drugs?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maybe—with drugs, certainly, they were fueled there by drugs too, at least many of them. Clearly that's part of the story, but there's something here that seems to me to be some kind of thirst for an encounter with the transcendent. People who live their everyday lives, go to work every day, live fine, no problem, nothing—but something… New Age.

[Speaker A] Exactly.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly, it's New Age in an extreme form. Meaning, it's some kind of thirst for something that once was self-evident—the religious matter, the encounter with the Holy One, blessed be He, and all that. Now, in their world there is no such thing.

[Speaker B] Is prostrating oneself in Uman something like that?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Prostrating oneself in Uman—maybe that's part of it, part of the New Age. My feeling was that those people are encountering there some kind of different reality, some different metaphysics. That ecstasy—it seemed very clear to me, and that's why I wasn't surprised to see them saying various names of idols. What's the connection? You came to dance. After all, they weren't speaking there in the language of idol worship in any real sense; they didn't come there to study Indian rituals, they didn't know they were even speaking that language. They came to dance and go wild and let loose—that's what they did there. But for some reason there were names of Indian idols there and all sorts of other characteristics, I don't even remember the details anymore. We had films—it was fascinating what was going on there. By the way, we had an analogy to pagan rituals in Africa—video clips. Parallels where you could really see completely parallel things. And again, the feeling was that those people were living inside some kind of different reality. It's not just a psychological phenomenon. There is something here—they were apparently encountering something that is not present in their regular lives. Now again, everyone probably manages to encounter these things in other places, and maybe it's not good to encounter them in some of those places. But apparently they managed to encounter something there—or imagined they encountered something there, I don't know, I don't know how to interpret it because I'm not there, I don't know, I've never experienced it. But they apparently encountered something there connected to holiness.

Maimonides, after all, writes in The Guide for the Perplexed that the laws of sacrifices are basically a war against idol worship. That they basically wanted to give the Jewish people some outlet for the urge toward idol worship, so they told them, okay, worship idols toward the Holy One, blessed be He, let's say in crude language. At the end of the laws of misuse of consecrated property, Maimonides writes that there are great secrets here and it is a decree of Scripture—all the sacrifices, something we cannot understand, and that's that. And there's a famous contradiction between what he says in The Guide and what he says in the Mishneh Torah.

So a friend of mine once suggested an explanation: somehow people feel that in order to encounter the Holy One, blessed be He, or concepts of holiness, you need to bring sacrifices. Meaning, there's some sort of intuitive insight that this is how one encounters these things. Now, if you do it according to the Torah's instructions, then you're doing it for the Holy One, blessed be He. And that's how the encounter happens. The Kuzari even writes, I think, that sacrifices are like food. When you eat, it helps the soul stay connected to the body; we remain alive. We die if we don't eat—the soul separates from the body. He claims that sacrifices are the food of the world. They connect the Holy One, blessed be He, who is the soul of the world, to the world itself. In other words, sacrifices are like food. So he says there is some feeling that in order to connect to the Holy One, blessed be He, or connect Him to the world, you need to do something like sacrifices. That's basically the intuition people have somewhere inside.

Now, idol worshippers who don't acknowledge the Holy One, blessed be He, don't believe in Him—that also has to come out somehow for them. So they do it toward idols. And then they encounter concepts of holiness through wood and stone. Because they're looking for something—they don't have it in their lives, they feel there is such a thing, and that's how they create contact with it. So that's how they encounter it. By the way, apparently—at least the kabbalists say—even wood and stone really have soul, spirit, higher soul, living essence, and singular essence; even wood and stone have that. Only what? There it's thinner. There, really, there is no holiness, because there the manifestation is more indirect. I spoke a bit about this, that often it's only a quantitative question: how direct is the manifestation of the Holy One, blessed be He, in the thing? That's what determines its level of holiness. There are ten levels of holiness, as the Mishnah in Kelim says. So in a certain sense maybe they even had a more sensitive sense, that they managed to feel these things even in wood and stone. But there it was forbidden to do that, because there the Holy One, blessed be He, is not considered to dwell there in the full sense. There is something of Him there, but He does not dwell there. He dwells in the Temple, and there one can bring sacrifices according to the accepted rules.

But still, there is some eruption here of spiritual intuitions that exist within people. When you encounter holiness, something comes out of you that is not through the head. Meaning, you simply grasp that this is right. Now, of course, that can't emerge in a place where there is no different reality. Because if reality itself doesn't do it, then where does it come from? It comes from your decision. You decide that this is right or this is not right, this is forbidden and this is permitted, this should be done and this shouldn't be done. That's your decision. How can something come through you not by way of your decisions? Something is apparently drawing it out of you. Meaning, holiness is something that basically exists somewhere outside, and you encounter it, and it succeeds in drawing various things out of you. As opposed to commandments, where you are commanded, so you do it. You are not commanded, so you don't do it. And there are rules for how to do it. Meaning, it's not something you can encounter and simply do like that. I'm not talking about moral things, where you too can understand that this is how one should act because you understand the benefit in it. But with regard to ritual commandments, if you weren't commanded, why would anyone sit in a sukkah if there were no commandment to sit in a sukkah? There is no logic to it. Even though it says that Abraham our forefather observed even the rabbinic law of joining cooked dishes, I don't know how to relate to that matter. But plainly, there is no reason to sit in a sukkah. There is reason to be moral even without a command.

