Innovation, Conservatism, and Tradition – Lesson 20

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[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So in another moment I’ll comment on this a bit more. We won’t be able to get into too many details here; I just want you to get a feel for the modes of thought, for how this exposition is actually done, how such an exposition is structured. Meaning, from this Talmudic passage he does it in such a relatively systematic way that from it you can really learn about many, many other passages where it appears in a very unclear form. So first of all, I classify. I’m simply using this passage now to understand how this exposition is constructed. First of all, I extract from the passage these seven levels of foods. And of course, the higher a number I put into my pool, that means I’m including more things. Right? What’s written in the Torah is cattle and flock, wine and strong drink. Now birds are the most similar. Fish are a bit less similar, but still similar. Brine that contains fish innards is already a bit less similar. Fish brine is even less similar, and so on; water and salt are the farthest away. So really the question is: what is the radius of expansion? Meaning, how far do I take the expansion around cattle and flock, wine and strong drink? That’s really the question, if I formulate it more generally. In parallel places they also include truffles and mushrooms. And truffles and mushrooms are actually an interesting question as to where they would be located on this axis, but I’m not going into that here; right now I’m referring only to the passage here. Now the Talmud says—at the end of the passage, let’s just look at the end—the Talmud says this. Maybe there’s just one sentence I need to say first: the Talmud speaks about three parameters. Meaning, we have seven kinds of foods—that we ranked. In parallel, we have three parameters. Later in the Talmud we’ll see they’re called aspects. Three aspects. What are the aspects? The aspects are the characteristics of the examples that appear in the Torah: cattle and flock, wine and strong drink. What characterizes them? First of all, they are foods—but apparently “foods” is too broad. What are their more concrete characteristics? So of course one could have gone in several directions, but the Talmud chooses three characteristics. One characteristic is “product of a product,” meaning something born from something else. “Things nourished from the ground” means it derives sustenance from the ground; therefore animals are “things nourished from the ground,” and fish too are “things nourished from the ground,” and birds too are “things nourished from the ground.” Because all of it is nourished from the earth. That is called “things nourished from the ground.” It doesn’t have to grow from the ground; it has to be nourished from the ground. And “offspring of the offspring of the earth” means something created from the earth during the six days of Creation. So these are basically the three parameters. The four examples that appear in the Torah have these three characteristics. These three characteristics apply to those examples. Now what is really the question? Look, I’m already giving you the bottom line. Of course this has to be extracted from the passage; it isn’t simple. But I’m saving you the trouble, shortening the way. I construct Venn diagrams. You know the term Venn diagrams? In logic people sometimes use them when we want to examine relations between different sets. So I represent each set by a circle. If there is set A that contains set B, then I represent set B as a small circle inside a large circle representing set A. If the two sets have some overlap but only partial overlap, then it’s something like this, yes, like the Olympic symbol. Okay? Two circles with a certain overlap. Fine? And so on. There can be different relations; that’s a Venn diagram. A Venn diagram helps us express intersections and unions of sets, simply. That is exactly what happens in a general-and-specific form. A general-and-specific form is basically just unions and intersections of sets. It’s actually a very clear model of how one works with general and specific terms. Therefore the first step, really, is this: we now have examples in the Torah, and we draw—we build a table of kinds of foods at increasing distances from the Torah’s examples. That’s what I did at the beginning. I try to characterize the Torah’s examples by means of aspects. I make a Venn diagram of the aspects. A Venn diagram of the aspects means that “offspring of the offspring of the earth” is the narrowest set. Right? We know that concerning birds and fish there is a dispute, but birds clearly were not created from the earth, yet they are “product of a product” and they are “things nourished from the ground.” So that means “offspring of the offspring of the earth” is the narrowest set. “Things nourished from the ground” is what extends beyond that, and “product of a product” is what extends beyond that. Okay? So, for example, fish—there are those who say they are not “things nourished from the ground,” but they are “product of a product.” Fine. So there is—look, I’m not going into all the examples now and how I built this diagram; this is the diagram in this passage, and by the way, it’s a simple diagram. There are passages in which all three circles have only partial overlaps. Meaning, say there’s this circle here, another circle here, and a third circle that intersects both of them in some way as well. Or two circles one inside the other and one circle intersecting both of them. There can be many, many Venn diagrams, and each such Venn diagram yields a different result for the general-and-specific exposition. And once you understand this, it explains all the general-and-specific passages in this logical model. We went over that in the second book in the Talmudic Logic series. In any case, in this passage the structure is very simple: these are concentric diagrams. Yes, they have a common center, one containing the other. Now what happens in such a situation? When I take the seven examples that appear above, they of course belong to different circles. Let’s say example number one—“product of a product,” sorry—level number one is flock and cattle, wine and strong drink, right? Those are the examples appearing in the Torah. That is here in the middle. What does it mean that it’s here in the middle? That it is also “offspring of the offspring of the earth,” also “things nourished from the ground,” and also “product of a product.” Right? Because it has—it is inside all three circles. If now we find some examples located here, then that means they are not “offspring of the offspring of the earth,” but they are “things nourished from the ground” and also “product of a product.” If there are examples located here, then they will not be “offspring of the offspring of the earth” and not “things nourished from the ground,” but they will be “product of a product.” And now comes the punchline. The punchline says that I am basically checking how many parameters of similarity, how many aspects, each example has. And what the general-and-specific exposition tells me is how many aspects of similarity are needed in order to include the law. For example, if I need three aspects of similarity, then for cattle and flock, wine and strong drink, those are examples that are located here in the middle of the inner circle. If I want—if the result is that three aspects of similarity are needed, that means that anything that is “offspring of the offspring of the earth” can be purchased with second tithe money. Why do I call this three aspects of similarity? Because everything found inside this inner circle has three aspects of similarity to cattle, flock, wine and strong drink. What are the aspects? It is also “offspring of the offspring of the earth,” also “things nourished from the ground,” and also “product of a product.” By contrast, if another tanna comes and tells me: no, I make a broader expansion; two aspects of similarity are enough, not three—what does that mean? That means that I basically fill in—I should have shaded the circles of “things nourished from the ground” and “offspring of the offspring of the earth,” those two circles. Agreed? Because everything found within these two circles resembles in at least two respects, or three, but not less. Therefore, someone who says you need similarity in two respects will take the whole of the two inner circles. Someone who says one aspect of similarity is enough says: all the circles, including the outer circle. Because it’s enough that you are “product of a product”; even if you are not “offspring of the offspring of the earth” and not “things nourished from the ground,” if you are similar in one respect, that is enough. Now by the way you can also see what will happen if there is a general-and-specific exposition that requires similarity in one respect, but the Venn diagram is not concentric; instead it is, say, three partial circles. Let me draw maybe tangent ones. Here, look. For example, let’s take this. Something like this, for