A Platonic view of existence

Academics – 2013

The Talmudic System of Thought and the Relationship Between the Mishnah and the Gemara

introduction

Every Talmud student is well acquainted with the phenomenon of okumitah. The meaning of the word "okumitah" in Hebrew is to position. This is a case in which difficulty arises in understanding the source (usually a conditional source, a mishnah, or a baraita) as it is, and the Gemara, in order to excuse the difficulty, "positions" what is said in the source on a rare specific case, that is, it claims that it deals with a situation or in an esoteric manner, as opposed to simply simplifying its language. In almost every issue, one can find an okumitah that the Gemara makes, usually to a conditional source and sometimes to an amoraic source. The mechanism of the okumitah seems extremely puzzling on the surface, and perhaps even devoid of intellectual honesty. Ostensibly, the Gemara offers an interpretation that takes the source out of its simple form, without considering the language of the source. It is no wonder that this problem bothers quite a few students. Usually, a new student is more bothered by it, since experienced students have simply become accustomed to it.

     As a result of these difficulties, the term "okimata" has become a kind of derogatory term in recent years, or a synonym for "to squeeze." A Google search quite easily yields statements in which a person praises his wares by saying: "My interpretation does not need okimatot and other squeezed ones." Quite a few Talmudic scholars, who are unwilling to accept this problematic way of interpretation, come to the conclusion that okimata is nothing more than a "polite" way for the Amoraim to dispute the conditions in the Mishnah. They refuse to see okimata as an innocent interpretation of the ancient source, and seemingly rightly so. Some of them have cited references to this from the words of the Rishonim, especially from the Gra.[1]

     For myself, I find it difficult to accept such a way of relating. I expect intellectual honesty from the Talmudic sages, as from anyone else. If someone wants to disagree with a Mishnah, they should be respectful and disagree with it explicitly, and not wrap it up in a false interpretive cloak. And if the Amora does not have the authority to disagree with the Mishnah, then it is impossible to do so, even in "polite" ways. Furthermore, I mentioned that okumitas are also made for Amoraic sources (we will see one such below), and there is no obstacle to disagreeing with the ancient Amora; so why not do it honestly and "on the table"? Beyond this a priori consideration, I also do not accept the evidence presented in my first and last words in favor of such an approach. But in this article I will not deal with these "ideological" aspects, nor with the various proposals to explain the okumitas, which will be mentioned here only in passing. My goal here is to offer an alternative, which, to the best of my judgment, is much more reasonable.

     The explanation I will offer for the phenomenon of the okimata solves, to the best of my understanding, the fundamental problem, and is also quite well-known in the Talmudic world. However, it seems that for some reason it does not receive the attention it deserves. In this article, I would like to present it in a broader philosophical context, while discussing several examples. The discussion of the examples will clarify the principle itself and demonstrate it in various issues. Beyond refining the general principle, the examples show the importance of the mechanism that underlies the okimata for understanding the issue itself, as well as for understanding the fundamental relationship between the Gemara and the Mishnah with which it deals. As we will see, an incorrect understanding of the role of the okimata leads to errors in understanding the specific issues with which one is dealing.

     However, in the interest of fairness, I must point out that I did not systematically examine the claim in all the validities in the sources of the Sages (this is an almost impossible task given the number of validities that exist there). But in the vast majority of the cases that I examined, I reached a satisfactory solution. I will demonstrate this later on with three Talmudic issues.

Three examples of okumitut in the Talmud

I will begin my remarks with some typical examples of the assumptions made in Talmudic issues.

A. In the Babylonian issue, Getin 88a, we find the following Amoraic saying:

Rava said: He wrote her a divorce and gave her an old slave and his guardianship – then this is a divorce.

A separation is not a divorce, it is a courtship that is hidden without her knowledge.

 Sleeping and keeping his watch – that's a divorce.

Giving a get must be done to the woman or to her guarded court. Rava states that giving a get to the woman's slave while he is sleeping and the woman (his mistress) guards him is also a valid giving.

The Gemara emphasizes this:

Mom? It's a walking yard, and a walking yard is not a dog!

And if Tima sleeps with me,

And Rava said: Whatever one does not buy while walking, one does not buy while standing and sitting!

This slave is indeed like the woman's court, but this is a special court – a court of pilgrimage, and a court of pilgrimage does not buy. The Gemara answers this in the Okimta:

And the way: with palms.

That is, Rava intended to "establish" (establish) his law only in the case of an old and enslaved slave. This is an example of an okumitah based on an Amoraic source.