We'll soon see later on—I will also speak about the contexts of holiness—you can encounter these things not through command, simply because that's the reality. And therefore, even if they are not serving a commandment, like a sacrifice whose owners died, or that developed a blemish, or various things of that sort, its holiness still remains, because this is a matter of reality, not a matter of norms. The norms here derive from a kind of reality. A bit similar to civil law, yes, Rabbi Shimon, who says there is a theory of law from which legal norms emerge, as opposed to halakhic norms, where it begins with the norm. The norm is not derived from something that existed before it. So too with holiness, basically, the matter is like that.

And now I want to show a consequence, or a halakhic expression, of this. And if I have time maybe one more point, and with that we'll finish the matter of holiness and the ordinary.

There is a rule in Torah interpretation that says: we require that Scripture repeat it in order to make it indispensable. Repeat it—or Scripture repeated it—in order to make it indispensable. What does that mean? It is accepted, yes—the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) say this is only with consecrated offerings. In the Talmud itself, I think it isn't mentioned that this is only with consecrated offerings, but the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) say it's only with consecrated offerings. There are various contradictions—the Chazon Ish wants to claim it applies in other places too, the Kehillot Yaakov brings this—but the accepted view is that it's only with consecrated offerings. What does that mean? Usually, when the Torah states some law about tefillin or fringes or something like that, then the law is indispensable. Meaning, if you made fringes not as the Torah said, then you did not fulfill your obligation. Meaning, the law is indispensable. When it says that the blue thread does not prevent the white and the white does not prevent the blue, that's not the kind of non-indispensability I'm speaking about here. Meaning, when you wear white without blue, and they say the blue does not prevent the white, the meaning is that if you didn't put in blue there is still value in putting in the white. But you certainly did nullify the commandment of the blue. Some people think that if the blue does not prevent the white, then the blue is voluntary. If you do it, excellent; if you don't, no big deal, nothing happened. Nonsense. If you didn't put in blue, you nullified a positive commandment. It's just that it does not prevent the white, meaning you can fulfill the commandment of the white and you haven't lost that even if you didn't put blue there. Same thing as the tefillin of the hand and the tefillin of the head, where there it's even two commandments according to Maimonides, whereas with fringes it's one commandment.

So when I speak about non-indispensable, I mean not indispensable to the commandment itself—that in short would really be voluntary, yes truly voluntary, not like with the blue and the white.

So the rule is that generally when the Torah says something, it is indispensable. But with consecrated offerings—not so. With consecrated offerings, if the Torah says something, it is not indispensable. How can the Torah tell me that this law in consecrated offerings is indispensable? The Torah repeats it again. Meaning, if it writes it twice. It says: we require that Scripture repeat it in order to make it indispensable. Meaning, if Scripture repeats it again, that teaches us that this law is indispensable. But if it is written only once, then the law is only preferable from the outset. There are other hints that the Torah can bring to indicate that a law is indispensable—for example if it says statute, an everlasting statute or statute or something like that, then the Sages also say that comes to teach that it is indispensable. But you have to say that it is indispensable. Meaning, if they don't give me some hint or don't say it is indispensable, then the law is not indispensable.

Now the question is why. Why indeed with consecrated offerings is there such a rule, that laws in principle are not indispensable unless they were written twice or unless there is some special hint that says they are indispensable? And if that's the case, then why not in the rest of the Torah? What is unique about consecrated offerings specifically?

A second thing I wondered about regarding this rule is that no source is given for it. At least I didn't find in any source an explanation, a rationale—there is no verse for this. So the Sages apparently derived it from reasoning. But the reasoning appears nowhere, at least I didn't find it. How did this come about? Where did this reasoning come from—that with consecrated offerings we require that Scripture repeat it in order to make it indispensable, whereas with ordinary matters what is written is indispensable, unless there is a special law saying it is not indispensable? You need a source to say something is not indispensable. Where does this difference come from?

I'll perhaps bring one example. There is the first Mishnah in tractate Zevachim. The Mishnah writes as follows: all sacrifices that were slaughtered not for their own sake are valid, except that they did not count for the owners as fulfillment of their obligation, except for the Passover offering and the sin offering, which are exceptions. But ordinary sacrifices, if they were slaughtered—they need to be slaughtered for their own sake. For the sake of six things the sacrifice is slaughtered; the Mishnah in Menachot says this. But ordinary sacrifices, if they were slaughtered—and here we are speaking only about two out of the six thoughts of proper intention. At the beginning of Zevachim, it's change of sanctity and change of owner, meaning to offer it for the sake of the correct sacrifice—when I bring a burnt offering, to bring it as a burnt offering and not as a sin offering—and for the sake of the correct owner. Okay, so those are the two main intentions; the others really are only voluntary. But here it is indispensable, and still it did not count for the owners as fulfillment of obligation, but the sacrifice is valid. What does valid mean? It means one may offer it; it's just that you did not receive atonement, and in order to receive atonement you will need to bring another sacrifice, but the sacrifice is holy and they offer it and it's fine. Meaning, the sacrifice was not disqualified in that sense.

So this means that this intention of being for its own sake is not indispensable. About this the Talmud asks on page 4 in Zevachim, 4b: then say that where he slaughtered it not for its own sake, it should be disqualified. Meaning, if it was slaughtered not for its own sake, let it be disqualified. Fine, so the Talmud answers there what it answers. But Tosafot there asks: disqualified—meaning profaned, as it were? Yes, that the sacrifice itself should no longer be valid. So Tosafot there asks: why does the Talmud want to disqualify the sacrifice? After all, with consecrated offerings there is a rule that we require that Scripture repeat it in order to make it indispensable. So if Scripture says “it shall not be reckoned,” yes—that means there is some law to offer it for its own sake—but that does not make it indispensable unless it is written twice or it says statute or something like that. But as long as we have no special hint, then it is not indispensable. So what does the Talmud want? That's Tosafot's question. Tosafot resolves it again through the details of the passage; I won't go into that here.

