Self-Reference – Lesson 12

Table of Contents

• Self-reference in Jewish law: actions and claims
• The red heifer, “it is beneficial to him,” and Tosafot’s answer
• The Ran: “its invalidity would be the cause of its validity” and continuing the loop
• Migo as a loop: the question of the Illui of Meitshet
• An inevitable result that is not beneficial to him: the Baal HaArukh and excluding a halakhic result
• Gittin chapter 8, Tosafot, and a conditional loop in a bill of divorce
• Rabbi Shimon Shkop: the principle of consistency and stopping loops
• The additional assumption: spreading causality out along a timeline
• Additional examples: Minchat Chinukh and a bill of divorce not written for her sake on the Sabbath
• A loop in vows and a condition in divorce: a solution using only the timeline
• Applying the method to “it is beneficial to him”: the limits of the application

Summary

General Overview

The lecture develops a distinction between self-reference in human actions and self-reference in claims, and places the discussion of paradoxes and anti-paradoxes within halakhic topics. The central move sets up loops in which a halakhic outcome circles back and affects the very condition of the ruling itself, and shows how Tosafot and the Ran offer different ways of stopping the loop, while criticizing solutions that seem ad hoc. Later, another stopping principle is proposed, identified with Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s innovation: that a legal effect which, if it were to take effect, would uproot itself, does not take effect. Alongside that comes a complementary assumption, that causal relations are laid out as an imagined chain along a timeline.

Self-reference in Jewish law: actions and claims

The speaker presents two kinds of self-reference: claims that refer to themselves, and a person or a person’s action directed toward himself. He moves the discussion from questions involving human actions to questions involving claims in Jewish law, including paradox and anti-paradox, and the topic of “a yoke was placed upon it” in Bava Metzia. He mentions the examples of the red heifer and the heifer whose neck is broken as the basis for the continued discussion of halakhic loops.

The red heifer, “it is beneficial to him,” and Tosafot’s answer

The Talmud learns that a yoke that invalidates the red heifer invalidates it only if this was done in a way that was beneficial to the owner, with the owner being pleased by it. Tosafot asks: if the invalidation depends on the owner being pleased, then there can never be a case where it becomes invalid, because the moment the invalidation takes effect the owner loses a great deal of money, and so it is no longer beneficial to him. Tosafot answers: “If it had been valid, it would have been beneficial to him, and therefore it should not be validated.” The speaker explains this as excluding lack of satisfaction when that lack stems from the halakhic result itself, so that it does not count. He also suggests another possible way to understand Tosafot: that the owner’s satisfaction is not a causal condition but a sign used to classify the type of act that invalidates, so that “the problem never really gets off the ground.” But he stresses that Tosafot still looks like an ad hoc solution that excludes the problematic case, similar to the way Bertrand Russell’s theory of types tries to block paradoxes.

The Ran: “its invalidity would be the cause of its validity” and continuing the loop

The Ran offers a first answer: if, on its own terms, the act was beneficial to him, we should not validate the heifer because of its invalidity, since then “its invalidity would be the cause of its validity.” The speaker explains that a hypothetical invalidity that is itself rejected cannot serve as a cause. The Ran adds another answer: “And furthermore, if you validate it, then certainly it is beneficial to him.” The speaker presents this as taking the loop one step further than Tosafot, and asks why we stop after the second step rather than keep going. He raises the possibility of reading the Ran as ruling stringently because of a Torah-level doubt, but points out that the Ran does not explain it in the language of the laws of doubt, and that such a conclusion would create practical differences for laws like doubtful impurity in the public domain and legal presumptions. He sharpens the point by saying that the doubt here is described as an ontic doubt, “in reality itself,” and not as an epistemic doubt arising from lack of knowledge.

Migo as a loop: the question of the Illui of Meitshet

The speaker brings the question of the Illui of Meitshet about migo, where the principle of “why would he lie” destroys itself. If we know that migo exists, then the weaker claim becomes just as strong as the stronger one, and so there is no migo. He presents the loop: if there is migo then there is no migo, and if there is no migo then there is migo—and it does not stop. He adds that “we do not say migo to extract money,” and that a doubtful migo is not enough against a legal document, so a solution that says “it remains a doubt, and the burden of proof is on the claimant” does not actually explain the law in practice.

An inevitable result that is not beneficial to him: the Baal HaArukh and excluding a halakhic result

The speaker presents the dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda regarding an unintended act on the Sabbath, the rule that an inevitable result is liable even according to Rabbi Shimon, and the innovation of the Baal HaArukh that “an inevitable result that is not beneficial to him is exempt.” He formulates a parallel question to Tosafot: if liability depends on whether it is beneficial to him, then “is it beneficial to him to be stoned?” and so it would always not be beneficial to him, making the rule a dead letter. He shows that once again the proposed answer is that the satisfaction being examined is satisfaction with the act itself and not with the halakhic result, but he defines this as an ad hoc solution, because “bottom line, he’s not happy with it,” and the condition seemingly is not met. He mentions possible lines of reasoning for satisfaction in the red heifer case through “a person cannot prohibit something that is not his” and through damage that is not outwardly recognizable, and in the case of an inevitable result through attributing the act to the person, or through the claim that “if it was beneficial to me, then apparently I intended it.”

Gittin chapter 8, Tosafot, and a conditional loop in a bill of divorce

The Talmud in Gittin 83a deals with a conditional bill of divorce: “on condition that you do not marry so-and-so.” Rabbi Akiva asks: if she married someone else and had children, and then married that particular man, it turns out that “the bill of divorce is void and her children are mamzerim.” Tosafot asks that if her marriage to that man does not take effect because retroactively she is still a married woman, then she has not violated the condition and the bill of divorce is not void—which creates a loop in which the validity of the marriage and the nullification depend on one another. Tosafot answers with a limiting reading: she married after Reuven died. But the speaker sharpens the point that according to Tosafot, when Reuven is alive the result is paradoxical: “the bill of divorce is valid but she is not married to Levi,” even though she is not a married woman.

Rabbi Shimon Shkop: the principle of consistency and stopping loops

Rabbi Shimon Shkop, in Gate 7 of Shaarei Yosher, states: “Something for which there is no possible reality of taking effect does not take effect at all.” In yeshiva language this is phrased as: “Any legal effect such that if it takes effect, then it does not take effect—then it does not take effect.” The speaker explains that the marriage to Levi does not fail because she is actually a married woman, but because it is a legal effect which, if it were to take effect, would nullify the bill of divorce and make itself impossible; therefore it has no “possible reality of taking effect.” He describes this as a principle of legal consistency, not pure logic but legal reasoning, and defines it as a not-so-ad-hoc axiom compared to Tosafot’s exclusions. He notes that according to this calculation, Rabbi Akiva does not reach mamzerut within the loop-case itself, but only by means of the limiting reading.

The additional assumption: spreading causality out along a timeline

The speaker argues that the principle of consistency alone is not enough. Two assumptions are needed: the principle of consistency, and the assumption that causal relations are treated as though they were a chain on a timeline, even though everything is really a “logical calculation” in a single instant. He illustrates this by saying that the bill of divorce is considered valid at the moment it is given, her marriage to Shimon is considered valid, and only at the stage of her marriage to Levi does a legal effect appear that cannot take effect because it would uproot itself. That is where the loop is stopped. He clarifies that the nullification is “clarified retroactively,” but is still treated as a causal result of a later stage, and therefore is judged as though it comes “after” the stage that generates it.

Additional examples: Minchat Chinukh and a bill of divorce not written for her sake on the Sabbath

The Minchat Chinukh, in commandment 32, describes a bill of divorce that was written not for her sake, and on the Sabbath someone intentionally retraced the letters for her sake with a quill. A loop is created: if the writing fixed it, then he desecrated the Sabbath and became an apostate, who is disqualified from writing a bill of divorce, so the bill of divorce is invalid. But if the bill of divorce is invalid, then he did not fix it and did not desecrate the Sabbath, and so he is not an apostate and the bill of divorce is valid. The speaker solves this by saying that the validating legal effect cannot take effect, because if it were to take effect it would uproot itself. Therefore “the bill of divorce remains invalid,” even though the writer is “not an apostate.” The invalidity is explained by the principle of consistency and not by the writer’s disqualification. He notes that in the book on Talmudic logic there are “dozens” of examples of loops solved by this technique.