example. Okay? So if we want similarity in three respects, the result will be whatever is found here. Right? And if we want similarity in two respects, then it will also be whatever is found here and whatever is found here. If we want similarity in one respect, you see that it will be all three of these circles. They’re not concentric, all three of these circles. Sometimes it can even be something more complicated—for example, if there is a diagram like this, with something like this and something like this. For example, I made here—I don’t know why it’s giving me a line. Oh, that’s what I meant. There. Okay, for example such a thing. So if I want similarity in three respects, there is none. Nothing is similar in three respects. If I want similarity in two respects, then it will be the union of this and this. Right? And if it’s similarity in one respect, then it will be either this or this or this. Okay? So sometimes there can be sets that are disjoint, sets that are a union of two things, just as one studies at the beginning of set theory or in logic with Venn diagrams. It’s exactly the same thing. In the end, general-and-specific and then general again is a way of formulating different forms of generalization around the biblical examples. That is really the point. Good. This is only so that you understand that the example we are dealing with is only one specific example and not something universal. In any case, now we need to know: okay, now we already have all the tools in hand. Now the question is what do we do with these tools? Meaning, I already have my Venn diagram ready, and I have the list of examples and I can distribute them here. Example—say example seven will be found here, examples four, five, six will be found here, one, two, three will be here. Just as an example, okay? Now if I know that the result is similarity in one respect, that means that up to example seven everything is permitted; one can buy everything with second tithe money. If I want similarity in three respects, then it’s only examples one, two, and three. Now what remains—the only thing that remains for me in order to know how to do a general-and-specific exposition—is to understand how I determine how many aspects of similarity there are. Okay? So for that let’s go back up for a moment. So the Talmud says this: “The one who includes birds—what is his reason? And the one who excludes birds—what is his reason? The one who includes birds holds that the last general term is the decisive one. Specific and general become a general term added to the specific, and thereby all things are included, while the first general term comes to exclude anything that is not similar in two respects.” Here the concept of “respects” already enters. “And the one who excludes birds holds that the first general term is the decisive one. General and specific—there is in the general term only what is in the specific term; these, yes, anything else, no. And the last general term comes to include whatever is similar in three respects.” Translation into spoken Hebrew—well, spoken language: when we know—there are two extreme cases. I’m simply skipping over the passage because I won’t have time really to see its details, so I’m giving you the bottom line. We have two extreme cases. One extreme case is the structure of general and specific. General and specific is, in effect—we already spoke about this—the narrowest possible. Okay? Would I say that means many respects or few respects? What do you say? Few? Few respects is actually broader. If you require only slight similarity, that means you make a big expansion of the set. A small similarity is enough for me to expand it, to include this too. Therefore when I make a narrow expansion, it means many respects. I require complete similarity. If I require complete similarity, there are few foods that will meet that, that are really similar to what is written in the Torah. Therefore there is here a kind of reverse interplay. The larger the number of respects, the narrower the expansion, and vice versa. Okay? As in information theory, by the way. In information theory, the more information you give, the fewer examples that information characterizes. We once talked about that—I don’t remember—yes, the first prime minister of the State of Israel. So if I say this person was the head of something, there are many people: head of the Mossad, prime minister, mayor—he’s head of something. What about prime minister? Prime minister is already fewer people, right? Only heads of governments, not heads of other things. So I gave more information: he was also a prime minister, and then I already reduced the number of people to whom this description applies. But there are still many prime ministers of all countries in all periods. The first prime minister of a state—maybe that narrows it. Of the State of Israel—that narrows it further. The first prime minister of the State of Israel—that already means one person only: David Ben-Gurion. Okay? So the more respects or the more information I give, the more I narrow the set characterized by those respects. Therefore the number of respects by which I expand is what determines the radius of expansion. We said that in the theory of the general-and-specific expositions, the point is to determine a radius of expansion. Now we understand the language the Sages used. The language is “respects.” The respects determine the radius of expansion. One over the number of respects is the radius of expansion. The greater the number of respects, the narrower the radius. Okay? Not literally one over—just an inverse relation, yes, never mind. So now what happens? How do we now know from the general-and-specific form how many aspects of similarity there are? That’s really the last thing we still need in order to understand general and specific. How do we learn it? So the Talmud says this: we have two extreme cases. General and specific is the narrowest possible: only what is in the specific term. Right? We talked about that in the previous class. “Only what is in the specific term” is seemingly complete similarity. Seemingly three respects—we’ll soon see that this is not correct. But seemingly it’s three respects, the highest similarity possible. By contrast, specific and general is the broadest possible. So that is similarity in one respect. Okay? And then I would expect that general and specific and general again would probably be something in the middle, in two respects—that’s what remains. Okay? But how does it come out logically? So the Talmud says this: the triple exposition, the three-part structure of general, specific, and general, can be interpreted in two ways. You can call it—the term used is “the first general term is decisive.” What does “the first general term is decisive” mean? I have the structure general, specific, and general, okay? That’s the biblical structure. Now I can say that “the first general term is decisive” means this: I first look at the first general term. First of all at the first general term. And then I say: I have here a structure of general and specific. A structure of general and specific means complete similarity. But in the end another general term was added after it. What does that mean? The last general term comes to say: expand a bit. You are narrowing absolutely, but then expand a little. That is the reading called “the first general term is decisive.” By contrast, “the last general term is decisive” says: I first of all have specific and general. What is that? Similarity in one respect, right? Maximal. If I add a general term at the beginning, I need to narrow the expansion. So it’s not one respect, it’s two respects. Okay. Therefore according to the one who says the last general term is decisive, the structure of general, specific, and general tells me to expand in two respects—everything similar in two respects. What happens with “the first general term is decisive”? Here, you see, there’s a puzzle. It took us time until we understood it. Seemingly, general and specific is the narrowest possible. What does “the narrowest possible” mean? Three respects. So the general term that comes at the end should broaden it. What does broadening mean? To lower the number of respects a little, right? Instead of three respects, two respects. So we arrived at the same result as “the last general term is decisive.” What’s the difference between “the first general term is decisive” and “the last general term is decisive”? And this says something very interesting: that general and specific, contrary to what people think, is not similarity in three respects—it is similarity in four respects. What do I mean by four respects? You make no expansion at all. Similarity in three respects—let’s go back for a second to our illustration. Similarity in three respects means everything found within the inner circle, right? That is the narrowest possible expansion, while cattle and flock, wine and strong drink are found somewhere here in the center of the circle. You understand that similarity in three respects is still a generalization, right? It’s not only the examples that appear in the Torah.