There is another answer I want to bring. In the responsa of the Chatam Sofer, he brings in the name of Rabbi David Deutsch an answer that he brings from the Ritva. The Ritva in tractate Yoma 53 says that with prohibitions, this rule does not apply. This rule—that we require Scripture to repeat it in order to make it indispensable—applies only to positive commandments, not to prohibitions. If there is a prohibition in consecrated offerings, then it is indispensable even if written only once; you don't need it written twice. That's only with a positive commandment. And then he wants to argue that since one who slaughters not for its own sake violates a prohibition, because it says “it shall not be reckoned”—and that itself is a major dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim), whether there is really a prohibition to offer not for its own sake or whether it is only a commandment to offer it for its own sake—he argues that there is also a prohibition. In Maimonides it does not seem that way. Never mind whether it's only with piggul, “it shall not be reckoned,” or also with the thought of not for its own sake—but he claims there is a prohibition, and once there is a prohibition, that is why he resolves Tosafot's difficulty: with a prohibition you don't need Scripture to repeat it in order for it to be indispensable; it is indispensable even if written once.

Now the Kehillot Yaakov brings this Ritva in Zevachim, section 5, and proves from several places that there are two qualifications. One qualification is prohibitions that in their essence come to ensure that I fulfill the positive commandment; they are not independent prohibitions. In such a case, he says, there too we require that Scripture repeat it in order to make it indispensable, even though it is a prohibition.

He perhaps brings an example. The clearest example is Nachmanides in Kiddushin 34. Nachmanides—meaning, the Talmud there brings positive commandments that are time-bound, and positive commandments that are not time-bound, for which women are obligated. What are positive commandments that are not time-bound? So it brings building a parapet and sending away the mother bird and all kinds of other examples. Now the medieval authorities (Rishonim), Tosafot there and others, already note that all the examples there—except maybe one, I don't remember—almost all the examples there, and maybe all of them, are poor examples, because all of them contain both a prohibition and a positive commandment. Now when there is both a prohibition and a positive commandment, then even if it were time-bound, women would be obligated. They would be obligated because of the prohibition in it, like on the Sabbath where “observe” and “remember” were said in one utterance—there is both a prohibition and a positive commandment, so although it is a positive commandment dependent on time, women are obligated because there is also a prohibition.

All the examples there. A parapet, for example: “Do not place blood in your house,” and “You shall make a parapet for your roof.” Sending away the mother bird—also: “You shall surely send away,” “Do not take the mother with the young,” “You shall surely send away the mother.” Meaning, there is a prohibition there and there is a positive commandment. Returning a lost object: “You may not ignore it,” “You shall surely return them.” So all these things contain both a prohibition and a positive commandment. So what does the Talmud want? It's not a good example of commandments women are obligated in because they are not time-bound. True, they are not time-bound, but that's not the reason. Even if time did cause them, women would still be obligated. They would be obligated because of… Fine. Tosafot answers with all sorts of very interesting answers; it's a fascinating Tosafot, all kinds of… doesn't matter, I won't go into it here.

Nachmanides there on the spot claims that with a parapet at least, and maybe also with the other examples brought there in the Talmud, the prohibition of “do not place blood in your house” is intended to support the positive commandment of “you shall make a parapet for your roof.” It is not an independent prohibition. It is a prohibition that comes to prod me to fulfill the positive commandment. The real goal is the positive commandment. The prohibition is only there to make sure I actually fulfill the positive commandment. That's all.

One of the consequences, for example, is what he says there, and it resolves the Talmud. What would happen if the commandment of a parapet were a time-bound commandment? So he claims women would be exempt even though it also contains a prohibition. Why? Two different formulations, and the difference between them is interesting. I can't go into all those nuances, but the claim is that if the prohibition comes to ensure that you fulfill the positive commandment, then whoever is exempt from the positive commandment is obviously also exempt from the prohibition. There's no point in obligating women because of the prohibition when with respect to the positive commandment itself they would be exempt. The whole purpose of the prohibition is to make sure that whoever is obligated in the positive commandment fulfills it. You want to obligate women only because there is also a prohibition? That doesn't make sense. The prohibition comes to make sure that whoever is obligated in the positive commandment fulfills it. Women who are exempt from the positive commandment—so the prohibition also won't apply to them; no problem.

All right, that's one consequence. Another possible formulation—I think this better fits Nachmanides' wording—is that such a prohibition is basically a positive commandment in its essence; it is not really a prohibition. It's simply the reverse side, but basically it comes to make sure that you perform an act; it does not forbid an act, but comes to ensure that you perform an act. Therefore, in essence this prohibition is a positive commandment, not a prohibition. And in any case, if it were time-bound, women would be exempt from both of them. That's a slightly different explanation from the previous one, but never mind.

There are later authorities (Acharonim) who make a whole production out of this principle of Nachmanides. There are several examples of it. There is, for example, “you may not ignore it.”

[Speaker F] What? “You may not ignore it”? Yes, there? “You shall surely help.” You have to help, “you may not ignore it.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, “you shall surely help with him” is about unloading and loading. “You may not ignore it” is “you shall surely return them.” “You shall surely return them.” Yes. So what about that?