A loop in vows and a condition in divorce: a solution using only the timeline

The speaker brings a case of someone divorcing his wife on condition that for thirty days she not eat something prohibited. She then made a vow prohibiting a loaf to herself, using the formula “konam.” The husband annulled the vow, and she ate on the basis of his annulment. A circle is created: if she is divorced, then he is not her husband and cannot annul her vow; but if the vow was not annulled, then she ate something prohibited and the bill of divorce is void, so she is not divorced, and then he is in fact her husband and can annul it. The speaker argues that in this case the loop can be dismantled through the “fictitious spreading out of the timeline” alone, without the principle of consistency, and he refers to column 407 for the analysis.

Applying the method to “it is beneficial to him”: the limits of the application

The speaker says that in the case of mounting a male on it and in the case of an inevitable result that is not beneficial to him, the application is harder, because “whether he is pleased or not is a factual question” and not a legal effect, and so you cannot stop it by means of rules about non-effectuation. He suggests that in the red heifer case it may be possible to apply the principle to “the legal effect of invalidity” or to “the validity of a red heifer” as a halakhic status, as opposed to “permitted,” which is not a status but the absence of a norm. He notes that in the case of an inevitable result there is no “object with a status,” only the question whether “I am liable or not liable,” and so it is difficult to apply consistency there. But spreading things out on a timeline may make it possible to say that at the moment it was beneficial to me I became liable, and from that point not to uproot it. He concludes that the technique requires both assumptions, though there are situations where the second assumption alone is enough, and he closes this series of lectures on self-reference, announcing that the regular lecture will continue on Thursday at the same time.

