Simplicity, Lesson 15
This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- Abstraction, similarity, and the move from primary categories to derivatives
- The structure of the common denominator and the process of elimination
- The refutation of “a stricter side” and Occam’s razor
- Derivatives from two primary categories on the Sabbath versus damages, and winnowing with the wind assisting
- The Jerusalem Talmud on “he spat and the wind carried it,” and a proposal for learning from two primary categories that is not a common denominator
- His stone, knife, and load; the dispute between the Rosh and “the great authorities”; and the practical difference regarding exemptions
- The Rosh’s interpretation: “common denominator” as a tool for removing a refutation and for conceptual construction
- Two forms of abstraction: cutting away versus unifying and creating a new concept
- Fusion-compounding and neighbor-compounding: Or Sameach on Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath
Summary
General Overview
The text concludes a series of lectures on abstraction through the example of primary categories and derivatives in tort law, and distinguishes between two kinds of learning from two “source categories”: a common denominator, which is generalization by eliminating irrelevant features, versus a move of “conceptual construction,” which is a synthesis of features to create a new concept. It explains that a common denominator relies on choosing the simplest theory, similar to Occam’s razor, and shows how the refutation of “a stricter side” works mainly when the stringencies are halakhic / of Jewish law. On that basis it reinterprets the derivation of “his stone, knife, and load” from fire and pit, and the dispute between the Rosh and “the great authorities” over the exemptions (hidden items and vessels), and suggests that in some cases the Talmud is not actually making a common-denominator argument, but rather uses one primary category as the main one and the second only to remove a refutation. In the end it broadens the discussion to examples of “fusion-compounding” versus “neighbor-compounding,” and brings Or Sameach on Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath to illustrate the creation of a third concept that is not “Sabbath + Yom Kippur” but a new day.
Abstraction, similarity, and the move from primary categories to derivatives
The move from primary categories to derivatives involves abstraction, because creating similarity between two things requires getting rid of irrelevant features and deciding which parameters are central. Abstraction is defined as manipulation of features, and it underlies halakhic and legal generalizations as well as scientific ones. The text presents the topic of “his stone, knife, and load” as an example of a derivative learned from two primary categories, and therefore especially connected to the question of abstraction.
The structure of the common denominator and the process of elimination
The common denominator is built on two source categories and a learned case. Each attempt to learn from the first source category is refuted by a unique “stringency” that it has, and each attempt to learn from the second is refuted by a different “stringency.” The combination of the two source categories succeeds without adding new information because it works through a process of elimination: a feature that appears in one source category but is absent in the other is removed as irrelevant, until what remains is the shared feature that explains the law. The example of objects falling to the ground shows how you strip away features like “printed” or “plastic” and are left with “mass” as the shared property that explains the phenomenon. The text argues that every generalization works this way, and therefore a common denominator is simply an “intelligent generalization,” not some mysterious move.
The refutation of “a stricter side” and Occam’s razor
In several passages, the Talmud uses the refutation of “a stricter side”: “What about the two source categories, for each has a stricter side,” and the text asks why such a refutation does not knock down every common-denominator argument in the world. The proposed answer is that the common denominator rests on preferring the simplest theory, much like Occam’s razor, and therefore the refutation of “a stricter side” is relevant mainly when the stringencies are halakhic rather than factual. When we are talking about factual features, the combined explanation “either X or Y” is a more complicated theory compared to one simple theory of a shared feature, and therefore there is no place for a refutation that multiplies causes. When the stringencies are legal rulings, it is possible that two different stringent laws rest on one shared factual characteristic, and therefore the refutation makes sense without collapsing the entire mechanism of the common denominator. The text adds that the formulation “every law in Jewish law has only one cause” is not precise; rather, the accurate principle is a preference for the simplest explanation so long as it explains all the facts.
Derivatives from two primary categories on the Sabbath versus damages, and winnowing with the wind assisting
The text notes that in the laws of the Sabbath one almost never finds a derivative of two primary categories the way one does in tort law, and raises a statistical possibility: the existence of thirty-nine primary categories of labor makes it possible to associate almost any derivative with a single primary category, so there is no need for a common denominator. It cites the Talmud in tractate Bava Kamma 60a about one who fanned a fire and the wind increased it in tort law, versus one who winnows and the wind assists him on the Sabbath, and presents Rav Ashi’s answer: in tort law indirect causation is exempt, while on the Sabbath “the Torah prohibited intentional, purposive labor.” It brings the dispute between Rashi and the Rosh whether indirect causation on the Sabbath is generally liable, or whether this is unique to the labor of winnowing because that is the way it is normally done. The text emphasizes the distinction between the requirement of direct causation in tort law and the search for similarity to a primary labor category on the Sabbath, and suggests that specifically on the Sabbath there is more reason to exempt indirect causation than in tort law, because of the essence of ceasing from action.
The Jerusalem Talmud on “he spat and the wind carried it,” and a proposal for learning from two primary categories that is not a common denominator
The text brings the Jerusalem Talmud: “He spat and the wind carried it—he is liable for winnowing,” translated: “liable for winnowing. And anything that depends on the wind is liable for winnowing,” and cites the ruling of the Rema that one is liable for winnowing. It explains that interpretations involving separation within spit are “absolute nonsense.” It rejects emending the text to “throwing,” because the Jerusalem Talmud broadens the principle to anything done with the help of the wind, which does not fit throwing. It quotes Alfei Menashe in the name of Rabbi Menashe of Ilya, who explains that the Jerusalem Talmud is “by way of example” for carrying something four cubits with the aid of the wind, similar to the fact that in winnowing the wind does not exempt. From this, it proposes a learning structure that looks like a common denominator between winnowing and throwing in order to make one liable for “spitting,” but argues that conceptually this is not a common denominator because there is no shared “Z” between the two source categories. It defines this move as unifying features rather than cutting away: you do not remove X and Y in order to remain with a shared feature, but rather show that the absence of X does not exempt and the absence of Y does not exempt, and therefore the absence of both also does not exempt, using one primary category as the main one and the other only to remove a refutation.
His stone, knife, and load; the dispute between the Rosh and “the great authorities”; and the practical difference regarding exemptions
The text returns to the Talmud in tractate Bava Kamma 6a, which derives “his stone, knife, and load” from fire and pit, and presents three approaches among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) regarding the exemption for hidden items (of fire) and the exemption for vessels (of pit). It describes the position of “some of the great authorities,” who apply both exemptions to the derivative, because liability requires both source categories, and if in one of them there is no liability for hidden items or for vessels, there is no way to impose liability in the derivative. It describes another approach—“and some were uncertain about the matter”—which understands that the common denominator in the Mishnah (“it is your property and its guarding is upon you”) establishes the very obligation to pay, while the primary categories are needed mainly for their specific laws and exemptions; therefore the derivative might be liable even for hidden items and for vessels. It focuses on the Rosh’s position, “it has all the law of pit,” and asks what justifies choosing one primary category when the derivation appears to depend on two primary categories.
The Rosh’s interpretation: “common denominator” as a tool for removing a refutation and for conceptual construction
The text argues that according to the Rosh there is no real common denominator here, but rather conceptual construction: “his stone, knife, and load” that came to rest on the ground are essentially a pit, and there is merely a “defect” of the wind’s involvement in creating the pit, while fire comes only to teach that the wind’s involvement does not exempt. It compares this to spitting, where liability is for throwing, and the mention of winnowing is intended only to explain that the assistance of the wind does not exempt; therefore, if one had been warned for winnowing, he would be exempt. It suggests the same in tort law: “and the law returns” means returning to pit after fire has removed the refutation of “another force is involved in it,” not a move that continues to “the common denominator between them…” in the sense of cutting away shared features. On that basis it explains that the practical difference lies in the exemptions: one who learns it as a true common denominator creates a mechanism of two source categories with implications for the exemptions of both, while one who learns it as conceptual construction classifies the damager as a pit and therefore exempts only vessels, not hidden items.
Two forms of abstraction: cutting away versus unifying and creating a new concept
The text concludes that there are two models for creating a derivative from two primary categories: a common denominator as a cutting-away process through elimination of unique features, as opposed to a synthesis that joins selected features from two primary categories in order to create a third concept, such as “a pit in which another force is involved.” It defines this too as abstraction, because from fire one takes only the feature of the wind’s involvement and strips away the rest of the features of fire, and then fuses that with the features of pit. It presents the distinction between neighbor-compounding and fusion-compounding in order to describe how a new concept is not the sum of two concepts, but something new with its own inner character.
