On the New Critique of the Talmud: A General Introduction (Column 674)

With God’s help

Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.

I’ll begin with a fairly long preface, since it has importance in its own right. Lately I’ve been invited quite a bit to podcasts and various debates, and in many cases I’ve agreed. I’ll explain here why, and through that present the motivation for this column. After that I’ll give a general introduction to critical discussions about the Torah, halakha, and the Talmud, and in the coming columns I’ll enter into a discussion of specific critical arguments.

Yaron Yadan and Conservative Education

A few weeks ago I had a debate with Yaron Yadan. Yaron was a baal teshuva, a kollel head (or kollel director, I’m not sure), Haredi, in Rechasim, who decided to abandon his commitment to Torah and mitzvot. Since then he has been engaged, in various forms, in disseminating critique of the Written and Oral Torah and of religious tradition and society, all within the framework of the organization ‘Daat Emet.’ I’ve known his critiques for many years, and I even share some of them. My impression of him and his arguments has always been that he assumes Haredi (or conservative) dogmas and identifies them with Judaism, and therefore his arrows are aimed primarily at them—somewhat justifiably (as the saying goes: “I too do not believe in that God”).

To me, Yadan has always been an example of the damage wrought by conservative education. Although its goal is to keep the student in a “pure worldview” and not expose him to difficulties and alternative positions, the result is that when that student nevertheless encounters critiques, he has no tools to deal with them. The conservative student is educated on naïve conceptions detached from reality, and that apparently keeps him a charmingly devout and pious fellow (just not exactly devoted to the right thing). But in our open world it often happens that such a person eventually meets the very arguments that were so strenuously kept from him, and still—Heaven forbid—he may engage his mind about them. In such a situation, precisely because he has no tools to cope, he can react in one of two ways: either repress the critiques and continue in the rut, or abandon his religious commitment altogether. This is an excellent example of the midrash cited by Rashi in Parashat Bereishit regarding Eve and the serpent. She chose to expand the divine command not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge and told the serpent that God also forbade touching it. The serpent pushed her against the tree, and when nothing happened to her he convinced her to eat as well. These are the harms of “expanding the front” in legal jargon, and this is precisely what happens in our case as well. As the Sages said: adding is like subtracting; whoever adds, detracts.

In any case, in this sense I very much appreciate Yadan’s integrity in deciding to use his mind and draw the conclusions that, according to his approach, are required. But unlike him, when I encountered these arguments and difficulties I also thought it appropriate to keep a straight attitude toward them, and over time I understood that these difficulties oblige me to examine the assumptions on which I was educated, and then my religious conceptions changed. That’s how an apikores is born. The encounters I’ve had for many years with people who raise questions, difficulties, and arguments are not, in my view, intended only to supply them with answers, but also to examine my own positions—similar to Yadan. But unlike Yadan, because of these difficulties I decided to reject the conservative dogmas. The fact that I was educated on something doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the right thing. On the other hand, such a solution prevents the supposedly necessary conclusion of abandoning religious commitment altogether. I do not identify Judaism with the prevailing conservative tradition, and therefore for me these critiques are not an assault on the Torah and Judaism but on Haredism, or perhaps on conservative Judaism in general. That’s with regard to the part of his critique that I share. Other parts I do not share at all.

The Significance of Debates and My Attitude Toward Them

For some time now I’ve been asked (see for example here, here and here) why I shouldn’t do a debate with him in order to clarify his claims and address them, and my answer has always been that I don’t see much value in a debate or panel like that, because in any case neither of us is likely to be persuaded. Anyone who wants to learn and examine these arguments and form a serious position regarding them needs to delve into the matter, read, think, consult, and then reach their own conclusions. A debate or panel is at most a gladiator match whose aim is mainly to entertain the public and spare it the need to think. They are intended for those who don’t want to dig into the questions themselves. One indication I received for this, in retrospect, is the responses of viewers after my debate with Yaron (and others). Those who think like me are certain that I had the upper hand, hands down. Others declare that I was defeated by a knockout. Everything depends on one’s stance. Somehow such a debate gives every viewer what they had to begin with and usually doesn’t change positions—so what’s the point?!