Okay, let’s begin. We’re dealing with self-reference, and I said that the order I followed was this: I talked about two kinds of self-reference: self-reference of statements, statements that refer to themselves, and self-reference of people, meaning a person who relates to himself, or an action a person performs on himself. After that I moved to halakhic topics that illustrate these two types. So at first we talked about self-reference in human actions, the Torah-level warning and the discussions around it, and last time I moved to self-reference of statements in Jewish law. I talked about paradox and anti-paradox, I talked about the topic of “a yoke was placed upon it,” the Talmud in Bava Metzia, and I want to continue that now. Let me just briefly remind you what we saw regarding the red heifer or the heifer whose neck is broken. The Talmud learns there that a yoke placed on the heifer disqualifies it only if this was to the owner’s satisfaction, if the owner is pleased by it. That’s what the Talmud says. And Tosafot asks: if the owner’s satisfaction is required, then this is basically a dead letter; it can’t happen. Why? Because the moment the heifer is disqualified because the owner was pleased, then now the owner is no longer pleased, because when his heifer is disqualified he loses a lot of money. A red heifer is a very expensive business; the moment it is disqualified it becomes just an ordinary cow. So he loses a lot of money, and therefore there’s no question that he is not pleased that a yoke was placed on it and that it became disqualified. So it turns out there is no situation in which a yoke is placed on it with his approval, because whenever a yoke is placed on it, it won’t be with his approval. That’s Tosafot’s question. Is there no case of lack of knowledge? What? Is there no case where the owner of the heifer doesn’t know that this will disqualify it? He just wanted to put something on it. So that doesn’t matter, because then the satisfaction was mistaken, and once he finds out, it becomes clear that he was not pleased. By mistake, that doesn’t count. Okay, that’s it. So Tosafot answers this, and says—let me share it for a moment. Tosafot says: “And if you say: why is it disqualified if a male mounted it? Surely he is not pleased to disqualify a heifer worth a great deal for some small benefit.” A male mounted it—maybe it will give birth to a calf—but that gain isn’t worth the huge financial loss of the red heifer. So Tosafot answers: “It can be said that if it were still fit, he would be pleased, and therefore it should not be validated.” Meaning, he says that the lack of satisfaction which is a result of the Jewish law that disqualifies the heifer is not considered lack of satisfaction. His satisfaction is measured by criteria that are only factual, not halakhic. If the lack of satisfaction exists because of a halakhic determination, that isn’t supposed to be taken into account. Seemingly there’s a solution here of the type of Bertrand Russell’s theory of types that I mentioned last time—I’m just summarizing—which basically wants to exclude the problematic case. It basically says: there’s a certain type of satisfaction that creates a problem for me, so okay, let’s say that doesn’t count; all other kinds of satisfaction besides that are fine. Somehow we’ve removed the problem, and that gets rid of the paradoxical loop. But yes, that’s entirely reasonable. What? In Tosafot’s case it’s completely reasonable that satisfaction because of the Jewish law doesn’t count as a case, doesn’t count. Because it’s because of the law; we’re measuring reality. No—bottom line, in reality he isn’t pleased. But look at the reason. He isn’t pleased, he isn’t pleased; the fact is he isn’t pleased. Why does it matter why he isn’t pleased? It matters completely. The “why” is the cause of things. And why do I care about the cause? Bottom line, he’s not pleased with what happened. If there’s a requirement that he be pleased, it’s not fulfilled. Why? But the requirement that he not be displeased is a requirement that he not be displeased in itself, not because of… Who says? That’s what Tosafot offers as a solution, but you said that this is straightforward reasoning. Yes. And I’m saying, why is that straightforward reasoning? Because Tosafot says so? This—Tosafot… No, not because of that. It really is reasonable. Even without Tosafot I would say it. Why? If you want him to be pleased, the fact is he isn’t pleased. You ask him: are you pleased? He says: no, of course not. No no, displeasure for that reason doesn’t count. Why not? Because that solves your paradox. No, because when you ask him whether he is pleased or not, you don’t tell him the law. You don’t reveal the law to him. Are you pleased or not? Ah, you’re pleased? There’s such a law. And if he knows? That’s just words. Even if he doesn’t know, then as I said before, then he’s displeased by mistake. So he was pleased by mistake. Then the satisfaction doesn’t count. Like a woman who consents to betrothal and it turns out it was based on a mistake, then it isn’t consent. It’s not… You asked this last class, if I remember correctly. And there I told you I could explain it differently. If we really explain it—I don’t know if this is Tosafot’s intention—but maybe one could say that what Tosafot really means is that you don’t actually need the owner’s satisfaction. Rather, I’m trying to determine what types of actions performed on the heifer disqualify it. Actions such that, if they were done, the owner would be pleased by them—those are actions that disqualify the heifer. Not that you actually need the satisfaction. The satisfaction is a sign, not a cause. In other words, you want to know whether this action is a disqualifying action or not. So let’s ask a person: such an action was done to your heifer—do you like that idea or not? If he says yes, then this belongs to the category of actions that disqualify the heifer. If he says no, then not. Not that as an actual condition for disqualifying the heifer you need his satisfaction. You don’t need his satisfaction. You need a certain kind of action. Which actions? Actions that benefit him in some sense, irrespective now of the law. If that’s the explanation, then really here you don’t have to get into any loop or any self-reference or any exclusion. Basically what Tosafot wants to say, if I’m right—I don’t know whether that’s what Tosafot wants to say—and according to my explanation the answer basically says that you don’t really need the owner’s satisfaction. The problem never existed to begin with. You don’t need the owner’s satisfaction. What you need is a certain kind of action to be performed on the heifer, and the indicator for checking whether it’s the right kind of action is to ask whether the owner generally likes such an action. But not that you really need the satisfaction. So I can understand that. In Tosafot’s view I don’t know if he means that. It seems Tosafot means no, I exclude this because it causes me a problem. And that looks like an ad hoc solution. Yes, in philosophy generally you ask a question and someone says: no no, it can be explained in a certain way so that the question won’t arise. Yes, but the question is whether that explanation makes sense. Otherwise it isn’t really a solution. Like Bertrand Russell says: okay, let’s forbid all sentences that refer to themselves, and then we won’t have self-reference paradoxes. Yes, but there are many self-referential sentences that seem entirely reasonable and legitimate. It looks like an ad hoc solution; there’s no logic in it. You need to offer a solution that has logic in its own right, and then it will also solve the problem. But if all you’re saying in that solution is just some artificial device to solve the problem, that’s not really a genuine solution to the problem. So that was Tosafot. Last time I brought that the Ran gives two answers to the same question. The first looks similar to Tosafot’s, though I’m not sure it’s exactly the same thing. And the second is different. Yes, so the Ran says this: “And if you say, why—since you disqualify it, he is not pleased, and for some slight benefit he would not lose a great deal, as we say in the chapter ‘Ein Ma’amidin.’” That’s Tosafot’s question. “And it can be said,” says the Ran, “that since the act in itself is pleasing to him, we should not validate it because of its disqualification, for then the disqualification would be the cause of the validation.” It cannot be that you validate the heifer because it is disqualified. Because if you validate it, then it isn’t disqualified. Meaning, you want to validate it because it was disqualified, but it wasn’t disqualified because you validated it. In other words, there’s something here—you can’t build anything on the fact that the heifer was disqualified if in the end you’re saying… Huh? Isn’t that the Talmud’s question? That it will never be disqualified because this is the loop we keep talking about? No, that’s Tosafot’s question, not the Talmud’s. Yes, Tosafot’s question is: how can it ever be disqualified if he is pleased? So Tosafot gives an answer. He says yes, it can be disqualified, because satisfaction of that kind—caused by the halakhic result, by the disqualification—is not satisfaction that counts. That’s what Tosafot said. The Ran too, in this answer, doesn’t say exactly what Tosafot said. He says something a bit different. He says it cannot be that the heifer’s disqualification is the reason that validates it, because if you validate it then it wasn’t disqualified, so what brought about the validation? The reason that the heifer was disqualified doesn’t really exist; it’s only an initial assumption that was rejected. Something nonexistent cannot be the cause of anything. So the disqualification of the heifer causes its validation, but it isn’t disqualified, so what caused its validation? I think that’s what he means. Okay, so basically it wasn’t disqualified after all. Yes, he says that because it was disqualified, therefore he isn’t pleased; it isn’t disqualified. But then he gives another answer here: “And furthermore, if you were to validate it, he would certainly be pleased.” What does that answer mean? Now he no longer cares. If it will be validated anyway, then he doesn’t care what you do to it anymore; that will be pleasing. Well, then what? And therefore what? Therefore it’s an internal contradiction, like always. If even when you do something he doesn’t like, he would like it—what does he care, in the end it will be validated. No, if you do something that he doesn’t like because of the law, but in the end he does like it because of the law. If the thing is inherently displeasing to him—someone mounted the heifer and also damaged it—then it’s inherently not pleasing. Then obviously it isn’t disqualified. Correct. Our whole question is only when he is displeased because of the law. He is displeased because the heifer was disqualified. So what does the Ran say? The Ran says: continue the loop. After all, you started a loop here. What do you say? The Talmud said that if it was mounted with his approval, or a male mounted it with his approval, then it is disqualified. Tosafot asked: if so, if it is disqualified, then it’s not with his approval, because he isn’t pleased. The Ran says to Tosafot: so what do you propose? You propose that he won’t be pleased and then we’ll validate it? So let’s continue. But if it is valid, then again he is pleased. Well, but if he is pleased, then it is disqualified. Ah, wait, but if it is disqualified, then he is not pleased. If he is not pleased, then it becomes valid, and again the cycle repeats—the loop continues. You, says the Ran to Tosafot, stopped your question after one step. But keep going—there are more steps; why did you stop there? And it’s like a pendulum swinging each time in the opposite direction… like the liar paradox. That’s the Ran’s second answer. And here the question arises: why does the Ran think that this