Fusion-compounding and neighbor-compounding: Or Sameach on Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath
The text cites Maimonides in the laws of the Yom Kippur service: when Yom Kippur falls on the Sabbath, the High Priest also performs the additional offerings of the Sabbath, and explains in the name of Or Sameach that this is because “Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath” is a day of a third type, and not “Sabbath + Yom Kippur” in a merely neighboring sense. From here it moves to a discussion of a sick person who eats on Yom Kippur and the question whether kiddush is required, and tells a story about the Avnei Nezer, who asked a child who had eaten whether he had made kiddush, and the child answered that a minor is obligated in education only for what he will do when he becomes an adult. It adds that the dominance of one of the components can determine the character of the day, but the main point is that there is no division into “from the side of the Sabbath” and “from the side of Yom Kippur” when we are dealing with fusion-compounding. The text mentions that the Rogatchover discusses a Jewish holiday that falls on the Sabbath and argues for the possibility of double liability even where the law on the holiday alone would have permitted it, and parallels this to discussions of the High Priest and his relation to an ordinary priest, and to “the element of innocence remains in its place” with an ox forewarned for goring, as cases in which a change of level may be a fusion into a new concept rather than a joining of neighbors.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, we’re in the topic of abstractions, and today I intend to finish it. Every time I’m surprised anew to discover how many lectures we’ve already spent talking about this. It always seems to me like a short series. There are already fifteen in the recordings—
[Speaker B] lectures, yes,
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t think it was this long. It surprises me. It’s already been almost four months that this whole business has been going on. So today I intend to finish this topic. I want to talk a bit—really to touch on something we dealt with a little when we talked about the beginning of Bava Kamma. There I spoke about primary categories and derivatives in tort law. And in the course of that discussion I basically said that the move from primary categories to derivatives is bound up with some kind of abstraction. In the first lectures we talked about what abstraction is. After all, when you create similarity between two things, you obviously have to get rid of the irrelevant features, because any two things differ from each other at least somewhat. So in order to compare them, you have to focus and decide which parameters are relevant, and get rid of everything else. Removing features is a kind of abstraction. After that we talked about the Talmud there on page 6, where the Talmud derives “his stone, knife, and load,” which he placed at the top of the roof and they fell in a normal wind, from fire and pit through a common denominator. Meaning, say they fell in a normal wind and caused damage after they had come to rest, because we have two possibilities in the Talmud there. So it’s learned from fire and pit through a common denominator. And if you remember, we saw there the dispute between the Rosh and “the great authorities.” There are some great authorities who explain it one way, and the Rosh says here—and I argued that if you read the wording carefully there is also a third approach—which basically reflects different conceptions of how this derivative, “his stone, knife, and load,” is learned from the two primary categories, fire and pit. So I want to focus on that a bit, because there are things that look to us like a common denominator—and I spoke a little about this—but they aren’t. They are not a common denominator. And this resemblance is very interesting, because it’s analysis and synthesis. So that makes it very much connected to the question of abstraction.
So let’s remind ourselves for a moment what happens there in the Talmud, as in every common-denominator argument really. What happens in learning by common denominator is that we have two—actually it would have been better to do this with some kind of board, but never mind—we have two source categories and a learned case, okay? A and B are the source categories and C is the learned case. Now I want to learn C from A, and then they tell me: no—what about A, which has property X? So they say: B will prove it. Then you learn C from B—
[Speaker C] What?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —what about B, which has Y, a different property that is not A’s X? So then they say, “and the law returns; this is not like that, and that is not like this; the common denominator between them is such-and-such, and therefore the learned case has the same law.” But some kind of miracle happens there, really. You try to learn the learned case from the first primary category—it doesn’t work. You try to learn from the second primary category—that also doesn’t work. But from both together, yes. You’re not adding any new information. In other words, you remain with exactly the same amount of information you had in the first attempts. But combining the two source categories—each of which alone cannot do the job—together they can do it. And that “miracle” is really based on a process of elimination.
I think we spoke about this a little. I gave the example of the law of gravitation. Let’s say I take this thing, let go of it, and it falls downward. And I take this thing, let go of it, and it also falls downward. So now I say: let’s see whether this too will fall downward. So I say: if this falls downward, then this too falls downward. But what about this one, since it has printing on it? This is paper without printing. So I say: this one will prove it—there’s no printing on it, and it also falls downward. But what about this one, since it’s made of plastic? This one is paper. I say: this one will prove it—it’s made of paper. Fine, so it too will prove it. Now each one on its own doesn’t succeed. This one has printing, so you can’t learn from it; this one has plastic, so you can’t learn from it. But from both together you can. How? The point is, this is what’s called—literally—the common denominator. What does that mean? When you do this, what you’re really saying is: the printing is apparently not the important parameter in explaining this fall downward, and the proof is that this falls downward even though it’s not printed. So forget it—remove the printing from the picture. Then what property remains? That it’s made of paper, for example. But being made of paper also isn’t relevant, because this one isn’t made of paper and it also falls. So what is relevant? Maybe that—well, this too has mass, and that really is also the property of this one. True, this one is also made of plastic, but plastic is not a relevant property here, because this one too falls to the ground even though it isn’t made of plastic. So in a process of elimination I clean away all the specific features found in each of the source categories, erase them, and I’m left with what is common to all the source categories—the common denominator—and with that shared feature that all of them have. And I claim that what causes the fall to the earth is that common denominator, and not the specific features. Because different features also produce the same result, so apparently what causes the fall is the shared feature. And that shared feature is present here too: that they have mass. This too has mass, and therefore if those fall to the ground, this too falls to the ground.
In other words, the combination of the two source categories succeeds in doing what each one alone cannot do because of elimination. When you combine the two source categories, you can see which of their features is relevant and which is not, and that helps you perform an abstraction. Now every scientific generalization is like this. Every generalization in any field—legal, halakhic / of Jewish law—every generalization is basically like this. So a common denominator is nothing more than an intelligent generalization, that’s all. If I want to describe schematically the structure of a common denominator, then as I said before it is always built this way. I have—let’s call them—two primary categories and a derivative, some derivative of two primary categories. So I have primary category A, and I try to learn the derivative from it. They tell me: it has a special property. So what? It also has the ordinary property—it has mass—and it also has a special property, it’s made of plastic. And I want to know which is the relevant property. I don’t know. If the relevant property is that it’s made of plastic, then you can’t learn about this one from it. Right? How will I know what’s relevant? I say: okay, let’s take this one. It falls to the ground, and it isn’t made of plastic. So apparently plastic isn’t the important property. Fine? It’s printed—printing also isn’t the important property. Rather, what matters is that they have mass. It always goes like this: A will teach; what about A, since it has some advantage, some stringency, and therefore you can’t learn from it? B will prove it. But B too has a stringency—incidentally, if it always had the very same stringency, the common denominator would indeed collapse. It has a different stringency. Then I say that basically what I’m saying is: okay, so apparently those specific stringencies aren’t important to the discussion, because they are different stringencies in the two source categories. Okay?
Now in principle, in a few passages—in Makkot 4, in Ketubot 32, and elsewhere—the Talmud raises what’s called the refutation of “a stricter side.” The refutation of “a stricter side” means: what about the two source categories, since in each one there is a stricter side? This one has a side that it is printed, and this one has a side that it is made of plastic. So maybe those sides are actually what causes them to fall to the ground? But this one is neither printed nor made of plastic, so maybe not. Why does that refutation work? If we use such a refutation, then every common denominator in the world falls apart. Nothing remains of the whole mechanism of common denominator. So the medieval authorities (Rishonim) discuss this at length. There’s a long Ritva there in Makkot, and Tosafot in Ketubot also comments briefly on this point. I think the answer is—and maybe one of the explanations in Ritva is aiming at this—I think it’s quite clear that this is the correct explanation: when I am speaking about legal properties of the two source categories, then I make the refutation of “a stricter side.” But if I’m speaking about factual properties, then I do not. Why not? Because what lies behind the common denominator is really Occam’s razor. I’m looking for the simplest explanation.
After all, I have two ways to explain. I have two data points: this falls to the earth, and this falls to the earth. Okay, I’m trying to build a theory. Once I have a theory, I’ll be able to derive conclusions from it about this one. Let’s see. I have two possible theories. One theory is that what makes these two things fall is that they have mass. That is one possible theory. A second possible theory: what makes something fall is either that it is printed or that it is made of plastic. That too is a possible theory. It also explains all the facts, right? The difference between these two theories is what will happen with this one. If the theory is that everything with mass falls, then this too will fall. If the theory is that what is printed or what is made of plastic falls, then this one is neither made of plastic nor printed, so it won’t fall. Right? Incidentally, what they do in science is simply run an experiment: they take this and see. If it falls, then the mass theory is the correct one and not the second theory. But in Jewish law you can’t run an experiment. We have a question we don’t know the answer to, and we are looking for the answer. Okay? We have to decide which of the two theories is better. And the criterion is: which is simpler? The simpler theory is the one that says that the parameter of mass is what is responsible for the fall. Because the theory that either something printed or something made of plastic falls is a more complicated theory. And Occam’s razor tells me that the simplest theory is preferable, so long as it has not been disproved—which of course is often misunderstood in relation to this matter. Yes, yes—among correct theories that explain all the facts, you choose the simplest one. If a theory doesn’t explain the facts, there is no point choosing it. Okay? We’re talking about theories competing for the crown of which theory is correct—only theories that explain all the facts. Among those, I choose the simplest one. Okay?