[Speaker B] Every—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] anything else that resembles them in all respects—but there are still other things. Fine?

[Speaker B] If—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If I want to say that only the examples appearing in the Torah count and nothing besides them—not to expand to anything, even to what is fully similar to them—then that is four respects. And therefore indeed the interpreters of the baraita say: when there is the interpretive rule of general and specific, that basically means do not build an archetype from the specific term. Do not expand the specific term. When the Torah places a general term before the specific term, that is the Torah’s way of telling us: these details are not to be expanded at all. “Not to expand at all” means not three respects, but four respects. Now four respects is of course only figurative. It isn’t really four respects; it means only these things themselves, with no expansion whatsoever. The claim is that an expansion based on three respects is already an expansion. It is the narrowest possible expansion, but it is still an expansion. It is this whole set. Okay? When they tell me no, I want only what is exactly in the center, that’s it—only what is there—then it means I want no expansion at all. That is what we call four respects. And now everything falls into place nicely, you’ll see.

[Speaker B] Rabbi, is it possible to have a general term and only one specific term and then a general term?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Say that again? I didn’t understand.

[Speaker B] Is there an example of maybe a general term, one isolated specific term, and then a general term?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, why not?

[Speaker B] So what does general-specific-general do? If it’s one specific term, then it’s only the aspects of that specific term.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay. The base is one specific term; that doesn’t matter. On the contrary, in principle one specific term ought to have been enough. When the Torah writes several specifics, it is simply to hint to us what the relevant aspects are. Because if it had written only one specific, then I would think there are additional aspects and they are not relevant. So this is only a hint to the question of what the aspects are, because discovering the aspects is the interpreter’s reasoning—it is not written in the Torah. What are the characteristics of these examples? That is an interpretive matter. Now look, here is the summary. Look. What happens in specific and general? In specific and general it is one respect, right? Because that is the maximal inclusion. In general and specific it is four respects—complete identity. In general and specific and general, it is three respects according to the view that the first term is decisive, and two respects according to the view that the last term is decisive. That is what the Talmud says. And then we are left in the puzzle—you see that once I make such a table, look: this and this are still empty, right? Think of it as if nothing were written here. These are empty. So this table actually summarizes for me from the opposite angle. It doesn’t tell me what to do with general and specific and what not; rather, how the Torah must write if it wants to tell me: include based on one respect, or on two respects, or three, or four. So according to the view that the first term is decisive, if it wants to write one respect it writes specific and general. If it wants three respects, general and specific and general. If it wants four respects, general and specific. According to the view that the last term is decisive, same thing. But then it comes out—I’m just skipping the steps because we don’t have time—that according to the view that the first term is decisive, the midrashic language is incomplete. According to that view, there is no way to express two respects. And according to the view that the last term is decisive, there is no way to express three respects. And that fits perfectly with the Talmudic passage in Nazir that I mentioned to you, which says: wait, there is a fourth interpretive rule—specific, general, and specific. It does not appear אצל Rabbi Yishmael—sorry, it does not appear in Rabbi Yishmael’s list. Now look, let’s do the calculation. According to the view that the first term is decisive, let’s try to analyze specific-general-specific. What is specific-general? After all, according to that view you start from the beginning, right? Since you start from the beginning, let’s start from the beginning. We begin with specific and general—what is that? Everything. One respect. Maximal inclusion, one respect. Right? But if there is a specific term afterward, then it comes to narrow it. So that means two respects. That is exactly the two respects according to the view that the first term is decisive. Now let’s see here. We have no way to make three respects according to the view that the last term is decisive. Let’s see: read specific-general-specific according to the view that the last term is decisive. What is specific-general? Sorry. If the last term is decisive, you have to start from the last, from the end. So you begin with general and specific. What is general and specific? Four respects, right? The first specific term narrows it to three respects. And now the language is complete. So we really have two languages for how to read the Torah, and this is a dispute among tannaim. Only one is correct—either the language of “the first term is decisive” or the language of “the last term is decisive.” And there will be disagreements between them, because the same structure—for example general-specific-general—according to the view that the first term is decisive, tells us to include on the basis of three respects. According to the view that the last term is decisive, it tells us to include on the basis of two respects. The interpretive result will be different. But according to each of these languages, each one is complete. Meaning, the Torah can tell me any interpretive instruction it wants; it has the textual tool to give me that instruction. Okay? And now we have basically finished the issue. Because now we know, in principle, how one performs general-and-specific expositions. How does one do it? One reads the examples in the Torah. One tries to find their aspects. That comes from reasoning—to find their aspects. What were called here “product of a product,” “things nourished from the ground,” and “offspring of the offspring of the earth.” One draws a Venn diagram of the aspects. One finds examples that belong to each sector in the Venn diagram. What is found in this circle, what is found in the next circle—that’s the examples of salt, water, fish brine, and so forth and so on. That is how the Talmud found these examples, because it simply took the aspects and tried to show examples belonging to one aspect, to two aspects, to three aspects—how much closer they are to the Torah’s examples. And then we construct the hierarchy of examples. Now we return to the Torah and look at the structure that appears there: general and specific, specific and general, general and specific and general, specific and general and specific. And that will tell us—depending on whether we hold that the first term is decisive or the last term is decisive—how many respects to expand by. And with that we are done. And if I need—this becomes very complicated in more complex structures, but in this example it comes out simply. Because the structures are concentric, it comes out simply. What this really means is that in the world of interpretation, in the language of interpretation, there is a way to solve Hart’s problem, with which I opened the discussion using examples. Remember the rule “No vehicles may enter the garden,” the public garden? And I asked how the legislator can tell us what is meant by “vehicle.” A ride-on toy, a motorcycle, a tractor, a tank, a tank monument, electric bicycles, non-electric bicycles—what? Here you understand that all these vehicles can be drawn in a table, right? The little toy is at the very bottom—that’s the water and salt. What is a scooter, what is a motorcycle? Bicycle, electric scooter, electric bicycle, motorcycle, tractor, and so on. Okay, car, race car, truck, and so on. Something more dangerous, let’s say. Why? Because our aspects are level of danger, level of noise, level of pollution—let’s say those are the three aspects I would identify. Danger, noise, and pollution. Okay. So those are the three aspects. And now the legislator could tell me how far to expand. If he wrote, “No vehicle may enter the garden, such as bicycles and scooters and the like,” that is general-specific-general. So then I know whether it means three respects or two respects, and I can tell you which vehicles may enter and which may not. And once we understand this logical structure, one can crack all the general-and-specific passages. That does not mean, by the way, that today I know how to expound general-and-specific expositions. Why not? Because the aspects the Sages extracted are not what I would have thought were the relevant aspects. Meaning, I don’t have the lines of reasoning that tell me what the relevant aspects are for the examples the Torah gives. Maybe in some places I could come close, but there it is still not clear to me how the Sages arrived at what they arrived at. What is clear to me is that they arrived at it by reasoning. There is a logical mechanism that gives you what the aspects are. It is some sort of interpretive reasoning or other, and in that sense there is no way to complete that from the outside. Either you have the reasoning or you don’t have the reasoning. But once you do have that reasoning, then today we have completely deciphered this whole world of general-and-specific expositions. Meaning, there really is a fully orderly logic for how this exposition is done, and it explains very complicated passages. Here and there I still need additional assumptions to explain them, but all the places where the commentators get stuck and don’t understand what’s going on there and what happens and who disagrees and who doesn’t—one can explain it all in a really beautiful way. In my view this is a wonderful piece of research, what we did here. In any case—Rabbi?

[Speaker C] Yes. Can I ask something? The Rabbi really put an impressive emphasis on the analysis of all these forms of general and specific and all the possibilities, while putting very little emphasis on the aspects, on judgment, and on trying to understand the legislator’s intention. Very little emphasis because there’s almost nothing to say about it. Suppose in Hart’s case, if the legislator’s wording did not include an electric scooter, while we know that every reasonable person understands that the legislator’s intention was that a dangerous vehicle should not enter, and such a vehicle is, say, super dangerous, but it doesn’t fit under the general-specific-general rule because the legislator didn’t succeed with the wording—would it occur to anyone to say, well then let’s be stubborn and not include it?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Absolutely. Absolutely. If in the end there are accepted structures of general and specific, then the legislator has to formulate things precisely. What he says enters through the logic of general and specific. If it does not emerge from that logic, then it is not learned from there. You can say on the basis of your own reasoning that you want to be stringent and nevertheless not do it. No problem—more power to you. But the halakhic prohibition is determined by this logic. That’s all.

