Ha’azinu (5764)

From the book Mida Tova: Articles on the Hermeneutical Principles by Rabbi Michael Avraham. Translated from Hebrew using gpt-5.4 (reasoning_effort=high, batch API).

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With God’s help

Midah Tovah — Eve of the holy Sabbath, Parashat Ha’azinu, 5765

Questions

1. Do general rules really exist?
2. Is the formulation of general rules equivalent to the formulation of particulars? What is the relation between them?
3. Which are more numerous: general rules or particulars?
4. Why does every rule have exceptions?
5. Why does halakha (Jewish law) have a casuistic character?
6. What is the importance of dealing with general rules? And with particulars?
7. How is all this connected to the Written Torah and the Oral Torah?
8. On the logical circle between general rules and particulars.

The Hermeneutical Principle: General Rules and Particulars

May my teaching drop like the rain, my speech distill like the dew, like showers upon the grass and like raindrops upon the herb.
— Deuteronomy 32:2

Another interpretation: “May my teaching drop like the rain.” Rabbi Nehemiah would say: Always gather the words of Torah into general rules. Lest you say: just as you gather them as general rules, so too you should present them as general rules, Scripture therefore says, “May my teaching drop like the rain.” And the word used here is a Canaanite expression. By way of parable: a person does not say to his fellow, “Break this sela for me into small change,” but “Change this sela for me.” So too, gather the words of Torah into general rules, and then break them down and present them like the drops of dew, not like the drops of rain, which are large, but like the drops of dew, which are small…

Another interpretation: “May my teaching drop like the rain.” Rabbi Dostai ben Yehudah says: If you have gathered the words of Torah the way water is gathered in a cistern, in the end you will merit to see your own learning, as it is said, “Drink water from your own cistern” (Proverbs 5:15). And if you have gathered the words of Torah the way rain is gathered in pits, ditches, and caves, in the end you will flow forth and give drink to others, as it is said, “And flowing waters from within your well” (Proverbs 5:15), and it also says, “Let your springs be dispersed abroad” (Proverbs 5:16).

Another interpretation: “May my teaching drop like the rain.” Rabbi Meir would say: Always gather the words of Torah into general rules, for if you gather them as particulars they weary you, and you do not know what to do with them. This may be compared to a person who went to Caesarea and needed one hundred or two hundred zuz for expenses. If he takes them as individual coins, they burden him and he does not know what to do with them. But if he combines them and makes them into selaim, he can break them and spend them wherever he wishes. So too with one who goes to the market at Beit Ilai and needs one hundred maneh or twenty thousand for expenses: if he combines them into selaim, they burden him and he does not know what to do with them. But if he combines them and makes them into gold dinars, he can break them and spend them wherever he wishes. “Like showers upon the grass”: when a person goes to study Torah, at first he does not know what to do, until he has reviewed two books or two orders, and afterward it flows after him like abundant showers. Therefore it says, “like raindrops upon the herb.”

(Sifrei Deuteronomy, piska 306, s.v. “Another interpretation”)

On General Rules and Particulars, and Their Relations

Introduction

In the collection of midrashim (rabbinic expositions) from the Sifrei cited above, the Sages discuss the meaning and importance of general rules in study, and their relation to particulars. They attach their remarks to a verse that speaks of the Torah, “my teaching,” as dew and rain. The approaches are different, and they also do not appear consecutively in the midrash, so we are not dealing here with an actual dispute.

To be sure, these discussions do not touch directly on the hermeneutical principles of interpretation, but there are several more indirect points of contact. First, the principles of interpretation are themselves general rules, products of abstraction, which describe the modes of exposition and interpretation of Scripture. See the page for Parashat Nitzavim and elsewhere. Second, the study of interpretive methods requires us to make generalizations in order to understand the ways in which they are applied.

In this week’s essay we will try to clarify several points concerning the meaning, nature, and validity of general rules. We will also touch on the benefits and the limitations of rule-based approaches and detail-based approaches, and on the relation between these two approaches.

The Content of the Midrashim in the Sifrei

The first midrash opens with the importance of gathering the words of Torah into general rules. Yet it seems that the midrash takes the importance of such gathering for granted. The core novelty of the midrash specifically concerns the duty to present the words of Torah as particulars, despite the need to gather them into general rules. According to this midrash, the entire verse deals only with presenting the words of Torah, not with gathering them. According to this interpretation, the distinction between dew and rain is meant to emphasize that although there is indeed an obligation to gather, like drops of rain, when one presents the words of Torah the particulars must be small and specific, like dew and not like rain.

