Chayei Sarah (5765)

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 Sabbath, Parashat Hayyei Sarah 5766

Questions

1. What is a mufneh gezerah shavah?
2. Is there a difference between genuine and non-genuine gezerah shavah?
3. On the three types of gezerah shavah.
4. Why do we not apply gezerah shavah to every pair of identical words in Scripture?
5. On the formal-technical component and the substantive component in expositions based on gezerah shavah.
6. What are the assumptions of academic research as opposed to traditional study?
7. What are the ideological differences between them, and do they have methodological implications?
8. On the traditional approach as a kind of modernity.

The Hermeneutical Principle

Gezerah shavah (verbal analogy).

A. Summary of Last Year’s Article

And from where do we know that it is by money? He derives “taking” from “taking” from Ephron’s field. Here it is written, “When a man takes a woman,” and there it is written, “I have given the money for the field; take it from me.” And “taking” is called acquisition, as it is written, “the field that Abraham acquired,” or alternatively, “Fields shall be bought for money.”

— Babylonian Talmud, Kiddushin 2a

And the tanna derives it from here, as it was taught: “When a man takes a wife and marries her, and it shall be if she does not find favor in his eyes because he has found in her…” And “taking” means only by money, and so it says: “I have given the money for the field; take it from me.”

— Babylonian Talmud, Kiddushin 4b

In the article from 5765 we saw that the expositions above contain two components:

1. A legal gezerah shavah, by which we learn “taking” from “taking,” from Ephron’s field to a woman, and conclude that a woman too is acquired by money, like a field.
2. A linguistic clarification, namely, that the act of “taking” is also called “acquisition” in Scripture.

We noted that the first stage appears to be a gezerah shavah, and that is how most commentators understand it (see, for example, Rashi to Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 3a, s.v. “they equated it,” and Maimonides), even though the term “gezerah shavah” itself does not appear here explicitly. The Ritva, however, writes here that this is not a gezerah shavah, since in the case of the field the word “taking” refers to money, whereas here the word “taking” refers to the woman herself (see also Tosafot, s.v. “and it is written,” Babylonian Talmud, Kiddushin 2a). He concludes that this is merely a clarification of meaning, something like “let the obscure be learned from the explicit.”

A possible implication of this dispute concerns whether there is any comparison at all between a woman and a field. And indeed, the Ritva later examines whether the Gemara draws such a comparison, and concludes that what we have here is only a “weak gezerah shavah.”

The second stage of the exposition appears to establish a dictionary value. The natural conclusion would be that everywhere in Scripture where we encounter the word “taking,” we should interpret it as purchase by money. But as we mentioned, that conclusion does not withstand criticism (see Babylonian Talmud, Hullin 82a regarding the birds of the leper’s purification and the heifer whose neck is broken; the bundle of hyssop and the four species in Babylonian Talmud, Menahot 27b; and Babylonian Talmud, Yevamot 55a and 97a).

We then explained why both parts of the exposition are needed, and in light of that, the differences between these two expositions. In the end, we saw that there is a connection between these two components, and that the second component is not a mere lexicon, but rather something required for the legal exposition.

We opened with the question whether gezerah shavah points to an essential similarity between the betrothal of a woman and the acquisition of a field, of which the conclusion that betrothal is effected by money is only one detail, or whether this is merely a formal, specific comparison that concerns only the law of betrothal by money. We cited from the article on Parashat Lekh-Lekha (Part I, especially note 8) and Vayera (especially the end of chapter 3) that gezerah shavah is not a purely formal rule. The textual resemblance is meant to hint at, and draw attention to, a substantive similarity between the two contexts being compared. We therefore presented the substantive similarity between acquiring land and betrothing a woman: both express the creation of a metaphysical bond between two distinct entities. Such a bond is called an acquisition.

We pointed out that even after the gezerah shavah we do not infer a complete equivalence between woman and field. A woman is not the husband’s property. Therefore there is no acquisition by possession in the case of a woman; we cited commentators who explain that sexual consummation is not such an act of possession. Betrothal by document as well is not derived from the gezerah shavah but from an independent source.

