From the Desert of Matana – 1999

With God’s help

A. The conflict between Greece and Israel during the Hasmonean period has received many interpretations, some on a national-cultural basis, and some on a religious basis.

In the Sages, there is an ambivalent reference to Greece and its wisdom. On the one hand, 'and darkness was upon the face of the deep' is the Greek kingdom that darkened the eyes of Israel. And further: 'Cursed is he who teaches his son Greek wisdom.' On the other hand, 'Jephthah of God is like a thorn', the beauty of Japheth will be in the tents of Shem, and so on.

There are various solutions to these contradictions. Some distinguish between the Greek language and its wisdom, or between different branches of Greek wisdom and others. It seems that despite these, a certain ambivalence that exists in relation to Greece cannot be ignored. It is very clear that Greek wisdom has a positive side. Can one condemn the study of logic, when several of Israel's great men dealt with it, and even defined it as one of the foundations of wisdom and thinking?

Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner, in his book 'Pahad Yitzchak' (for Chanukah), describes the struggle between Greece and Israel as a clash between two forms of thinking. In the language of the hermit rabbi in his book 'Kol HaNoveva', this can be described as a clash between auditory logic and visual logic. This struggle, if understood broadly, has taken place in various incarnations throughout history, and continues to this day. Sometimes it is not entirely clear who is on each side of the fence, and it is important to clarify the picture a little, which also has great relevance to present-day processes and events.

The Greeks mark the beginning of the era of systematic philosophy and its branches, to the point that some have argued that the entire history of philosophy is nothing more than a collection of notes on Plato and Aristotle. It is also important to mention in this context that Alexander the Great, the founder of the Greek Empire, was Aristotle's (personal) disciple in his youth. Historians tend to refer to him as an 'enlightened' conqueror, whose goals in conquest, beyond the mere accumulation of power, were to bring the 'light' of Greek culture founded by his aforementioned teacher and mentor to all corners of the world.

The Greeks (especially Aristotle in the Organon) also founded and introduced to the world the field known as 'logic'. This field deals with the basic forms in which we use our logical thought, serves as the fundamental basis for mathematics, and also underlies the structure of the modern digital computer.

The monk calls Greek logic 'visual logic' (or 'ocular', from the word eye), since it represents the visible aspect of logical structures, which can be seen from the outside. In contrast, there is 'auditory logic', which describes what is hidden behind visible things. A voice can be heard behind a wall, but the mirror behind that wall cannot be seen. Therefore, hearing represents listening to the hidden, the intuition that discerns truth without explicit and overt reasons, without formal reasoning.

According to this description, it seems that the statement that the few defeated the many, that Israel defeated Greece, only applies at the national level. On the level of the struggle between modes of thinking, it seems as if Greece at least was not defeated, and perhaps even won. It is Greek thinking that stands to this day at the center of the cultural stage, at least in Western science and thought. Furthermore, even in the Beit Midrash itself, there is a feeling that we use Greek thinking and Greek logic as in all other areas of thought. Logical analysis is a first-rate tool in the study of theology in the Beit Midrash, and often it is not clear what the difference in methods really is, if any, between the areas of study of the sacred and the secular.

In fact, it can be said that Torah thinking is becoming more and more 'Greek' over the years. We are well aware of the difference between the form of study of the latter contemporaries and those who preceded them, and between the latter and the former, between them and the geniuses, and so on until the period of prophecy in the Bible, and perhaps even before. This can be described as a gradual transition from intuitive thinking in the early stages of history, to formal-logical thinking in the later stages. A parallel process is also occurring in world thinking (at least Western thinking, which is directly influenced by ancient Greece). Here the question arises even more strongly: who won, the good or the bad. Who in general is good and who is bad on the ideological-thinking level of historical events. Did the 'evil Greeks' indeed win over the 'righteous Jews'?