Now, as an aside regarding the refutation of “a stricter side”: everywhere in the Talmud where you find that refutation, it is always when the refutation is a halakhic / of Jewish law one. “What about a chair, since it has a certain physical property?” “What about paper, since it has a certain physical property?” Not what the chair is made of—whether plastic or whether printed. On things like that you never get the refutation of “a stricter side.” Why? Suppose I want to prove that one both receives lashes and pays. The Talmud there derives—sorry, I drifted there—that if someone is liable for lashes and also liable for payment, then he pays and is not lashed. That is the view of Rav Huna. Okay, he pays and is not lashed. And from what is this learned? From conspiring witnesses and from one who brings a false evil report against his wife, I think. Okay? In those two places one pays and is not lashed. So each one has some refutation. Conspiring witnesses do not require prior warning—that’s a stringency. And one who brings a false evil report—I don’t even remember what stringency the Talmud gives there for him, doesn’t matter, it also gives some stringency there. Now they raise the refutation of “a stricter side.” Why? Because the stringency we find in one who brings a false evil report and in conspiring witnesses is a legal one. We do not say: conspiring witnesses are especially wicked—they want to accuse an innocent person—that’s a factual stringency. We say: no, they have a stringent legal rule that Jewish law imposes on them, namely that they do not require prior warning; you can punish them without prior warning. That indicates a stringency in them. Why are they treated so harshly in Jewish law? Presumably because the offense itself is severe in some sense. There is some reason for that. And that reason is a feature of the situation of conspiring witnesses, not of the law that applies to that situation. Now if the two severe features of the two source categories are legal rulings, there may be a factual feature underlying them. It just causes one stringent rule here and another stringent rule there. Therefore they raise the refutation of “a stricter side.” Even though these are different stringencies, maybe the factual feature underlying them is one and the same. Therefore it could be a valid refutation.
But if you make a common-denominator argument between two things that have severe factual characteristics, you will never find that they raise the refutation of “a stricter side.” Okay? Why? Because the whole thing is built on choosing the simplest theory. Now if the characteristics are halakhic / of Jewish law characteristics, there could be a theory that is just as simple. There could be one parameter responsible for everything, and that would be an equally simple theory. Therefore we make the refutation. In other words, what lies behind the common denominator is the criterion of theoretical simplicity. What is the simplest theory?
If you’ll allow me, I’ll sketch it here. Suppose I have here one source category, a second source category; here I have X, here I have Y. Fine, this is how a common denominator is built. Okay? I have source category A from which I want to learn C. So I say: what about A, since it has characteristic X? You see, this one doesn’t have X—X with a bar over it means it doesn’t have X, not-X. Okay, not-X. So you can’t learn from A. I want to learn from B. But no, B has Y, and here it’s not-Y, it doesn’t have Y. So you can’t learn. But from both together you can. Why? Because when I now look at both source categories together, I have two possible theories for explaining why they both have law P. Here, this is law P—that they are liable to pay or something like that I want to derive. If both of these have law P, then this one too should have law P. Okay? So I say this: law P can be explained either by the theory of “either X or Y,” or by the theory Z. Right? There’s one theory here—okay, look. If you choose the theory “either X or Y,” that too explains all the facts, right? Whoever has X and whoever has Y has law P—either X or Y. The result is that C will not have law P, because it has neither X nor Y. But if the theory is Z—the fact that both of them have Z, and because of Z—that is the common denominator, Z is the common denominator, the feature that exists in both of them—and it is what causes law P, then Z is also present in the learned case, okay? Therefore the learned case too will have law P. Now why do I choose this theory rather than that one? Because it is simpler. That is the schema of the common denominator. Okay?
Basically the point is that what lies behind it—once in Yeruham someone defined it for me this way, and really it was a nice definition of the matter—what lies behind the schema of the common denominator is the assumption that every law in Jewish law has only one cause. There cannot be two causes for the same law. That is really the claim. Now actually that isn’t precise. Rather: if you have the possibility of explaining it with one cause, then you prefer that over the possibility of explaining it with two causes. But if you can’t explain it with one cause, then you explain it with two. In other words, the more accurate principle is that the preferred theory is the simplest theory, not that every law in Jewish law has only one cause. For example, if there is a refutation against both source categories, then perhaps there really isn’t one cause for the law. Think, for example—I don’t know—when you ignite a fire. Everything I’m saying now in Jewish law is also true of physics and science; it’s a completely general thesis. Suppose we’re thinking now about what causes fire to ignite. You can do it by focusing rays of light, sunlight, with a magnifying glass; you can strike a match. So that basically means that this phenomenon called fire can have several explanations, or several causes, several characteristics that explain the outbreak of fire. But it could be that behind all of them there is really one thing. In other words, you need to arrive at a very intense heating of some point, and that causes the fire. These are just different ways of reaching the heating. But in the final analysis, what causes fire is one cause. It’s an interesting philosophical question that people argue about: whether every phenomenon in the world really has one cause, and when we see that several different things cause it, that’s only because those several things are not the direct cause, but rather they cause something else, and they all cause the same thing, and that thing causes the phenomenon. Well, that’s more complicated, because if they all cause that phenomenon, then again several different causes are causing something—you haven’t gained anything. We won’t get into that. In any case, the point is that we choose the simplest theory.
Now I’ll describe to you a schema that looks very similar. Let me preface it. We saw that in the primary categories of tort law there are primary categories written in the Torah and there are derivatives. Most derivatives are derivatives of a particular primary category. There are derivatives of foot, derivatives of horn, derivatives of tooth, and so on. But the derivatives that appear on page 6 are derivatives that are derivatives of two primary categories. You can’t learn them from one primary category because it has characteristic X, while that one has characteristic Y; none of the primary categories can teach the derivative by itself. So we have to use a common denominator. Therefore, learning from a single primary category is by something like an archetypal derivation or a fortiori reasoning or something similar. Learning from two primary categories, from two source categories, is learning by common denominator.
In the laws of the Sabbath there are also primary categories and derivatives. After all, Bava Kamma discusses whether their derivatives are like them or not like them in tort law. So there are cases where they are like them and where they are not like them. And when the Talmud asks whether derivatives in tort law are like them or not like them, it brings in that derivatives of ritual impurity are not like them, while derivatives of Sabbath labor are like them. We learned that Talmud passage in Naḥalat David and all that. So the derivatives of the Sabbath come from the thirty-nine primary categories of labor, which are the primary categories. There too you have this structure of primary categories and derivatives. But at one point I suddenly started thinking: why in the laws of the Sabbath don’t you find a derivative of two primary categories the way you do in tort law? There isn’t one. All the derivatives there are derivatives of one single primary category. I asked people more knowledgeable than I am, to make sure I wasn’t missing something. There isn’t one. There’s no example of that, a derivative of two primary categories. Why? There is no common denominator in the labors of the Sabbath, no learning by common denominator. It’s only something like an archetypal derivation: it resembles the primary category, so it is its derivative.
Now actually there may be a statistical explanation for this. Since there are many more primary categories on the Sabbath—thirty-nine primary labors, as opposed to four in tort law; actually it’s not four, because in that baraita there appear thirteen, twenty-four, but in the Mishnah there are four primary categories of torts—so the resolution is much coarser in tort law, and therefore the chance that every derivative will find one primary category to which it belongs may go down. In the laws of the Sabbath, since there are so many primary categories, you’ll always find some primary category that resembles the derivative. You don’t need to recruit another one for that. But in Bava Kamma the resolution is coarse, so you won’t find a perfect resemblance to the derivative, and it could be that it falls half under this primary category and half under that one. That would be a statistical explanation. I once thought that might be a possibility.
But in one place I found an example that does involve learning from two primary categories on the Sabbath, and that is spitting. The Talmud in Bava Kamma 60a brings a question there about one who fanned a fire and the wind increased it—that’s in the laws of damages—and one who winnows and the wind assists him—that’s in the laws of the Sabbath. And the Talmud asks: in tort law, if one fanned a fire and the wind fanned it further, he is exempt. Meaning, if I fanned the fire and the wind continued to fan it and only that way did the fire cause damage, then I am exempt—indirect causation in tort law is exempt. I only caused it indirectly; in the end the fire itself completed the process. But if one winnows and the wind assists him in the laws of the Sabbath, he is liable. Why? There too, basically, I’m only an indirect cause. I tossed it to the wind, and the wind itself scattered the chaff and enabled the kernels to fall. Is the labor of winnowing some kind of shared indirect causation? Meaning, indirect causation is exempt both in Sabbath law and in—?
[Speaker B] That’s the question. The Talmud asks: we see that on the Sabbath indirect causation is liable, and in tort law indirect causation is exempt.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Let me add another introduction. The Talmud in the chapter Klal Gadol in tractate Shabbat says: winnowing, selecting, and sifting are really the same. These three primary categories are basically one and the same, because all three are primary labors whose whole point is separating waste from food. It’s just separation done in different ways. But these are three primary categories that are identical, and they made them into three just to complete the count of thirty-nine, basically. That’s really what the Talmud says there, which is a bit strange, but that is what it says. There is some tradition, or it is learned from “labor, labor,” doesn’t matter, that there are thirty-nine primary categories of labor. In the counting we didn’t have enough, so we take three such categories that really should have been one primary category and split them into three. Whether they were also in the Tabernacle—never mind—but the count has to reach thirty-nine. We need to complete the number, in short. So you have to understand that the labor of winnowing in essence is a labor whose point is separating food from waste or waste from food, like selecting, okay?