In light of this, Rabbi Nehemiah’s statement at the opening of the midrash apparently is not an integral part of the exposition itself. It is not based on any part of the verse,¹ and it seems to have been brought only as background to the midrash’s main point. The midrash teaches that despite Rabbi Nehemiah’s principle, which emphasizes the importance of gathering the words of Torah, one might have thought that when presenting them we should likewise present them as general rules. The midrash therefore teaches the great importance of presenting the words of Torah specifically as particulars.

It is specifically the second and third midrashim above, which in the structure of the Sifrei do not appear adjacent to the first, that deal with the importance of gathering the words of Torah into general rules, something the first midrash takes as obvious. They establish this importance on two main planes: preservation and use, that is, application.

According to the second midrash, gathering enables us to preserve the words of Torah rather than lose and forget them, just as rainwater stored in a cistern is preserved, whereas if it is not stored it is lost. A midrash that explains this more explicitly appears in Exodus Rabbah 41, s.v. “And another interpretation: And He gave”:

Another interpretation: “And He gave to Moses.” Rabbi Abbahu said: During every one of the forty days that Moses was above, he would study Torah and forget it. He said, “Master of the universe, I have only forty days, and I know nothing.” What did the Holy One, blessed be He, do? When the forty days were completed, the Holy One, blessed be He, gave him the Torah as a gift, as it is said, “And He gave to Moses.” But did Moses learn the whole Torah? Does Scripture not say of the Torah, “Its measure is longer than the earth and broader than the sea” (Job 11:9)? Could Moses have learned it in forty days? Rather, the Holy One, blessed be He, taught Moses the general rules. This is the meaning of “when He finished speaking with him.”

By contrast, the third midrash in the Sifrei above states that without gathering into general rules, the information may perhaps be preserved and stored in memory, but it is not usable. In the language of the midrash itself: “you do not know what to do with it.” Gathering creates order within the information and makes it possible to retrieve and apply it more efficiently. A renewed look at the Exodus Rabbah midrash cited in the previous paragraph suggests that this aspect is present there as well.

The Problem

The starting point of our inquiry is that despite the obvious importance and benefit of gathering the words of Torah, like any body of information, into general rules, as described in the last two midrashim, the tendency of the first midrash is not entirely clear: what does it mean to present the words of Torah as particulars? Why is this so important and so necessary?

To understand this, we must look a bit more closely at the question of the nature of general rules and particulars, and of the relation between them. This question has several aspects, and they seem to be interconnected.

The Legal-Halakhic Plane: Casuistic Approaches

One plane of discussion is the structure of legal systems, and of systems generally. There are legal systems called casuistic, which are based on treatment of particular cases. The judge dealing with a specific case is supposed to apply what emerges from those treatments to the case before him. Such application involves abstraction and generalization, followed by application to the case at hand.

By contrast, more formal systems, especially systems called positivist, prefer legislation that deals with general rules. In such a case, the judge who decides the case before him is supposed to perform a deduction from the general law and derive what follows from it with respect to the circumstances presented to him. Those circumstances are merely a particular instance of the general law. Any case in which no conclusion can be inferred from the enacted law, and no decision can be reached by deduction alone, is regarded by positivism as a lacuna in the legal system.

Needless to say, the halakhic system is casuistic in its essence. The early texts of halakha, such as the Mishnah and the two Talmuds, are not built as systems of rules. They are not a legal code in the ordinary sense, but rather a dialectic that generally tries to derive specific conclusions. Attempts to create comprehensive halakhic codes in the modern sense are relatively late. Maimonides was the first to create a comprehensive code of all halakha. In fact, he was also the last, and essentially the only one, whose code encompassed the entirety of halakha. Later there appeared additional works of ruling, such as the Tur, the Shulchan Arukh, and others.

As Menachem Elon describes throughout the second part of his monumental work Jewish Law, every such attempt to create a code was accompanied by fierce controversy, that is, the controversies over codification. There is in the genetic makeup of halakha, some would say of Judaism itself, an instinctive resistance to generalization and to sweeping, binding determinations. It should be noted that even in the most important code books of the halakhic system, such as the Shulchan Arukh and the Mishneh Torah, there are almost no abstract rules. Even they deal mainly with particulars.²

The Talmudic give-and-take teaches us how to derive conclusions from the particulars given to us, in the Talmudic case, from tannaitic sources, to additional cases. In the background there are processes of generalization and abstraction, but they are usually implicit in a discussion whose explicit concern is almost exclusively with particular cases.