There is an interesting historical correlation, and not at all coincidental, between the end of the era of prophecy and the expansion of the Greek Empire. The author of Seder Olam says (P"l): "And there stood a mighty king, etc., and in his standing he was broken, etc. (Daniel 11) is Alexander the Great, who reigned for twelfth year. Up to this point the prophets prophesied by the Holy Spirit. From then on, listen carefully and hear the words of the wise" (and see Seder Olam Zuta for more details). Prophecy is the essence of the auditory ability, and when it is complete, Greek, logical thinking can, and perhaps even should, enter. Shimon the Tzadik, who opens the era of Tosheba (from the remnants of the Great Knesset), is described in the Sages as someone whose image was defeated before Alexander the Great in all his wars.[1]

Greek culture comes to Israel at exactly the moment when it is needed most. When prophecy is finished, and we do not have the same auditory-prophetic ability as we were accustomed to, we need the help of the logical tools of Greece. In some ways, it is a substitute for the original auditory (prophetic) thinking.

Ironically, it is Greek logic that saves the wisdom of the Torah from the doom that awaits it without the aid of the 'Shemaic' prophecy. In science and mathematics too, we can see people who can reach the results of a long calculation by intuition alone, a result that others, not endowed with the same degree of intuition, have to sweat profusely to reach. When we lose our original intuitive ability, we need an alternative 'compensation' in the form of logical analysis tools.

The beauty of Japheth enters the tents of Shem and is assimilated there as an organic part of the wisdom of the Torah. The dialectical historical process expands the Torah from intuitive thinking towards a logical formal formulation of the intuitive principles. This is a more complete form of the Torah, to which God leads it.

So, it seems that the Greeks did indeed 'win'. Their logic also dominates the Beit Midrash today. There is a feeling today as if the Torah is a subject of study, not a method. The method of study seems to be universal-Greek, as in all other fields, except that in the Beit Midrash it is applied to the Torah field instead of to another scientific (or 'theoretical', literally) field.

Nevertheless, there is a distinction between the fields also at the level of method, and not only in content. There is a form of Torah thinking, and not only Torah thinking content. We need to be aware that there are 'Shema' remnants in Torah study in the Beit Midrash (as opposed to academic, 'Greek', Torah engagement) and we must not lose them.

It seems that Chazal's condemnation of Greek wisdom is not wisdom per se, but rather the perception of its role and place. Greece represents the view that all thinking is concentrated exclusively in its logical-formal part,[2] While Israel and its Torah do not deny the use of logic itself, but rather its exclusivity, the aural argument is that there are other parts of the way of thinking (Torah and general) beyond Greek logic.

To complete this schematic description, it is interesting to note that while Israel seemingly surrendered to Greek visual-logical logic, it was precisely in the last century that the Greek concept suffered a severe and painful blow, and precisely in the most 'Greek' field, mathematical logic. Several theorems formulated and proved by the German logician Kurt Godel, called 'incompleteness theorems', state that in many mathematical systems there are theorems that are necessarily true, and at the same time cannot be proven. The meaning of this statement is that there is a distinction between the 'commonality' of theorems and their 'truth'. This is a death blow to the Greek concept that holds that only logical proof is the only way to arrive at truth.

on. The implications of the picture drawn here are very numerous, and are found in various fields. Here we will attempt to briefly point out some of the implications in the field of Torah study and halakhic rulings.

One of the essential characteristics of the visual-Greek way of thinking, which holds that a true statement is only a proven statement, is the inability to make decisions and reach certainty. Every proof is based on basic assumptions (axioms) that themselves cannot be proven. If we look at this simple fact through 'Greek' eyes, we immediately come to the conclusion that is prevalent today in the Western ('Greek') world that there are indeed no binding and absolute truths. Each with its own basic assumptions, and therefore also the conclusions that follow from them. There is no way to decide arguments between different sets of assumptions, since assumptions, by their very nature, cannot be logically examined. On the other hand, 'auditory' understanding by its very nature leads to decisions. Of course, there are differences of opinion, but it is possible to decide between positions by intuitively discussing the basic assumptions themselves. The use of intuition also allows for discussion of the axioms underlying the various concepts, which is not possible with formal logic.