In any case, after the debate with Yaron I was asked why I changed my position and nevertheless agreed to participate. My answer was that recently Divine Providence arranged—by Its own holy hands—for several critiques of the halakhic tradition and the Talmud to be released into the public sphere almost at the same time (I assume that those who think this is connected to the contemporary critiques of yeshiva students, and particularly their exemption from military service, won’t be far off the mark). Some of them also stirred noise and no small measure of embarrassment among believers, and it seems there’s a need to address and contend with them.

I must broaden the canvas and say more generally that religious speakers online, in most cases, are not particularly impressive, and my sense is that in many confrontations between them and their critics, religious faith comes out quite embarrassing and even ludicrous. I’m not talking only about the likes of Amnon Yitzhak or “Hidabroot” and the like. That’s obvious. This happens also with believers whose intellectual level and integrity are beyond doubt. The examples are myriad, but for me you can see a striking example here, in an interview Yadan conducted with Rabbi Shlomo Aviner. Precisely because he is a Torah scholar and an educated person by all accounts, it was difficult for me to watch how he tries to circumvent the problems and doesn’t really manage to provide a reasonable answer to them. Truly embarrassing. As I explained above, in my opinion this stems from conservatism and clinging to accepted dogmas, as I’ll explain later when I address those questions and offer my own responses.

For these reasons I ultimately decided to participate in such a debate in order to present a systematic position and responses to his critiques. This is part of a change in policy that led me to accept several such invitations lately. After we finished, the moderator told me that the recording was accompanied by noise and therefore he didn’t think to upload it online. Readers on my site who heard about this protested and immediately offered help in post-production. In the end they removed the editing segments but didn’t touch the noise (which apparently isn’t disturbing). You’ll see that although this debate wasn’t posted on a popular debate channel but rather on my own YouTube channel, it garnered relatively many daily views, and this strengthened my understanding that it was indeed needed. This does not mean I recommend debate as a way to form a position on any issue. Beyond entertainment, it can be an initial step in such an inquiry, but it must be followed by more serious study.

The Two Examples to Be Discussed Here

The two examples I’ll focus on are those that caught my attention in recent weeks: this lecture by Dr. Yitzhak Isakov as part of the series “Coming to the Professors”, and an article by Dov Elbaum in Haaretz. A few words about them.

Isakov, according to his own testimony, has no Torah background whatsoever. He is a very veteran ophthalmologist, and he speaks before the “Agassi Club,” which is made up of professors (apparently mainly from Tel Aviv University), and it’s evident that they too don’t really have a background in the matter. The subject of his talk was embarrassing issues in the Talmud. He describes how he was exposed to these materials (he was the doctor of several well-known rabbis), and they repeatedly tried to present to him the light of Torah. He became curious and impressed, and therefore decided to delve into the heart of the matter and study it. After years of research, he discovered to his astonishment that the Talmud is full of very embarrassing phenomena. He ultimately emerged with a collection of critiques about several Talmudic topics and about the Talmud in general, which he presented in that forum.

Already as I listened, the description struck me as entirely implausible. It was hard for me to believe that a person without background conducts independent research over several years while working intensively as an ophthalmologist (you can find his professional record online), and reaches meaningful proficiency in studying Talmud and halakha, even managing to gather examples from all over the Talmud and analyze those sugyot while consulting the commentaries and critical literature. I don’t know him, but if I may hazard a guess, if I give him a page of Gemara with its commentaries he won’t really be able to grapple with it. Incidentally, I also didn’t find other publications of his on the subject. Someone here on the site mentioned that his examples are taken from Yaron Yadan, and that explained everything.

Of course, even if I’m right, that’s not an answer to the difficulties themselves, since such difficulties require substantive engagement, not ad hominem critique. But this background is important to understand the diffusion of Yadan’s arguments and their significance in public discourse. Isakov’s professor-audience behaved as expected, like a uniform Greek chorus. You could see how all those “broad-minded” and “critical-thinking” people join in unison with Isakov’s mockery, all without having any idea what the subject is and without any ability to critique anything he said. This is very characteristic of the “intellectualism” and “openness” of our academy. I’ll only note that listening to this lecture really irritated me, and I approached them with a request to come and present a different position before them. For some reason, after initial contact we scheduled a Zoom meeting and the person didn’t show up, and since then the connection was cut off. Apparently they’re not looking for a second voice for the Greek chorus.