     The question that arises here is: If Rava did indeed intend to speak of an old and bound slave, why did he not explicitly state this in his words? Is it reasonable to conclude that he really intended to speak of a bound slave, when the matter is not mentioned at all in his words? The seemingly obvious solution is that Rava's original statement was intended to say?? This law applies to every (old) slave, and only the later Amoraim disagree with it "politely," meaning they qualify the law and apply it only to an old and bound slave. According to this proposal, the Okimata is not a commentary on Rava's words, but rather a different opinion that disagrees with them, but it does so "politely," meaning it covers its true intention and meaning with an apparent interpretive veil.

on. In the mishnah at the beginning of Tractate Bitza we find a dispute between the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel:

An egg that was born on a good day,

 Beit Shammai says: You shall eat, and Beit Hillel says: You shall not eat.

On the surface, the case is simple: an egg is born on a Yom Tov, and the question is whether it is permissible or forbidden to eat it. And here, in this case too, the Babylonian question has difficulty understanding the controversy and raises several possibilities to explain it. One of the possibilities that arises there, on page 2b, is the suggestion of a rabbi:

But Rabbah said:

 Never in a chicken ready to be eaten,

 And on the good day that falls after the Sabbath, we are dealing with

 And because of preparation,

 And Kaspar Rabbah explained: Every egg of Demathilda the Idna – from yesterday she was finished.

A rabbi makes an okimata for the Mishnah: he is not talking about a regular Yom Tov, but rather about the Yom Tov that follows Shabbat. Now he offers an explanation according to which the dispute in the Mishnah revolves around the law of preparation. If the egg was born on Yom Tov, its growth in its mother's womb ended the day before, on Shabbat. Therefore, Beit Hillel believes that the egg should not be eaten on Yom Tov itself, because Yom Tov foods require preparation to be done on a weekday. This is an example of an okimata made on a conditional source (Mishnah, in this case).

And here again the question arises: If the Mishnah really came to introduce a special law that applies to the Yot after Shabbat, and not to all Yot, why does it not explicitly say so? From the simple language of the Mishnah, it seems that this is the law for all regular Yot, and therefore once again the conclusion that the Gemara disagrees "politely" with the Mishnah is seemingly warranted. The Mishnah states the prohibition for all regular Yot, and the Gemara limits it only to the Yot after Shabbat. The Okimata is presented as if it were a commentary on the Mishnah, but in fact it is a rejection of the conditional opinion in an interpretive guise.

third. In the mishna at the beginning of the second chapter of Pesachim we find:

Any time it is permissible to eat – he feeds it to animals, livestock, and birds, and sells it to a stranger, and it is permissible at his pleasure, after its time – it is forbidden at his pleasure.

Chametz is forbidden for consumption and enjoyment on Passover. In general, it is said that the beginning of the time of prohibition is at noon on the 14th of Nisan (the eve of Passover). The Mishnah states that before the prohibition takes effect, chametz is permitted for enjoyment, and after that it is forbidden.

The Babylonian Gemara, Ibid., 21b, states:

And it is permissible with pleasure. Pishita!

The Gemara has difficulty: What does the Mishnah teach us? After all, it is clear that before the time of prohibition there is no prohibition against enjoying chametz? Here too, it answers this in the Okimta:

– It is not necessary that they were burned before their time. And it is understood according to the rabbi, as Rava said: They were burned before their time – it is permissible in pleasure, even after their time.

The Gemara explains that in fact we are not talking about regular chametz, nor about a situation in which it is eaten before the time of prohibition. We are talking about chametz that was burnt before the time of prohibition, and the novelty is that there is no prohibition against enjoying it even during the time of prohibition. That is, if someone burnt his chametz before noon on the fourteenth day, he is permitted to enjoy the burnt chametz even during the actual holiday of Passover. This also supports a conditional source (again the Mishnah): instead of regular chametz, we are talking about burnt chametz, and instead of enjoyment before the time of prohibition, we are talking about enjoyment during the time of prohibition.

     And here again the question arises: If the Mishnah really intended to speak about eating leaven that was burnt before the time of prohibition at a time when the prohibition had already taken effect, why did it not say so explicitly? As in the two previous cases, it seems that here too there is a rejection of the Mishnah's original intention, and its replacement with an Amoraic position. Here again there is a dispute in the "polite" guise of interpretation.

To the very problem

As mentioned, the picture that emerges from the simplicity of these issues is that the Amoraim do indeed disagree on the conditions, even if they do so in a “polite” manner. On the other hand, as I already briefly mentioned in the introduction, this is very difficult to accept. It is clear throughout the Talmud that when a Mishnah is cited that contradicts an Amoraim opinion, if no explanation is found for it – the Amoraim opinion is rejected. In other words, the simple assumption is that the Amoraim cannot disagree on the conditions, unless they find another source of conditions that supports their position.[2]

     According to the position that sees the Okimta as a covert dispute of Amoraim against the Mishnah, it is not clear why the Talmud assumes that citing a Mishnah whose content contradicts an Amoraic opinion is considered an immediate rejection of the Amoraic opinion. Even if we fail to find an Okimta that "settles" the conditional source, why not disagree with it directly and openly? Is it the "impropriety" of direct dispute that is decisive against the Amoraic opinion, even though it is correct in our view? This is unreasonable.