Now if I do this with the help of the wind, the Talmud asks: it says I am liable. Why? But in tort law, if one fanned a fire and the wind fanned it further, he is exempt. There are three amoraic answers there in the Talmud. Rav Ashi’s final answer says that in tort law he is exempt because indirect causation in tort law is exempt, while on the Sabbath he is liable because “the Torah prohibited intentional, purposive labor.” What does that mean? This is the famous dispute between Rashi and Tosafot. Rashi says that on the Sabbath indirect causation is liable. Why? Because on the Sabbath there is a principle that “the Torah prohibited intentional, purposive labor.” In other words—this explanation isn’t in Rashi, but I think it’s the underlying idea behind his words—the Holy One, blessed be He, we rest on the Sabbath in remembrance of the fact that God rested. For six days He did labor, and on the seventh He rested from it. What labor did He do in those six days? He created the world by speech: “the world was created through ten utterances,” “forever, Lord, Your word stands in heaven.” Meaning, He created the world through speech, “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light,” as the Torah itself says. So He created the world through speech, and that is not a labor from which we are expected to desist. So the claim is that “the Torah prohibited intentional, purposive labor.” What does that mean? The principle is to realize a plan. That is what was done. “Intentional labor” means that I thought of something and I did labor that actualized that thought, and it did not have to be directly through my own immediate means. That’s it. Now what Bezalel did in the Tabernacle was intentional labor, meaning he thought out what was going to be, he had some kind of plan, and he acted properly in order to realize that plan. That is called intentional, purposive labor.
So Rashi says that on the Sabbath the principle is not really the physical act you do—although there are many difficulties, because with an unusual manner of performance one is still exempt, never mind—but that’s what Rashi says there. On the Sabbath the principle is not the act itself, but focused striving toward the goal, toward the thought that you want to realize. And if your intention was realized, then this is intentional labor and you are liable, even if it happened indirectly. Provided of course that you did it deliberately—that was the plan. I winnowed, I knew, I was counting on the wind coming and scattering the chaff and leaving me the kernels. In other words, my thought was fulfilled, and in the end exactly what I planned happened. So it doesn’t matter that I did it indirectly, because my plan worked and brought me to the intended result. Therefore it is intentional labor and it is forbidden. According to Rashi it really comes out that indirect causation on the Sabbath is liable, unlike tort law. Therefore in Rashi, simply speaking, in all labors indirect causation is liable, and that raises difficulties against other passages. There are various objections. Indirect causation is not the opposite of an unintended act. The opposite of intention is lack of intention—
[Speaker B] It has nothing to do with indirect causation. That’s the dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Indirect causation is when I do it in an indirect way, even if I absolutely intend it.
The Rosh there says otherwise. The Rosh argues that this is unique to the labor of winnowing. It is not a general principle on the Sabbath that indirect causation is liable. Rather, in the labor of winnowing, since the normal way to do it is by means of the wind, therefore even if the wind does it, you are liable. That’s also how they did it in the Tabernacle. That’s how one does winnowing. If you think about cooking—what is cooking? Have I ever cooked? None of us has ever cooked. The fire cooks, not me. What I do is simply place the pot on the fire. Why is that the labor of cooking? It’s the labor of placing. I don’t know—why is it cooking? I use the fire because I know that fire has the nature of cooking, and I’m basically doing the preparation so that the fire will work and realize my intent. That’s all. Since cooking is normally done that way, then the labor of cooking in essence is a labor of indirect causation. Yes, like winnowing, basically. The Minḥat Ḥinukh and all those discussions about winnowing and the relation between winnowing and cooking: if you plant on a weekday and it sprouts on the Sabbath, or you plant on the Sabbath and it sprouts on Sunday; and cooking likewise—the question is whether it’s the same thing or not. In any case, the claim is that with winnowing, the Rosh says that since the normal way of doing the labor is with the help of the wind, there is no exemption simply because it was done by the wind. Fine? That is the claim.
[Speaker B] In general there’s a fundamental difference between indirect causation in tort law and indirect causation on the Sabbath. In tort law you need to find a causal connection in order for you to be liable to compensate the other person for the damage you caused him. A direct causal connection. Once you don’t find that, you’re exempt. With indirect causation on the Sabbath, what you need is to find the resemblance. You don’t need that same causal connection.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why? There too, seemingly, absent the Talmud I would have said that there too you need an act that causally brings about the result. What do you mean?
[Speaker B] No, but you have a primary labor category—winnowing—where you separate these things. Any derivative you find that resembles it, it simply resembles it. You don’t need to find—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But it has to resemble it in the labor, not in the result.
[Speaker B] In the manner of performance.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Here I separate food from waste; here I’m not separating food from waste—the wind does it.
[Speaker B] But it’s enough for me—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —that the resemblance be in the result, not in the way I act. That’s what appears in Kalkhelet Shabbat, in the introduction of Tiferet Yisrael to Shabbat. He really discusses there according to which parameters we look for the resemblance between a primary category and a derivative—whether in the mode of action, in the result. There’s a whole discussion there, a complicated discussion.
[Speaker D] Had it not been for the exemption in tort law, would you have come and said that indirect causation is exempt on the Sabbath? What?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Had it not been for the exemption of indirect causation in tort law—
[Speaker D] Would I also have had reason to say it would be exempt on the Sabbath? No, the opposite.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Even after the exemption of indirect causation in tort law, I would say—yes, so not even after the exemption, of course, yes, even without tort law’s indirect causation. On the Sabbath, what is forbidden is labor that you do. If you did it indirectly, then you didn’t do the labor; you only caused the wind to do the labor. On the contrary, I think on the Sabbath it is much more reasonable to exempt indirect causation than in tort law. In tort law, something happened. I am responsible for the damage that happened to the other person, so why shouldn’t I pay him?
[Speaker D] What does that mean—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Does it make a difference whether I do it in an unusual way or not in an unusual way? If I saw it and did it intentionally and clearly, and it will certainly happen, then what are we talking about in the Talmudic question—if it will certainly happen, maybe it’s not indirect causation? It doesn’t matter. But in principle, yes, it definitely happens; it just happens indirectly. So what? I’m fully responsible. On the Sabbath, what I’m required to do is refrain from performing labor. Here I didn’t perform labor, so what’s the problem? The wind did it; I only prepared it. On the contrary, in my opinion on the Sabbath there is more reason to exempt indirect causation than in tort law. So that’s the claim. But the difference between Rashi and the Rosh is the question of what happens with indirect causation in other kinds of labor. According to the Rosh, on the Sabbath there would be an exemption; only in winnowing do we say he is liable, because that is the nature of the labor of winnowing, since it is normally done through the wind. According to Rashi, this is a sweeping rule: with indirect causation on the Sabbath one is liable. But for our purposes that doesn’t matter; let’s take winnowing. What do both Rashi and the Rosh tell us? That in winnowing, the involvement of the wind does not exempt me. At least in winnowing—according to Rashi in all labors, but at least in winnowing—the involvement of the wind does not exempt me. Right? Okay, that’s the first datum. Now it says in the Jerusalem Talmud, in tractate Sabbath, chapter seven: “If one spat and the wind scattered it, he is liable for winnowing”—liable for winnowing. “And anything that depends on the wind is liable for winnowing”—liable for winnowing. Someone who spits in the public domain, okay? And the wind basically carried it further, then he is liable for winnowing. And anything that works through the wind is liable for winnowing. What does that mean? Any labor you do while using the wind—you are liable for winnowing. Now on the face of it, this is extremely strange. What did we say before? The labor of winnowing is a labor whose essence is separating food from waste. Right? It’s one of the thirty-nine labors, selecting. Okay, I spit in the public domain—what exactly did I separate from what? What does that have to do with anything? The wind carried it further. What is this? There are some who want to say that since it separates the saliva into droplets and so on. That’s really nonsense, just nonsense. There is no separation there between something I want and something I don’t want. It separates droplets—so what? That is certainly not correct. So what is it? How can this be understood? So there are claims; some want to emend the text—incidentally, the Rema brings this as Jewish law in the Shulchan Arukh: one who spits into the wind on the Sabbath and the wind disperses the saliva is liable for winnowing. And some latch onto this “disperses” of the Rema—that because the wind disperses the saliva, therefore he is liable for winnowing. I don’t think that’s what he meant; it would be slander against the Rema if that’s what he meant.
[Speaker B] In spit there are also good parts and bad parts; he’s separating between them.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, but he’s not separating between them. He’s separating droplets of saliva, each of which contains both the good things and the not-good things. So indeed there are some who read it as liable for throwing—not for winnowing but for throwing. They change the wording: liable for throwing. What does that mean? Throwing is a subcategory of transferring—transferring from one domain to another, or moving something four cubits in the public domain. So if you throw something four cubits in the public domain, you are liable. Okay? So someone who spits—he didn’t throw it four cubits in the public domain, because only the wind carried it four cubits. My spit itself goes two cubits; the wind took it four cubits, okay? So here I wouldn’t have known, and then the Talmud says yes, he is liable for throwing. That too counts as throwing with the help of the wind. Okay? So they read it there as “throwing.” But that cannot be. Why can’t it be? Let’s go back to the Jerusalem Talmud. In the Jerusalem Talmud it says: “He spat and the wind scattered it—liable for winnowing; and anything that depends on the wind is liable for winnowing.” There too, will you emend it to “throwing”? All the other labors too? Not only spitting. In all the other labors, if you use the wind, is that also liable for throwing—for throwing? So there too you’ll change it to “throwing”? What throwing? I plowed with the help of the wind? A water mill, yes, the stone helps, or whatever—it doesn’t matter, there are all kinds of discussions of indirect causation where I use wind or use water, whatever. So what? There too I’m liable for throwing? What does that have to do with throwing? What throwing? With spitting you can still say it’s like throwing, okay, but what… Therefore it is clear that the intention is something else. There is Rabbi Menashe of Ilya, who is brought there in the Bi’ur Halakhah on this Rema. In the Bi’ur Halakhah he brings the Vilna Gaon’s student, Rabbi Menashe of Ilya, with a very interesting idea. In any case, in Alfei Menashe he says that this is what he is really writing. “In the book Alfei Menashe he explained that the intent of the Jerusalem Talmud is one who moves something four cubits in the public domain by means of the wind, and it is by way of example. Meaning: just as in winnowing, even though the wind assists him, nevertheless he is liable, so too in one who spits, where its movement by means of the wind also renders him liable. And this is correct.” The Mishnah Berurah also agrees with what Rabbi Menashe of Ilya says. What is he really saying? It seems to me that what he means is this: spitting is actually learned from two primary categories—winnowing and throwing together. Okay? And essentially this is a “common denominator” construction, a learning by “what is common to the two.” Let me learn spitting now from throwing. Right? So throwing is liable. Now I want to learn that spitting is also liable. Why should that be? What is unique about throwing? It is done by one’s own force, not with the help of the wind. So I say: winnowing will prove otherwise. Winnowing is not done by one’s own force, but with the help of the wind. They will say yes, but winnowing is a labor of separation; how can you learn from that to spitting? So I say: throwing will prove otherwise, for even though there is no separation there, one is still liable. You don’t need separation in order to be liable. And then the law returns. Right? Therefore from both winnowing and throwing together I can learn spitting.