[Speaker F] No, that's also a prohibition and a positive commandment, yes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, the whole list there is like that. But the later authorities engage in pilpul on this.

[Speaker F] Also with unloading and loading there is “you may not ignore it.” What? Also with unloading and loading there is “you may not ignore it,” because “when you see the donkey of your enemy crouching under its burden”…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ah, okay. In any case, the later authorities use this principle of Nachmanides to resolve various difficulties. For example, in Divrei Yechezkel he writes regarding feeding a minor on Yom Kippur. There is a Torah prohibition of directly causing someone to eat forbidden food. If I directly make a minor eat forbidden food—if I feed him with my own hands something forbidden—then I have violated a Torah prohibition, even with a baby a month old. He doesn't have to reach the age of education and things like that. Education is a rabbinic law. Directly causing him to eat with one's hands is a Torah prohibition. According to almost all views—there are exceptions—but according to almost all views it is a Torah prohibition. So the question is: how is it permitted to feed minors on Yom Kippur? This is something we do every day—feed small children on Yom Kippur. The question is how can that be?

The Ran already asks this, and the Minchat Chinukh asks this. Already the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) wrestle with this matter. And Divrei Yechezkel wants to argue that on Yom Kippur there is indeed a prohibition, but anyone who knows a bit of Yoma chapter 8 knows it's not entirely clear where the prohibition comes from. There is some warning there that isn't completely clear; they derive it by some interpretive rule or other. Basically, at root it is a positive commandment: “you shall afflict your souls.” And therefore he argues that even on Yom Kippur the prohibition comes to make sure we fulfill the positive commandment of fasting. And since feeding a minor by hand in violation of a positive commandment is not a Torah prohibition—the Magen Avraham writes this—then once there is a prohibition but the prohibition comes only to support the positive commandment, it has the status of a positive commandment. And since that is so, you can feed the minor by hand even though there is a prohibition.

The same thing: the Maharil Diskin asks regarding the commandment of charity. He says: how can it be that regarding charity we are told to give only up to one-fifth? The ordinance of Usha: one who spends should not spend more than one-fifth. Now with charity there is also a prohibition: “do not harden your heart,” “do not shut your hand.” With a prohibition, a person should have to spend all his money. For a positive commandment, one spends up to one-fifth, but for a prohibition you spend all your money. So why with charity do we not spend more than one-fifth? There are various answers: if you spend more than one-fifth then you yourself will become poor and will need charity yourself; there's no logic in solving his problem and creating a problem for yourself. Fine, there are various explanations for this among the later authorities (Acharonim). But the Maharil Diskin wants to claim that with charity too, the prohibition comes to support the positive commandment. And since that is so, although there is a prohibition, you only have to spend up to one-fifth of your money, because the entire goal of the prohibition is that you fulfill the positive commandment. It makes no sense that you should spend all your money in order to avoid the prohibition, when the entire function of the prohibition is only to ensure that you fulfill the positive commandment. But if you spend all your money, then you are not obligated to fulfill the positive commandment with all of your money.

[Speaker G] There are two things here that I don't understand. First, what's the distinction between a prohibition that comes to support a positive commandment and a prohibition that… I mean, every case where there is a prohibition and a positive commandment about the same thing—is that a prohibition that comes to support the positive commandment?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That's a big question. Apparently not. For example, with the Sabbath it wouldn't be like that.

[Speaker G] With the Sabbath maybe that's because there the prohibition—there maybe one could say the opposite, that the positive commandment comes to support the prohibition.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. That's the question.

[Speaker G] Any case that is a positive action and has both a prohibition and a positive commandment on it—then the prohibition comes to support the positive commandment?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I'm not sure about that either. I'm not sure either. Let's try to think of examples, but I had examples for that too. I don't remember right now.

[Speaker G] But according to what is the division made? What's the logic?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It's simply interpretation of the Torah—whether you understand that the prohibition has some independent standing or that it comes to support the positive commandment. For example, with charity, in Maimonides it's pretty clear that it's not like that. With charity, because Maimonides writes that the prohibition is to prevent from us the trait of stinginess, while the positive commandment is to help the poor person, simply improve the poor person's condition. So it's pretty clear in Maimonides that he sees these as two different commandments. It's not that the prohibition comes to ensure that you fulfill the positive commandment; the prohibition has one role and the positive commandment has another.

[Speaker I] Also on Passover: “you shall remove it,” and “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, there the relationship is more complex; we spoke about that once. The relationship there is much more complex, but yes, one of the possibilities is to understand that there too it's doubled.

[Speaker G] And second: if the prohibition comes to support the positive commandment, then I would have expected—it's not that it comes to support it by strengthening it also with the category of a prohibition?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] To the extent that one is obligated in the positive commandment. It strengthens it only in the sense that someone who says, I'll violate the positive commandment because it's not so terrible, I just won't be righteous—no, you'll also violate a prohibition. It doesn't expand the parameters beyond what you're obligated in with the positive commandment; there's no reason. Whatever you're not obligated in through the positive commandment, I'm not going to prod you to do. The whole purpose of the prohibition is only to ensure that you fulfill the positive commandment.