In this way we explained the Ritva’s statement that this is not a full gezerah shavah but only a “weak gezerah shavah.” There is no complete comparison between the two contexts, but only a similarity from one particular aspect. From this we concluded that every genuine gezerah shavah is a linguistic indication that we are to compare two contexts. And where reason gives no basis for a substantive comparison, one should not use gezerah shavah in a blind technical manner and nevertheless equate the two contexts.

By means of this distinction, we defined two different components in every exposition: a formal-technical-universal component, and a substantive-particular component that changes from one exposition to another according to its contexts. In gezerah shavah, the formal-universal component is the verbal comparison. But without a component of substantive similarity, determined each time by the compared contexts themselves—here, field and woman—there is no room for a full gezerah shavah. This is not a purely mathematical operation.

We should note here that the Ritva’s comments above provide an example of the connection between these two components. According to the Ritva, a textual hint points us to a substantive halakhic phenomenon: the fact that the word “taking” refers to different objects on the two sides of the equation—woman and field—means that the equation itself is not complete, and we are forbidden to compare the two sides fully. We shall discuss this below.

In our opinion, the purpose of research into the hermeneutical principles is chiefly to get to the bottom of the technical-formal components, since they are supposed to be identical in all contexts. The specific content in each place is a matter of local reasoning, and it is difficult to establish firm conclusions about it through systematic research. Of course, any research must take such a component into account, if only in order to neutralize it when identifying the formal structures.¹

In the second part of the article, we discussed Maimonides’ view regarding the halakhic (Jewish legal) status of laws derived through expositions. In the Second Principle, Maimonides treats such laws as rabbinic in status, and Nahmanides forcefully disputes him there. We saw that according to Maimonides, the expositions are analogies that extend what is explicit in Scripture (see also the article on Parashat Yitro 5765, and elsewhere), “like branches that emerge from the roots,” in the language of Maimonides in the Second Principle.

B. A Proposal for a Different Methodological Assumption for the Study of the Hermeneutical Principles: Gezerah Shavah

Introduction and Apology

In the following pages we will present several results from Michael Chernick’s comprehensive study of the rule of gezerah shavah, and we will also criticize some of them. We would like to state at the outset that, in our view, Chernick’s research is systematic, illuminating, and highly worthy of appreciation. Our main call is to refine and develop it by adopting several foundational assumptions different from those commonly accepted in the academic world, and by addressing questions that are not merely factual. Of course, until systematic studies are carried out on the basis of these assumptions, it is difficult to reach a firm conclusion regarding our proposals.

Gezerah Shavah as Comparative Inference

In modern Hebrew usage, the term “gezerah shavah” is used in the sense of comparison. At first glance, this seems to wrench the phrase away from its original meaning. Yet Michael Chernick, in his book The Rule of Gezerah Shavah: Its Forms in the Midrashim and the Talmuds (p. 33),² notes that in all of Sifrei Zuta—a midrash (rabbinic exposition) attributed to the school of Rabbi Akiva—not a single exposition appears that uses the hermeneutical rule of gezerah shavah, even though verbal comparisons do appear there as mere linguistic clarifications. Nevertheless, the expression “gezerah shavah” does occur there once, specifically in the ordinary sense of comparison (Sifrei Zuta, section 9, s.v. “And they did”):

“And the children of Israel did so”—perhaps I know only that it overrides the Sabbath with respect to slaughtering. Scripture therefore says, “they did” and “they did,” thereby including the receiving of its blood, its sprinkling, cleaning its innards, and burning its fats. Rabbi Eliezer adds four more matters: cutting off its wart, giving a pledge and taking it back, carrying it from Jerusalem to the Temple Mount, and bringing it from outside the Sabbath boundary—whereas Rabbi Joshua used to say that bringing it from outside the boundary does not override the Sabbath. Rabbi Eliezer says that it does override, by a kal va-homer (a fortiori inference): if you permitted slaughter, which is an act of labor, shall we not permit bringing it, which is only a lesser rabbinic restriction? Rabbi Joshua said to him: slaughter of ordinary meat on a Festival in the provinces proves otherwise, for there they permitted an act of labor and nevertheless forbade an act that is only a rabbinic restriction. Rabbi Eliezer said to him: What is this, Joshua? One does not reason from optional to obligatory, nor from obligatory to optional, but only optional from optional for a gezerah shavah, and obligatory from obligatory for a gezerah shavah.”

Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Joshua disagree about how far the offering of the Passover sacrifice overrides the Sabbath. According to Rabbi Eliezer, everything is permitted, even bringing it from beyond the Sabbath boundary and cutting off its wart. According to Rabbi Joshua, the permission is more limited.³ In the course of the dispute over bringing it from beyond the boundary, Rabbi Joshua tries to prove from the slaughter of non-sacrificial meat on a Festival that this was not permitted: although such slaughter is permitted even though it is a biblical prohibition, nevertheless bringing meat from outside the boundary is not permitted on a Festival. From this Rabbi Joshua concludes that in the case of the Passover sacrifice as well, although its slaughter was permitted, bringing it was not. Rabbi Eliezer replies that one may not compare the slaughter of meat for eating on a Festival, which is optional, to the slaughter of the Passover sacrifice, which is a mitzvah (commandment) and an obligation. Rabbi Eliezer calls this comparison a “gezerah shavah.” Clearly, the term here does not denote an exposition based on matching words, but rather a comparison akin to an analogy, based on a line of similarity between the two contexts.

A similar phenomenon appears in Mishnah, Beitzah 1:6:

Beit Shammai say: One may not bring hallah and the priestly gifts to a priest on a Festival, whether they were separated yesterday or today; and Beit Hillel permit it. Beit Shammai said to them: a gezerah shavah—hallah and the priestly gifts are a gift to a priest, and terumah is a gift to a priest. Just as one may not bring terumah, so too one may not bring the gifts. Beit Hillel said to them: No. If you say this of terumah, where one has no entitlement in its separation, will you say it of the gifts, where one does have an entitlement in their separation?

Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel disagree over whether it is permissible to bring hallah and the priestly gifts to a priest on a Festival. Beit Shammai, who prohibit it, compare it to terumah, which is likewise prohibited, whereas Beit Hillel distinguish between the two contexts and reject the comparison. Again, Beit Shammai use the term “gezerah shavah” in the sense of a comparison between two contexts that share a line of similarity.

In the discussion of Parashat Pinhas, we encountered a case of an exposition that looked like one based on the rule of “something that was included in a general class,” even though it was not actually such a case. Precisely there, the similarities and differences taught us something about the nature of that rule. We shall proceed in the same way here.

At first glance, the expression “gezerah shavah” is being used in these two cases in a sense different from its ordinary one. But for that very reason we must ask ourselves why they nevertheless used this expression in that way. It seems that something is shared here with the usual meaning of the term elsewhere. We therefore learn that “gezerah shavah” means comparison. Here, admittedly, the comparison is based not on a verbal parameter but on content—that is, a comparison grounded in reasoning. Yet even when the trigger for the comparative exposition is verbal, as in ordinary gezerah shavah, in the end what we perform is a substantive comparison.

For this reason, as we saw in the 5765 article discussed above, the Ritva holds that if the expressions do not actually appear in the same kind of context, then the gezerah shavah is not complete but only “weak.” When the linguistic indication is incomplete, this teaches us that the comparison between the two sides of the gezerah shavah is likewise incomplete.

In fact, these two examples contain only the very component that we must isolate and neutralize in studying gezerah shavah as a hermeneutical rule. This is the component of substantive comparison, which, as we have mentioned, is not universal but particular, and varies from case to case according to context.

What, then, can be said at all about the formal-technical component in the structure of gezerah shavah? At first glance, all we have is the use of two similar words as an indication that a substantive comparison should be made. What can a systematic study of the rule reveal beyond that? Can anything more universal nevertheless be said even about the substantive components?