[Speaker B] What’s the common denominator?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s the good question. I’m getting there in a second. You jumped ahead.
[Speaker B] Right, excellent question.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But first of all, notice that the scheme here really is exactly the scheme of “what is common to the two.” What I just said is exactly what happens in the Talmud when it says “what is common to the two.” I learn spitting from throwing. I say: what is unique about throwing? It is done by one’s own force, not with the help of the wind. I say: winnowing will prove otherwise, since it is done with the help of the wind. What is unique about winnowing? It is a labor of separation, and in spitting there is no separation. So I say: throwing will prove otherwise. Therefore I learn it from both. The big problem is that this cannot work. Why can’t it work? Let’s go back to what I drew here. This is the scheme of “what is common to the two,” right? Now try to tell me what X is, what Y is, and what Z is.
[Speaker B] No, the problem is that there is no Z here.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There is no Z. In spitting, look: there is X and not Y. Here there is Y and not X. Here there is X and not Y. What is the X and what… Spitting is not a labor of separation, right? That is not-X. If X is labor of separation, then not-X is not labor of separation. Winnowing, right? But wait, yes—but throwing, and it is done with the help of the wind. No, it is not done with the help of the wind, sorry. Y is the advantage. So it is not done with the help of the wind and it is not a labor of separation. And this… it is a labor of separation, that is X, and it is not done with the help of… sorry, how does it go? Wait. This is the labor… so this is throwing. So this is labor of separation—right? This is not a labor of separation, and this is done with the help of the wind, yes, not done by itself—done with the help of the wind. Okay, so these are X and Y. Each one has one thing. But there is no Z. And the whole scheme of “what is common to the two” says that the proof from these two teaching cases is that X is irrelevant—it’s elimination. X is irrelevant, Y is irrelevant, so apparently the shared characteristic—remember mass, right? Here there is no shared characteristic. What do throwing and winnowing share? Nothing. The fact that both are liable on the Sabbath—but of course the fact that both are liable on the Sabbath is the P. The P here is not the common denominator; the common denominator is the property, not the law, right? Exactly. So that’s irrelevant. So what is shared? What “common denominator” is there? There is no common denominator there at all.
[Speaker E] So maybe learn directly from throwing? Meaning, from throwing we learn the property that if it is done… exactly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning that what we really have here is not “what is common to the two” at all. There is no common denominator here. What we have is learning from two primary categories, but not by way of a common denominator. So how does it work? “What is common to the two” tells me: look, X and Y are irrelevant. Here there is no X, here there is no Y, apparently what remains is only Z; I’ve set X and Y aside. Here I’m saying the opposite. Here I show you that the lack of X doesn’t bother me. Here I show you that the lack of Y doesn’t bother me. So if there is something that also lacks both X and Y, that too won’t bother me. That’s really the point. Okay? Or in other words, if “what is common to the two” is elimination—setting aside the unique characteristics of each of the two primary categories and remaining with the shared element, or in other words, taking the intersection of the sets of characteristics—then this learning regarding spitting is a union. In other words, an act that is not selection, like throwing, together with assistance from the wind, which is like winnowing—
[Speaker B] So it—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —means that the union of the special properties of the two sides gives me spitting.
[Speaker B] But that’s true of anything.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean, of anything? Of any action? What is “the union”?
[Speaker B] Which properties?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Relevant properties. What?
[Speaker B] Is “not done with the wind” really a property?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. And “done with the wind” is a property too. Certainly. I’m doing a union here, not an intersection. The union of X and not-X is X—or light and darkness together is light. Okay. So it is done with the wind, it is not done with the wind. Their union is that it can also be done with the wind. The minimal common denominator, if you like. Meaning: even something done with the wind is still something you can be liable for; it doesn’t have to be done purely by your own force. Okay. So what I really have here is that I combine the special characteristics; I don’t remove them. I take the special characteristics of X and of Y, combine them together, and that is how I learn the learned case. That is not a common denominator. It is something else. Basically, if in the first model I was removing the special characteristics, here I’m doing a synthesis: taking half the characteristics of this one, half the characteristics of that one, combining them, and creating a new concept.
[Speaker D] Why not call that a common denominator?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean, why would we need to?
[Speaker D] Because there too you always do a synthesis—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There doesn’t have to be a common denominator between them.
[Speaker D] Every time they learn this property, we say that the Torah imposes liability for such a property—so let’s learn from this property what I’m missing in that one.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But take “his stone, his knife, and his burden,” where we use “what is common to the two.” So you tell me: let’s take fire and pit—and what synthesis are we going to make? We’ll make a synthesis that fire and pit are something that… Well, fire and pit are not such a good example because in a moment I’ll get to the point that there too it’s really not a common denominator but conceptual construction. But in place of a normal common denominator I don’t think you’ll be able to make this scheme work. In reasoning, you won’t be able to. You can phrase it the same way—after all, I phrased it the same way as “what is common to the two.”
[Speaker B] But in reasoning it’s not the same thing. That’s what I meant too. Okay.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] As for fire and pit, we’ll see in a moment, because I think that’s the dispute between the Rosh and Tosafot.
[Speaker B] Not specifically with fire and pit at all.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So as I said, with fire and pit I’m going to show that there really is a way to understand it like this. But in general I think it won’t work. In a standard common denominator, I don’t think this will work. Because you need—there are properties that are absences; they’re not properties. To combine two absences is irrelevant. If you’re talking about exemptions, then you can say: this absence doesn’t exempt, and that absence doesn’t exempt, so the two absences together also won’t exempt. But if you want to derive liability—to learn not merely that there are no exemptions—then you cannot combine absences in order to derive liability. That’s the point. Right? But you can’t continue. After “and the law returns,” the Talmud really continues: “What is common to them? Their way is to cause damage, they are your property, and their guarding is upon you,” and therefore the same law applies to this one as well. That already cannot be said here. “And the law returns” is all you can say, and there you have to stop. Okay? Now look at an interesting phenomenon. Let’s go back for a moment to the Talmud on page 6 in tractate Bava Kamma. What is on Bava Kamma page 6? Bava Kamma… let’s open Tosafot there, where are we? The point is this: look, what happens in Bava Kamma? We saw in Bava Kamma that there are three approaches in the Rosh there for understanding the status of “his stone, his knife, and his burden,” the subcategory learned from two primary categories. So we actually learn “his stone, his knife, and his burden,” which he placed on top of the roof, they fell through a normal wind, came to rest, and then caused damage. Okay? We learn that from pit and from fire. How? First of all we learn it from pit. But what is unique about pit? It is dug by hand. Here the wind participated in creating the pit. Okay? So I say: fire will prove otherwise, because in fire too the wind participates. Fine? But in fire an external force is involved—what is its defining feature? That is a stringency not entirely… “Its way is to go and cause damage.” Fire naturally goes and causes damage. So you can’t learn from that regarding “his stone, his knife, and his burden.” So pit will prove otherwise, because its way is not to go and cause damage, and nevertheless one is liable. And the law returns. Fine? So the Rosh brings three approaches there. In fire there is an exemption for something concealed. In pit there is an exemption for vessels. Also for a person, but never mind; let’s talk about pit and vessels. So what is the law with “his stone, his knife, and his burden” when they caused damage? Is there an exemption for something concealed? Is there an exemption for vessels? Both? Neither? How are we going to learn this, when it comes from two primary categories? How are we going to learn it? The simple approach is the one the Rosh brings first: “there are some great authorities” who say that there are both kinds of exemptions. That is the simple logic. There should be both an exemption for something concealed and an exemption for vessels. Why? Because if you need both primary categories to teach about the subcategory, let’s say that the subcategory now damaged vessels. Now I want to impose liability. On the basis of what do I impose liability? I want to learn it from fire and pit together. But from pit I can’t learn, because pit is not liable for vessels. So I have only one teaching source when I come to impose liability for vessels—but in order to impose liability, I need both teaching sources. So I can’t impose liability for vessels. The same thing: I can’t impose liability for something concealed. Right? If I need both teaching sources to justify liability, then it has to be a situation in which both teaching sources are in fact liable; otherwise you don’t have two teachers from which you can derive that liability. So the simple approach is the one the Rosh cites as the view of “some great authorities,” who say that all the exemptions apply: both the exemption for concealed items and the exemption for vessels. The second approach, he says, is “and some were in doubt about the matter.” In doubt between what and what? As I said… yes. No, afterward he says that his own opinion is the third view. But first he says: “and some were in doubt about the matter.” What does “in doubt about the matter” mean? About what were they in doubt? If they were in doubt between the view of the great authorities and the view of the Rosh, he wouldn’t write it this way. He would