So that's one example the Kehillot Yaakov gives—meaning, prohibitions whose purpose is to support a positive commandment will have the status of a positive commandment in this sense of Scripture repeating it to make it indispensable. The second qualification is a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment. Is that understood? Regarding the Sabbatical year: “for eating and not for commerce.” So the command is for eating, but there is no commandment to eat, really. It's a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment: there is a prohibition to trade in Sabbatical-year produce; there is no commandment to eat. So he says there: although a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment the Torah says is a positive commandment and not a prohibition, here you don't need Scripture to repeat it in order to make it indispensable. So there are two opposite practical consequences. A prohibition that supports a positive commandment—even though halakhically it has the status of a prohibition—regarding this issue it will be considered like a positive commandment. With a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment—even though halakhically it has the status of a positive commandment—regarding this issue it will be considered like a prohibition. That's what the Kehillot Yaakov says; he has various proofs, he says it on the basis of difficulties. All right? So those are the two qualifications.

Now the question is how to understand all this. The Talmud at the beginning of chapter 4 in Berakhot says as follows: the morning prayer is until midday. Rabbi Yehudah says until four hours. The afternoon prayer is until evening; Rabbi Yehudah says until plag ha-minchah, etc. The Talmud there asks: according to everyone, until midday and no more? But Rav Mari son of Rav Huna son of Rav Yirmiyah bar Abba said in the name of Rabbi Yoḥanan: if one erred and did not pray the evening prayer, he prays the morning prayer twice. If he missed the morning prayer, he prays in the afternoon twice. One may pray all day long. Meaning, you can also pray after the time; if you didn't pray, then at the time of the afternoon prayer pray twice.

A very puzzling question, very puzzling, and even more astonishing to me is that I almost found no one who commented on this. Because this is make-up prayer; it's not simply a later prayer. You are making up for the first prayer if you didn't pray it. From the Talmud here it sounds as though the make-up prayer is simply the original prayer whose time has been extended for you. It isn't praying Minchah twice. We usually understand that one prays Minchah twice; after all, the make-up prayer is also done as the second prayer. According to that logic it should have been done first—first do Shacharit and then move on to Minchah. But we pray the make-up as the second prayer. Usually the perception is that one prays Minchah twice, but then it really is strange—what kind of compensation is that? If you pray Minchah twice after missing Shacharit, what are you praying Minchah twice for? Here in the Talmud it looks like make-up means praying Shacharit later. Never mind—this is how the Talmud assumes here.

So the Talmud says: why do you say until midday? After all, one can pray all day. So the Talmud says: until midday he is given the reward of prayer at its proper time. From then on, he is given the reward of prayer; the reward of prayer at its proper time he is not given. Meaning, until midday he gets the reward of prayer at its proper time; after midday he gets the reward of prayer, but not the reward of prayer at its proper time. And again, that's the same logic, yes? Meaning, if you prayed Minchah twice, you'll get reward for Shacharit, but not at its proper time. You prayed Shacharit not at its proper time; you don't get double reward for Minchah. You received reward for prayer not at its proper time. Okay? And again this continues the same view that says the make-up is really the original prayer; it's not that you have now prayed a prayer twice. But that's what the Talmud says.

Now, this raises difficult questions. As is well known, there is a dispute between Maimonides and Nachmanides regarding the commandment of prayer. Maimonides, in positive commandment 5 I think—the fifth commandment is that He commanded us to serve Him, exalted be He, and this command has already been repeated several times. He said, “And you shall serve the Lord your God,” and He said, “And Him shall you serve,” and He said several times—not two times—“And Him shall you serve,” “and to serve Him”; it repeats several times in the Torah. And although this command is also one of the general commands, as we explained in the fourth principle, nevertheless there is here something specific—that He commanded prayer, because the general commands he does not count. So here he counts this commandment because there is something special that was introduced here, not just serving God in general, and that is prayer—that He commanded prayer. And the wording of the Sifrei is: “and to serve Him”—this is prayer. And they also said: “and to serve Him”—this is Torah study. And in the teaching of Rabbi Eliezer the son of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili they said: from where do we know that the essence of prayer is among the commandments? From here: “The Lord your God shall you fear, and Him shall you serve.” Serve Him through His Torah, serve Him in His Temple. That is, to go there to pray in it and opposite it, as Solomon, peace be upon him, explained in Kings, etc. That's Maimonides' claim.

So there is a Torah positive commandment to pray. So what are all the details—the eighteen blessings that they instituted, the nineteenth blessing, Shmuel HaKatan, and all the enactments that the Sages instituted regarding prayer? So the claim is that the details, or the times of prayer and so on, the details were instituted by the Sages, but the essence of prayer is a Torah commandment.

And Nachmanides disagrees with him on this. Nachmanides argues that the whole commandment is rabbinic, all prayer is rabbinic, it has no Torah dimension, except for sounding the trumpets in a time of distress. That is a Torah positive commandment; it is written in the Torah, “and you shall sound the trumpets.” But fixed daily prayer, the regular daily prayer—there is no such commandment. That's Nachmanides' claim.

Now, according to Maimonides we can understand this Talmudic passage. The Talmud says: until midday he gets reward for prayer; reward for prayer at its proper time he does not get. What does that mean? He fulfilled the Torah law and also the rabbinic law, because he prayed on time. If he prayed after the time, then he fulfilled the commandment of prayer, because the time is a rabbinic enactment, so he fulfilled the commandment of prayer; but reward for prayer at its proper time he won't get, because he did not fulfill the rabbinic enactment. So according to Maimonides the Talmud reads straightforwardly; this Talmudic passage is evidence for Maimonides.