     I will not dwell on these difficulties, as they are self-evident. But of course I am tasked with offering an alternative explanation for the phenomenon of the Okimata. If indeed the Okimata is not a dispute over the Mishnah but an interpretation of its original intent, how do the difficulties I have described fit in? Why do the Mishnahs not bother to specify their intent, and close their words in a way that causes such confusion?

     There are several proposed meta-halakhic explanations for this phenomenon. Most of them view the esoteric writing as a type of esoteric writing.[3] Some have suggested that the Mishnah is a product of the Rabbi's permission to write down the Oral Torah, because "it is time to do the work of the Lord, you have broken your Torah"; and in order to preserve the character of the Oral Torah even after it was written, the compiler of the Mishnah deliberately wrote it in a way that would require an oral tradition to accompany it. He wrote the Mishnahs so that they could not be interpreted literally, and we would have to resort to further interpretation, which even after the Mishnah was written still remained oral (the Gemara). This view sees the Okimata as a type of Oral Torah that accompanies the Mishnahs, just as the original Oral Torah accompanied the Written Torah. Just as the entire Oral Torah was transmitted from Sinai, the Okimatas were also actually transmitted orally from the compilers and writers of the Mishnahs to future generations.

     Other suggestions hinge the validity on the hidden intentions of the writers of the Mishnah, hidden among the folds of the Mishnah's wording.[4] In the name of the Gra, it is stated that just as there is a clear and concise explanation in the Torah, there is a clear and concise explanation in the Mishnah.[5] Some attribute the unsuccessful formulation of the Mishnah to hidden intentions that belong to the world of the secret. Other approaches speak of poor editing of the Mishnah. These approaches see the Mishnah as an eclectic collection of ancient sources, which led to its cumbersome and imprecise formulation. The difficulty reaches such an extent that some have wanted to attribute this to the adaptation of the text to the melodies that accompanied the various mishnahs during the period when they were transmitted orally.[6]

     None of these explanations seem particularly convincing. It is difficult to see any reason to sacrifice the clarity of the written Mishnah in order to achieve all sorts of hidden goals. It is unreasonable to mortgage the law and our ability to understand and apply it for other purposes, especially in light of the fact that every person in Israel is obligated to study Torah. The fundamental policy of the Oral Torah is not concealment and esotericism but maximum disclosure and dissemination.

     In fact, these problematic explanations do not seem any more credible than the simplistic and problematic conception of the Okimata as an interpretation. These proposals provide us with an explanation for a problematic situation, but they are explanations that are at least as problematic as the problem they are intended to solve. So what have we gained from all this?! Such an esoteric interpretation neutralizes our ability to understand the texts of the Oral Torah. We can always think that their intention may be different from what we see from their words, and we can always insert into them whatever we want, without being bound by their language. It seems, then, that such explanations do not raise a long way to the problem.

     It is no wonder that many people conclude that the Okimata is not a commentary on the Mishnah, but rather a (hidden?) disagreement about its positions. I mentioned that this is a common approach among academic scholars of the Talmud, but it is worth noting that Rabbi Shlomo Fischer, in his book Beit Yishai, agrees with the claim that through the validity the Amoraim are essentially disputing the conditions (he hangs their authority to do so on the consent of the nation).[7]

     But is this a necessary conclusion? Is the only alternative that this is truly esoteric writing?

A general and initial formulation of the explanation for the Okimata phenomenon[8]

The explanation I would like to offer for the phenomenon of okumitah is that the okumitah came to remove a side difficulty that arises regarding a general principle that appears in the source being interpreted (Mishnah, Baraita, or Amoraic saying). The principle that the Mishnah came to teach is a general law, or theoretical principle, that is found in the plain language of the shonah without any change. However, this principle has difficulty appearing in the real world, and this is what the okumitah came to solve.

     According to this proposal, the Okimata never contains the essence of the innovation of the ancient source. The essence of the innovation appears in the simplest form in the language of the Mishnah. The goal of the Okimata is always to eliminate side difficulties that prevent us from seeing the realization of this theoretical principle in the real world. It does this by presenting a "laboratory situation," far from the real world, and precisely in which the general principle of the Mishnah can appear in its purity.