As for Dov Elbaum, the picture looks quite similar. True, in his youth he studied in yeshivot (Itri for younger students and Hebron), and his public “ticket” is as one who learned and left—the apostate of our generation. I thought that unlike Isakov he should have Talmudic knowledge and proficiency. But reading Wikipedia I found that he left the yeshiva world and religious commitment already in high school (it says there that he completed studies at the Rene Cassin High School in Jerusalem). Therefore I began to doubt, regarding him as well, to what extent he can really grapple independently with a Talmudic sugya with the requisite depth. After all that, I wasn’t particularly surprised to discover that the leading example in his article is also closely tied to Yaron Yadan, and it’s quite possible that he too drew it from him.

From these two examples and similar ones I understood that Yadan’s words are percolating and troubling many. Many critics use them to attack Jewish, halakhic, and Talmudic tradition, while believing people are left without an answer. This apparently requires a proper Zionist response. I don’t know how successful I can be, but I thought to myself that my chances of making the current online situation worse are slim, since from here one can only go up. That’s the meaning of the policy change I described, and my decision to accept invitations to debates.

Methodological Prefaces

In the final part of the column I’ll briefly present several points that underlie dealing with critical arguments of these kinds. Some address conservative assumptions that thwart anyone who comes to engage with these claims, and others are methods that, for some reason, people are unaware of. This list is a framework and a toolbox for the approaches I suggest for dealing with these critiques, and you can also find here an explanation of why many fail at this.

It’s important for me to stress that I am not conducting here a polemical and apologetic seminar to train lecturers for “Hidabroot,” “Arachim,” and the like. The assumption of such organizations is that it is permitted and even desirable to lie and distort the picture, to present it selectively and tendentiously, all for the lofty goal—that is, to win the argument, bring people back to observance, and sanctify God’s name. I disagree with them on this (and I’ve had no small number of arguments on this topic with people who take these approaches). I’ve written more than once that I oppose “holy lies” (a lie with a positive aim), partly because a lie does not stand (nowadays, when all the information is exposed and accessible, such lies are easier to uncover), but even if it were useful I am fundamentally opposed to basing a correct position on lies. I’d rather a person hold an incorrect position that he reached through honest inquiry.

Therefore, I preface by saying that my goal here is not to arm people with arguments to win a debate, to bring someone back to observance, or to “sanctify God’s name.” I have nothing against winning a debate, and certainly not against bringing people back or sanctifying God’s name, but I don’t see these as ends in themselves. They should be the result of charging and forming a straight and fair position, and if one doesn’t arrive at that result—then so be it.

For me, then, the tools presented here are required first and foremost for the person himself as he comes to form an honest position in relation to such critiques. I believe that despite the persuasive force of these critical arguments, when examined on their merits they fail. Their strength stems from people being unaware of those failures, and therefore if we use these tools there’s a chance of getting closer to the truth, and perhaps also to achieve de facto the coveted victory or return to observance. But that is not the goal. As stated, this is not a school for “Arachim” lecturers.

1. Scientific Errors

Many of Yadan’s critiques deal with scientific errors in the Talmud. He of course assumes, like many believing Jews, that the Talmud is supposed to possess exalted, sanctified knowledge and therefore be free of errors. But although this is the portion of most (not all) of the sages of Israel in all generations, this is nonsense. There are quite a few errors in the Talmud, and whoever denies this denies the facts.

In every generation the sages relied on the scientific knowledge of their time. Today it’s obvious to all of us that the sages often err, even regarding scientific knowledge already extant in the world, and certainly they don’t know beyond it. So why assume it wasn’t the same in the previous century, at the dawn of modernity, in the Middle Ages, and in the time of the Geonim? Why not assume it was also the case in Talmudic times? If the Talmudic sages had exalted knowledge that could not err, when exactly along history did that get lost? Regarding prophets one could at least say they have another source of exalted knowledge (directly from the Holy One, blessed be He), but the sages who are not prophets have their own intellect and observation and the knowledge of their contemporaries—like any reasonable person. That’s all. The sages of the generations were people like you and me, and they could err like you and me, and from time to time they indeed made use of that ability.