Methodological Difficulties in the Study of Gezerah Shavah

It is quite clear that not every pair of identical or similar words was expounded by the Sages through gezerah shavah. Even when such a comparison is made, it is not applied to every place where a similar word appears, but only between two specific places. What was the Sages’ criterion for employing gezerah shavah? Where is it used, and where is it not?

More than that: there is also room to discuss what legal results may be inferred by the force of gezerah shavah, and why we limit the results specifically to those and not to additional ones. Here it seems very likely that it is precisely the substantive component that determines the matter, rather than any textual hint. This is also Chernick’s conclusion; see the summary in his book, p. 72, and elsewhere. As stated, our focus is mainly on the universal aspects.

A systematic study of gezerah shavah should survey the occurrences of gezerah shavah expositions in the literature of the Sages and try to extract from them the conditions required for the use of this rule.

The principal methodological problem in such research is that it is very difficult to decide what actually counts as a gezerah shavah exposition. Many times the Sages do not use the term “gezerah shavah,” and we have to decide whether the exposition in question nevertheless uses this hermeneutical rule. Sometimes an exposition that is called a gezerah shavah in one source is not called that in another source from a different period; see examples in Chernick and below. Sometimes the Sages do use the expression “gezerah shavah,” and yet they do not mean an exposition employing that rule; see the two examples above. In addition, even those expositions that really do look like gezerah shavah appear in rabbinic literature in several formulations; see, for example, last week’s article.

Beyond all this, we must take into account the differences between the various schools and not hastily infer from expositions from the school of Rabbi Akiva conclusions that apply to expositions from the school of Rabbi Ishmael. First of all, we have to identify which expositions belong to which school. For example, Chernick, following David Zvi Hoffmann and Jacob Nahum Epstein, argues that gezerah shavah in the school of Rabbi Akiva and in the school of Rabbi Ishmael are distinguished from one another by their requirement of mufneh status in the expounded word: the school of Rabbi Akiva expounds gezerah shavah even where the words are not mufneh, whereas the school of Rabbi Ishmael expounds only mufneh gezerah shavah.

All this and more greatly complicates the task of the researcher of the hermeneutical principles. The attempt to unravel the historical development and layering, and to separate the material into its components, is intricate and difficult and involves many assumptions, some of which are hard to justify. At times researchers adopt such assumptions for methodological reasons, almost arbitrarily, in order to move the research forward. In many cases these assumptions are afterward taken up as foundational truths. For example, Chernick assumes—against Schwartz; see his discussion on p. 10—that those expositions actually called “gezerah shavah” are the original gezerah shavah. Other expositions not explicitly designated by that name, even if in a later period they are indeed treated as gezerah shavah—see Chernick’s appendices 3 and 4 and elsewhere—are suspected of being later deviations. This is a reasonable and useful working assumption at the beginning of a systematic study, but there is no guarantee that it has any substantive truth to it. We already saw above two contradictory examples, in which considerations are called “gezerah shavah” and yet apparently do not employ this hermeneutical rule at all, but merely denote a comparison. Yet Chernick later argues for the factual truth of this methodological assumption. The arguments he offers for this do not seem sufficiently persuasive to us.

In what follows, we will suggest that precisely in such a situation a different methodological assumption may come to our aid, one that is not accepted in the world of academic research.

Chernick’s Research⁴

At the beginning of his book, Chernick distinguishes between two types of gezerah shavah: simple and mufneh. A mufneh gezerah shavah is based on a word, or words, that are mufneh—that is, superfluous and therefore available for analogy. A simple gezerah shavah is based on similarity between words that are not mufneh. As we mentioned, simple gezerah shavah is found mainly in midrashim of the school of Rabbi Akiva, such as Sifrei Zuta, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, Sifrei Devarim, and others.

As background, let us note that the principal difficulty of gezerah shavah—namely, why it is applied specifically to the two words selected and not everywhere else—arises mainly in simple gezerah shavah. In mufneh gezerah shavah, the mufneh character of the word is itself the hint and the motivation for employing the analogy, although even there one must still discuss, once the existence of the gezerah shavah has been established, what its limits of application are.