The Ramban is well-known for his words in his introduction to the Book of Wars, where he wrote that the wisdom of our Torah is not as great as the wisdom of the attribute and the deduction, whose proofs (=arguments, proofs) are clear (precise, unambiguous). This quote is usually cited to support halakhic pluralism in which every position has legitimacy (these and those are the words of the living God). It seems to me that the Ramban's intention in these words is exactly the opposite. Even when the proofs are not clear, and perhaps especially when this is the case, it is possible to reach a decision. When one does not expect logical proof to decide the debate, but rather intuition is perceived as a subject that can also be discussed, only then is there a chance of reaching decisions in arguments that seem seemingly dead-end. From such a starting point, precisely because we are not only looking for logical proofs (being wrong about a minor matter), we do not necessarily reach a situation where 'each one has his own truth.' In the Torah, there is also 'being wrong in judgment.' Even though there is no proof against him, he is wrong.

Torah study essentially requires decisions. In earlier generations, a posak would usually decide according to his own understanding, and everyone had a clear position on most halakhic questions. Today, it seems as if no one has a clear position. Decisions are increasingly made by considering the positions of previous posaks, rather than by clarifying the posak's own position. In the field of the study of halakhic studies, this is much more pronounced. The story is well-known of Rabbi Chaim who sent a question to Rabbi Yitzhak Elchanan Spector of Kovna, and asked him to answer him only with a "yes" or "no." Rabbi Chaim feared that if Rabbi Yitzhak Elchanan reasoned the ruling, he would be able to raise objections to any reasoning from any side. This is a symptomatic situation for the study of halakhic studies in the yeshiva world today, which Rabbi Chaim, as is known, had a great influence on shaping.

We often hear statements that we are not the best people to put our heads between the mountains and rule on questions that the great poskim, and certainly the Rishonim, have divided on. We will admit that this is not a complete description of the situation. In fact, not only do we not dare to rule between opinions, we are simply unable to do so. With the developed logical (Greek) ability that exists today in the world in general, and in yeshivahs in particular, we can analyze any system in the Rishonim and poskim and place it on logical foundations, to the point that in very many cases the student does not have a clear position at all, nor even a personal inclination for one side or the other.

The 'poskim' (Rabbi Yitzhak Elchanan), unlike the 'lamdanim' (Rabbi Chaim), are considered to have the ability to decide between different halakhic positions, and are usually less inclined to the logical analysis practiced in yeshiva scholarship. It seems as if these two forms of study are in some way incompatible with each other. In a rough generalization: someone who knows (or wants) to analyze cannot (or wants to) decide, and vice versa. This is how the modern era's distinction between 'lamdanim' (often yeshiva heads) and 'poskim' (who are usually not yeshiva heads) was created. In the past, the situation was not like this; the lamadim were also the poskim. It was the works that were divided into categories of ruling and commentary, but the writers were the same writers.

This situation reflects on the form of study and ruling on halakhic law today. Talmud Torah, by its very nature, is behavior based on academic conclusions. Its goal is to lower abstract contemplation to the level of practical behavior, and raise everyday life to the abstract theoretical plane. Connecting the higher and lower. This is perhaps the most essential characteristic of Talmud Torah, which distinguishes it from other 'external' wisdom. The situation today is not like this. Theoretical study is the raising of abstract arguments that serve to understand all the methods of commentators and poskim, while halakhic rulings are usually done by independent examination of halakhic books (Shulchan Shulchan, Mishnah Berurah, etc.), aggravating most of the prevalent methods, and thinking as if mathematically (Greek) based on these rulings. Often the theoretical conclusions are not the ones that guide practical behavior, and what's more: there are almost no theoretical conclusions, only halakhic rulings that are disconnected from the study. This situation allows the learner to raise opinions that he does not agree with, and does not feel their truth, since he has no obligation to act on them. A person who desecrates Shabbat based on his opinion will naturally be very careful in formulating that opinion.

It seems that there really is no way out of this situation. As mentioned, the ability to decide has been almost completely lost to us, and many times we are unable to decide between opposing positions due to considerations of reason.