     In what follows, it seems that the Okimata takes us from the seemingly real world, described in the Mishnah or in the interpreted source, to a Platonic world of abstract ideas that deal with theoretical entities and "pure" situations, which are sometimes very far from the real world. To understand this better, I will describe a similar phenomenon in the scientific world. Science also deals with general laws and their application to real reality, so it is no wonder that this mechanism appears there as well.

Some scientific examples

Let's look at Newton's first law (the law of inertia), which states that an object continues to move in a constant motion in a straight line unless a force acts on it. This law never appears in its pure form in our real world, since in every situation that comes to our mind there is some kind of force - attraction, friction, etc., and therefore every body in the real world is subject to the influence of some kind of force. So how can we still expect this law to appear? How can we even test it empirically, refute it, or confirm it?

     This is only possible in a laboratory, if we manage to create a special situation there that neutralizes all these disturbances. The laboratory is a piece of the world where an object is located without any forces acting on it. For example, we put the object into a "Faraday cage" that blocks the electromagnetic force and into another cage that blocks the gravitational force, create a vacuum so that there is no friction with the air and lower the temperature to zero so that there are no thermodynamic effects - and only then are we able to see the movement of a body without any forces acting on it. It is this abstract and unrealistic laboratory situation that allows us to observe the phenomena described in Newton's first law in their purest form. This example teaches us that, ironically, it is precisely when we move away from the real world that we can observe a general scientific law in a more pure way (i.e. without interference from extraneous factors).

     In the same way, if we want to observe the effect of gravity on a body with mass, we will have to place this body in a space devoid of other bodies and empty of air (so that no other forces act on it), and/or "cleanse" this body of charges that react to additional forces (such as electromagnetic forces). Only after we have made these changes, that is, we have built a unique laboratory situation, should we place another theoretical body in the laboratory space that will exert a force on this body, and see what happens. Once again, we had to create unrealistic, "pure" situations and entities in the laboratory, far from reality, but this is precisely how we can see the fulfillment of the scientific law in its true and pure form. Here too, the role of the laboratory is to "cleanse" our background from side effects, thus allowing the scientific law to appear clearly.

Another example, this time from the social sciences and psychology. In these fields, it is common to link frustration with aggression. It is clear that in the real world we can never expect such a direct connection, since a person can always refine his feelings of frustration and not respond with aggression. Sometimes he reacts aggressively even if he does not appear to be frustrated, but for other reasons (despair, anger, inability to sublimate, innate tendency to violence, etc.). How then can we observe phenomena that obey this law? Only if we create a situation of an abstract person, devoid of any relevant trait except frustration (without despair, without other anger, devoid of any ability to sublimate and without violent tendencies in his character). When we provoke such a person, we can see whether his frustration will lead him to respond with aggression, and if he is not frustrated, we can see that no aggressive reaction will occur. Again, a hypothetical laboratory situation, far from the real world, is precisely what allows us to observe the phenomena that the scientific law describes.

     Many people think that the reason for deviations from the general law is that the law is imprecise. Some might say that life is very complex and therefore our simplistic laws cannot handle it. But this is not necessarily true. An opposite interpretation can be offered: the general law is completely precise, and yet in real situations it does not hold true. The pure law deals only with a hypothetical situation (when there are no side disturbances), and there it is completely precise. For example, if I were able to create an environment in the laboratory without friction and without any forces, I would indeed see Newton's first law in action, and the law would be completely precise.

     According to this interpretation, scientific laws can be completely precise, except that they deal with Platonic worlds in which abstract objects and pure states exist, but not with our world and the real objects that exist in it.[9]

     How, then, does scientific law help us understand phenomena in the real world? When we step down from the Platonic worlds and try to apply the laws to real phenomena, we must take into account, for example, several different influences that can lead to aggression (frustration, despair, an innate tendency to violence, provocation, and so on). We must examine each of them separately and formulate a law that describes its operation in the Platonic world, and only then return and put all these influences together as they appear in the real world. The reason for this is that in the real world the situations (or environments) are not pure, and the entities have different properties, some of which interfere with the emergence of the law in question. Real behavior is the sum of the effects of all the general laws, each of which deals with a pure Platonic world.

     If we return to the example of the mechanical motion of a real body, we must apply the general law of friction to it, also take into account the general law of gravity and Newton's first and second laws, add the laws of thermodynamics, and only then can we come close to describing the behavior of the real body. Recall that each of these laws individually does not deal with the real world, but with a different Platonic world (one deals with motion in a world without temperature and without friction, the other deals with a world with temperature but without other bodies, while the third deals with a world without friction but with other bodies).

     The conclusion that emerges from these examples is that the laws of science each deal with their own Platonic world. In that world there are pure situations and abstract entities, and it is governed by one general scientific law that is completely accurate (as long as there are no real disturbances). To arrive at these scientific laws, we must break down the real phenomena in which we observe different theoretical components and distinguish them from each other. Then we must try to isolate each such component and ascend to its own abstract Platonic world and there create a general law for it. Finally, we return from these Platonic worlds to the real world, where all these general laws combine and create real behavior.