Simple Gezerah Shavah

Chernick points to three types of simple gezerah shavah, each with a criterion that explains why the analogy is made even without mufneh status:

1. A gezerah shavah based on a word, or a two-word phrase, that appears only twice in the entire Bible. Here it is obvious why there is justification for making the gezerah shavah, and why it is not extended to other places—quite simply because there are no such other places.
2. A gezerah shavah based on a formula, that is, a textual structure that appears two or three times in Scripture. A formula is a more complex structure, and therefore the likelihood is that it will usually appear only in a few places in the Bible. The justification for the gezerah shavah comes from the high degree of similarity between the two contexts: not just a single shared word, but an entire textual formula. It should be noted that even when the Sages make such an exposition, they usually cite only a key word, and do not state explicitly that the comparison is between whole formulas.
3. A repetition of one or two words within the same biblical context, leading to a comparison within that context itself. In this case the words also appear in other contexts, but there is nevertheless a delimiting criterion for the application of the gezerah shavah: the repetition occurs within the same biblical context, and the delimitation is between that context—within which the gezerah shavah is performed—and other contexts, for which we have no indication that would justify employing gezerah shavah.

Chernick’s claim is that all the cases of gezerah shavah he found belong to one of these three types, and therefore the question of the criterion for applying simple gezerah shavah is solved automatically.

Mufneh Gezerah Shavah

The second type of gezerah shavah, found mainly in midrashim from the school of Rabbi Ishmael—such as the Mekhilta, or Sifrei Bemidbar, and others—is the mufneh gezerah shavah. A mufneh word is a superfluous word written for the sake of a gezerah shavah. The Talmud itself distinguishes between a word that is mufneh on one side only—that is, only one of the two compared words is mufneh—and a word that is mufneh on both sides, meaning that both compared words are mufneh; and there are different rules governing these two types. Here too, the mufneh character constitutes a solution to the central question in research on gezerah shavah: why employ it specifically here and not elsewhere? If there is a superfluous word, that is a good reason to employ gezerah shavah. In mufneh gezerah shavah, the question of criterion almost does not arise.

Even so, if there is a mufneh word and we seek another word to compare with it through gezerah shavah, the question still remains: from where do we take the second word, and to which contexts do we apply the conclusions of the gezerah shavah? Therefore there is room even here to limit gezerah shavah expositions to situations in which the word under discussion appears in only two biblical occurrences, and the like. Thus, in mufneh gezerah shavah the difficulty of the criterion is milder, but it does not disappear completely—at least not where the word is mufneh on only one side.

The main question is how one can identify a mufneh word at all. When do we know that a certain word is mufneh, and when that it is simply being expounded? The question exists on two different planes:

1. How do we know, from examining the language of the midrash, when the Sages treated a word as mufneh?
2. How did the Sages themselves know, from examining the language of Scripture, whether a given word was mufneh?

Of course, the first question is the basis for research that would answer the second. We must understand the expositions of the Sages as they themselves carried them out, and from that try to reconstruct the rules of biblical interpretation that the Sages themselves employed. If we succeed in doing that, perhaps we too can reconstruct this mechanism.

The criterion by which Chernick proceeds is a textual one: a word is mufneh if the Sages explicitly say so in the midrash. For example, when in some midrash we find wording such as “it is mufneh in order to compare and to derive by gezerah shavah,” or something similar.

Already here, however, one should note that it is entirely possible that other midrashim as well are based on biblical redundancy, even though they do not state this explicitly. It is quite possible that gezerah shavah cases we have treated as simple are in fact mufneh, but that the sages of the school of Rabbi Akiva did not see fit to mention this when using them.

On the basis of this assumption, Chernick divides the types of mufneh status he found in the midrashim into several categories—namely, those that explicitly state that the words are mufneh; see chapter 3 of Chernick:

1. Mufneh due to biblical syntax, that is, without recourse to interpretation or midrash.
2. Mufneh due to a midrashic interpretation of concepts in the verse being expounded.
3. Mufneh due to a kal va-homer.
4. Mufneh due to an unsuitable use of a word or passage.