One of the starting points for solving the problem is to bring the realm of thought that lies at the root of Halacha back into Halacha consideration. This is the auditory logic that lies behind the visible layer of things. When the intellectual reason for any Halacha statement is understood (and I am not referring to the 'tema dekra', but to understanding the words of the Gemara and Rishonim), it will be possible to try and decide between the parties. There is a certain reluctance to such a form of ruling, mainly because the realm of thought seems to be more flexible and less defined and precise than the realm of Halacha. Indeed, if consolidated methods and defined ba'i midrash are created in these areas, it is possible that the ability to decide will improve, and we will return the auditory crown to Torah study. If the learner asks himself, after asking a theoretical explanation, one more 'why' question, he will immediately find himself in the realm of thought. There is hardly any theoretical explanation that does not hide a philosophical world of thought behind it. I am referring here not only to areas that are usually classified as 'thought,' such as choice, providence, God, the choosing of Israel, the meaning of the Torah, and so on, but also to philosophical issues, such as: whether time is composed of parts or is it continuous, whether there is only one cause for each effect or not, and so on. Questions of this kind are also currently preoccupying philosophy, which has also undergone a significant expansion process, and such a process as is proposed here will simultaneously expand the field called 'Israelite thought,' which still usually concentrates on 'religious' questions of God, choice, providence, and so on.

R. Chaim dealt mainly with definitions. It is said that he instructed that one should only ask 'what', not 'why' (I do not entirely agree that this is indeed what he did), to describe and not to explain/understand. In fact, as is customary to say in the yeshiva world when an explanation of some law is offered, that this is the boundary of the law and not the meaning of the law. The distinction between these two concepts is very difficult, and it also arises in the context of the philosophy of science, which today believes, in accordance with the above, that science describes and does not explain. This is exactly the picture described above, according to which both Torah and science today do not attempt to understand (to give an 'auditory' meaning) but to describe (to give a 'visual' boundary).

If we nevertheless try to understand, and put our understanding to the test of conformity with various laws, in the same way that we put theoretical explanation to the test, we may be able to arrive at a systematic meta-halachic intellectual shift. To reach such a state, it seems that in many cases the thought must emerge from the laws and not, as is customary today, appear as an autonomous body originating from the thinker's beliefs, and is detached from the bodies of halachic law.

Furthermore, we are told that in a situation where the learner has a tendency to side with one of the parties, one should consider allowing him to act according to his own conclusion. This, as is well known, was the Maharal's approach in his polemic against the Shulchan, and such an approach also appears in the Chazo'a in several places in his writings. This is a connection of the upper and lower that should be the core of Torah study, but, as stated above, it will also have an impact on the quality of the study of the halakhah.

It is clear that every learner needs guidance on at what point he can begin to trust his auditory intuition, and act in accordance with it, and under what circumstances (the 'authorization' of a person to teach halakhah for himself). However, as a principled model to which every learner should aspire, such a conception of halakhic ruling should be established from the study of halakhic studies. The goal of halakhic studies should not only be to understand the different methods per se, but also to try to decide between them. We must remember that this is an acquired skill, which can be refined and deepened. We must remember that the principled way to rule on halakhic law should not be to search for a 'clear Mishnah' but to clarify the issue and act in light of the conclusions that arise from studying it (while also taking into account what is written in the 'clear Mishnah'). In many cases when the answer is not explicitly found in a clear Mishnah, the advisable course is to adopt an independent position and not always be strict with all the methods unless there is truly a real doubt. It seems to me that this model for ruling on halakhic law can also be convincingly established, and I will conclude with this.

Halacha, thought and reflection are currently three separate Torah fields. The chain of thought-reflection-halacha must be connected in order to regain the ability to decide and the connection of the higher and lower as stated above. This will be the final victory of Israel over Greece, and then the beauty of Japheth will be in the tents of Shem, and not the other way around.

third. The connection between Halacha and thought (Aggadah) has already become a somewhat worn-out slogan, and what is now missing are practical examples. There is no room here to elaborate on this, and it is clear that the issue requires extensive and exhaustive elaboration by the entire Torah world, but nevertheless I will not refrain from offering here one example (which came up in our study of the Dumas daily last year) of the distinction I discussed above between boundary and taste and its implications for the ability to decide.