On assembly, abstraction, and generalization

How exactly does the transition from our world to the Platonic world take place? The formulation of the law of gravity begins with observing the attraction between bodies in the real world. But a real object has many properties, such as the color red, a round shape, a leaf whose name begins with the letter C, the year of manufacture 1987, and so on and so forth. The law of gravity requires us to strip the body of all its other properties, except for mass (after we have realized that mass is indeed the relevant property of the body with regard to the effect of gravity).

     A similar process to the one we did for the real body is also done for the environment in which the event occurs. When we examine real objects that have fallen to Earth, we find out what special property of the environment causes them to fall (the mass of the Earth): Is it the shape of the room, the name of the homeowner, the density of the air, the time that has passed since the last Knesset elections, or perhaps something else? The environment also therefore undergoes a process of elimination, in order to select its relevant properties and strip away everything else.

     The conclusion is that the law of gravity deals with an abstract entity that has only mass (and no other properties) and an abstract environment (in which only gravity acts, and no other source of force or disturbance). After we have isolated gravity and mass as the relevant properties, we can construct the "Platonic world" in which this law will appear in its purity. The elimination of the properties and entities and states is the creation of the Platonic world relevant to the law of gravity.

     We must note that all abstraction from attributes is actually a generalization. A specific body is loaded with attributes; if we remove one attribute from it, there is a chance that there will be other bodies that fit the same description. If we remove additional attributes, we will get a description that fits an even wider group. For example: Let's take a ball, which is black in color, has a radius of 6 cm, and was made six years ago by a manufacturer named Jacob. Now we remove one attribute, for example the name of the manufacturer. We are left with a concept with fewer attributes: a black ball, radius of 6 cm, six years old. This description obviously fits more balls. If we remove another attribute, such as the radius, we get a "skinnier" description: a black ball that is six years old. Much more objects fit this description. After we reach the "black ball," the group expands, and "ball" is an even broader attribute. As we remove attributes, the group to which the resulting description fits contains more and more items. Abstraction and generalization are therefore almost synonymous.

     The statement that a scientific law deals with objects abstracted from properties means that the law is the result of a generalization. On the other hand, it is clear that every scientific law is a generalization (by definition, a scientific law does not deal with specific situations), and therefore it is equally clear that a scientific law deals with Platonic, non-real bodies and environments. This is a different perspective on what we saw above.[10]

On the Reverse Process: The Application and Scientific Explanation

So far I have described the formation of a new scientific law by way of generalization from observations of individual cases. Such a generalization requires the abstraction of the individual situations and entities observed (removal of irrelevant features), and in effect it takes us from the real world (where the observations are made) to a Platonic world, where theoretical laws govern theoretical entities. Thus a new theoretical law is created.

     I have already mentioned that science also has a reverse direction of action: after theoretical laws have been discovered, science uses the set of known laws to explain new situations. This is the application of these laws in the real world. We have seen that this is done by assembling the known laws and combining them to explain a real situation in which they all appear together. Providing scientific explanations for real situations is therefore the opposite of the generalization that leads to the laws of science. Generalization requires abstraction from a real situation to a "clean" situation (creating a laboratory, or a Platonic world), and thus new laws are created in it; whereas application to a real situation is the combination of many such clean situations and the known laws that govern them, in order to explain a real situation through them. The technological realization of a scientific law (such as building a rocket or a spacecraft sent to the moon, a telephone, or some other device) is also a transition from the Platonic world to the real world. If the explanation is the application of general laws to a natural situation in the real world, then the technological realization is the application of the laws we have arrived at to an artificial situation in the real world – a situation that we create with our own hands (as in building an airplane, spaceship, etc.).

     In conclusion: If abstraction and generalization move us from real phenomena to the general scientific law that deals with the abstract and unreal, then composition and realization return us from abstract situations and general laws to the real situation.

On the laws of nature as simplistic generalizations

In my book warp Carts and hot air balloon[11] (In the introduction to the second division) I proposed an explanation for many cultural and social phenomena on the basis of a single philosophical distinction, between what I called there "analytical thinking" and "synthetic thinking." Quite a few readers accused these explanations of being nothing more than simplistic generalizations, that is, they do not deal with the real world but with a world that I created for myself. To preface this criticism, I argued there that we have seen so far, that scientific understanding of the world is based on simplistic generalizations. Often an argument is raised against a general theoretical law, that it is nothing more than a simplistic generalization; it does not truly describe the real world. But in light of what we have seen so far, it is clear that this is not an accusation: simplification and generalizations are inherent properties of scientific law as such.