Quite a few legal thinkers have discussed the question of the usefulness and efficiency of a modern code as opposed to casuistic approaches.³ But what interests us more is the logical relation between them. Our assumption is that halakha is concerned more with the question “what is true?” than with the question “what is more useful?”

General Rules and Particulars: The Logical Plane

When we ask what the relation is between a casuistic presentation and a code-based presentation of some legal system, our assumption is that these are two equivalent presentations containing the same content, differing only in the way they present it. One can bring particulars that illustrate the principles, and one can present the system of principles itself. At that point one may ask whether there is a danger of error in generalizing from the particulars, and therefore also in applying the result to a situation different from the one described in the law.

As noted, the assumption behind such a discussion is that in fact there is complete identity between these two presentations, and we are dealing only with questions of efficiency, possible errors, and the like. But are we really dealing only with technical problems? Can every legal system be presented, better or worse, both as a system of general rules and as a system of particulars that illustrate them? In other words, does every casuistic system rest on a system of abstract rules, of which the examples are merely illustrations of their realization?

This may be asked on two levels:

1. Does there in fact exist such a theoretical system of rules, fully equivalent in content to the system of examples, containing the same legal-halakhic content?
2. Can it actually be reconstructed and reached from the particular illustrations known to us?⁴

A Similar Aspect in the Philosophy of Science

A similar question can be asked about science. Science too deals with the generalization of specific empirical facts and the creation of general laws of nature. The philosopher of science Carl Hempel proposed a model of scientific explanation that he called the deductive-nomological schema. According to him, a theoretical scientific explanation means finding a general law from which the particular cases that we measure in the laboratory, or know by some other empirical means, can be derived by deductive tools.⁵

In the scientific context too, and indeed especially there, much discussion focuses on the reliability and validity of generalization: can one arrive, from a collection of particular facts, at the correct law? But there too one can raise the more essential question: is there in fact anywhere to arrive at all? In other words, are there really general laws of nature, of which the particular cases are merely specific examples of application, so that the particulars can be derived from the general law by deduction? Does our world in fact operate according to a rigid system of rules and laws?

It should be understood that if this is not so, and general rules do not really exist, then the concept of miracle does not exist either. A miracle is a deviation from the natural law and rule. But if there is no such law at all, then there is no miracle either. According to this approach, we reach the conclusion that there are no miracles at all in the world, or that everything is a miracle. These two claims are quite similar. See on this the page for Parashat Vayechi.

In the philosophy of science, both approaches exist with respect to these questions. Against that background, it is important to note that the very existence and progress of science do not constitute a direct proof for the approach that posits general laws of nature. The fact that we engage in generalizations, advocates of this approach would say, stems from the structure of our thinking, not from the world itself. The structure of our thought dictates a constant search for rules, in order to present the collection of particulars in the relevant domain. But those rules exist only in our fevered minds, not in the world itself. More than that: those rules are not even exact, since as science advances we always reach a point at which they must be corrected. In fact, that itself is what is called scientific “progress.”

If so, the rules we create are merely alternative and approximate forms of presenting the totality of particulars, not something that truly exists, of which the particulars are expressions.

Let us emphasize that this claim can be made even if it is clear that the rule is perfectly exact, that it contains no error, and that it fits all the particulars known to us, and even all particulars whatsoever. Despite all that, there is still room for the approach according to which the rule is only a product of our own minds and not something that exists in the world. It is only a different, more efficient and more convenient form of presentation, at least for a mind structured like ours, of the totality of particulars.

A Distinction Among Three Different Kinds of Questions About General Rules and Particulars

In light of the foregoing, it follows that the question of the existence of a system of abstract rules can itself be asked on two different levels. Are there such rules that fit all the observed facts? If not, then it is obvious that everything is located in our own minds and not in the world itself. But if such rules do exist, one may still ask the ontological question: do those rules really exist, or is this only a fictive mode of presentation, convenient and efficient, and perhaps even precise, for a mind structured like ours?