[Speaker C] Only because we are limited in weighing the aspects used by the tannaim. If, say, we could weigh them ourselves and we had a Sanhedrin, then everything would be different.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You don’t need a Sanhedrin for that. You just need to know how to do it. There is no need for a Sanhedrin at all.

[Speaker C] So why is the Rabbi sure that he cannot understand the Torah’s intention differently from the Sages?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I think that today I can expound general-and-specific rules. I’m only saying that my reasoning, many times, will not line up with the examples I know from the Sages. After all, like Otniel ben Kenaz, I too would want to test myself against the expositions the Sages made, in order to train, to see that I’m working correctly. And it turns out that when I do it—when I try to look for the aspects in the expositions the Sages found—those are not the aspects the Sages found. So that means that apparently my reasoning does not match what they grasped. Now that still doesn’t mean—maybe I could make the exposition according to what I understand in places where we do not have the Sages. Then I would make the exposition as I understand it, and “a judge has only what his eyes see,” fine? There is room to make that claim, but that is already really a practical question and I don’t want to get into it here. So what I just wanted to demonstrate here—I want to finish this already—what I wanted to demonstrate was to show you how a general type of exposition called general and specific, or general terms and specific terms, suddenly breaks down into four types of expositions with a very precise and well-defined logic for each one. And now I can work on every biblical occurrence and match to it exactly the result of the exposition, while earlier generations would not have understood what I was talking about. I would say to them aspects and general-specific-general and specific-general-specific, and they wouldn’t understand at all what I wanted. But they read the verse and they say: birds yes, fish no. Why? Because intuitively it is obvious to them that this is general and specific and one has to expand it a bit. I, lacking the intuition for this interpretive language, built logical tools for myself, conceptualized the matter in order to try to follow what they did intuitively. And then I arrived at the conclusion that there are already four subtypes of exposition under this heading of general and specific. For them it was all one exposition: expansion around the details found in the Torah. Intuitively it was obvious to them that if there is one general term at the beginning you make a narrower expansion, if there is a general term at the end you make a broader expansion, if there are two general terms you make a middle-range expansion. But they didn’t formulate for themselves—as we do not formulate grammar rules, remember the example I brought?—so they did not formulate for themselves four such rules, and in each one aspects; they did not speak in this language at all. They simply used interpretation intuitively and reached their results. And we, who do not have the intuition for how this is done, need to create concepts, and then it turns out that there are already four rules rather than one. And that is exactly a nice example of how the system of interpretive rules expands over the generations. But it is not an invention; it is a dynamic tradition. We are only trying to decipher what previous generations did; we are not adding to it, we are deciphering it. Okay.

[Speaker B] Maybe in that study hall they followed inclusion and exclusion, not general and specific? I can’t hear. The study hall followed inclusion and exclusion, not general and specific. Did it also stick to the same technique of—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not this technique, but they have a technique too, yes. I understand. At least that’s how it seems. Their technique, by the way, I haven’t fully deciphered. I understand it partially, but I didn’t reach a complete logical model. But it seems quite clear that they also have a parallel model, a different one, but they follow other rules in a consistent way in every such biblical occurrence. And there I didn’t find a passage that helped me decipher the formalism. Here the passage in Eruvin really opened things up for us, together with the notes of Rabbi HaNazir. Rabbi HaNazir already commented on this passage, and from there the penny kind of dropped for us. Okay, I just want to complete this series. I left the passage in Eruvin—we saw more or less—and I hope this demonstrated a bit how a dynamic tradition works. A tradition that does not change Jewish law and does not add to Jewish law, but only conceptualizes what we have already received and what was done in the past. And still it looks different and sometimes will even bring different results, by the way, because the conceptualization is not always precise and sometimes something different will come out for us than what came out for our rabbis, because as I said earlier, it is only an approximation. So the changes are a side effect; the changes are a secondary result. We are not making a change in Jewish law; we are conceptualizing. True, when one conceptualizes, sometimes somewhat different results also emerge, but in principle we are not trying here to make some change or adaptation—that whole topic belonged to the first classes—but rather we are simply trying to understand what our rabbis did, that’s all, to place it into a more precise pattern. Okay, now I just want a few final comments regarding general and specific terms, regarding tradition in general. There is some sort of charm in the religious world—and certainly the Jewish world, but I think in every religious world—to the word “tradition.” Well, this is the tradition in our hands from our rabbis, and immediately that means that of course one must obey it and one must not depart from it and so on. But one should notice carefully that the word “tradition,” logically, consists of at least two components. One component is the chain that brings the thing to me—from father to son or from rabbi to student, from generation to generation, and so on. One must examine the reliability of the chain, etc. Assuming the chain is reliable, then we have a tradition. Is the reliability of the chain enough to say that the result is correct, true?

[Speaker B] You have to examine whether deep down in the rules there’s really logic there, that it really does come one from the other, not—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] that suddenly some—

[Speaker B] element gets in that interferes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What does “one from the other” mean? I didn’t understand—who is the one and who is the other?