There is a well-known investigation by the 'Benin Zion' into the question of whether a person who ate on Yom Kippur should continue to fast, or if a person who has broken the fast again cannot complete it. The basis for the side that perceives the obligation as fasting throughout the day is the verse 'From evening to evening you shall rest in your houses,' which describes the commandment to fast on Yom Kippur.[3]

There are those who describe this investigation in the form of demarcations (as if 'Greek' descriptions): Is Yom Kippur a single unit of time, or is it composed of parts? If it is composed of parts, then it is clear that if we did not fulfill our duty at one moment, this does not detract from our obligation to continue fasting at other moments. However, if it is a single unit, then when we did not fast throughout the day, we did not fulfill the mitzvah at all, and there is no point in continuing to fast. In such a 'Greek' form, it seems that the investigation cannot be decided. How can we examine whether Yom Kippur is composed of parts or is it a single unit? Definitions cannot be examined beyond their very consistency. Even if we try to examine the definitions through the halachic NEP, it is assumed for (almost) every investigation that both sides of it can be reconciled with all the data, and if so, the attempt to develop an intuition that will help us decide cannot often make significant progress in such a way of analyzing demarcations.

To examine our position on this question, we must move to the realm of reasons, and ask why there would be such definitions of the obligation to fast on Yom Kippur at all, what could be the 'reason' for any such 'limitation'. Here, we can follow two paths: 1. Examine the halakhic concepts of time, and reach conclusions regarding the essence of halakhic time in various contexts. There are several such attempts (HaZP, Rabbi Amiel, Rabbi Kosher), and this is the direction I described above as expanding the field of study of Jewish thought. 2. We can examine things through understanding the essence of the obligation to fast on Yom Kippur. In the second path, we can ask ourselves whether 'fasting' can be defined as a moment, or perhaps it is a state that must continue (Rabbi Blumentzweig's opening lesson for Yom Kippur dealt with this point). In such a question, decisions can be reached through understanding the essence of the obligation to fast in every Jewish calendar (a strike, such as from work, assistance in making repentance, etc.). The realm of tastes seems more accessible to intuition.[4]

As an anecdote, albeit a significant one, a surprising phenomenon can be shown in this example. Normally, we would expect that there would be no difference between the halakhic implications of the fence and those of the taste, since these are two parallel planes of description. Ostensibly, if these fence and taste are indeed compatible, such differences are not possible at all.

Let's look at the child who fasted in the middle of the Yom Kippur. According to the definition that describes the obligation to fast as a single unit of time, it is clear that the child has no reason to fast for half a day, and on the other hand, if the obligation is for every moment, it is clear that he is obligated to fast for the remainder of the day. However, if we note that the child fasted according to the educational law also in the first part of the day, then when he continues to fast, he will fulfill the concept of "fasting" as it is meant. If the meaning of "fasting" is a period of time (and not a collection of moments), since this is what the requirement to fast says, then when the child finishes the fast, he has indeed fasted. If so, according to this reason, it is certain that the child should continue to fast. However, it is this reason that supposedly underlies the definition of the obligation to fast as a single unit of time, and according to this definition, our conclusion was that this child does not have an obligation to continue to fast. It seems that there is carelessness here in the transition between the definition and the reason, a phenomenon symptomatic of the dangerous process of following reasons. And I agree with that.

[1] Many scholars have commented that from a historical perspective, the meeting described in the Gemara between Alexander and Shimon the righteous does not fit the periods of their lives and activities. There was no overlap between the periods of the years' lives. Against this background, it seems doubly clear that this is not just a casual historical meeting, however important it may be. This legend comes to illustrate the essential connection between the years. The end of the age of prophecy is the beginning of the age of the Oral Torah. The Greeks meet us at the historical "seam" between prophecy and the Tosheva.

[2] Rabbi Ramban, known for his posthumous speech, speaks about the Greek and his wicked disciples who deceive their hearts into thinking that what they have not reached through their wisdom does not exist.

[3] If we were talking about the rulings, it seems that we can say unequivocally from the issues and the first ones that there is a clear obligation to continue fasting, and so on.

[4] It seems to me that intuition tends to be decisive here, not according to the halacha. As I noted, according to halacha, the obligation to fast is for every moment. It is interesting to examine what this says about this particular intuition, and about the use of intuition in general.