A similar question arises in Hugo Bergmann’s Introduction to the Theory of Logic, in the final part, where he asks whether the laws of logic, which certainly do correctly describe our forms of thought without exception, at least on the formal-logical level, really exist in the world, or whether they are merely empty forms that describe the structures of our thought and concern only us, not the world itself. This is parallel to the question of the “Platonism” of mathematics, as it is called in the philosophy of mathematics, which we discussed briefly on the page for Parashat Bereishit.

So we have encountered three kinds of questions with respect to general rules and their relation to particulars:

1. Are there rules of which the particulars are specific expressions, that is, a system with identical content?
2. Can we actually arrive at them by generalization from the particulars known to us?
3. Do those rules really exist in some sense, or are they merely alternative modes of presenting the totality of particular facts?

The View of the Midrash

In the midrashim above, we encountered two kinds of reasons for the importance of gathering into general rules: aid to memory, and aid to use and application. It should be noted that both of these reasons remain valid even if the rules do not actually exist. Formulating things as rules still assists both purposes.

But what would be said by the approach according to which the rules not only do not exist but are merely approximations, and therefore do not contain content that is truly identical to the particulars? At first glance, according to this view it should be forbidden to use rules, since we are risking error, both in memory and in use and application. On the other hand, it is very hard to think about anything without using generalization and abstraction, that is, rules, even if only approximate ones. It therefore seems that even according to this approach there is still value in using rules, except that such use must be cautious. One must pay attention to the particulars and remain aware of them, and the rules are not a substitute but only an aid to memory and application. This is why all sorts of “exceptions” arise, showing that the rule is not absolutely true.

To be sure, the existence of exceptions does not prove the position of this approach, namely, that the rules are only approximate. It is always possible that we simply have not yet arrived at the correct and precise rules, and that as Torah study advances, just as in the scientific case, we may succeed in arriving at exact rules that will have no exceptions at all.

If so, from the last two midrashim it is difficult to derive a clear position regarding the ontological question of the existence of rules, and regarding their precision.

But what are we to say about the first midrash? Why does the midrash command us to present the words of Torah in the form of particulars? At first glance, this very midrash teaches us that our generalizations must be checked against the particulars, and that we must not treat them automatically as an identical alternative.

Here, then, we do already see a clearer position in the midrash. General rules are indeed important, but using them alone may lead us into error. Therefore one must break them down into particulars and test them constantly.

A Broader Picture of This Approach

As we already noted above, the entire Oral Torah tends toward casuism. That is, the Sages direct and recommend that we engage Torah through particulars. The Talmud is built in a casuistic form, and even among the relatively few rules stated in the language of the Mishnah and the Talmud, we find quite a few that bring the exceptions right alongside the rules themselves:

Wherever Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel taught in our Mishnah, the halakha follows him, except in the cases of guarantor, Sidon, and the last proof.
— Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 77a and parallels

The halakha follows Abaye in the six cases designated by the mnemonic YAL KGM.
— Babylonian Talmud, Kiddushin 52a and parallels

And so on. The most extreme case is the rule that states:

One does not derive from generalizations, even in a place where an exception is stated.
— Babylonian Talmud, Eruvin 27a and parallels

That is, the Sages had little confidence in learning by means of general rules.

This phenomenon is very reminiscent of the familiar situation regarding grammatical rules, where every rule too is accompanied by exceptions. There the explanation is clear: the rules were created only after the language itself. The language developed freely, organically, and independently, and afterward scholars came and described the usages that had developed in the form of rules. It is obvious that it is hard to imagine a situation in which independently developed usages would operate according to a single clear and general rule, since they were not created on its basis. The rule comes after its particular uses, and therefore there is no guarantee, and indeed very little chance, that one will find a rule from which all the various usages can be deduced. Hence it is clear that the rule we create afterward is an approximate rule, one that tries to fit as many cases as possible. Therefore it requires a list of exceptions to accompany it. Yet it is equally clear that the use of such rules makes things much easier, both for memory and for application and use, and not for nothing are such rules used in teaching immigrants the local language in intensive language schools. See on the similarity to language development in the page for Parashat Nitzavim, and the references there.

And Yet: Midrashic Platonism and Two Kinds of Inexactness

On the page for Parashat Bereishit we discussed the approach of midrashic Platonism, according to which the principles of interpretation are laws of understanding that operate in creation itself. How does that fit with the picture described here?