How can this be explained according to Nachmanides? It seems to me that one can explain it through a little idea of Rabbi Chaim, but I think it's correct in this case. Rabbi Chaim says—Rabbi Chaim, just in passing, writes on Maimonides' laws of prayer—that even according to Nachmanides there is such a thing as the object-status of prayer on the Torah level. Meaning, there is no Torah obligation to pray; it is not a commandment. But prayer, if you prayed, has significance because it has a Torah-level fulfillment. This is a concept that exists also in the Torah-level world. The obligation to pray—there is no obligation, it is not a commandment according to Nachmanides—but prayer is Torah-level prayer. Like one who is not commanded and does, or like various things—it is not rabbinic; it is a concept that exists also in the Torah-level world, only there is no obligation to do it. The obligation is only rabbinic. Before that it was voluntary, but if you did it, then you fulfilled a commandment. You could maybe call it an existential commandment, or something like an existential commandment. I'm not sure he means exactly that, but something like an existential commandment.

If that is indeed so, then Nachmanides too can basically be explained in the same way as Maimonides. He is given reward for prayer; reward for prayer at its proper time he is not given—to one who prayed after midday. What does that mean? It is called prayer, but not prayer at its proper time, because the Sages established that it should be done at the proper time.

What's the idea here, basically? What we actually see here is that the enactments of the Sages about how to pray are not indispensable. Right? That's basically what is written here—or at least they do not prevent the essence of prayer. Meaning, it doesn't entirely undo it, but it doesn't prevent the essence of prayer. Meaning, you prayed even if you did it after the time. Why? Where does that come from? Why assume that it is not indispensable? If the Sages established it, then that's what should be done. With ordinary rabbinic enactments too we see that it is indispensable, as the Talmud in Sukkah says: if you sat in the sukkah while your table was in the house—if you sit in the sukkah and your table is in the house, you never fulfilled the commandment of sukkah in your life. So Tosafot on page 3 in Sukkah writes: you did not even fulfill the Torah law. True, the Ran disagrees with him, but Tosafot…

[Speaker J] writes: “You didn't fulfill even the Torah law.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What is that? So why do you think rabbinic requirements are recommendations, unlike another rabbinic law?

[Speaker G] Wait, where did we see here that a rabbinic law is a recommendation? I didn't understand.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You get reward for prayer, reward for prayer at its proper time—not so?

[Speaker G] So it's not a recommendation, but you didn't fulfill—you didn't fulfill the…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But according to Maimonides, you say that it's Torah law, so they didn't undo the Torah law, only the rabbinic law. But according to Nachmanides, what is it? Everything is rabbinic. So if the Sages established it, then the Sages established it. So why, why, why can I deviate from it?

[Speaker G] You can't. If you missed the time of prayer at its proper time, meaning you missed part of the rabbinic requirement.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So that's it, then I didn't pray at all? Once the Sages established it, why assume that this is still called prayer? The Sages told me how to pray.

[Speaker G] But there is make-up prayer.

[Speaker F] No, make-up prayer—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Pray, no problem. But I'm saying: “he won't get reward for prayer at its proper time.” What does that mean? You say that you did pray, just not at its proper time. Fine. The Sages established that there is a ranking here. You can pray in the ideal way, but you can also pray less ideally if you do it on time. Where does that invention come from? How does the Talmud know that? There is a rabbinic enactment—and a rabbinic enactment is what? How do you know there are two layers here, and this does prevent that and this doesn't prevent that?

I'll tell you what I'm driving at. I think the point is: prayer is service. Maimonides brings this, after all—“to serve Him with all your heart”—that this is the commandment of prayer. What is unique about service? And this is true also of sacrifices; that's why I bring this example. The patriarchs also prayed, after all—that's Rabbi Chaim's object-status of prayer. The patriarchs also prayed; they were not obligated, there was no commandment of prayer. According to Nachmanides, even for us there is no commandment of prayer. But there is such a thing as prayer, right? Now the Torah comes and says—or the Sages came and said—you have to pray in such-and-such a text and at such-and-such a time. Once they said that, did they come to cancel the value of prayer that existed before they enacted those enactments? Why assume that? After all, they did not create the concept of prayer. That's the important point. The concept of prayer existed before them. Rather, what? They wanted to tell you how to do it in the best way. Fine. I didn't do it that way, so I didn't do it in the best way. But there is no reason to assume that the Sages canceled the value of… Abraham our forefather prayed not at the proper time and not according to the text of the Sages. So was his prayer worth nothing? Of course it was worth something. So why, if I do what Abraham our forefather did, is it worth nothing? It is worth what it was worth for Abraham our forefather. It's not that… I lost the added advantage that the Sages added. But surely they did not come to cancel the value of intuitive prayer—not the halakhic prayer that we were commanded in, but the ordinary intuitive prayer that Abraham did and the patriarchs did before they were commanded. So if I do that, of course it also has value; the Sages did not come to cancel that.

[Speaker A] What about blowing the shofar on the Sabbath?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That's a dispute. It's commonly accepted that it's a dispute between Rabbi Akiva Eiger and the Magen Avraham. I'm not sure that's correct, but that's the accepted view—that it's a dispute between them.

[Speaker G] But that's a different story. Here it's forbidden—here it's forbidden according to the…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, I'll get there in a moment, I'll get there in a moment. Remind me of that question in another second; I'll return to the Ritva—the difference between a prohibition and a positive commandment.

[Speaker K] So even if it's not a make-up prayer?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, I'm not relating to it as a make-up prayer. From the Talmud's perspective it's prayer after the time.