The first three categories are from David Zvi Hoffmann, whereas Chernick added the fourth.⁵

Chernick argues that mufneh gezerah shavah is more permissive and open (see p. 42), since there are no restrictions on its application. The explanation is simple: because there is a good basis for employing the gezerah shavah, there is no need for a criterion of delimitation, such as requiring that the compared words appear only twice in the Bible.

Chernick states that the three types of simple gezerah shavah also appear in the mufneh type. Statistically, gezerah shavah based on a formula is the most frequent, and he therefore conjectures that it is the original form of gezerah shavah.

Additional Occurrences

In chapter 5 Chernick discusses gezerah shavah of the kind we encountered last week—“it is said here… and it is said there…” —and, in his view, these are not genuine gezerah shavah. After reviewing several cases of this type, Chernick concludes, as we noted above, that his methodological assumption is actually a substantive fact: namely, if the consideration is not explicitly called “gezerah shavah” by the Sages, then it really is not a genuine gezerah shavah. In the end, his remarks there imply that the consideration “it is said here… and it is said there…” is some other hermeneutical rule.

Yet the regularity we identified in this pattern in last week’s article—of course, not a truly systematic study—suggests that there is, after all, a hermeneutical rule here with a systematic structure. Beyond that, the obvious question raised by Chernick’s discussion is this: if there is in fact no genuine gezerah shavah here, then the laws derived in these forms have no real source. Does he mean to claim that all of these are laws received by tradition? Or that they were invented out of whole cloth by means of an invalid exegetical tool? That is implausible. Moreover, what sense would there be in using fictive and invalid exegetical tools to ground laws received by tradition?

If so, then at first glance we are dealing here with an additional hermeneutical rule. But now we must ask ourselves what the source of this rule is. Do the Sages invent methods of exposition that were not received by tradition? There is no doubt that the amoraim who used this consideration regarded it as a valid source for the laws inferred from it, and therefore it is fairly clear that we are dealing here with a bona fide hermeneutical rule. It is unlikely that this rule is unrelated to gezerah shavah, and it is equally unlikely that it was invented from nothing in some late generation.

Hence it seems more plausible to us to argue that this is a further development of the tannaitic gezerah shavah and an extension of it to additional patterns. After all, even the tannaitic form contains at least three different types of gezerah shavah, meaning that it too is not a single homogeneous block. The later appearance of this type of consideration is therefore probably a further development and refinement of the traditional hermeneutical rule, and not a “non-genuine” gezerah shavah, as Chernick terms it.⁶

How can a hermeneutical rule be developed? Is such a “development” not an invention out of nothing? The hermeneutical rules were given to us at Sinai, and it does not seem that we have the authority to add new rules of exposition. This kind of expansion is described in the page on Parashat Nitzavim 5765, through processes of conceptualization and generalization. For example, it is possible that the Sages had laws received by tradition for which a scriptural source could be found only in this way. From this the Sages concluded that such expositions should be included within the rule of gezerah shavah that had been transmitted to them by tradition.

For example, in appendix 3 of Chernick there are quite a number of examples of early expositions that in the tannaitic period were not called gezerah shavah, but that the amoraim of the Jerusalem Talmud nevertheless called gezerah shavah. In our view, this reflects a development and conceptual refinement of the rule of gezerah shavah itself, not a deviation from the original caused by forgetfulness—a “non-genuine” gezerah shavah.

Additional Problems

Let us point here to additional problems in the foundational assumptions of Chernick’s study. He himself notes that there are expositions which originally had one character, but in a later period took on a different form and character.

For example, on p. 52 he compares two gezerah shavah expositions, one mufneh and one not mufneh. But this is actually the very same gezerah shavah. The obvious conclusion, then, is that even when mufneh status is not explicit in the language of the midrash—meaning the text does not say that the word is superfluous and intended for gezerah shavah—it may nevertheless be present in the background. From this a broader conclusion may be drawn: there are expositions that are not presented as mufneh gezerah shavah, but whose background assumes mufneh status. On p. 46 as well, there is a clear example of a case where the very same exposition is presented as not mufneh, although in its original form it was mufneh.