For that purpose, we must return to the distinction among the questions that we presented above. The inexactness of a set of rules does not prove that there are no rules; it proves, at most, that the rules currently in our hands are not exact. Even the claim that a given system of rules is inexact can be understood in two ways:

1. The rule is only an approximation.
2. The rule is exact, but it is not the only rule.

Again, we may illustrate this in the scientific context.

Newton’s first law states that a body on which no force acts continues to move uniformly in a straight line. The truth is that none of us has ever seen such a phenomenon, because it does not exist at all. In the world there is no situation of a body on which absolutely no force acts. This is a pure abstraction from reality, one that never appears in exactly that form in actual reality. In the overwhelming majority of cases, some frictional force appears and interferes with the motion, along with other forces that may accelerate it or divert it in other directions. Now let us ask ourselves: is Newton’s first law only an approximation? Certainly not. It is an exact law, as far as we know, but one must always take account of additional laws that are relevant to any realistic situation.

A similar claim can be made about laws in the social and human sciences. There is a rule that the stronger side wins in war. Have there not been wars in which the weaker side won? Certainly there have. Does that therefore mean that the rule is not exact? Not necessarily. In the absence of all other influences, it is perfectly and precisely true. The problem is that in real situations it always appears together with additional influences, such as the soldiers’ alertness, motivation, the commanders’ tactical talent, and so on, and therefore it does not always operate.⁶

If so, the lack of perfect fit in a system of rules may indeed not indicate that there are no rules, or that the system is essentially inexact, but rather that there are additional rules acting in the real arena. The system of rules is limited in its description of reality, but that is because reality is complex, not necessarily because the rule is imprecise.

Let us take another example, this time from aggadah. The Sages taught us:

Whoever recites Havdalah over wine at the close of the Sabbath will have male children.
— Babylonian Talmud, Shevuot 18b

Did the Hazon Ish, who had no children, fail to recite Havdalah over a cup of wine? Presumably he did recite it. If so, is the rule untrue, or merely a rhetorical flourish? Not at all necessarily. Another possible explanation is that the decision whether to grant a person sons depends on additional parameters, and this law describes only one of the relevant parameters, exactly as in science.

The intuitive feeling is that the laws we find in science, and also in halakha, are not merely a generalized description of a collection of particular facts. Ordinary intuition suggests that they possess an ontological standing of their own. These are true laws, even though they do not always operate. The fact that in most cases they do operate, and the fact that when there is an exception we usually find a good reason for it, that is, another rule that intervened in the situation and also exerted influence, these themselves constitute an indication that there is something real in general laws, and that they are not only an efficient descriptive form and nothing more.

For that reason we speak not only of the “law of gravitation,” according to which any two masses always attract one another, but also of the “gravitational force” that produces this attraction and ensures that it continues to appear and to be a general law. The existence of the gravitational force is the ontological guarantee of the validity of the law of gravitation.

If so, the conclusion is that one may continue to hold on to midrashic Platonism, and to Platonism generally, even regarding laws that do not always operate. This is conditional on their inexactness being of the second kind, the intervention of another true rule in the situation, and not of the first kind, namely, essential imprecision.

The Duty of Caution: Working on Both Planes

And despite all this, the picture presented here implies that one must be careful not to treat general rules as an exhaustive alternative to particulars. The work must constantly be done on both planes in parallel. One must not examine any halakha solely in light of the rules relevant to it. Rather, we must examine whether those rules fit, and whether another rule must be taken into account here. Such examination uses an intuitive view of the specific situation, not necessarily by way of the rules.

It may be that from here derives the constant need of the Talmud and its commentators to find a practical real-world implication for every halakhic rule. The practical implication is an important and necessary tool for testing the validity of the rule and the forms of its application.

The Wayward and Rebellious Son: What Is More Important, the Rules or the Particulars?

The common conception regarding Torah study is that the purpose of analysis and abstraction is to bring about a more correct application of halakha to new situations. According to this approach, the general rules are auxiliary tools for applying halakha. One can cite quite a few passages that apparently support such an approach: “to bring the discussion to a halakhic conclusion,” “study is great because it leads to action,” and so forth.

This question apparently depends on the discussion we have engaged in up to this point. If the rules do not exist, or are not exact, then there is no point at all in seeing the rules as the goal of Talmudic-halakhic analysis. In such a situation it is clear that the goal is the particulars and halakhic application, and the rules are at most a convenient aid. But if the rules are Platonic entities, then one can also see them as the primary goal of inquiry, and the specific halakhot as an auxiliary tool for testing the rules.