constitutes an answer? And that’s where I stopped last time. Why does the Ran think this constitutes an answer? What are you telling me? You’re telling me that if I validate it, then he will be pleased, and therefore clearly he really is pleased and the heifer is disqualified. But if the heifer is disqualified, then he isn’t pleased. I keep going. Tosafot stopped after one step, and the Ran chose to stop after the second step. And I ask the Ran what he asked Tosafot: why not continue to the third, fourth, fifth step, and so on? Tosafot chose to stop after one step, and you suggest stopping after two steps, but this is a loop that doesn’t stop. So why are you any better than Tosafot? Okay, maybe because we go stringently? It seems to me that the Ran says since the loop doesn’t stop, we go stringently and the heifer is disqualified. Why? He isn’t pleased. This is Torah-level, it’s like a doubt. Not from the laws of doubt—Torah-level doubt is ruled stringently. He says a word about that. He says that if you validate it, then he will certainly be pleased, and therefore clearly this is satisfaction. A Torah-level doubt is a doubt about reality, no? It isn’t a doubt. A Torah-level doubt… If it’s a doubt, then he should have said it’s a doubt. Psychological reality, doesn’t matter. It’s a doubt—you can say it’s a doubt of the kind where usually doubts are epistemic doubts, doubts of knowledge. Meaning there is one truth; I just don’t know what it is. In this case it’s an ontic doubt, not an epistemic one, a doubt in reality itself, not in my knowledge of reality. It’s not that I’m missing some knowledge and therefore I’m in doubt. In reality itself it isn’t defined. An even more severe kind of doubt. Yes. That distinction I hear, but then what? Therefore what? So tell me: then it’s doubtfully disqualified or doubtfully valid, I don’t know. And that has practical implications. What happens if I used this heifer to purify someone defiled by a corpse? He is doubtfully impure, doubtfully pure. In the public domain, doubtful impurity is ruled pure. No, I’m saying it isn’t doubtfully disqualified; I’m saying it is disqualified because of doubt. Since the practical implications are Torah-level, and Torah-level doubt is ruled stringently. In what way stringently? Yes, by the laws of doubt. Yes. Fine, but there are laws of doubt even in Torah-level matters where we rule leniently—doubtful impurity in the public domain is ruled leniently. Now I used the heifer to purify someone. So I’m in doubt. Now he touched terumah in the public domain. Is the terumah impure or not impure? Doubtful impurity in the public domain is pure. No, what he is saying is that because at the first stage it was a Torah-level doubt and the heifer became disqualified, that’s it—from now on you used a heifer that is nothing. So you are impure. No, why? Who says? Because if the heifer is disqualified, then it’s like taking any ordinary cow from the market and doing… Wait, let me make my point. This is the question at the beginning of tractate Gittin from Rabbi Akiva Eiger, there with the prior presumption and current presumption. Usually we resolve doubt at the stage when the question arises. When you dealt with the heifer, that wasn’t the question—why do I care whether this heifer is valid or not? The question is: when I used the heifer to purify a person, is the person pure or not pure? What do I care what the heifer was in itself? The heifer is only an instrument for purifying a person. So the doubt arises only when I have a person whose status I don’t know. That’s the stage when the doubt arises. The doubt arose when I burned the heifer and made ash from it. Already then it was a doubt. Why is that a doubt? What do I care? What do you mean, what do I care? I have a heifer and I don’t know whether I can validate it or not; I burn it and make ash from it. Sir, do whatever you want. You want to sprinkle the water on the impure person? Sprinkle it. What’s the problem? Did you violate anything by that? Do it. The whole question that arises is only whether that impure person became pure. No, it’s like air, like you just threw some dust. Dust, like air. What, is it forbidden to sprinkle air? Fine, but that doubt doesn’t begin there. The doubt begins when I have something that maybe is okay and maybe not. But if it has no halakhic implication, that’s not a doubt. But it does have a halakhic implication! What implication? That this person is doubtfully impure, doubtfully pure. Good, so the doubt is about the person, not about the heifer. So what? What’s the problem? If the doubt is about the person, then doubtful impurity—if it is in the public domain—he is pure. Very good, and then what? Why not establish him on his prior status? Rabbi, why not establish… No, but it isn’t valid. Because if the heifer had been valid, then the person would be valid. Now he is in doubt whether he is impure or pure. And he has… No, he isn’t pure. There is a halakhic possibility that he is pure. No, doubtful impurity in the public domain is pure. The person isn’t—the person isn’t in the public domain right now. Why? He is. No, the sprinkling was in the Temple, that’s a private domain. No, the rabbi is talking—sorry, I didn’t understand. We’re talking here about an impure person, right? Establish him on his prior status. He is now impure. They put ash on him—yes, no, no, yes—at this stage his status is impure. To make him pure, it’s not a doubt; establish him on his prior status. No, that’s already another discussion in the laws of presumptions. Fine, he has no presumption, okay, not important right now. I’m giving you a situation. The situation is that if this were a case of doubt, then the Ran should have said it’s a doubt, not a certainty. That much is clear. With lenient implications too. Yes. The Ran should have said that. That’s something significant, essential to the claim. That’s what I’m talking about. The Ran doesn’t say that. The Ran says this is pure, this is impure—sorry, disqualified. It is disqualified because this isn’t called satisfaction, because if it had been valid he would have been pleased. So is it doubtful or certain? He doesn’t say it’s doubtful; it sounds from him like a definite ruling. How does that work? Why don’t you continue… why do you stop after the second step? Just as Tosafot stopped after the first, you… why stop after the second? Why not continue to the third, fourth, and beyond? It’s a loop that doesn’t stop. There is a similar question—you know the difficulty of the genius of Meitzt regarding miggo? Yes. Someone sues me with an uncertified promissory note. He presents a document against me saying that I borrowed a thousand shekels from him. The note is uncertified, and I claim that I repaid it. Now one cannot claim “repaid” against a note. If your document is in my possession, what is it doing there? If I repaid, then if you repaid, what is his note doing in his possession? You should have received the note in exchange for the money you repaid. Against a note you can’t claim “repaid.” Rather, since the note is uncertified, I had a miggo, since I could have said it was forged. Because there are no witnesses validating the signatures. So rabbinically, once the note is uncertified, one may claim against it that it’s forged. Once I could have claimed that the note was forged, now in practice I’m not claiming forgery; I’m claiming that the note is valid but I repaid it. But since I have a miggo, because I could have claimed that the note was forged, I am believed when I say I repaid—miggo that I could have said “forged.” This is an example, yes, an example of miggo; there are many cases of miggo throughout the Talmud. Now ask: what is the logic of miggo based on? What the Talmud calls “why would I lie?” Meaning, if I wanted to lie, I’m claiming that I repaid. What are you claiming—that I’m lying? If I wanted to lie, I had a more effective way to lie: I could have said the note was forged. A much stronger and more convenient claim. Therefore—a yet more convenient claim—apparently I’m not lying. No, but with the claim “I repaid,” to say “it’s forged”—maybe someone could validate it in some situation, and then you collapse. Maybe this is an audacious miggo. Let’s say—it doesn’t matter right now; we won’t get into this example. I brought it only to illustrate. That lie is less good for me. Again, you’re insisting on the miggo question, so that miggo is an audacious miggo. Fine, what difference does it make? I want to illustrate the idea of miggo, okay? So the claim is that since the alternative claim that I didn’t make is a better claim, I am believed in my current claim as though I had made the alternative claim. Because if I were lying, I would have chosen that claim, which is a sign that I’m not lying. The genius of Meitzt asks: but the principle of miggo destroys itself. Why? Because if I know that if I don’t claim forgery but instead claim repayment, they will believe me by miggo that I could have claimed forgery, then the claim of repayment becomes no less good than the claim of forgery. But then I have no miggo. Because this whole miggo is based on the fact that claiming forgery is a better claim than claiming repayment. But once there is a principle of miggo in Jewish law, according to that principle, the claim of repayment is no less good than the claim of forgery. But if so, then again there is no miggo. An excellent argument. Correct. But now, now that I’ve made that calculation, I could have made a more effective claim, and instead I made a weaker one, so now that I made the weaker claim, I am believed. Fine—why are you believed? Because this claim is weaker, right? But now, since there is miggo in Jewish law, I already know in advance that if I claim repayment, I’ll be believed by miggo, so it is no less good than forgery. But if I know that, then I can’t say “believe me, because if I were lying I would have claimed forgery.” That’s not true—even if I wanted to lie I would claim repayment. It’s better to claim repayment. It’s even better to claim repayment, as Ido wrote here. Of course, better—because with repayment I even have evidence in my favor, not just that it’s a better claim, I have the evidentiary force of miggo in my favor. And that is the question of the genius of Meitzt. Yes, of course here too one can continue. So what would you suggest? I just played the role—this was Tosafot’s role. Now let’s play the role of the Ran. So what do you propose? That there should be no miggo. Well, if there is no miggo, then again the claim of repayment is worse, and then once again there is miggo. And if there is miggo then there is no miggo, and if there is no miggo then there is miggo, and this loop continues. Yes, same idea. There too some people resolve it in the way the Ran resolves the question of “a male mounted it,” but that isn’t really… More than that in miggo: we don’t apply miggo to extract money. Yes, miggo generally is to preserve possession. That’s Nachmanides’ view, but the accepted view is that we don’t say miggo in order to extract; miggo is only to preserve possession. Okay? Now once I am in possession, it is enough that there is a doubt whether I have miggo or not, and then you won’t be able to extract from me, right? There is a doubt here whether I have miggo or not. Since I am in possession, you can’t extract from me. The burden of proof is on the claimant. Okay? Even if I didn’t claim it? Even if I didn’t claim it? Maybe I did claim it. No, I’m saying, even if I didn’t claim it. I claim repayment, and I want them to believe me by miggo that I could have claimed forgery. Fine. Now you say to me: okay, but miggo destroys itself. Well, but if it destroys itself, then it is built again, and if it is built then it destroys itself, and so on. I say: then you are in a state of doubt. A state of doubt when I am the possessor means you need to bring proof. And that isn’t true. Because if that were the case, then why do I need miggo at all? After all, I’m in