The Problematic Nature of the Assumptions of Academic Research

The previous problems were examples of the kinds of questions that arise in the academic world, but are usually ignored there. Academic research focuses on the stratification of sources and their dating, and attempts to offer a historical account of that development. But the logic that accompanies this development must also be taken into account in any study of its historical unfolding—something that often, though of course not always, does not happen. Why did the change occur, and what was the logic that accompanied or generated it?

When a scholar concludes that a sugya in the Gemara is stratified in a certain way, he often does not ask himself what logic there is in such an eclectic editorial arrangement. But the editor too had some logic, and so did those who studied the edited source over the generations as a harmonious text.

For example, when the Talmud offers a limiting interpretation of a Mishnah, we must ask what logic guided both the learners in the Talmud and the editors of the Mishnah itself. It is not enough merely to point to the different strata and the historical relation between them, or to the differing conceptions reflected in them. The source as a whole must also have some logic.

Let us return now to gezerah shavah. On p. 85 Chernick states that the rule “a gezerah shavah cannot be only partial” was created around the fifth generation of the Babylonian amoraim. Here too he is satisfied with dating, which itself rests on several non-necessary assumptions. But what logic is there in creating such a rule out of nothing? Historically this is implausible. Once again, this is an approach that focuses on facts but ignores questions of evolutionary logic.

Traditional apologetics commonly claim that there was no development in halakha. Everything descended from Sinai exactly as it is in our hands today. This claim is superficial, does not stand the test of evidence, and is not accepted even by the medieval and later authorities. But the alternative is not necessarily full acceptance of the academic interpretation. There is change, but it is not deviation; it is development. There is a logic to this development, and no one is trying to create something different from what preceded him, but rather to refine it and draw the necessary conclusions from what he received.

With respect to the rule that a gezerah shavah cannot be only partial, we explained in several previous articles that the logic behind it is that if gezerah shavah really is an indication that a substantive comparison is to be made between two contexts—as we argued above, at least in some cases—then logic requires that the comparison be bidirectional. A similar argument appears in Chernick, chapter 4. This simple logic already existed in earlier periods, and therefore there is no reason to assume that the rule was not in use before then. The fact that it was not explicitly cited earlier does not necessarily mean that it did not exist or was not used.⁷ At most, one may assume that it underwent conceptualization and was formulated explicitly for the first time in the period under discussion. Before that, it was used intuitively, without formal distinction and wording; see the article on Parashat Nitzavim.

The rule that a person may not derive gezerah shavah on his own is also discussed by Chernick as a late development; see there in chapter 6. This very example shows that sometimes there is a plausible basis for seeing a later, genuinely new creation of a rule. It is certainly possible that from a certain stage onward, when confidence in the ability to derive gezerah shavah diminished, the Sages established that one may not derive gezerah shavah on one’s own. But this is a rule that restricts the use of the principle, not a rule that dictates the form of its use. As we have seen, it is not plausible that rules concerning the form of use of a hermeneutical principle can simply arise from nothing.

The Differences Between Academic Research and the Traditional Approach to Study

Here we see, in miniature, several of the salient differences between the academic approach and the traditional approach to study. Academic research looks for strata, and assumes only what appears explicitly in the sources before us. Even if there is a logical consideration that requires a certain phenomenon, it is not regarded as a scientific finding, because we do not encounter it explicitly. From this it follows that if mufneh status is implicit, then it does not exist—unless there is some other indication of its existence. From this it also follows that any rule not cited until a certain period did not exist before that time. Hence the tendency to move very easily from a methodological assumption to a research conclusion that expositions not explicitly called “gezerah shavah” are not genuine gezerah shavah.

Traditional study, by contrast, usually also seeks the logic underlying historical developments. We have noted that especially conservative approaches deny even the principled possibility of development within Torah, but more realistic approaches are certainly prepared to recognize such a possibility; they simply take more account of the logic and underlying assumptions of the tradition.