say: the great authorities say such-and-such, I think otherwise, and some were in doubt between these two possibilities. But he brings the doubters first. It is clear that what they were in doubt about is not between his own view and the great authorities, but between the view that one is liable for both concealed items and vessels—which is the view of the great authorities—and the view that one is liable for neither concealed items nor vessels. That is what the doubters are about. And after that the Rosh comes and says: no, it has only the law of pit. There is only the exemption for vessels, not the exemption for concealed items, like pit. But first he says: some were in doubt about the matter. What is the approach of those who were in doubt? Their approach is what the Brisker method says, and the Rif, and all the names that yeshivot grind to death. The claim is that from the four primary categories of damages we learn the general principle—it’s the end of the Mishnah—that “what is common to them is that they are your property, and their guarding is upon you, and when they cause damage the damager is obligated to pay compensation for damage from the best of his land.” “They are your property” is the Rif’s wording; in the Mishnah it says “their guarding is upon you.” So this common denominator is what actually imposes liability. Now when you want to impose liability on something, it is enough to check whether it is your property and its guarding is upon you. You don’t need to check now whether it resembles one of the primary categories or… If it is your property and its guarding is upon you, you are liable, that’s it. We already arrived at this rule by generalizing from all the primary categories; we essentially abstracted from all the primary categories—that’s what we talked about in the classes on Bava Kamma—and we arrived at a rule. Now I have the rule, I don’t need to keep going back to the primary categories all the time. So “his stone, his knife, and his burden”—it’s my property, its guarding is on me, I’m liable to pay. No problem. So first of all, I am liable. Now the question is whether I will be exempt for concealed items. So now I need to derive the exemption, not the liability. Now if I want to derive the exemption for concealed items from fire, I can’t, because it’s not similar to fire. After all, it resembles both fire and pit, so I can’t derive the exemption for concealed items, and I can’t derive the exemption for vessels. Therefore what remains is that I am liable both for concealed items and for vessels. In other words, the difference between the doubters and the “some great authorities” is the question whether the generalization that appears in the Mishnah is what imposes liability in the first place, and the primary categories were stated only for their particular laws—what the Talmud there says on page 5—that is, only for their exemptions; or not: every subcategory and subcategory has to be checked whether it resembles the primary category in order to impose liability, not in order to exempt. I learn the very liability itself; I don’t learn the exemption. That is the dispute between the first two approaches. What interests me is the third approach. The approach of the Rosh. The Rosh says—he says—“it has all the law of pit.” That cannot be understood. What does that mean, “all the law of pit”? Why pit? It’s not similar to pit. After all, we also need fire in order to learn this damaging agent.
[Speaker B] Why not fire? What advantage does pit have over fire?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, why not fire? What, did you draw lots? But it’s not only the question of why you chose pit rather than fire; it’s what justification you have for choosing one rather than both. It’s not only the question of whom you choose, but why choose at all. That’s the question. Yes, not the same question—a different question. I can say: I choose one, only it’s like atomization. I argued that they both have the law of a pursuer, except that the pursuit is mutual—each one is pursuing the other. Okay? Therefore in such a situation you can kill either one. Now the only question left is whom to choose. And there is justification for choosing; the only question is whom to choose. But someone who says they don’t have—
[Speaker B] —the law of a pursuer, because there is no law of mutual pursuer, because there there is a justification—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —to choose, because you will save one. But here what justification is there for choosing? No, that’s what I’m saying—but these are two questions. One question is what justification you have for choosing one and not both at all; and even if you have justification for choosing one and not both, why did you choose pit specifically and not fire? My claim is that these are two different questions, because elsewhere you see that there is the second question without the first. So what the Rosh is basically saying here, it seems to me, is something very simple. Look, let’s return for a moment to the Rema with the spit. I’m asking you now: why exactly is he liable for spitting? Under what warning would you warn him? I claim that if he were warned because of winnowing, he would be exempt. Because what he did is throwing, not winnowing. It is not a subcategory of winnowing; leave aside all this nonsense. Winnowing is a labor of separation; he did no separation at all. Clearly this is the labor of throwing. I only need winnowing in order to explain that the involvement of the wind does not exempt—that’s all. Once I learn from winnowing that the involvement of the wind does not exempt, I’m done; now I understand that this is throwing. Right? Clearly it is the labor of throwing; it is not the labor of winnowing. And when the Jerusalem Talmud says that he is liable because of—what I said earlier—liable for winnowing, it means: we learn from winnowing that he is liable; not that he is liable for winnowing. He is not liable for winnowing. If he were warned for winnowing, he would be exempt.
[Speaker B] So here it’s because of pit, and fire only—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. The same thing is happening here. What the Rosh is really claiming is that what is written here in the Talmud is not “what is common to the two”; it is conceptual construction—what I called earlier the construction of the concept. Synthesis. It’s not intersection; it’s union. Okay? What does that mean? The Rosh says this is not the intersection between fire and pit. They have nothing in common. There is “your property and its guarding is upon you,” and if you don’t go in that direction, they have nothing in common. What is shared? Every feature this one has, the other doesn’t, and vice versa. Nothing is shared. Rather, when you ask yourselves: “his stone, his knife, and his burden” were lying on the ground and someone was injured by them—what kind of damaging agent is that? Just looking at it plainly, what kind of damaging agent is that? A pit. Clearly it is a pit. Right? Except that there is some flaw here, because this pit was not dug by a human being; the wind was involved in creating the pit. Fine. So fire shows me that I need not be troubled by the involvement of the wind. Fire—sorry. Fire shows me that I need not be troubled by the involvement of the wind. Even if the wind is involved, that’s not a problem. So once I know that there is a primary category of damages called fire, now I can understand that what is happening here is pit. The damaging agent is a pit-type damaging agent; therefore it has all the law of pit. That’s it, simple. But if that is so, then the Rosh also learns the Talmud in Bava Kamma page 6 not as a common denominator. There is no common denominator between fire and pit. “His stone, his knife, and his burden” that fell from the top of the roof are learned only from pit, not from fire and pit. Fire only removes a possible objection. True, the wind was involved here. Look at fire and see that you need not be bothered by that. That’s all.
[Speaker B] But fire naturally causes damage, and therefore the wind is there, so therefore it’s not—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Therefore you can’t learn it from fire. But I’m saying that from fire I also learn—
[Speaker B] But if you don’t learn from fire, then already you should exempt him, because the wind brought the vessels.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but from fire I see that the involvement of the wind does not exempt, in fire itself.
[Speaker B] But in fire, why doesn’t the involvement of the wind exempt? Because its way is to cause damage.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Who said so? No. “Its way is to cause damage” is one characteristic, and “the involvement of the wind” is another characteristic—two different things. So I say that “its way is to cause damage” means that you cannot learn from fire to “his stone, his knife, and his burden”—
[Speaker B] Because there is a difference in the involvement of the wind in fire. It is completely clear that fire is something where, as soon as the wind acts, damage from the fire will result, because it is the nature of fire to damage. When vessels fall with the wind, you don’t expect anything; you don’t… the very falling from the wind will not cause some great damage—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Therefore I can’t learn the vessels from fire. That’s what the Talmud says.
[Speaker B] But why not exempt?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean, why not exempt?
[Speaker B] This case where the vessels were placed on the roof.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But why do you want to exempt?
[Speaker B] Because I’m saying that the wind—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —was involved in the process? Then also exempt in fire.
[Speaker B] But again, there’s a difference. When wind carries fire, it is entirely clear to me that the wind will bring about damage.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So what? But the wind did the damage, not me. Why am I not exempt?
[Speaker B] Because there is a greater obligation when dealing with dangerous things like fire; I have to take that into account. But there too—when I put vessels on the roof—is it really reasonable? I’m supposed now to understand—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We are talking about a normal wind. If they fell by an unusual wind, then he really is exempt. We’re talking about their falling by a normal wind—meaning he put them there in such a way that the normal wind in that place would knock them down. You knew that in advance; otherwise he really is exempt, the Talmud says so. It’s the same thing. So what we are really learning from fire is that the involvement of the wind should not trouble us. It is not similarity to fire; it is not similar to fire in any way. It is similar to pit; only I would have thought that the involvement of the wind exempts, and I learn from fire that it does not exempt. That’s all—exactly the same as with the spitter; it is exactly the same structure. Therefore the Rosh understands the practical difference between a common denominator and conceptual construction. In a common denominator, one who learns it that way would exempt both concealed items and vessels. One who learns it as conceptual construction exempts only vessels, not concealed items. And that is the implication.