[Speaker B] I mean logically, one is the outgrowth of the other; the tradition really passes—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We have a tradition. We have a tradition that says one may eat birds with second tithe money. Does the fact that we have a reliable tradition mean that this is truly the law? No, absolutely not. Because the question is where it started. Tradition conveys something to me, but what is that thing that it is conveying to me? Where did it come from? Tradition only says that it is passed down from generation to generation and from rabbi to student. But what is being passed on? I mentioned one of the previous times the comments of the Netziv in Kidmat Ha-Emek, in his introduction to his Ha-Emek commentary on the She’iltot. So he says there that there is a dispute between Maimonides and Rashi about the meaning of the expression in the Talmud “gemara gemir la.” The Talmud very often says, “this law—gemara gemir la.” Rashi everywhere writes: “gemara gemir la” means a law given to Moses at Sinai. But Maimonides in many places does not treat “gemara gemir la” as a law given to Moses at Sinai. So the Netziv explains that “gemara gemir la” could mean that this is basically some tradition, but not from Sinai. Rather, there was some generation that derived a law through interpretation, exposition, reasoning, whatever it may have been—they derived a law, but they derived the law; it did not come from Sinai. And from that point onward it was passed to us as tradition, but the interpretive route by which that law was created, or the midrash, was not what was passed to us—only the law was passed. So one asks: fine, shall we accept this law? We do not have an exposition that supports it. And this is “gemara gemir la.” What does that mean? There was learning—incidentally that is also the meaning of the expression; “ligmor” in Aramaic means “to learn.” So “gemara gemir la” means they learned it—our Sages learned it in the past. They derived it from some exposition or interpretation of the Torah, and from there it passed to us, and therefore it is fine, it is reliable. That means that the source is not Sinai, but interpretation or exposition from earlier generations, and from there it passed to us in tradition, and that too is fine. Why? Because true, the source is not Sinai, but the source is an exposition, and an exposition is a legitimate source. Meaning, in order to say that a certain law is authoritative, it is not enough to say that it came to us by tradition and that the tradition is reliable. Because when one says it came to us by tradition, and assuming the tradition is indeed reliable, the question is how it began. If it began as nonsense, and afterward there is a reliable tradition that passes that nonsense from father to son, it is still nonsense. So what if the tradition is reliable and everything passed properly from father to son? You need to know what source created this law, not only the reliability of the chain that brings this law to you. Why am I saying this? Because many times—and I go back to what I noted at the beginning—many times we use the term “tradition” as if that seals the argument. Well, if there is a tradition, then one must obey. No, I do not agree with that. The fact that there is a tradition means that the previous generation passed it to us and the generation before that passed it to them, and so on. But nobody told me where it started. Maybe it started as plain baseless nonsense? So the fact that it is passed by tradition and somehow was absorbed among the generations—what does that mean? Tradition only says that what was transmitted was not invented by them, but received from earlier. Okay, but the earlier-earlier, the first turtle—yes, it’s turtles all the way down—the first turtle, what is it standing on? Where did this come from? The question of tradition does not solve that. Therefore many times you ask: why do kapparot? Yom Kippur is now approaching—why do kapparot? About which the Shulchan Arukh uses harsh language. Why do kapparot? Tradition. We do not move from tradition. What tradition? Fine, I know our ancestors did it and their ancestors did it; I don’t know exactly when it began. But if it was nonsense, why should I care that all the generations passed it on by tradition and kept doing it all the time? If it is nonsense, tradition does not validate it. The concept of tradition acquired over the years a sort of aura that also serves as a substitute for a source. It does not only provide reliability regarding transmission; it also serves as a substitute for the source. Now I no longer care what the source is. If tradition says so, then it is probably true. Behind this stand various mystical or pseudo-mystical explanations—which I myself once used in one of my articles, though today I no longer think what I wrote there—about hermeneutics; whoever once read the article about hermeneutics. And this is divine providence: if the Jewish people pass some law by tradition from generation to generation, then it is probably something true. What does this thesis mean? Even before asking whether it is true or not, what is it trying to say? It is trying to say that the first component is enough; you do not need the second component. Meaning, if there is a reliable tradition, then the result is true; it doesn’t matter what the original source was. That is really what people want to say. Or in other words, when you do not know what the original source is and the whole thing seems to you complete nonsense, the only way to sell it to you is to tell you that this is tradition and our holy rabbis surely did not stumble and the Holy One, blessed be He, watched over this, and therefore clearly it is true. “If you do not know, O fairest among women, go forth in the footsteps of the flock, and pasture your kids by the shepherds’ dwellings.” Yes, that is really the expression from which the Jerusalem Talmud brings the source for tradition—to go after the footsteps of the flock. Okay, if you go in the footsteps of the flock, you are on the right path. I’m not sure. Sometimes the flock wanders badly—the flock wanders badly. And to go after the flock and wander after it will not comfort me that I wandered while being with the whole flock. “The troubles of the many are the consolation of fools,” as the saying goes. Therefore I think one must be very, very careful in using the concept of tradition as a substitute for a criterion of truth. Tradition means that there is reliability in transmission; it does not say much about the quality of the initial source. So if someone tells me: look, this is a law given to Moses at Sinai—then by that they are telling me that this is a reliable tradition whose source is Mount Sinai, and then that says everything. It says both things: it says there is a reliable or authoritative source, and it reached me by tradition. Both things are present—that is perfectly fine. “Gemara gemira la,” same thing. They say that authorized Sages expounded this exposition, even if we do not know which exposition they expounded. But they knew their work, and therefore the source is a correct source, and tradition passed it to us—this too is valid. But there are very many things that are neither a law given to Moses at Sinai nor “gemara gemira la”; they are only tradition.

[Speaker B] What appears in the Talmud—is that tradition or is it “gemara gemira la”? I mean, things that are not laws given to Moses at Sinai or from exposition—what?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It depends what in the Talmud. There are things of this kind and things of that kind; there are all sorts.