From here it follows that the defenses that seek to show that Talmudic knowledge is nevertheless correct (by way of more or less forced answers) are not necessarily wrong but are necessarily superfluous. There is no reason to assume there are no errors there, and therefore I don’t even try to reconcile the Talmud’s statements. Exactly as I don’t try to reconcile the statements of a fifth-century sage with the science of our time. Note that I don’t even accept the assumption that the Talmud is right unless proven wrong. It doesn’t even have such a presumption. If the Talmud contains a claim that fits the spirit of the time and the knowledge that existed then, that is probably what it means—even if I’ve found a forced reading that reconciles its words with the knowledge of our time. That is simply not the correct interpretation of the Talmud. On scientific and factual questions, the Talmud’s words have no status beyond that of any person of its era. Therefore, I’m not looking for answers to such attacks—not because there are no answers or because the answers are wrong, but because answers are unnecessary. I’m simply not troubled by the questions.

2. The Authority of the Sages

From this follows a consequence for the question of the sages’ authority. Yaron Yadan, like his conservative opponents, assumes that the sages’ authority depends on their being fiery beings endowed with the holy spirit. They assume what I’ve often called here “substantive authority” (search the site for “substantive authority” and “formal authority”), like that of a physician. This is the authority of someone that derives from expertise—that is, from the assumption that he doesn’t err. Therefore it also allows critique and rejection of his words. But Yadan and his opponents alike err here. The authority of the Talmudic sages is “formal authority,” and it does not depend on their spiritual charisma or on their being free of error. It derives from the fact that we accepted their authority (and when there was a Sanhedrin, its authority derived from the Torah’s command “Do not turn aside”). As is known, religious education attributes exalted wisdom to the Talmudic sages. We were taught that each of the Talmudic sages could revive the dead—even though somehow that ability evaporated with the sealing of the Talmud and doesn’t seem to have existed beforehand either. Moreover, since the sealing of the Talmud was a prolonged event, apparently over hundreds of years we had partial dead-revivers (even Geonim like Rav Aḥai—who per Tosafot is Rav Aḥa in the Talmud—who apparently revived the dead now and then when they slipped into the Talmudic corpus), until finally, for some reason, it dissipated entirely.

Young children need such explanations to ground the authority of a person or institution, for if he can err, why should I listen to him?! But adults understand that formal authorities can exist even for a person or body that can err (parliament, a court). Moreover, formal authority is limited according to its own principles. It exists only with respect to halakha (not ethics and not thought), and it is entrusted only to those who actually hold the office or are part of the institution that has formal authority (the Sanhedrin). Not every sage in every generation has formal authority, whether miracle-tales are spun about him or not (hence also the legends of “Daas Torah” and other fables). On the contrary—since the sealing of the Talmud, there is no formal authority in the halakhic world at all. This is yet another failure of conservatives when they come to grapple with Yadan’s claims, for he and they share the premise and that childish notion of authority. The sages could err, and that means two opposite things: on the one hand, in certain cases their authority exists despite the concern that they erred; on the other hand, there is always the concern that they erred and therefore it’s important to apply critical thinking to them (and sometimes also to act accordingly).

3. Morality

Other critiques of Yadan deal with moral questions. Here we must distinguish between critiques of the Torah and critiques of the Talmud and halakha. Regarding the Talmud and halakha, there is no necessity that their moral pronouncements be up-to-date for our times—that is, that their moral principles be identical to ours. That’s not because I am a moral relativist—I’m not. My claim is that the sages could err regarding morality as well, and it’s plainly evident that in these matters too they absorbed the spirit of their time (attitudes toward women, gentiles, and slaves; attitudes toward family members and children; and the like).

Regarding the Torah, however, the situation is seemingly different, for from the Holy One I would expect morally correct, absolute principles. But it’s important to understand that what appears in the Torah usually does not say something clear and unambiguous, and almost always the hands of flesh-and-blood interpreters are involved. Therefore, even in matters that are de-oraita one can make the same claim. In not a few cases the sages also take the Torah out of its plain meaning—that is, they themselves did not view it as the final word, and bent its words to their moral, interpretive, and rational conceptions. Here too, a conservative person will not be able to make these claims against Yadan, since for him the sages are fiery beings and their holy spirit causes everything they interpreted in the Torah to have been necessarily its original intention as well.