[Speaker C] Even according to the Rosh, the Mishnah calls it a common denominator, right? What? Even according to the Rosh, the Mishnah calls it a common denominator? Right, right. No—the Mishnah doesn’t.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The Mishnah calls “the common denominator” that they are your property and their guarding is upon you. And then the Talmud asks, “The common denominator comes to include what?” and learns from here some sort of extra implication. The Rosh will say that it is not learned from the common denominator. Yes, no, that’s not the derivation. The common denominator is that they are your property and their guarding is upon you. Not relevant—but it’s not true that everything that is your property and whose guarding is upon you is learned from there; that is the other approach. And what does “comes to include what?” mean? What does it come to include? To include this conceptual construction, this kind of extra implication, yes. Of course not something completely disconnected. “Common denominator” here means that you need to combine two primary categories, and from that you will learn subcategories. How? You will learn them—but by this, not by the common denominator itself. It comes to include a situation where you need two primary categories in order to learn about the subcategory. Okay. Incidentally, I didn’t check the second one. There are, after all, four examples in the Talmud on page 6. It could be that the others really are straightforward common denominator cases and not conceptual construction. Wait, I’m about to get to the actual words of the Talmud. So basically it comes out that the Rosh learns here that this is conceptual construction, while the later authorities say that this is a common denominator and are in doubt. So if this is a common denominator—here is the implication—what will happen with the special exemptions that exist in the two teaching cases? That is really the implication. Now I go back to the Talmud on page 6 and I’ll read it to you. After all, I said that even with the spitter you can formulate it exactly like a common denominator, right? We learn it from winnowing: what is unique about winnowing? It is a labor of selecting. Then one says: throwing will prove otherwise. What is unique about throwing? It is by his own force. Wind? Winnowing will prove otherwise. And the law returns. But you can’t continue. Here it is. There is no common denominator. Now look what is written here: “It is always a case where he declared them ownerless, and it is not similar to pit. What is unique about pit? No external force is involved in it. Will you say the same about these, where an external force is involved in them?” That is “his stone, his knife, and his burden.” “Fire will prove otherwise, for an external force is involved in it, and it is liable. What is unique about fire? Its way is to go and cause damage. Pit will prove otherwise. And the law returns.” “And the law returns”—not: “It is not like this one and not like that one; what is common to them is that they are your property and their guarding is upon you, so too his stone, his knife, and his burden, which are his property and their guarding is upon him, and therefore he is liable.” That does not appear. It only says: “And the law returns”—that’s it, finished. “And the law returns” means that I learned from fire that the involvement—that the involvement of the wind does not interfere, and the law returns to pit. This is pit. It is not entirely like pit because the wind is involved here; fire shows that the involvement of the wind does not interfere, and the law returns. “And the law returns” means it returns to being pit—that’s all. We learned from fire, and it returns to being pit. That is how the Rosh reads it; that is clear. Now I’m not committed—and I’m quite sure it’s not true—that everywhere in the Talmud where the formal concluding formula appears, that means it is a common denominator, and where it is conceptual construction that formula does not appear. I’m almost certain, however, that you will not find the formal formula in a place that is conceptual construction. It cannot be. Sometimes the Talmud abbreviates, so it does not bring the full formulation even when it is a common denominator.
[Speaker B] But if it does bring the—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then it is clear that it is a common denominator and not conceptual construction, because otherwise it’s not just abbreviation—it’s simply incorrect. Okay? On that I’m willing to bet. Okay? But here it’s interesting, because the Rosh really does read it this way, and here the Talmud did not bring the assisting formula. So that is the example from torts. So we really learned from this that there are two ways to combine two teaching cases and create a subcategory, or two primary categories and create a subcategory. One is by intersection and one is by union. These are really two forms of abstraction. If we spoke about forms of abstraction at the beginning, in the first classes, then one form of abstraction is to get rid of unnecessary characteristics, and the second form is to take the unnecessary or special characteristics, combine them, make a synthesis, and produce a new concept. A concept that says: a pit in which an external force is involved. A pit in which an external force is involved is actually a new primary damage category—a subcategory, whatever—but a new type of damage. Okay?
[Speaker E] Why is that abstraction?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because I take between… I don’t compare it to pit and to fire directly. I need to look at what there is in fire. In fire there is—we see—that there is involvement of the wind. So I take that special characteristic of fire, take it from fire, remove all the other characteristics of fire, take only that one. I take the special characteristics of pit, combine them, and from that produce “his stone, his knife, and his burden.” Both of these things are abstraction. Abstraction is always manipulation of characteristics. We talked about that at the beginning, in the first classes. It is manipulation of characteristics—but there are often many ways to manipulate characteristics, and these are simply different ways of manipulating characteristics and generating new concepts. Okay? That’s all…
[Speaker B] But my feeling, at least, from all these manipulations, is that there is some tendency first of all to impose liability, and now I’m looking for the way. Could be. There’s no tendency to exempt, because I could also find in this whole story a tendency to exempt. If he wants to be lenient with the man with the knife on the roof—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —he’ll do the manipulation here… You understand that leniency for this one is stringency for the other; this is civil law, not criminal law. In civil law, leniency for one is stringency for the other. So there’s no real leniency here. Okay. Right. And then when you… I think the motivation to impose liability is very clear: it is your property and its guarding is upon you. That’s what the Talmud says; that’s what the Mishnah says. If it is your property and its guarding is upon you and you were negligent, first of all I want to impose liability on you. Now let’s see how I do that. That, I definitely agree, can be the order of thinking. But still, you need to find a structure that really justifies the liability. It’s nice that I want to impose liability, but can I impose liability? This derivation basically shows me that I can. Okay?
[Speaker D] But let’s continue this further and impose liability for indirect causation in torts. That is, I see in fire that the property of fire is that it acts with the wind, and even though it acts with the wind it still imposes liability. So let’s learn from that that anything in which another force is involved should also impose liability.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Isn’t that true in all the laws?
[Speaker D] What do you mean? I mean that here there is indirect causation in torts that should be liable.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, because it’s not indirect causation. “He fanned it and the wind fanned it up”—that is indirect causation. “He fanned it and the wind fanned it up” means that the wind is a partner in creating the damaging agent, not in causing the damage. Right? “He fanned it and the wind fanned it up” is not in causing the damage; it is in creating the damaging agent. Who made the fire? The fire was made by me and the wind together. But if I made the fire and the wind only carries it, then one is liable, even though that is indirect causation.
[Speaker D] And in “his stone, his knife, and his burden,” especially according to the Rosh, the wind also created the damage, right?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. Exactly—that’s precisely the point. If the wind were only causing the damage, but I created the damaging agent, that is indirect causation. If the wind is a partner in creating the damaging agent, then that is something else. So I built the—
[Speaker B] —that’s your answer for the whole law in torts. Yes. But why go in the direction of the Sabbath? Stop with the manipulation—why go specifically toward liability in torts?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Too bad—there I really don’t know the motivation. In torts… I agree that there may very well be a motivation there, that that is how they found it. But in the end, even if there is motivation, it doesn’t matter, because in the end it has to hold water. So if this derivation holds water, then it is valid on the Sabbath too. Whether you have motivation or not no longer matters once you have found this mechanism; this is the mechanism. Fine? Now look, I want to bring you maybe one or two more examples. One example—yes—maybe before that let’s define it a bit more. When I do this conceptual construction, what I called earlier, I am really fusing two concepts. I take one concept, take another concept, fuse them into one another, and actually create a third concept. In the language of the Or Sameach, this is called a “composite by blending,” as opposed to a “composite by neighboring.” A “composite by neighboring” means what we call a mixture and a compound: that the two things dwell next to each other, they are neighbors of each other, but each one still stands separately. Exactly. A compound means that it is blended, it merges, and it becomes something new. Okay? So basically, what is “neighboring”?