[Speaker K] There is no make-up prayer. No, so I'm saying—even just an ordinary person prayed Shacharit and now wants to pray an additional time.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Is there reward for prayer? If only a person would pray the whole day long. So that means that, in essence, the Sages came to add; they did not come to subtract. That’s the simple meaning. Now, sacrifices too—the Patriarchs offered sacrifices. Gentiles also offer sacrifices; it’s not because of the commandment. A sacrifice, as I said earlier, is service. To serve Him in His Temple, to serve Him through prayer, right? What Maimonides mentioned. In other words, service includes sacrifices and includes prayer. What is unique about those two things? What is service? Service of God means some kind of placing of oneself before the Holy One, blessed be He. That exists even without the Torah having been given. The Patriarchs also walked before Him, the Patriarchs also served Him. We, after the Torah was given, were told to do this in a certain way. Okay, but the Patriarchs did it even earlier, not in that way. Now, when the Torah is given concerning something that it does not create, but that already existed beforehand, the simple assumption is that it does not come to reduce the value of what was done before. If I offer a sacrifice the way our father Abraham did, why should my sacrifice be worth nothing? His sacrifice certainly had value. So true, I didn’t do it according to the rules that the Torah required—not the Sages, the Torah—so what? Our father Abraham didn’t do it according to those rules, and in his case it had value; why should in my case it have no value? Therefore the simple assumption is that even when the Torah says something, it does not invalidate. Because if I do it not the way the Torah said, it still has value, just as it did before the Torah was given. If the Torah wants to disqualify it, of course it can do that—but it has to say so. The default is that if the Torah comes to add something in the realm of service, then it comes to add, not to subtract. If you want to do the prayer in the best possible way, or the sacrifice in the best possible way, do it like this. If you did it not according to the rules, then you have the reward just as our father Abraham had; it has value. We do not want to cancel that. Therefore it is not indispensable, but you have lost the extra advantage there would have been had you done it properly according to Jewish law. Therefore in sacred offerings and in prayer—which is all this sphere called service—yes, basically the rules are not indispensable rules. That is the default. Unless the Torah itself says that it is indispensable; then it is saying: yes, now I am coming to reduce the value of what previously had value. If it says so, then it has reduced it. But the default, if it does not say so, is that if I do what our father Abraham did, then I deserve what he deserved. There is no difference. But all this applies only to those things that are relevant even without the commandment. For example, in that same context, when the Torah defines the prohibition of murder. Now I murdered in a way the Torah did not prohibit. Fine? Indirect causation, with the left hand, I don’t know, in an unusual manner. Fine? So what? Does that now mean it is not morally forbidden? Of course it is morally forbidden. After all, someone who murdered before, whether by indirect causation or otherwise, was a moral criminal. The Torah did not say that you are not a moral criminal. The Torah only came to say, to add another halakhic layer on top of the ordinary, simple, natural intuitive dimension. Okay? In that sense, holiness too, or sacrifices and prayer, they also have a simple intuitive dimension. What is that? It is that encounter I spoke about earlier. You encounter the Holy One, blessed be He, and you understand what needs to be done. Abraham understood that too, and Isaac too, and Jacob too—they all understood it—and the Gentiles in their time understood it too. Everyone understood it. Because someone who has spiritual sensitivity, when he encounters this, he understands. You do not need the commandment for that. There, as I said, it is something that exists even without the commandment; reality itself dictates it. It does not even pass through my cognition many times. Reality itself simply does it to me. So what does the commandment do in such a case? In such a case, the commandment does not replace reality; it adds another layer on top of it. Unless, again, unless the Torah says: I came here to erase the reality that existed before. But without that, then clearly this intuitive dimension, this encounter with this different reality, remains as it was. Because that reality truly exists, just as Abraham saw it, and any person in our time after the giving of the Torah can also see it, if he has sufficient spiritual sensitivity. And if he encounters this thing and it tells him to offer in a certain way, let him offer; it has value. If he does it as the Torah said, then of course that is even better. But if he does not do it as the Torah said, then what? Unless the Torah said otherwise. That is something else. Okay? So in my opinion this is the understanding of “the verse repeated it to make it indispensable,” and therefore it applies only to sacred offerings. Now with sacred offerings—but for me this is all sacred offerings, meaning all those things that the Torah does not create but only directs. Things that exist even without the Torah, like prayer, like morality, or all sorts of things of that type. Now it is easy to understand everything I said earlier. Why does the Ritva say that this applies only to a positive commandment and not to a prohibition? When the Torah says not to do something regarding sacred offerings, that is what it says: do not do it. If it tells me to do it this way or that way, then fine, even if I do not do it this way or that way, it still has value. If I had done it as the Torah said, it would have had even more value. But if the Torah says do not do this, then that is what it said. What more does it need to say in order to tell me not to do it? This reasoning does not apply to prohibitions, only to positive commandments. That is obvious, right? According to this, the Ritva’s qualification is completely straightforward. Now look also at the two qualifications of the Kehillot Yaakov—they are the same thing. What does the Kehillot Yaakov say? If there is a prohibition that comes to support a positive commandment, then in essence that prohibition is coming to tell me what to do; it is not forbidding me what not to do. Therefore there it will have the status of a positive commandment. It does not matter that in essence, halakhically, it is defined as a prohibition. But here the Torah is not coming to disqualify something; it is coming to make sure I do it correctly. Okay? What about a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment? A prohibition inferred from a positive commandment is basically a positive commandment from the standpoint of halakhic definition, but for our purposes it is a prevention. “For eating and not for commerce”—when they tell me “not for