     Would anyone accuse Newton of making simplistic generalizations, since his laws ignore the phenomenon of friction, which could change the results? He does ignore friction, but he does so in order to formulate a general law that deals with an abstract Platonic world, and all this in order to return to understanding real reality. It seems to me that we have no other way to understand our real world. Understanding always requires a transition to pure Platonic worlds, and a return to the real world.

     The accusation of simplification becomes justified only if one applies the simplistic generalization to reality, without paying attention to the fact that in real reality other relevant elements also appear (such as friction). Simplification in itself is nothing more than a pure expression of the scientific way of understanding and thinking. As we have seen here, a scientific law, by its very definition, is nothing more than a simplistic generalization.

The problem of the okimata in the laws of science

Let's now assume that we are reading a book on mechanics, in which Newton's law of gravity is described as follows:

Any body with mass that is subjected to the influence of another massive body feels a force that is proportional to the product of the masses divided by the square of the distance between them.

This is our "subordinate" law, which establishes the general law.

     Now "Amora" comes and asks about this "mishnah":[12]

And, do many bodies have an electric charge, and therefore the force acting on them is completely different from that described in the mishna, since they are also affected by the electric fields in the environment? And even more difficult, in our real world there is friction, which in no way changes the force and acceleration of the body?

If we think a little, we will realize that each of us would answer such a question using an axiom:

Here we are dealing with: a body with mass devoid of electric charge, which exists in a completely empty universe, without air and without any other bodies and force fields.

And now the "people of the Tosafot" come and ask:

And if you say: This is a simplistic generalization that has no connection to the real world? Where do we find a world empty of air and of any other object except for one massive point object?! And furthermore, as the Psalms say: "The whole earth is full of His glory"?

The answer to this is that it is indeed a simplistic generalization, since every natural law is a simplistic generalization that appears in its purity only in a Platonic world. Natural law does not deal with real objects and situations.

     Beyond the question of simplistic generalization, the additions pose further difficulties, this time an interpretive question:

And even more difficult: after all, the main thing missing from the book, the Dvamatani Katani Lahdiya (=In the Mishnah we read in the commentary) "Every body," and not from the hands?

The second difficulty is on the interpretive level: Is this what the author of the book actually meant? If so, why doesn't he state it explicitly? This is precisely the problem of the Okimata.

     Now think about it: would any of us conclude from this that the Amora actually disagrees with the law of gravity in the "Mishnah" (but he does so "politely," in an interpretive manner)?

     It seems to me that no reasonable reader is bothered by the fictitiousness of the situation that this scientific "mishnah" deals with, and even less is he bothered by the general and "imprecise" formulation (the interpretive problematicity). The author did mean what we have said: when he states a general law of nature, he intends for the reader to understand for himself that this is a law that appears literally only in a Platonic world, which is not mentioned in the mishnah (or in the book of mechanics).

     On the other hand, it is not correct to say that this law is not true or is not accurate. This is a general law, which is precisely true for any mass in any situation: the force exerted on any real mass by another massive body is indeed proportional to the product of the masses divided by the square of the distance. At the same time, it is clear to all of us that the practical implication of this law, namely the force or acceleration with which that real body will move, will not be as the book describes, unless we clear space of all lateral disturbances and create a simplistic (or abstract) laboratory situation.

     The conclusion is that the law in the "Mishnah" is formulated in a general way because it does not really describe the laboratory situation. This law deals with a general phenomenon, in every body and in every world, and is always true and completely accurate (not approximately). The problem arises only when we approach examining the practical implications of the law in the real world. This does not always appear in situations that are familiar to us, but only in laboratory situations (a particle without an electric charge or a hypothetical empty world, in which there is no air and no electric fields and no other bodies of any kind).

Returning to the question of the Okimata in the Talmud

My argument is that this is exactly what the Okimata does in the Talmud. The Okimata makes a simplistic generalization, and in doing so, it creates laboratory situations in which, because of (and not despite) Their distance from the real world, one can see the implications of the general law in its purity. Even in the Talmud, the Okimata points to an unrealistic situation, in which one can actually see the general law in the Mishnah in its purity. Therefore, it is clear that the Okimata does not explain the Mishnah, but only points to the relevant "Platonic situation."

     As we have seen, this description solves the two problems that accompany the Okimata: a. The problem of simplistic generalization (who is interested in discussing leaven that was burned before the time of prohibition and eaten afterwards, or rather an egg that was born on a holy day after Shabbat, or a woman's slave who receives a divorce while he is tied up and asleep?); b. The interpretive problem (did the writer of the Mishnah actually mean what the Okimata put in his mouth).