Beyond this, in this area there is another point where conservatives will fail. They, just like Yaron Yadan, assume identity between halakha and morality. For them, halakha must be moral, and when they encounter contradictions between halakha and morality they resort to the familiar contrivances about exalted and incomprehensible morality, “Jewish morality” as opposed to the paltry (and progressive) morality of the gentiles, and so forth. All of this is truly embarrassing, and the interview with Rabbi Aviner above can demonstrate this quite well. In contrast, I make two opposite claims: 1) Unlike Yadan’s religious disputants, I claim that morality is by definition universal—precisely as Yadan himself assumes. There is no “Jewish morality” versus another morality. 2) Unlike both Yadan and his religious disputants, I claim there is a disconnect between halakha and morality (see about this in column 541 and elsewhere). Halakha strives for different (religious) goals than those of morality, and therefore there’s no place to evaluate halakha by moral categories. This picture solves, in one fell swoop, all such difficulties, and from here you can understand why Yadan fails and also why religious apologists do not succeed in dealing with his claims. Of course this requires an internal reworking on the believer’s part regarding his attitude to morality and halakha, and therefore innovators will go with it and conservatives will stumble over it.

I have explained in several places that morality nevertheless enters halakha in several ways. I’ll list three here: 1) Sometimes the sages incorporate it as a rabbinic enactment. 2) Sometimes they impose it even without incorporating it into halakha (compelling someone against midat Sodom). 3) When there are several legitimate interpretive paths in halakha—we will choose the path most consonant with morality (sometimes even if it is more forced, so long as it is possible).

Another conservative mistake that can hinder such discussions is the assumption that the entire Written and Oral Torah was given to us from on high at Sinai. If so, then indeed we would expect universal and eternal truths, and that opens the door to quite a few difficulties. But regarding the Oral Torah it’s clear that this is nonsense. A negligible minority of it was given at Sinai; the overwhelming majority developed over the generations through the sages. It is the product of human creation. And even regarding the Written Torah, the assumption that no verses or words were added over time is implausible. Therefore, errors or non-moral statements in the Torah can also indicate that we are dealing with a later human addition.

4. Embarrassing Questions

Other critiques of Yadan deal with embarrassing and unimportant questions that halakha and the Talmud address. As I explained to him in the debate itself, he of course assumes that the importance of a halakhic topic is determined by his yardstick (I showed there that he is simply begging the question in a very tendentious way). But that assumption is baseless. Just as we saw above that halakha strives for goals other than those of morality and therefore should not be judged through the eyes of morality, so too with any other human eye. To determine what the importance of a matter is in halakha is a presumption for which I see no real basis.

Here it might seem that the conservative can actually deal with him well. However, a conservative believer who confronts him will sometimes tend to accept Yadan’s conception, for he too identifies halakha with ordinary modes of thought and with morality, and therefore again he must resort to contrivances and explain why these are very important topics.

5. Okimtot (Constrained Readings)

As is known, at times the Talmud construes a Mishnah or other early source in a way that appears very forced and at odds with its original intention. In my article on okimtot I explained the matter and showed that to get to the root of the logic of okimtot it’s important to understand the principle underlying the source being interpreted (which is always a general rule and not a specific case). When you grasp that principle, the okimta usually becomes crystal clear.

There I explained that engagement with esoteric matters is, in most cases, a tool for clarifying an abstract halakhic concept, with the laboratory case that illustrates it being an esoteric instance. When the Talmud discusses a person who has intercourse with himself (engaging in sexual relations with himself)—an utterly impossible situation that certainly would never come up for practical halakhic ruling—the Talmud’s intention is not to issue practical halakha in this grave topic, but to try to clarify the mutual status of the active and passive parties in the halakhic definition of forbidden sexual relations. The same applies to warning an offender by way of a demon, a flying camel, wheat that descended in the clouds, an elephant that swallowed an Egyptian basket, and the like.

6. “Two Dinim”

One of the most common methods in the lamdanut discourse is to divide the sugya being studied into different aspects. In most cases, a practical situation consists of several theoretical aspects, each of which requires its own clarification. In my aforementioned article on okimtot I explained that the aim of theoretical analysis is to break the situation down into these aspects and discuss each one on its own. I showed there that each theoretical principle is discussed in an abstract, general situation that doesn’t involve other aspects, and therefore it’s easier to analyze and understand it. The complexity of practical situations stems from the combination of several different theoretical aspects.

I won’t elaborate here on this topic, and will only note that R. Chaim of Brisk expressed this through his style of analysis called “two dinim” (in fact there are several types of analysis that fall under this heading), showing these decompositions and using them to resolve contradictions and distinguish between similar things. Many critiques of the kinds I mentioned are based on a lack of lamdanic proficiency—that is, on a failure to distinguish between different dinim. Therefore, once you recognize this decomposition, they disappear of their own accord.