[Speaker B] So the Talmud too is made up of traditions that maybe we don’t know exactly what they are.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Many things, obviously. Never mind—it could be that it has authority even if it’s mistaken; we already talked about that. That belongs to considerations of authority. And right now I’m setting authority considerations aside for a moment; at the moment I’m discussing the question of what is actually correct. It may be that there is some body, like the Sanhedrin or like the Talmud, that has the authority to establish something as binding even if it isn’t correct—fine, that’s a separate discussion. But for the purposes of our discussion right now, I’m dealing with the question of what is correct. Look, for example, at an argument from tradition that really infuriated me. When I was teaching in Yeruham, someone came from the organization promoting the new tekhelet thread and gave a lecture there on the subject, and honestly it sounded very convincing to me—at the very least enough to create a serious doubt. Now, in a Torah-level doubt, I thought it would be proper to wear tekhelet. I made some inquiries, asked what halakhic decisors say about it, called some fellow in Bnei Brak who had gone around asking the decisors there, and I got answers from him that I won’t repeat here out of sheer embarrassment. But among other things, it’s known that Rabbi Soloveitchik—he was talking about the tekhelet of Radzin, not of course the tekhelet of today, because he didn’t know it—he said, or actually Beit HaLevi already started with this, it seems to me, even Beit HaLevi, not Rabbi Soloveitchik; Rabbi Soloveitchik repeated it afterward—he said, “We have no tradition about this.” An argument that is simply completely absurd—I’m careful not to use sharper expressions. It’s simply absurd. What does “we have no tradition about this” mean? Of course we don’t, because the information about what tekhelet is was lost. But now you have a claim with arguments explaining to you that this is tekhelet, so why should I care that we have no tradition about it? Why is that relevant? This tradition has become so sacred that not only is whatever we have a tradition about certainly correct, but even something correct that we have no tradition about becomes incorrect. And you have good arguments—no. There were no answers to the arguments. The arguments were good, because if you had answers to the arguments you wouldn’t need to resort to this. Tradition is always the last stage, the last rabbit they pull out of the hat when they have no arguments. Yes, that’s always how it is. Then they tell you, “It’s tradition.” But that’s not right—tradition is not an argument. Only if you know what the source of the tradition is. Or if there is no tradition, that certainly isn’t an argument. There is no tradition because that information was lost. Now someone comes and says, “But it says in the Torah a thread of tekhelet, and there is tekhelet in the world.” So what are you saying—that there is no tekhelet in the world? There is tekhelet. And someone comes and gives you good arguments that in his view this is the tekhelet. Maybe he’s right, maybe not—you have to discuss his claims. What are you telling me: “We have no tradition about it, and therefore what? Therefore you are exempt from the Torah-level positive commandment of tekhelet?” What kind of absurd argument is that? It simply doesn’t get off the ground. Such nonsense that to hear great people say such a thing—it’s really unbelievable that such a thing could be told. And this is only an expression of this concept, this aura that wraps itself around the concept of tradition for no reason at all. I’m not even talking about legumes on Passover and all the rest of the nonsense that surrounds us in the name of tradition, that everyone is so strict about in the name of tradition, when it’s complete nonsense. And they keep going with tradition and tradition and tradition and never move from tradition. Now, I’ll qualify that a bit, because there is a certain dimension here, which is the dimension of customs. Meaning: when there is a tradition, then sometimes, true, it doesn’t indicate that something is correct, but once there is a long-standing tradition, then it’s already a custom. And a custom has halakhic status. Fine, you have to discuss whether it’s a foolish custom, in which case it has no halakhic status. And if it’s not a custom at all but just a tradition—as I argued regarding legumes on Passover, that’s a concern, not a custom. So when there was a concern, there was; and today there is no concern, so there isn’t. That’s all. So that doesn’t belong to the laws of customs at all; it belongs to the laws of concerns. So this concept—tradition—has taken on monstrous dimensions. By the way, the same thing in halakhic ruling—yes, these are comments on the concept of tradition, since that was our topic here—so for example, customs of ruling, that Sephardim rule like the Mechaber and Ashkenazim like the Rema. Where this came from, I have no idea, and it doesn’t begin to make sense. The fact that they have the custom of ruling like the Mechaber—fine. But here we’re talking about halakhic rulings. Why should I care what your custom is? If I think this thing is Sabbath desecration, then should I care that your custom is to desecrate the Sabbath? Why