commerce,” that is not coming to make sure that I eat. It is not a prohibition that comes to support a positive commandment. On the contrary, it is a prohibition stated in passive language, but basically the Torah is coming to prevent me from commerce, not to tell me to eat. So if the Torah is coming to prevent me from commerce, why should I care whether that prevention is phrased in the form of a positive commandment? When it comes to prevent, then you do not need “the verse repeated it to make it indispensable,” because the Torah told me: do not do it—it came to prevent. So it does not matter that halakhically it is defined as a positive commandment. Since it comes to prevent, you do not need “the verse repeated it to make it indispensable.” And all these things indicate that “the verse repeated it to make it indispensable” seems to me really to continue the line I have been speaking about until now: that in the world of sacred offerings there is some reality that dictates what is proper to do—not the commandment. Something that exists even before the commandment. When you encounter that reality, and if you have enough sensitivity, you know what should be done. And you do it, and it bursts out through you in a certain sense. Therefore this too is something the Torah does not want to neuter; it does not want to neutralize it. It wants to add to it, so that you will do it in a fuller way, unless it said so explicitly, or it imposed a prohibition on it, or all the other things we mentioned earlier. This is basically the halakhic expression of the claim that there is something special about sacred offerings—that sacred offerings are something you encounter; they are not created by the commandment. It is some reality of which the commandment is a reflection, but it does not create it, unlike ordinary prohibitions. One last comment—I remembered there was one more thing—regarding offering a sacrifice not for its own sake. There the Chatam Sofer really challenges Rabbi David Deutsch. Rabbi David Deutsch says that concerning what the Tosafot HaRosh asked—why does the Talmud say that this should disqualify the sacrifice? After all, the requirement of “the verse repeated it to make it indispensable” applies only in the offering of a sacrifice and sacred matters. Fine? So Rabbi David Deutsch says: because there is the prohibition of “it shall not be credited.” And according to the Ritva, with a prohibition you do not need repetition in order to disqualify. But the Chatam Sofer asks on this: many medieval authorities seem to hold that there is no prohibition with the intention of not for its own sake. What do you do with them? So, first of all, I do not know what Tosafot thinks, after all Tosafot asked this question. But let’s go with it. I think that in the intention of for its own sake too, one can understand why this is correct according to what I said here. Because the whole idea that you do not need to do it according to the Torah’s rules, that they are not indispensable, is because clearly you are serving the Holy One, blessed be He; it is some sort of intuitive service that bursts forth, and you do it as our father Abraham did, without the Torah’s instructions on exactly how to do it. So that has value. But if you offered not for its own sake, then what service of God is there here? It is not because there is a prohibition or a positive commandment here, but because of the essence of the matter. Meaning, the moment you offer not for its own sake, then this is not the sacrifice that our father Abraham offered. So what do you want—what value is there in such a thing? On the contrary, דווקא after the Torah was given, perhaps there is room to say that even if you offer not for its own sake, maybe it has some value. Before the Torah was given, it is obvious that it was worth nothing. Therefore here, once the Torah said not to offer for its own sake—again, even if it said it in the form of a positive commandment and not in the form of a prohibition—then clearly it is indispensable. This is not connected to the Ritva. What I am saying is: if you say there is a prohibition of “it shall not be credited,” then the Ritva solves the problem. I am claiming that even according to the medieval authorities who disagree with what Rabbi David Deutsch said—that is, who argue that there is no prohibition in an offering not for its own sake—still, if indeed the whole idea of “we require that the verse repeated it to make it indispensable” is that you are supposed to do the sacrifice as some kind of intuitive service of God, bursting forth, as the Patriarchs did without the command of the Torah, then an offering not for its own sake is not… the command to do it for its own sake is part of the essence of the sacrifice. It is not some novelty, some detail that the Torah adds or innovates. Yes, it reminds me of the argument about conversion: does acceptance of the commandments invalidate a conversion if absent, or does it not invalidate? Avi Sagi and Zvi Zohar wanted to claim that it does not invalidate. Absolute nonsense. Obviously it invalidates. And the fact that it is not mentioned is simply because that is the essence of conversion—what needs to be mentioned? In other words, someone who wants to accept the commandments, that is what is called converting. So if he does it according to the rules, he converts, and if not, then not. It is like the fact that in the laws of acquisitions the Shulchan Arukh does not state that I need to intend an acquisition, even though obviously without that the acquisition does not take effect. A mere act of acquisition without intending it for the sake of acquisition does not acquire. Obviously it does not acquire, so why does the Shulchan Arukh not write that? Because if someone intends an acquisition, the Shulchan Arukh instructs him how to do it so that it will take effect. If you do not intend an acquisition and you are just lifting things up, do I need to tell you that you need to intend an acquisition? I am not telling you anything—do not intend an acquisition. What do I care? It is just that if you do not intend an acquisition, you will not acquire, that is all, because you really want to acquire. So what is the problem? When something is part of the essence of the matter, it is not a detail that the Torah adds, such that it would have to tell you whether it is indispensable or not indispensable. It is the essence of the matter. Meaning, if you do not offer it for its own sake, it is not a sacrifice. Do you want to do things in a way that will not be indispensable? If you do it like our father Abraham, then it is not indispensable. But if you are not offering a sacrifice, if you are just doing some slaughtering act, but it is not for its own sake, then it is not a sacrifice. Of course the law of “for its own sake” is indispensable, even if it is not a prohibition, even if it is a positive commandment. By virtue of that same reasoning I said earlier regarding “we require that the verse repeated it to make it indispensable.” Okay, we will stop here. I had one more point, either I will continue it next time or not on this topic. One more step in the move of ordinary and sacred, and we will see more.