possession, so I win even without miggo. Bring proof. We are always speaking here about a situation where there is, for example, a note—in the case of the note, there is a note against me. Now there is a dispute over that note, and there is a note against me. Therefore a doubtful miggo wouldn’t help me. I need definite miggo in order to deal with the note. So that won’t be an answer. As I said about the Ran, same thing. Another example. There is a dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda regarding unintentional action on the Sabbath. Yes, someone drags a bench in order to move it from place to place, and he creates a furrow in the ground. If this is like plowing in a field, or building in a house. But if he does it in order to move the bench and not in order to make the furrow, then he is exempt; it is unintentional. And according to Rabbi Yehuda he is liable. Okay? According to Rabbi Shimon it is permitted, according to Rabbi Yehuda he is liable—or it is a rabbinic prohibition, that is a dispute among the medieval authorities. That’s the first datum. Second datum: in a case where it is inevitable, then even Rabbi Shimon agrees that he is liable even though it is unintentional. What does that mean? If dragging the bench will necessarily create a furrow. It isn’t accidental; it was clear in advance that a furrow would be made. You cannot drag the bench on this ground without making a furrow. In such a situation, even though I didn’t drag it in order to make a furrow—I did it in order to move the bench, therefore it is unintentional—still, in a case of unintentional action with an inevitable result, Rabbi Shimon agrees and says he is liable. Okay? That’s the second rule. Third rule: the innovation of the Arukh. Wait, I can’t hear. I can’t hear anything. Rabbi, we can’t hear you. We can’t hear you, Rabbi. The innovation, the innovation of the author of the Arukh. Can you hear now? Fine. Yes, but I’d ask the rabbi if he can repeat the second rule. Again. The first rule is that unintentional action, according to Rabbi Shimon, is exempt. The second rule: if it is inevitable, Rabbi Shimon agrees that one is liable. Meaning, if the forbidden result necessarily follows from his action, then even though I did the action unintentionally—I intended some other purpose—still I am liable. Okay? That is the second rule. The third rule is the innovation of the Arukh, because of difficulties in the Talmud in Zevachim. The innovation of the Arukh is that an inevitable result which one does not want is exempt. What does that mean? Like with “a male mounted it,” right? “A male mounted it,” exactly the same thing. Here too my satisfaction matters. What does that mean? Suppose I dragged the bench, a furrow was made in the ground, but that furrow damaged the ground for me. I am not pleased with what happened here. Then I return to being exempt. The inevitable result makes me liable only if the result is pleasing to me. But if the result is not pleasing to me, then even though it is inevitable, I am exempt. Okay? They ask on the Arukh what Tosafot asks on “a male mounted it.” If so, he will always be displeased. Because obviously he is not pleased to be stoned. If a person drags the bench and it is an inevitable result, then he is liable—but only if he is pleased. Fine, but if I am liable to death by stoning for this bench, then clearly I am not pleased. So in any case it is again a dead letter to say “an inevitable result that one does not want.” Well, but here it isn’t the same thing. In an inevitable result that one does not want, he is not exempt because he doesn’t want it; he is exempt because since he doesn’t want it, then it is unintentional. The first rule comes back. So what? I didn’t understand. Fine, still he doesn’t want it. I—it’s also not certain that what you’re saying is correct, but even if we say it is, so what? The question is whether he wants the actual result, what happened on the ground, not what will happen afterward, that they’ll kill him and do this to him. You’re suggesting here too the answer of Tosafot on the red heifer, on “a male mounted it.” Satisfaction that counts for our purposes is only satisfaction from the act itself and not from the halakhic result—the exclusion Tosafot makes, like the theory of types. And again I’ll say that this is an ad hoc solution. Because if his satisfaction is required, bottom line he isn’t pleased. The condition wasn’t met, so how can you make him liable? Then every intentional sin, right? In the end he isn’t pleased. No, if it is intentional, then there is no exemption of “he doesn’t want it.” It’s irrelevant. Ah yes, only in unintentional action. He didn’t intend to make the furrow; he intended to move the bench. Only if it’s inevitable is it considered that he did make the furrow. If he doesn’t want it, then not. What is the rationale in general, what is the rationale regarding whether he wants it or not? I didn’t understand. What is the reason or rationale in the first place, for example in the case of the heifer being disqualified only if he wants it? What is the logic there? You can explain it in various ways. Regarding the heifer, it might be possible to connect it to the principle that a person cannot prohibit something that is not his. If someone else prohibits my heifer, he can’t ruin my heifer for me. Think of someone who mounts the heifer and rides off into the sunset on it, yes? And ruins my red heifer, and I lose millions of shekels. Or someone—I don’t know—pours a libation with my wine. What, anyone who hates me can cause me endless trouble? By the way, this is non-evident damage, so he would even be exempt from paying me. Because it’s halakhic damage, not physical damage. Therefore there is such a rule that says “a person cannot prohibit something that is not his.” Now, if a male mounted it, I didn’t put the male there; it happened on its own. I didn’t do it. So if I’m pleased, fine. But if I’m not pleased, then you can’t prohibit my heifer to me without my approval. That, for example, is one possible rationale. Regarding unintentional action, by the way, that rationale fits less well. Because in unintentional action it’s not that someone else performs an action on my property and ruins it or disqualifies it. There, these are rules in the laws defining Sabbath labor. There the rationale is a different one, I think. Again, these are disputes among medieval and later authorities; it depends on many things. But one possibility really is what Eliav said earlier: if I want the result, then apparently I intended it. Don’t tell me you didn’t do it for the sake of the furrow—after all, when the furrow is formed, you like it. So apparently from the outset you also did it for that, not only to move the bench. One possibility. A second possibility: why is unintentional action exempt? Because the action isn’t attributed to him. But if it’s an inevitable result, then it is a necessary consequence of what I am doing, so it is attributed to me. But all that is only if I want it. If I don’t want it, then even if it’s inevitable it isn’t attributed to me. Because what I don’t want, we do not attribute to me against my will. Fine, all kinds of rationales of that sort, but that really isn’t our topic right now. No, but maybe that explains the logic of why we stop at “he wants it” before the disqualification? I don’t know; I don’t see, I don’t see the logic. So here too one can come and say, like we said about miggo, like we said about “a male mounted it”: so what? So I say, I don’t want it because I’ll be liable to stoning. So then what? Therefore we don’t count that and it is considered that I do want it. But if it’s considered that I do want it, then I become liable to stoning, and then I really don’t want it. So what will you say? Then I’ll think that I don’t want it, and therefore what? Therefore I’ll be exempt from stoning, but if I’m exempt from stoning then once again I do want it. Yes, of course one can continue exactly as we did before. There is one thing I don’t understand. You want to know whether he is liable to stoning or not, and now in order to understand whether he is liable to stoning or not you take the… No, but I’m asking generally—what is the initial thought that would allow you to take the halakhic result and insert it as part of the reasons for the halakhic result? I’m now in doubt because there is no testimony. Bottom line, in the end do I want it or not? But it doesn’t belong. I ask whether I want it or not in order to know whether he is liable to stoning or not. No, that’s the initial assumption according to the Arukh: satisfaction is required in order to make him liable. We’re not arguing with him now. Satisfaction in the facts, in the facts of the case. Why? If at the end of the day I’m not pleased, then I’m not pleased. Again, you are making an ad hoc exclusion. The question standing before you in the matter of dragging, say, is whether he is liable to stoning here or not. Now I examine the case and arrive, say, at the conclusion that he is liable to stoning. I can’t take the liability to stoning and now turn it into a reason that he should be exempt from that very result I’m trying to reach. You skipped a very important step in the discussion. The discussion whether I am liable to stoning or not—why is there a discussion? What’s the issue? I did labor on the Sabbath; why is there a discussion here at all? The discussion is about whether I want it. That’s the reason you’re making me liable. Now I’m saying: if I have to want it in order to make me liable, then I never want it. The “wanting it” is in the process of your action, only in your actions. Why? Just because otherwise it creates a loop for you. No, because I cannot see the logic in taking a certain action and wanting to arrive at a halakhic result. Even if I want it, I’m analyzing the actions. I cannot take the halakhic result and turn it into a reason for another halakhic result. That can’t be. Why not? The halakhic result burns itself up. I don’t want it—that’s the fact; what can I do? It caused a state in which I don’t want it, and if I don’t want it then I’m not liable. Why? What you said earlier—you’re basically raising the Ran’s formulation. Because what did the Ran say? It turns out that its disqualification is the cause of its validation. But he comes and says: after all, if the heifer wasn’t disqualified, then there is no disqualification here to cause validation, because there is no disqualification—it is valid. But why does he say that? Because he says that this analysis is no longer relevant to my case. The subject of the halakhah cannot be relevant to the analysis of the action. No, that’s Tosafot’s answer. The Ran’s answer is different; I said it is similar, but not the same. Tosafot’s answer is indeed an ad hoc exclusion. That’s what you were trying to suggest earlier, and I’m saying it looks like an ad hoc solution; it’s artificial, because bottom line I’m not pleased, and what difference does it make why I’m not pleased? The Ran adds an explanation in his first answer. The Ran says: why do you want to claim that I’m not pleased by this? Because you disqualified my heifer. And since that’s so, I’m not pleased, so the heifer was not disqualified. But if it was not disqualified, you can’t use its disqualification to say that I’m not pleased, because there is no disqualification—after all, it is valid. I’m not pleased. The judge sits there, a case comes before him, and they say: that person dragged the bench, and now I want to analyze—is there an inevitable result or not, does he want the inevitable result or not? Then the judge says: I reached the conclusion from the facts that you are liable to stoning. By virtue of which facts? What? By virtue of which facts? It’s a psychological fact that you have to take into account—did he want it or not want it? So I’m saying, the wanting pertains to dragging the bench and the furrow. If that furrow ruined the ground for him, then he wants it—if