should I care that your custom is to desecrate the Sabbath? In my view, it’s Sabbath desecration. You should do what you understand—that’s perfectly fine. I’m not claiming that you are not okay. But if I reach the conclusion that this thing is Sabbath desecration, then why should I care that I’m Ashkenazi and it comes out according to the Mechaber? That’s what I will do. And vice versa, of course. That’s what the Jerusalem Talmud says: “If you do not know, O fairest among women, go your way in the footsteps of the flock.” When the law is uncertain in your hands, go after the custom. If you don’t know what the Jewish law is, then the custom can have weight in deciding Jewish law. You don’t know, so if that’s what people generally do, assume that it is probably the correct Jewish law, because you don’t know. And by the way, even on this, much ink has been spilled trying to explain why. If I don’t know, then there are the laws of doubt—why assume that this custom reflects anything at all? If many fools do something, does that make it correct? Six hundred thousand ignoramuses like those who left Egypt do not outweigh one Torah scholar, as Sefer HaChinukh says regarding following the majority. So the fact that many people have been doing something foolish over the generations—what does that prove? On that point, all kinds of things have been said: if they’re doing it, then apparently it had some source that did understand the matter, and you don’t know that it’s incorrect. So follow it. But if you know that it’s incorrect, if you have reached a halakhic conclusion that it’s incorrect, you have to do what you think. If you are Ashkenazi and it seems to you that the Mechaber is right, you are obligated to follow him. What kind of custom is this, to follow the Rema? “If you do not know”—if you don’t know, then follow the custom, the custom of Ashkenazim to follow the Rema, of Sephardim to follow the Mechaber. That is if you don’t know. But if you do know, then do what you know. Once again, tradition has somehow become a sort of sacred thing that determines Jewish law, determines what is correct, determines what is incorrect; the absence of tradition determines what is incorrect. All these are monsters that have risen against us. Monsters Inc., yes, like in the movie about monsters—a wonderful movie, by the way. This monster of tradition and customs simply threatens to consume us. And in that sense, these are comments I’ve made here: one has to be very, very careful, because tradition is not a magic word. It has an important dimension in Jewish law; tradition is a very important thing. But tradition is made up of two things: a source and a chain of transmission. There could be a tradition that transmits to me a revelation of aliens above Mount Kilimanjaro—an entirely reliable tradition, yes—that says I should put on tefillin. I would not put on tefillin. Even though the tradition is completely reliable and there really was a revelation of aliens on Mount Kilimanjaro, I put on tefillin because tradition transmitted to me the revelation of the Holy One, blessed be He, at Mount Sinai. I trust the source from which the tradition began. So you can tell me that tradition says that this source said such-and-such, but tradition is not a substitute for the source. Once there is a source—or perhaps tradition tells me what the source is—that’s perfectly fine. If you are convinced that this is the source, excellent. Very often that’s the case, that tradition also reveals to me what the source was. Fine. But still, in the end, in order to decide, I need to know what the source was; it is not enough simply to establish that there was a tradition, a reliable tradition. Yes, there is this widespread belief that beliefs that become entrenched in the entire public are probably correct. “Leave Israel alone; if they are not prophets, they are the children of prophets.” I don’t know. In my view, a belief that has become entrenched in most of the public is generally wrong until proven otherwise. Because the public generally buys nonsense, buys stupidity, for all kinds of reasons. I have examples—I brought various examples in the third book of… no, in the second book I brought various examples of widespread beliefs that became entrenched in the public, some of them completely illogical, others maybe logical but with no basis, absolutely no basis. Just because one day someone decided. For example: anyone who is killed because he is a Jew is holy. You know this idea? There is no one today who doesn’t recite this. Anyone killed in a terror attack, every—I don’t know—everyone becomes holy. Where did this nonsense come from? I haven’t the faintest idea. What I am sure of is that it is simply total nonsense. Someone who is killed because of his Judaism is unfortunate—that I can say. Right? It’s tragic. Alas for those who are lost and cannot be replaced. How did he become holy? Because someone decided to shoot me in the head, I become holy? If I give myself over for the sanctification of God’s name, then I am holy. If I refuse to commit a transgression and give myself over, and therefore I die, then certainly. The Talmud says I am holy—a sanctifier of God’s name. Okay? But someone who was hurt by mistake—the bullet hit me and not him—so therefore I am holy and he isn’t? What? You are holy and your name is holy. These are the fallen