This is not the place for a detailed discussion of this complicated question. Let us only note that the prevalent approach in the modern world of Torah study, as in scientific thought, as distinguished from technology, is that the goal is the study itself.⁷ Rabbi Israel Salanter, in one of his essays,⁸ brought proof for this from the passage of the wayward and rebellious son, which according to one opinion never was and never will be. See Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 71a. So why was it taught at all? The Gemara explains:

Expound it and receive reward.

Rabbi Israel asks: Have all the practical areas of Torah already been exhausted, so that we need one more passage merely in order to receive reward? Has anyone finished learning all the rest of Torah? He therefore explains that the Gemara’s answer should be read somewhat differently: the passage was taught in order to teach us the principle of “expound and receive reward,” that is, that learning is not intended only for the sake of application, but also as an independent value.

As noted, this approach implicitly assumes that the halakhic rules that are the goal of inquiry are existing entities. There are such rules, and the various halakhot are their applications. If so, the imprecision and the insistence on dealing in parallel with particulars and application are intended only to ensure that the rules we have reached are correct. The rules are exact, except that they are not always the only forces at work.

Additional Midrashim: The Rules and the Particulars Were Given at Sinai

In rabbinic literature we find additional midrashim about general rules and particulars. The best known among them is the following midrash, in Sifra on Behar 1, s.v. “And the Lord spoke”:

“And the Lord spoke to Moses at Mount Sinai, saying.” What has the sabbatical year to do with Mount Sinai? Were not all the commandments stated from Sinai? Rather, just as the sabbatical year was stated at Sinai with its general principles and its details, so too all of them were stated at Sinai with their general principles and their details.

By contrast, in the Babylonian Talmud, Hagigah 6a-b, the tannaim disagree about the relation between the giving of the particulars and the general rules:

As it was taught: Rabbi Ishmael says: The general principles were stated at Sinai, and the particulars in the Tent of Meeting. Rabbi Akiva says: Both the general principles and the particulars were stated at Sinai, repeated in the Tent of Meeting, and taught a third time in the Plains of Moab.

What is common to both views is that the particulars and the general rules had to be given to us from above. It is impossible to give only one of the two systems and leave the learners to derive from it the parallel system. Presumably the reason is that the systems are not equivalent. On the other hand, both exist; for if not, it would be enough to give us the particulars, and we would create rules from them for our own use, on the assumption that there are no “real” rules. If we are given both, then each has its own meaning and existence, and neither is equivalent to nor derivable from the other.

The Reversal of the Picture

In Midrash Tanhuma, Noah, sec. 3, it is written:

These are the generations of Noah, Noah. Blessed be the name of the King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He, who chose Israel from among seventy nations, as it is said, “For the Lord’s portion is His people; Jacob is the lot of His inheritance” (Deuteronomy 32). He gave us the Written Torah, in hint, with hidden and closed matters, and they were explained in the Oral Torah and revealed to Israel. Moreover, the Written Torah is general rules, and the Oral Torah is particulars. The Oral Torah is abundant, and the Written Torah is sparse. Of the Oral Torah it is said, “Its measure is longer than the earth and broader than the sea” (Job 11:9).

This midrash describes the Oral Torah as explaining the hidden and closed matters that are in the Written Torah. The Written Torah is general rules, and the Oral Torah is particulars. By their nature, the general rules are few and the particulars are many. Generalization, and the uncovering of rules from particulars, are merely a reconstruction of the Written Torah from the Oral Torah. At first glance, this yields a picture in which the system of particulars is equivalent to the system of general rules, and one can reconstruct and ascend from the particulars to the rules. Of course, this only raises the question more sharply: if so, why were we given both of these systems?

The explanation is hinted at in various rabbinic midrashim in which we find a statement that is, at first glance, surprising and contrary to common sense, and in fact the reverse of the content of the previous midrash. For example, in Pesiqta Zutarta, also known as Lekah Tov, on Exodus 4, s.v. “And Moses told,” it is written:

“And Moses told Aaron all the words of the Lord who had sent him.” The general principles of Torah are greater than its particulars. For if Scripture had come to detail all the words of the Lord who sent him, there would have been yet another section. Rather, it abbreviated the matter.

This midrash tells us that the general rules are greater than the particulars. That stands in contrast both to the previous midrash and to simple intuition, according to which the rules are fewer and the particulars more numerous.