it didn’t ruin the ground for him, yes, then you are making an exclusion in the analysis, an exclusion in the analysis at the level of the law. Right, but the judge is sitting and now reaches the conclusion: after I examined the facts before me, I determine that you are liable to stoning. No no no no. But you’re describing it tendentiously. When the judge makes the calculation, he also knows that if he makes him liable, then that will turn it into a case where he doesn’t want it, so he won’t make him liable. I think that’s irrelevant; it’s irrelevant to the ruling. The judge cannot take that into account because he is required to decide whether here one should give… He decides—he exempts him. Once he exempts him, the discussion is over. Correct, that’s it. Why did he exempt him? Because if I had made him liable, he wouldn’t have wanted it, therefore I exempt him. No no, I think that can’t enter the framework of considerations, but fine. You’re in good company—Tosafot thinks that too. I just think that it’s an ad hoc solution. What the Ran says sounds a bit more sensible. The Ran wants to argue in his first formulation, which is supposedly parallel to Tosafot, but it isn’t exactly like Tosafot. The Ran wants to claim that the disqualification is the cause of the validation. But there is no disqualification. The disqualification is only the initial thought to disqualify, but there is no disqualification, because you expect it to be valid. And if it is valid, then there is no disqualification. So how can the disqualification cause the validation? A disqualification that doesn’t exist cannot cause anything. It’s a hypothetical disqualification, not one that actually occurred. A hypothetical disqualification overrides the lack of satisfaction. That’s basically what the Ran claims. For example, if I wanted to sentence someone, and the judge takes all the facts and data brought before him and rules, and now he rejects those arguments and rules against him—then the defense lawyer would come and say, wait, if you are now going to rule against him, then there is another fact you need to take into account, because he will now feel bad because you ruled against him, so maybe now you should be lenient with him? There’s no such thing. The defense lawyer doesn’t need to say that; that’s a calculation the judge would make on his own. Absolutely not. The judge won’t now start taking his own ruling into account. Fine, so our disagreement is the disagreement between the Ran and Tosafot. So that’s fine, each of us is in good company. And I’m with the Ran. Rabbi, where is this Tosafot—where exactly, in which Talmud passage? Bava Metzia 30a. Okay. I wrote two columns on this for anyone who wants to see; these things are taken from columns 406 and 407. Okay, thank you. So with an inevitable result one does not want, the same loop basically arises, but there too the loop isn’t really an answer, because a loop has to continue; you can’t stop after the second step any more than you could stop after the first. So now the question arises: how do we stop these loops? Here we have a loop where every time you continue it one more step, the result flips. So how—what will be the stopping criterion for loops? And here I come to an interesting point, which is an innovation of Rabbi Shimon Shkop, said in another context, and afterward we’ll see whether it can fit here too. There is a Talmud passage in Gittin 83a. The Talmud there talks about someone who gave his wife a bill of divorce on condition that she not marry a certain man. Meaning, this divorce is valid if she does not marry that man; if she does marry him, the divorce is nullified retroactively from the outset, as if it had never been given. Okay? He makes a condition on the divorce. So the Talmud says there as follows—again, I’m sharing: Rabbi Akiva responded and said, “Suppose she went and married one of the men in the marketplace and had children by him, and then was widowed”—that means widowed—“or divorced, and then went and married the one from whom she was barred. Does it not turn out that the divorce is nullified and her children are mamzerim?” Rabbi Akiva said—what’s the case? Let’s say Reuven was married to Leah and gave her a divorce on condition that she not marry Levi. Fine, Leah got divorced, married Shimon, and had children by him. And now he dies, or she is also divorced from him, and now she goes and marries Levi. Levi is that same man to whom Reuven’s condition applied, yes? Now she marries Levi. So Rabbi Akiva says she violated the condition. The condition was that this is a divorce on condition that she not marry Levi. The moment she married Levi, the condition was voided, yes? She violated the condition. The moment she violated the condition, the divorce from the first husband, Reuven, is nullified. And if the divorce from Reuven is nullified, then her marriage to Shimon is null as well. Why? Because she is a married woman belonging to Reuven. So the children she had from Shimon become mamzerim. That is what Rabbi Akiva says. So what’s the problem? I don’t understand. What? What’s the problem? Indeed they are mamzerim. Right, that’s what the Talmud says. By the way Ezra, here too you would say the judge ruled that she was allowed to marry Shimon and the children are legitimate, everything’s fine, and now suddenly… The question is whether, regarding this, a divorce that doesn’t sever completely isn’t a divorce at all? But yes, yes, it is a valid divorce. If he prohibits her to everyone, then no; if he prohibits her to one particular man, then yes. Okay. “And she went and married the one from whom she was barred”—I’m now reading Tosafot’s language there. “And if you say: but surely the marriage cannot take effect, since she is forbidden to him by virtue of being a married woman?” What is he saying? The moment she married Levi, her divorce from Reuven was nullified. Therefore her marriage to Shimon was also invalid, and their children from Shimon are mamzerim. Tosafot says: continue. Now her marriage to Levi is also invalid, because she is Reuven’s wife, a married woman. So her marriage to Levi is invalid. But if her marriage to Levi is invalid, then she didn’t marry Levi, so she didn’t violate the condition. And if she didn’t violate the condition, then the divorce wasn’t nullified. If the divorce wasn’t nullified, then the children aren’t mamzerim and the marriage to Levi is valid. But if it is valid, then she violated the condition and the divorce is nullified, and so on. Again a loop. That’s Tosafot’s question. Fine, Tosafot answers that this is talking about a case where she married after Reuven died. She married Levi after Reuven died. But for our purposes, Tosafot really says that if she married Levi while Reuven was still alive, then indeed the divorce remains in force. Why? But she violated the condition. Levi—she was not allowed to marry him. It’s permitted—but the moment she married him, the divorce is nullified. She married Levi, so the divorce should be nullified. But if the divorce is nullified, then she can’t marry Levi, because she is Reuven’s wife, a married woman. How can Tosafot say that in such a case the divorce takes effect? Tosafot makes the same move that the Ran made in Bava Metzia 30a. What does he say? The moment she married Levi, the divorce was nullified. That’s what the Talmud says. Tosafot says: why do you stop here? Let’s continue to the other side. If the divorce was nullified, then she is a married woman, so her marriage to Levi is invalid. But if her marriage to Levi is invalid, then she didn’t violate the condition. And if she didn’t violate the condition, then the divorce remains valid, and therefore the divorce remains valid. That’s what Tosafot says. Now what does that mean? The divorce remains valid, and what? Is she married to Levi or not? Seemingly if the divorce remains valid, then she isn’t a married woman, right? If she isn’t a married woman, she can marry Levi. But the moment she marries Levi, that nullifies the divorce. How can you say the divorce remains valid and she is married to Levi? It’s pretty clear that Tosafot doesn’t mean that. The divorce remains valid, but she is not married to Levi. Because the marriage to Levi is nullified, since she is Reuven’s married wife, so she didn’t marry Levi. But if she didn’t marry Levi, then the divorce wasn’t nullified. Then we get a paradoxical result: she is not married to Reuven, because the divorce remains valid, but she is also not married to Levi. Now I say: whichever way you look at it—if she isn’t married to Levi, then I understand why the divorce remains valid, because she didn’t violate the condition. But if the divorce remains valid, then why in fact isn’t she married to Levi? After all, she isn’t a married woman, so why isn’t her marriage to Levi valid? There’s something illogical in Tosafot here. So on this Rabbi Shimon Shkop says as follows. Couldn’t you also answer that the nullification cannot recreate the marriage from scratch? What? Again? How can nullification recreate the marriage after it already got nullified the first time, and then the divorce was nullified? That nullification can’t create marriage anew. And the divorce can go back and become valid again? No, that too not. So nothing here can happen. No, rather it turns out retroactively that the divorce was null and she is his wife, that’s all. Why? Why is it nullified? I don’t understand. Now she’s no longer a married woman because the divorce was valid. So how does that suddenly change and she become the first man’s wife? Did he betroth her again? What? She wasn’t his wife anymore, that’s it. It was severed. How is the bond now suddenly restored and recreated? In a moment you’ll see something similar. Rabbi Shimon Shkop writes as follows—it’s literally one sentence that he writes in Gate 7 of Shaarei Yosher: “Because these marriages cannot take effect, for if they take effect they would be nullified retroactively because of the condition; and anything whose taking effect is impossible does not take effect at all. Therefore the divorce remains in force and the marriage is null.” Rabbi Shimon Shkop says: you understood Tosafot correctly. The divorce is in force and she is not Reuven’s wife, and nevertheless she is also not Levi’s wife, although she is not a married woman and apparently her marriage to Levi should be perfectly fine—she is not a married woman. No. The divorce stands—sorry, she is not Reuven’s wife, and nevertheless her marriage to Levi does not take effect. Why? Because if it were to take effect, if it were to take effect then the divorce would not stand. Right. What does that mean? In the yeshivot they put it this way: any legal effect such that if it takes effect then it does not take effect, then it does not take effect. That’s the clumsy yeshiva formulation of Rabbi Shimon’s principle; that’s how they always say it in the yeshivot: any legal effect such that if it takes effect then it does not take effect, then it does not take effect. If you can make it confusing, why not make it confusing. But what does Rabbi Shimon Shkop say? When she goes and marries Levi, if the betrothal is valid, then it uproots itself. Because if the betrothal is valid, it nullifies the divorce from Reuven, and it turns out she is Reuven’s wife. If she is Reuven’s wife, she is a married woman, and then the betrothal to Levi cannot take effect. Meaning that the taking effect of the betrothal to Levi cuts off the branch on which it itself sits. Such a betrothal does not take effect. Now notice carefully: there is a very subtle point here. This betrothal does not take effect not because she is Reuven’s wife, a married woman, and therefore she can’t marry. After all, she is not Reuven’s wife; the divorce is in force. The betrothal fails because of another halakhic principle. And that principle says this: it does not take effect. And this principle says: if there is a legal effect such that applying it would uproot itself, it cannot be applied. A