[Speaker D] of the Holocaust?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course. Those who perished in the Holocaust have nothing to do with holiness, nothing at all. Nothing—simply nothing. When I hear the phrase “the holy martyrs of the Holocaust,” I get a fever. There were holy people in the Holocaust—those people who really did knowingly sacrifice themselves for values, for morality, for Jewish law, certainly. But what—everyone who perished there in the gas chambers, everyone who was killed there is holy? Why is he holy? He is unfortunate. He is not holy. What holiness? Where did it come from, where did this holiness suddenly drop from? I don’t understand. There is some saying by a rabbi from Tel Aviv, in his responsa—what does he call it? “Mistaken sanctifications.” He calls it “mistaken sanctifications.” A wonderful expression—I liked it very much; I quoted it in the book. It is simply nonsense. Now, many rabbis repeat this and invent traditions on that basis—various strange and bizarre things. Don’t even ask. There are all kinds of traditions. What are these traditions—that in the future Jewish law will follow Beit Shammai? Lots of things. A tradition that the Third Temple will not be destroyed—only two Temples are destroyed, not the third. That one, maybe you can perhaps derive from the prophet, but I’m very skeptical about things derived from the prophet. I mentioned such a tradition: Rabbi Herzog said to the Brisker Rav, there is a tradition that the Third Temple will not be destroyed, therefore he should not flee Jerusalem in the War of Independence. So he said, I have a tradition that when people are shooting, you have to run away. That was his answer. Not that I identify with his answer, but for other reasons—not because of the tradition that the Third Temple will not be destroyed, but because one must be courageous and not surrender. But that’s already another discussion. All right, I’ll stop here—these are just final comments regarding the concept of tradition, and with this we conclude this series, and I’ll send a message about what we’ll do after the holiday.

[Speaker D] Is there a faith / belief class tomorrow?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. Not mine, in any case. Next

[Speaker D] week?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s during the holiday, it’s basically the break between terms; it’ll resume after the holiday. Okay then, may the final sealing be good, and happy holiday. Happy holiday. Thank you very much. Holi

[Speaker B] day. Happy holiday, thank you very much, Sabbath peace, thank you very much, thank you very much, may the final sealing be good, happy holiday.