     Before we return to the examples of existence given above, let's look at another example, this time from a legendary perspective.[13] The Babylonian (Shevuot 18b) brings the following sermon:

Rabbi Chiya bar Abba said, Rabbi Yochanan said:

 Whoever drinks wine on the Sabbath night – the wine will be for him male children,

 It is written: To distinguish between the holy and the profane,

 And it is written: To distinguish between the impure and the pure,

 And he said to her: A woman who sows seed.

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: Sons are worthy of instruction, as it is written: To distinguish and to instruct.

The Sages assure us that those who discern over the cup will have male sons, perhaps even worthy of teaching. As we know, throughout history there have been some great sages and righteous men who were not blessed with children at all, or who were not blessed with males. For example, the Visionary had no children at all. Does this necessarily mean that he did not discern over the cup, or is this proverb wrong? It has apparently been empirically disproven.

     From what I have said so far, it can be seen that this is not necessary. Any sentence of the type "Whoever does… shall receive…” is a general law; as such, we must understand it as a theoretical law. As we have seen, a general theoretical law can be completely accurate even if it does not operate in the real world, since the law appears in its purity only in a hypothetical Platonic world. For example, there may have been another reason that prevented God from giving that person children. Perhaps due to the sin of vows, he did not receive children (see Shabbat 22b). The other reason is also a general law (everyone who breaks his vows, his children die), and it too can be completely accurate, but it appears only in its own Platonic world (where there is no commandment to distinguish between the cup). When a real person in our real world is childless, this can be the result of breaking vows or of not distinguishing between the cup. Both laws are accurate and correct, each in its own Platonic world. In our world, all effects must be taken into account in order to explain real behavior.

     We have essentially made a mistake here: the Babylonian law of Shavuot, which states that the one who makes a vow on a cup will have male children, deals with a world in which there is a Torah without the issue of vows, or in a world in which there is no punishment for children for breaking vows. But this is a Platonic world. In our real world, the law of Havdalah is only one component out of many, and we must take them all into account in order to describe real-life behavior.

A note on the uniqueness of the Talmudic formulation compared to scientific formulations

So far I have pointed out the similarity between the Talmudic context and the scientific context, but there is also an important difference between them. Science formulates its general laws explicitly, such as: "All… is…". In contrast, the Sages – both in the Mishnah and the Gemara – almost never use theoretical formulations, that is, they almost never establish abstract and general theoretical principles. The Sages prefer to express themselves through specific cases that express the general laws (in legal terms: a casuistic method, as is customary in British law).

     But despite this, as we will see below, the Gemara is clear that the Mishnah intends to teach a general law and not a specific halakha. The case that appears in the Mishnah is seen as a casuistic expression of a general law. This is why the Gemara strips down the case that appears in the Mishnah and turns it into a “laboratory case,” thus distilling the general law from the casuistic formulation of the Mishnah.

     I should also point out that the Gemara, when it extracts the general law from the Mishnah, does not formulate its conclusion in the form of a general law. The okimata is the formulation that the Gemara uses to describe the general law. The Gemara therefore continues the casuistic formulation of the conditions in the Mishnah: the general law is presented in the Gemara through test cases (laboratory situations), in which it is possible to see which general law the Mishnah intended.[14]

     When Rava says that a woman can be divorced by giving a divorce to her old slave, he does not intend to speak about this particular case, but rather to point to a general law. And when the Gemara places Rava's words in the context of a slave who is bound, it points to the situation in which this general law can be seen. It prefers this form to an explicit formulation of the general law. Things will become clearer in three examples, the analysis of which will now be presented. In two of the three issues, I will also present additional implications of the Okimata concept, and it seems to resolve additional difficulties that arise in them.

A. The issue of the slave slave

We have seen the okumitha that the Gemara makes of the Getin according to Rava, so that the old slave he spoke of also becomes a captive. My argument is that Rava's innovation is really about any old slave, not necessarily a captive. Rava intends to state the following general law: A man's old slave is considered like his household. Rava does use a specific example to express this law, that is, he does not state the general law in explicit wording as presented here, but rather establishes a halakha in a case that seems ostensibly specific, when a man wants to divorce his wife by giving her a get; but the Gemara understands that his intention is not to focus on this specific case, but rather to state a general law through it: A slave is like a household.

     This statement has several implications. For example, the hand of a slave can buy something for his mistress, just as a servant buys for her. This is also the implication that Rava explicitly mentions in his words, although he only refers to the general law. Rava also does not explicitly formulate the general law, that a slave is like a servant, but refers to the halakhic implication of the law: a slave can buy like a servant. However, the Gemara has great difficulty seeing this implication in the real world. A real slave is not only the property of his mistress, he is also a living person in his own right who can walk. Therefore, even if the general law that a slave is like a servant is a correct law, then we are dealing here with a "walking servant" who does not preserve the knowledge of its owner, and in the law of property of a servant, we have accepted that such a servant does not buy. Therefore, the implication of the general principle (the purchase of something placed in one's hand) cannot occur in a regular slave, and therefore the Gemara applies Rava's maxim to a captive slave. This Okimata solves the side problem that troubled the Gemara (how can the hand of a real slave buy a court from the law?).