legal rule, not connected at all to whether she is Reuven’s wife or not—just such a rule. A legal effect such that, assuming it takes effect, it would uproot itself, is not a legal effect; one cannot apply such a legal effect. Makes sense. So wait, then this is a condition that cannot be fulfilled, so the condition is void? I get it. There is a rule in conditions that the condition has to be potentially fulfillable; otherwise, a condition in divorce is not… If not, a condition in divorce is not a condition. Who said that? It’s a rule in conditions, like the condition of the tribes of Gad and Reuven. “Can be fulfilled” means, for example, that she not ascend to heaven, but not that Jewish law doesn’t allow it. If Jewish law doesn’t allow it, then what? Even if, say, he made it conditional on her eating pork—at first they wanted to say that this too is called something that cannot be fulfilled. But no, eating pork is different; one can make that condition. No, but there reality says it cannot be fulfilled. So what? So it’s just a condition you can’t violate—so what? Is it forbidden? I want to make an impossible condition. I’ll say more: even if you’re right, and such a condition really isn’t a valid condition, then what should the law be? That the divorce is null. No, that the divorce stands. No, no, because the divorce is contingent on the condition, and the condition is invalid, so the divorce is null. No. Any act done on condition—if the condition is unlawful, the condition is void and the act remains. It’s counterintuitive, yes, against intuition, but that’s what the Talmud says. This is Tosafot in Ketubot 75, where he discusses how this can be. For example, someone who betroths a woman on condition that she has no claim on him for food, clothing, and conjugal rights. There is an opinion in the Talmud there—this is a dispute between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda—about stipulating against what is written in the Torah. You cannot make such a condition, and therefore what? I would have said: fine, so then she isn’t betrothed to him, right? After all, he betrothed her only if he wouldn’t have to provide food, clothing, and conjugal rights. You say he must be obligated, and on that basis he didn’t want to betroth her, so she isn’t betrothed. The Talmud says no: she is betrothed, and he owes her food, clothing, and conjugal rights. The act… the act stands, the condition is void. It is as if he did the act without a condition. Here too, he divorced her on a condition. Even if we assume you’re right that such a condition is unlawful, then the divorce takes effect without the condition. Fine—in any case it takes effect. Okay? So Rabbi Shimon says—actually Rabbi Shimon Shkop argues that there is a rule in Jewish law that a legal effect you cannot successfully apply, you cannot apply. A legal effect whose taking effect would uproot itself, you cannot apply. That is a rule he invents, but that is basically what he claims. And that is the explanation in Tosafot. Now look at what the paradoxical state Tosafot describes really is—it is exactly what happens here. The question is: is she divorced? The answer is yes, she is divorced. Why? Because she did not violate the condition. Why did she not violate the condition? Because she is not married to Levi. So she did not violate the condition, therefore the divorce is valid. The question is not why the divorce is valid—that’s obvious, because she didn’t violate the condition. The question is: but why is her marriage to Levi not valid? After all, she isn’t a married woman; she is divorced, so what prevents her from marrying Levi? The answer is that what prevents her from marrying Levi is Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s principle of consistency. But that too is an ad hoc principle. Right, an ad hoc principle. So it’s artificial; it doesn’t help to… What do you mean it doesn’t help? Now there’s a question of plausibility—it solves the problem. The question is whether it is reasonable to adopt such a solution. But like Tosafot’s answer, it solves the problem. Correct. So as far as Rabbi Akiva goes we gained something. I want to say something here: in my view this is far more reasonable than Tosafot’s ad hoc solution. Because here there really is legal logic. This is not logic; it’s law. And there is very strong legal logic in saying that a legal effect that would uproot itself clearly cannot be applied. That sounds very sensible, not for the sake of solving paradoxes, but genuinely. If that legal effect cannot be applied, then it cannot be applied, that’s it. What’s the problem? If applying that legal effect would uproot itself, then you can’t apply it. So why are the children mamzerim according to Rabbi Akiva? What? And why are the children mamzerim according to Rabbi Akiva? Ah, he thinks… ah, that’s the interpretive setup he made, yes, okay. So this principle of Rabbi Shimon Shkop is a principle that basically stops loops. Notice, after all there is here a loop that bites its own tail. If she is married to Levi, then she is not married to Reuven. If she is married to Reuven, she is not married to Levi. If she is not married to Levi, then she is not married to Reuven, and so on. There is a loop here. Rabbi Shimon Shkop offers us a criterion that can stop loops. If at some stage in the loop you reach a step such that, if you take it, it itself will be uprooted, then you cannot take that step. A question one can ask here is: why doesn’t he say the same thing about her divorce from Reuven? Why does he say it only about her marriage to Levi? After all, this is a loop; every step she takes here eventually uproots itself if you continue. So why does this happen specifically in the case of her marriage to Levi and not at the stage of the divorce from Reuven? The divorce from Reuven was perfectly fine at the first stage; the divorce from Reuven does not uproot itself. Why? Because if she marries Levi then that divorce becomes null. The moment she married Levi, then those divorces basically cannot—they would uproot themselves if they took effect. So therefore they shouldn’t take effect. Ah, from that side. The answer is: you are right about your distinction; we just have to define it. And this is a point that I think people didn’t notice in Rabbi Shimon Shkop, and I devoted the second column, 407, to it: Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s principle of consistency is not enough. By itself it doesn’t solve the problem. You need one more innovation. You need two assumptions in order to stop these loops. First, the principle of consistency: you cannot apply a legal effect that uproots itself. Second, despite the fact that all these loops happen simultaneously. They don’t really happen one after the other; there is no passage of time here. It’s just a logical calculation. Right, everything happens at the same moment. It isn’t that something happens and then causes something else, and the other thing causes something else on the time axis. It’s all a calculation I make at one moment. Okay? Rabbi Shimon Shkop wants to argue that despite this, I view the causal relation as though it were a temporal relation. There is here a chain of events where one is the cause of the other. In terms of time, this whole chain happens at once. But in that very moment there is a chain of cause and effect, cause and effect, cause and effect. I treat this internal chain of cause and effect as though it were some sort of timeline. And I see these events as though they follow one another. Now see how the problem is solved. If I adopt these two assumptions, notice. One assumption is the principle of consistency. The second assumption is that I translate the causal relations as though they occurred on some sort of timeline, so that the effect comes after the cause—after it in time, not just after it logically. Okay, now everything is fine. Why? Let’s do the calculation. Reuven gives a divorce on condition that she not marry Levi. I stop now: is this divorce valid? Yes. Of course it is. As long as she hasn’t married Levi, this is not a divorce that uproots itself, right? I evaluate it at the moment it was given. At the moment it was given it was valid. Now she marries Shimon. Is the marriage to Shimon problematic? No. As long as she hasn’t married Levi, she is divorced from Reuven and can marry Shimon. Children are born, everything is fine, wonderful. He dies or she gets divorced, all still fine. Next stage—notice, each such stage happens after the previous stages. But not really after in time; rather, on the logical axis it is after. Now I say: now she goes and marries Levi. At this stage, the moment she marries Levi, I already know there is a problem. If this betrothal takes effect, then it will uproot itself. At this stage one cannot become betrothed. Therefore it stops here and not at the stage when she received the divorce from Reuven. Because I walk through these steps one after the other, even though the relation between them is causal, not temporal. But I treat the causal relation as though there were temporal succession. I go, I follow the causal relation as though I were taking steps on a timeline. But is there a timeline? There is a timeline—it’s not “as though.” First he gave her a divorce, and afterward she married Shimon, and only afterward did she marry Levi. Obviously, obviously. But after she married Levi, now you go back to the moment of the divorce and nullify it. But there is no “after she married Levi.” There is no such case, because before she marries Levi we say there is a legal effect there that nullifies the divorce. Exactly. That means that her marrying Levi is actually something prior to the nullification of the divorce from Reuven. And therefore I evaluate that, and only after that do I see whether the divorce from Reuven was nullified or not. And I don’t evaluate it all at once. Yes, I agree, but you say “as though.” Here it’s not “as though”; in this case it really is. Again. Her marriage to Levi occurred after the divorce from Reuven—after in time, completely. That’s obvious. But what about the nullification of her divorce from Reuven? Does that come after she married Levi? No. It happens together with her marrying Levi. It occurs at the same moment. But since it is the result of the marriage to Levi, I treat it as though it occurred afterward. And now I discuss, first of all, the question of whether she is married to Levi, and after I reach a conclusion I go back and discuss whether the divorce from Reuven was nullified or not. Okay? So I also need the assumption that a causal relation is translated into a temporal relation, not only the principle of consistency. Now what is nice about this matter is that in Asif and in the book Talmudic Logic, we have a book on loops, conflicts in Jewish law, and there we bring many examples—dozens, I think—of loops of this sort, and one after another I show that they are solved by Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s technique. I’ll give you one example, brought in that column, 407. Does this also work on the red heifer? Yes, certainly. I understand. It works on the red heifer too, supposedly. There we’ll have to discuss it. Look at the Minchat Chinukh on commandment 32. A bill of divorce that was written not for her sake. Yes, the divorce was written not for her sake; that is an invalid divorce. And on the Sabbath someone deliberately traced over it with a pen for her sake. The scribe of the divorce wrote a divorce not for her sake on Friday. On the Sabbath he saw that he had an invalid divorce document, so he took a pen with ink and traced over the letters—the letters of the divorce—and this time he did it for her sake, in the wife’s name, deliberately. That is writing on the Sabbath. What is the law? So he says: “Behold, if he wrote a divorce deliberately on the Sabbath, he is an apostate and it is not a divorce.” After all, someone who writes the divorce on the Sabbath is an apostate. He writes