At first glance these are more constrained approaches, less open to considering additional possibilities. On the other hand, drawing research conclusions without attention to the logic underlying these developments does not seem acceptable to us. We should note that logic always presupposes a system of foundational assumptions within which it operates, and therefore such a search will always be subject to “traditional” assumptions of this sort.

A Different Methodological and Ideological Assumption

Let us now try, briefly, to propose a different ideological and methodological framework for the study of the hermeneutical principles. Perhaps this may also serve as an illustration of a research alternative more generally.

If indeed the two early schools, that of Rabbi Ishmael and that of Rabbi Akiva, were integrated into one another in a later period, then we have no need at all to reconstruct the approach of each one separately. In the end, a single system of exposition was created out of the two schools, and that system too ought to display internal consistency—just as we noted above regarding the editing of the Talmud. We therefore do not deny that there was a fundamental dispute concerning the hermeneutical principles, but in the end a synthesis emerged, something like a halakhic ruling in that earlier methodological dispute.

According to this assumption, it is clear that many expositions will be developments and refinements of their earlier origins—from the schools of Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva, and perhaps earlier still, with Rabbi Nehunya ben Ha-Kanah and Nahum of Gimzo, the teachers of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael; see Babylonian Talmud, Shavuot 26a. But if indeed we assume, as we have argued several times in the past, that a synthesis was created from the different methods of exposition and fused into one comprehensive system, then it is possible to study only that system and ignore its various sources. We should note that the difficulties involved in identifying which expositions belong to which school need not interfere with such research. Of course, historical identification still has importance, because the later generations created a harmonious system that does not necessarily fit perfectly with the earlier sources. It is a later development, but one that may be viewed as the realization of a prior potential.

Of course, we are assuming here the traditional assumption of harmony, as against the academic assumption of stratification. On this assumption, one can focus specifically on the later sources of the hermeneutical expositions and ask whether it is possible to find in them a consistency of their own.

This methodological assumption is also characteristic of traditional study. It does not necessarily point to a different view of history,⁸ but rather to a difference in goals, and perhaps one may say, in “ideology.” If academic research is interested in questions of historical development, traditional study is interested in Torah as a whole, as it has come down to us. The purpose of traditional study and research is not the reconstruction of approaches lost in the recesses of history, but rather an attempt to arrive at the knowledge that had already accumulated by the generations of the amoraim. This does not necessarily indicate forgetfulness or a weakening of tannaitic knowledge, but rather a synthesis made from it. And, if possible, one should create from that point onward a further, more refined continuation.

The purpose of traditional research into the hermeneutical principles is not the reconstruction of the past, but the creation of the Torah of the future. If we discover differences between early and later generations, we will not conclude that these are not genuine gezerah shavah, but rather that they are developments through conceptualization and generalization of earlier knowledge, developments that form the foundation for the next level that we are meant to build in Torah.

Paradoxically, one might say that academic research is classicist in character—it tends toward the past, and sees the past as more perfect—whereas traditional study is modernist: it faces toward the future, and sees later developments as more complete than the earlier stages. This is not necessarily a factual description of reality, for it is too rosy. What we have here is an ideological proposal from which the corresponding methodological assumptions may also be derived.

And Yet, the Importance of Academic Research

Despite everything said thus far, academic research is an important tool. Scholars have done systematic work in classification and dating, something that was not done in the world of traditional study. This material can be used very fruitfully even in relation to the ideological goal proposed here. As we suggested in the page on Parashat Vayetze 5765, historical stratification is important because it gives us a direction for reconstructing knowledge that has been lost to us. According to the interpretation proposed here, the differences between expositions in the early generations and those in the later ones are not evidence of error but of development. If we follow in the footsteps of our predecessors and trace the ways in which the methods of exposition developed, perhaps we can continue from the point at which they stopped.

The prevailing tendency in the traditional world is to reject academic methods and assumptions. But according to our approach, things may be seen differently: one should make use of the important and systematic findings that have been uncovered, though not necessarily of the academic interpretation that explains them. This is the ideology of the Midah Tovah association, which proposes taking the best from both worlds.

Footnotes