Returning to the Relation Between General Rules and Particulars

It seems that the midrash does not mean quantity in the simple sense, but content. Since the general rules exist somewhere in the Platonic world of ideas of the Written Torah, it is not correct to say that they are only sweeping formulations that gather together the particulars. On the contrary: from here it appears that the particulars are what are derived from the general rules. If so, it stands to reason that the content of the general rules is greater than that of the particulars. It is entirely plausible that at any given moment there are particulars that have not yet come into actuality and have not yet been given to us, but they exist latently within the general rules. They can be extracted from there by means of analysis and reason, and thus Torah expands and comes more and more into actuality throughout history.

The last midrash we cited above, and its parallels, point to two important points that already arose in our earlier discussion:

1. The system of general rules, that is, the Written Torah, is not equivalent to the system of particulars, that is, the Oral Torah, but contains more, and apparently also in a more precise form. If we knew all the rules, then the Torah in our hands would be more complete. Reconstruction from the particulars is not complete.
2. Despite the fact that there is no equivalence between the system of particulars and the system of general rules, the system of general rules exists and is not merely a fiction, as we argued above. It is also the goal of halakhic-Torah inquiry.

Once Again: The Purpose of Torah Study

Despite everything, the Holy One, blessed be He, gave us the Oral Torah as a tool with which to climb up to the Written Torah. We ascend from the particulars to the general rules, and what we infer from the particulars, even if it is mistaken, is for us the Torah. The Holy One, blessed be He, expects us to ascend from particulars to general rules. Generalization and abstraction are the goal of Torah study.

Rabbi Zaini, in his article “Logic and Metaphysics in the Expositions of the Sages,”⁹ points out that there is something higher and deeper in presenting the picture through particulars than in moving from the general rules to the particulars. Since the rules do not exhaust the particulars, and everything begins from the particulars, the Oral Torah is careful to transmit to later generations the particulars, and not only the rules created from them, which are only a rough approximation. In his view, the picture given by the particulars is more authentic and more intuitive. Ultimately, generalization that follows careful study of the particulars leads us to a fuller understanding. He explains in this way the character of the Oral Torah, which moves from particulars to rules.

In our opinion, however, this is only half the picture. The actual structure of Torah as such is indeed the reverse. The true structure of Torah is that the particulars emerge from the general rules, and the general rules are what lie at the root of the matter, that is, the Written Torah. By contrast, the mode of our own study of Torah is the reverse. We learn from the particulars and ascend, by abstraction and generalization, to the general rules.

It should be noted that this is fully parallel to the scientific picture. If there really are laws underlying the conduct of the world, then the phenomena are only derivatives of the general laws. But the investigator and scientist proceed along the opposite path: from isolated phenomena, by abstraction and generalization, to the general laws. There this is done of necessity, because we know directly only the phenomena and not the general laws. But in the Oral Torah it seems that there is here an ideology as well: the Holy One, blessed be He, created us this way because He wants us to think in this manner.

The Circle of General Rules and Particulars Interwoven with One Another

A vivid description of the circle that we have described between general rules and particulars is found in the following remarkable midrash, in Otzar HaMidrashim (Eisenstein), Ma’ayan ha-Hokhmah, p. 308:

Concerning this Job said, “Can you discover God by searching?” That is, the inquiries into motion established in the thing, drawn from the place of speech, and spreading through the quartered part. Therefore we should say of the squaring that it is four. And we took measure from weight, and weight from measure, and weight from square, and square from handbreadth, and handbreadth from span, and span from hand, and hand from span; and all is in a circle. And the circle we took from aleph, and aleph from yod, and yod is the spring, and its roots, branches, and sources are joined. And the endings are founded in the ordering of the circle, and the circle turns into that which turns, and that which turns into that which stands upright, and that which stands upright into that which stands. And standing investigates, and investigation becomes silent, that is, thought, and silence cries out, and the cry goes forth, and the going forth gives birth, and the giving birth flows, and the flowing spreads, and the spreading grows strong, and the strengthening flashes forth. And this is the primordial air, and within it all the general rules return to the particulars, and the particulars to the general rules. And all of them are gathered in the yod, sounding and returning and crying out, and in their return they become circular, and in their circularity they are warmed and run like silver heated in fire, until they all join one another like pieces of refined silver joining one another when heated in fire, and the parts join part to part until they become one.

Footnotes