on the Sabbath, becomes an apostate with respect to the Sabbath and an apostate to the whole Torah. Someone who is an apostate is disqualified from writing a divorce. So basically, since he desecrated the Sabbath, the divorce is not a divorce. “But here, if we say it is not a divorce because he is an apostate”—notice this—“then in truth, if it is not a divorce, he did not desecrate the Sabbath at all, because writing over existing writing is permitted on the Sabbath except insofar as it repairs something, and if it is not a divorce then it does not count as repairing. If so, he is not an apostate and the divorce is valid. But if the divorce is valid, then he is again an apostate and therefore disqualified.” Okay? Again a loop. What does that mean? The writing is already there on the divorce. Writing over existing writing on the Sabbath leaves you exempt, because it was already written; you did not add anything. But if there was writing here and the upper writing repaired it, then you are liable, despite the fact that it is writing over writing. For example, if the divorce was invalid and the second writing validates the divorce, then that counts as writing on the Sabbath. Now a loop is formed. Why? What do I say? He now wrote it for her sake, so the divorce became valid. Once the divorce became valid, then for the upper writing you are no longer exempt, because it repaired the divorce. So you wrote on the Sabbath, and you are an apostate. If you are an apostate, an apostate is disqualified from writing a divorce. So the divorce is invalid. Wait, but if the divorce is invalid, then the upper writing repaired nothing. And if it repaired nothing, then I did not desecrate the Sabbath. If I did not desecrate the Sabbath, I am not an apostate, so the divorce is valid. If the divorce is valid, then yes I desecrated the Sabbath, and so on. How do we analyze this? Again I spread the events over a timeline. The person wrote the divorce on Friday. Now he goes over the divorce and writes on top of it for her sake. Now the moment he wrote it for her sake, he repaired it. The moment he repaired it, he became an apostate. If he became an apostate, then the divorce is invalid. Right? Meaning that the validation of the divorce cannot work, because if this divorce is valid, that will invalidate the divorce. So the legal effect of “for her sake” on the divorce cannot take effect. And therefore the divorce remains invalid. Once the divorce remains invalid, the person does not become an apostate, because the divorce is invalid. And here it stops. Because the legal effect is inconsistent; it doesn’t persist over time. Exactly. Meaning, notice again, a very strange phenomenon was created here. The divorce is in fact invalid, and the person is not an apostate, because if the divorce is invalid then his writing repaired nothing. The person is not an apostate. Okay? Since the person is not an apostate, then why is the divorce invalid? The divorce is invalid not because he is an apostate. The scribe is not an apostate. Rather, because of Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s principle of consistency. Since validating the divorce would uproot itself, therefore one cannot apply the legal effect of “for her sake” to this divorce. Because a legal effect such that, if it takes effect, it uproots itself—cannot take effect. So the divorce becomes invalid not because its writer is an apostate, because the writer is not an apostate, but because its validity cannot take effect. And I can bring you dozens more examples. I’ll give you one more—allow me a few more minutes because I want to finish the topic. There is an example in which the whole thing is resolved—this is my claim. There is an example where I can solve the loop without Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s principle of consistency, only with the fictive spreading along the timeline, only with the second assumption and not the first. The second assumption, which Rabbi Shimon doesn’t write explicitly at all—I only claim it is there in the subtext. The assumption he does write isn’t needed there. What am I talking about? The story with the heifer is like this, no? The story with the heifer is like this. Wait, I haven’t gotten to the heifer yet. Look here: someone divorces his wife on condition, “from now and after thirty days,” that during those thirty days, if she avoids eating any forbidden thing, it will be a divorce; and if she tastes any forbidden thing, it will not be a divorce. Fine. So he makes a condition in the divorce that for thirty days she may not eat anything forbidden. Apropos of the condition not to eat pork, yes? She may not eat anything forbidden. And within the thirty days she vowed that a loaf would be forbidden to her by a vow, yes, she prohibited a loaf of bread to herself by a vow, and her husband annulled it. Her husband annulled her vow. Once her husband annuls it, the vow lapses, so she is permitted to eat the loaf. Now the question is whether she is divorced or not. If we say she is divorced, then he is not her husband. If he is not her husband, he cannot annul her vows. Only a husband can annul vows. But if he did not annul her vow, then she ate something forbidden. If she ate something forbidden, then the divorce is nullified, so he is her husband. But if he is her husband, then he can annul it, and if he annulled it then it wasn’t a vow, so she didn’t eat anything forbidden, and so the cycle repeats. Now look already at column 407 because time is short. There I argue that this loop can be solved using only the second assumption, without the first. You don’t need Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s principle of consistency—just spread it out over the timeline and you’ll see that the question doesn’t arise. You don’t need the principle of consistency. Fine, just read it later if you want. I only want to finish really with a few more sentences, because this is the end of the series, so I don’t want to spill over into the next session, which is why I’m allowing myself a few extra minutes. Can we really use this to solve the loops I mentioned at the beginning of the class, of “a male mounted it,” of an inevitable result one does not want, and maybe also miggo? Look: with “a male mounted it” and an inevitable result one does not want, it’s a bit hard to solve it in this way, because “wanting” or “not wanting” is a factual question, not a halakhic question. About a halakhic principle you can tell me that this legal effect—the law does not allow it to take effect if its taking effect would uproot itself. So the law does not allow it to take effect. But the question whether I am pleased or not is a factual question; it has nothing to do with what the law does or doesn’t allow. Here you can’t solve it ad hoc. If I’m not pleased, then I’m not pleased. What do you want to tell me? That if because I’m not pleased then I really am pleased, then I really am pleased? Not at all. What does that mean? If I’m not pleased, then I’m not pleased. That isn’t a legal effect. With a legal effect, which is a legal fiction, you can say there are rules: a legal effect such that if you apply it then it will be uprooted, so you can’t apply it. But facts are judged by whether the fact is true or false. There is no room here for some halakhic rules. A fact is a fact. On the other hand, the disqualification—the disqualification of the heifer—is indeed a halakhic rule and not a fact. My satisfaction is a fact, but the disqualification of the heifer is a halakhic rule. And maybe one could say that the legal effect of the heifer’s disqualification cannot take effect if the disqualification would uproot itself. That perhaps one could say. Except that it doesn’t work here because Tosafot—the Talmud basically says the opposite. It says that if I am pleased, then the heifer is disqualified. The final result is that the heifer really is disqualified. The difficulty is only why; after all, if it is disqualified then I’m not pleased, and if I’m not pleased then the heifer is not disqualified. So here the problem I need to stop is the validity of the heifer, not its disqualification. But validity isn’t a status; disqualification is a status. Validity is not a status. Maybe the validity of a red heifer is a status. When I say that a certain thing is permitted, that isn’t a halakhic statement; it means there is no halakhic norm applying to such a situation. Prohibition or obligation is a halakhic statement. When I say this act is permitted, that isn’t a halakhic statement; on the contrary, it says there is no halakhic statement about this situation. But fitness does count. Right, with the fitness of the heifer it isn’t exactly like “permitted.” It’s not just that one is allowed to use the heifer. There is a legal status of red heifer upon it. I created here a red heifer. That is a halakhic formation. So perhaps to the fitness of the heifer one can indeed apply Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s principle of consistency. The fitness of a heifer—if it were to take effect then it would not take effect, so it does not take effect. Why can’t one say, on the basis of the principle of spreading over time, that the heifer’s disqualification happened at the moment the male mounted it, and at that moment he was pleased; the fact that afterward he is no longer pleased is another matter? That’s the claim—that’s the application of Rabbi Shimon Shkop. Right. So that’s why I’m saying one can apply this part, of spreading it over time. It may be that here the second assumption alone—the timeline—will suffice, without establishing the principle of consistency that a legal effect which would not be able to take effect therefore does not take effect. Correct. Spreading it over the timeline is enough. Definitely true; I also note that in the column. Regarding an inevitable result one does not want, it’s harder. Because there there is no object with a status, like a red heifer that is fit or disqualified—there is no object. The question is whether I am liable or not liable. There it is harder to say this. Maybe here too, if I use only the spreading over a timeline without Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s principle of consistency, then I say: the moment I want it, I became liable. That’s it. Once I became liable, that can no longer be uprooted later when suddenly I no longer want it. So spreading over the timeline can solve the problem here, because the principle of consistency is hard to apply here. But according to Rabbi Shimon Shkop maybe the principle of consistency is the substantive principle, and afterward we translated it onto the timeline, okay—but first of all it is the substantive principle. Both are needed; without the second principle you can’t even state Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s principle. He doesn’t write the second one, but when you make the logical analysis it is clear that he also has to assume the second principle. And what is nice here is that there are situations where the second principle alone is enough for me, even without the first. Without the principle he explicitly writes, using only the assumption he doesn’t write, and I solve the problem. Okay, here we finish this series on self-reference. I’ll send a message about what the next series will be; I still don’t know. And that’s it. Will it also be at the same time on the same day? Will it be on the same day at the same time? Yes yes, Thursday—we’ve already had this Thursday class for I don’t know how many years, already 15 years. More power to you, thank you very, very much. Thank you very much. Rabbi, just this principle of consistency—do we accept it as an axiom? Yes, but I’m saying it’s an axiom that isn’t as ad hoc as Tosafot’s ad hoc move. There is legal logic to saying that a legal effect such that, if you apply it, it uproots itself—you can’t apply it. I feel that that is a sensible thing. Right. Okay. Thank you very much. Goodbye, Sabbath peace.