[Speaker B] From the word neighbor, neighbor.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] neighbors of one another; they didn’t fuse. They sit next to each other. Okay? So this combination we’re making here is really a fused combination. We’re not just taking fire and a pit together; rather, we take something from this and something from that, connect them, and create a third concept. Not a mere conjunction of two concepts. Half-slave half-free woman, or the two legal categories of Rav Chaim, or all those things—those are neighboring combinations. Because there’s the slave side and there’s the free side: from the slave side, it works one way, and from the free side, it works another way. Or the two legal categories of Rav Chaim: from this law it’s like this, and from that law it’s like that. The two laws together do not create some third thing. By the way, there are places where they do, and then everyone gets tangled up. But in principle, Rav Chaim’s two laws do not create a third state. That’s a neighboring combination. I’ll give you—let’s now look at examples where it does happen, where two laws somehow become fused into one another. One example is a very famous Or Sameach. Maimonides writes in the laws of the Yom Kippur service—Maimonides writes that if Yom Kippur falls on the Sabbath, then the service of the day—after all, the service of Yom Kippur is performed by the High Priest. But if Yom Kippur falls on the Sabbath, then the additional Sabbath offerings are also brought by the High Priest. And the question here is: why? On a regular Sabbath, offerings are brought by an ordinary priest, while the Yom Kippur service is done by the High Priest. So if Yom Kippur falls on the Sabbath, why does the High Priest also have to do the Sabbath additional offerings? From the side of the Sabbath additional offerings, let an ordinary priest do them; the Yom Kippur offerings should be done by the High Priest. So Or Sameach says: here, this ruling of Maimonides means—in my language I would say—Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath is not a neighboring combination of Yom Kippur and Sabbath. It’s a day of a third type. It’s a different kind of Yom Kippur. And then even the Sabbath offerings of that day are, after all, offerings of that day. It’s not the Sabbath side; it’s the composite day. Exactly. It’s not a combination of Sabbath and Yom Kippur, but rather Yom Kippur-that-falls-on-the-Sabbath. It’s a third concept which of course contains a certain Sabbath component, a component—but those components are one. Now you have to decide whether the High Priest performs the service on that day depending on which component is dominant and which is recessive. Okay? If Yom Kippur is the dominant one and Sabbath is recessive, then basically the one who should perform the offerings of that day is the High Priest of that day. And now also the Sabbath offerings, because that day is served by the High Priest. All right? So you have to decide, and it’s a package deal. We could perhaps have decided that it would be an ordinary priest if the reasoning had said that specifically an ordinary priest is more appropriate; then even the Yom Kippur offerings would be brought by an ordinary priest. But there’s no room to split it, because this is not a neighboring combination; it’s a fused combination. It’s something new. The Sabbath and Yom Kippur do not remain here mixed together. From this, Or Sameach derives a very interesting law. There’s a dispute among later authorities regarding someone who eats on Yom Kippur: does he have to recite Kiddush? A sick person. A sick person who eats on Yom Kippur—does he have to recite Kiddush? After all, the sick person has to eat on Yom Kippur, right? So—it’s a festival day, maybe he should recite Kiddush. According to most halakhic decisors, he does not have to, but on Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath there are more authorities who say that he does. If Yom Kippur falls on the Sabbath, then from the Sabbath aspect of it he should recite Kiddush. There’s a famous story about the Avnei Nezer. When he was a child, his father sent him to eat. He was sharp, too much of a pilpulist, but sharp. So his father sent him to eat, and he came back to the synagogue. His father said to him, tell me, did you recite Kiddush? He said, what are you talking about? It’s Yom Kippur. He said, what do you mean? You ate on Yom Kippur, and on the Sabbath—I consider this Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath. You didn’t recite Kiddush? Someone who eats has to. You’re commanded to eat; you’re not commanded to fast. Why didn’t you recite Kiddush? He said, what do you mean? I’m a minor. A minor—why is a minor obligated in Kiddush? Because of education, so that he’ll know what to do when he grows up. But when he grows up he won’t recite Kiddush, so why should he have to recite Kiddush now? Yes, like Hershele with the doughnuts. You know the Hershele story with the doughnuts? He goes into a bakery and asks for doughnuts. Then—eh, I don’t feel like it, take back the doughnuts and give me rolls. He gets the rolls, eats them, and leaves. The baker runs after him and says: Hey, hey, Hershele, what, you didn’t pay me? He said, why should I pay you? For the rolls you ate, he says. He answered: in place of the doughnuts. Well, for the doughnuts I also didn’t pay. And I didn’t eat them either, so why should I pay for them? Okay. A bit similar, yes, to Pnei Yehoshua and all those games. He threw a vessel from the top of a roof and then himself caught it with a sword. There are those who want to say that he is exempt. After all, he threw a vessel from the top of the roof; they discuss whether we follow the initial act or the act of breaking the vessel. They discuss whether the one who breaks it below is liable or the one who threw it from above is liable. And if it’s the same person who threw it from above and also received it below with a sword, it could be that he’d be exempt even though it’s the same person. Or inciting a dog. If I incite someone else’s dog, then both I am exempt and the other person is exempt. I’m exempt because it’s not my dog, it’s not my property; and he is exempt because he guarded it properly—I incited the dog. Now what happens if I incite my own dog? Then some later authorities want to say that I’m exempt. The Chazon Ish writes this, the Shakh writes it, Pnei Yehoshua—that I’m exempt. How? If it’s also my property and I also incited it, how am I exempt? So I’m playing here with two hats. I’m sort of wearing two hats, except in this case it’s the same person wearing both hats. So really there is a certain explanation for it, but let’s leave that aside for now. So in short, the claim is that what Or Sameach says—back to our issue—Or Sameach says that on Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath, you do not need to recite Kiddush; that follows from this Maimonides. Because Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath is basically a kind of Yom Kippur. And if it’s Yom Kippur, you don’t recite Kiddush on it. It’s not that there remains some Sabbath aspect in it as a sort of neighboring trace, some dimension of Sabbath still left there. Therefore you don’t need to recite Kiddush in such a case.
[Speaker D] Even though in prayer you mention—or… what? Even though in prayer you mention that it’s the Sabbath?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because the Sabbath is the Sabbath of Yom Kippur; it doesn’t matter. We build this day from building blocks that are Sabbath and Yom Kippur. But after we’ve built it and combined them, now it is really a third structure. Therefore, just as the entire service of the day is performed by the High Priest, so too with Kiddush—either there is or there isn’t—but there’s no such thing as Kiddush from the Sabbath aspect in it and not from the Yom Kippur aspect in it. There isn’t a Sabbath aspect in it and a Yom Kippur aspect in it. What?
[Speaker C] Stoning and…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It depends. If you—depends whether it’s recessive or dominant—the Sabbath with regard to prohibitions of labor. No, not necessarily. Because it could be that with regard to the prohibition of labor, specifically the Sabbath is the dominant one and Yom Kippur is recessive.
[Speaker C] Who says that Kiddush…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It depends on the reasoning; it depends how you decide what is dominant. It’s not certain that you have to decide the same thing for all aspects.
[Speaker C] If we said he spoke regarding the additional offering,
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] then we’ll decide regarding the service. Right—regarding the service, he derives from here that for the service, Yom Kippur is dominant. Or Sameach wants to argue that regarding Kiddush too, the character of the day is what’s dominant. Why? Because he thinks it’s similar. You can argue about that. Now someone else will come and say no—regarding the service, specifically, it seems to me that Sabbath labor will be more significant. Violating Sabbath labor incurs stoning, and therefore maybe that’s the more dominant factor. And Yom Kippur is lighter, so in that regard specifically the Sabbath determines the character of the combined day. That doesn’t mean that the whole thing fully collapses into Yom Kippur; it only means that you can’t split it. But what to do depends—each thing, sometimes according to this and sometimes according to that. There is a Rogatchover, in a responsum in Tzafnat Paneach, siman 2, where he discusses a Jewish holiday that falls on the Sabbath. Since cooking on a Jewish holiday is permitted, but on a Jewish holiday that falls on the Sabbath it is forbidden. Someone who cooks on a Jewish holiday that falls on the Sabbath—we usually tend to think that from the Sabbath aspect of it he is liable, and from the Jewish holiday aspect of it he is exempt. The Rogatchover wants to argue there that he would be liable both from the side of the Jewish holiday and from the side of the Sabbath. Even though cooking is permitted on a Jewish holiday… why two? Liable for two violations—both for the Jewish holiday and for the Sabbath. Even though it’s a Jewish holiday… we said it’s not Jewish holiday plus Sabbath; it’s a day of a third type. Why? Because this day is indeed composed of Jewish holiday and Sabbath. And just as on Yom Kippur they also offer the Sabbath additional offerings, after all it’s not simply Sabbath. Obviously, we take the laws from the two components, but after they’ve fused, we need to relate to all the laws in the same way. The fact that we still build it from these two characteristics, when I mix these two components together.
[Speaker B] Someone who desecrated… according to that, according to Or Sameach, someone who desecrated Yom Kippur that fell on the Sabbath—is he liable for two? Yes. Because he also desecrated the Sabbath and also desecrated the festival day.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, the straightforward reading is that he’s liable for two.
[Speaker E] What matters… what?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, on the Sabbath there is no prohibition to eat.
[Speaker B] No, but according to Or Sameach he’s liable for two. Why not? Because it’s one day.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But it is composed of Sabbath and festival day.
[Speaker B] So it is—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A special day for which he is liable for two, both of which are the same thing. He’s not liable one for Yom Kippur and one for Sabbath; he’s liable for two. So I’m saying: on a Jewish holiday that falls on the Sabbath, when you cook, you violate both the Jewish holiday and the Sabbath. Meaning, once again: a Jewish holiday that falls on the Sabbath is a fused combination. He discusses similarly regarding the High Priest as well. Is he an upgraded ordinary priest, or is he something else? For example, a High Priest who marries a divorced woman—how many prohibitions has he violated? Has he violated both ordinary-priest-who-married-a-divorced-woman plus High-Priest-who-married-a-divorced-woman? Or no—once he became High Priest, that erased the ordinary priest within him; now he is a High Priest, so he is prohibited from a divorced woman in his own right, and there is no ordinary priest who married a divorced woman here. Or “the status of tam remains in place”—he doesn’t bring this, but it’s the same idea. “The status of tam remains in place.” The Talmud brings a dispute in Bava Kamma regarding an ox that is non-habitual in goring, which pays half damages from its own body, while an ox that is habitual in goring pays full damages. The question is whether half of that full damage is paid from its own body, because it could be that an ox that is habitual in goring is an upgraded non-habitual ox—not that a habitual ox is now something entirely new. And that is the question of whether this is an aggregate combination or a fused combination. Meaning, these combinations—and this is really what we were talking about also in the context of conceptual construction. When we do conceptual construction, we build a concept from these two facets, melt them together, and turn them into one new concept. That is basically what the Rogatchover does with the Sabbath and the Jewish holiday, or there with Yom Kippur and the Sabbath.
[Speaker B] They probably also came together; both of them were on the field. Fine.