     According to my suggestion, Rava never thought of inventing an innovation that concerns a bonded slave. His innovation deals with any slave. His innovation is that a slave is like a yard, and he demonstrates this through the specific implication that he can buy for his master. The fundamental (theoretical) innovation is indeed true for every slave. However, with regard to the specific implication of this general principle, namely the validity of ownership in a thing delivered to the slave, it is impossible to discern this general law in the real situation of an ordinary slave. Therefore, the Gemara makes a simplification, meaning that it removes the attribute of transfer from the slave (when it places it in a bonded slave), and thus a “laboratory situation” is created in which the implication in question can be seen: the slave buys for his mistress, and this is an expression of the law that a slave is like a yard.

     The "laboratory" created here (a slave who sleeps) is indeed far from the real world (a regular slave) and from Rava's language, but only the transition of the discussion to it allows us to see the general law without interruption. Why didn't Rava explicitly say that it was a slave who was in bondage? Because his innovation concerns every slave. A slave who is not in bondage is also like a servant, and this is what Rava wanted to innovate. In exactly the same way, Newton did not state that his law of gravity deals with objects that lack electric charge, because his law deals with every object that has mass. It is true that the effect of gravity cannot be seen except in an abstract object, an object that does have mass but is designated in the Okimat as lacking electric charge. In the general formulation of the law, there is no need to mention this, because the law is also true for real objects. However, the practical implications of the law will be difficult to distinguish from a real object, because of its side properties, which involve implications of other laws and additional phenomena (electricity, in this case).

     As mentioned, there is a difference between Talmudic formulations and scientific formulations. The Talmud is casuistic, and therefore it is formulated in the language of cases rather than rules. In contrast, natural laws in scientific books are usually formulated explicitly as general theoretical laws. In our case, Rava does not really intend to establish a practical law according to which the granting of a get by an old slave results in the woman being expelled. This is only a form of expression accepted in the Talmud, which came to teach us a general theoretical principle: an old slave is like the courtyard of his mistress. The Gemara expresses this fact by pointing to an okimat in which this law can appear. The okimat tells us that Rava did not establish a law for any particular case but rather a general principle, which the okimat is the "laboratory" in which it can be observed.

     The problem of the okimata, that is, the question of why Rava did not explicitly say that he was talking about a slave in bondage, is based on a misunderstanding of the Talmudic way of expression. Mishnayot (and in this case Amoraic maxims) are formulated in a casuistic manner (as if there were a discussion of a real case), but their intention is to teach a general theoretical principle, not a specific law. It is the Gemara that deals with clarifying the intention of the mishna or maxim, by finding a laboratory situation in which the general principle can be discerned without interference.

     I will point out again that, as we have seen here, the Okimata does not contain the innovation of the saying. The innovation of the saying does not concern a slave who is in bondage, but rather a slave in general, and therefore the language of Rava's saying is completely accurate.[15] The okimata only eliminates side problems.

B. The issue of the egg that was born

We can also see a similar solution in the second example I gave, from the Babylonian issue at the beginning of Tractate Bitza. We saw that a rabbi there proposes an okumitha according to which the Mishnah deals with the Yot after Shabbat, and not with the regular Yot, as would seem to be implied by the simple language.

     Here too, I will offer a similar solution. The Mishnah deals with the general law of Yom Tov, and not specifically the Yom Tov that follows Shabbat. It also does not deal with the law of an egg that was born on Yom Tov, but with the general principle of preparation. The innovation of the Mishnah is that food intended for Yom Tov requires preparation the day before; food that has not been prepared the day before is forbidden to eat. This law is expressed in the Mishnah through an application to a specific halakhah (eating an egg; such as Rava's application regarding a slave who buys the get for his mistress).

     But now a side problem arises: an egg that is born on a regular Yot is prepared on the eve of Yot, which is a weekday. The law of preparation does not appear at all on a regular Yot, not because there is no need for preparation, but because on a regular Yot there is always preparation. An egg that is born on a regular Yot is permitted, because it was prepared on the eve of Yot, which is a weekday. How, then, can we see a situation in which a prohibition against eating on Yot would appear due to the lack of preparation? Only in the special situation of a Yot that falls after Shabbat. In such a situation, the egg that is born on Yot was prepared on Shabbat, and preparation on Shabbat is not a preparation that is beneficial (because preparation on a weekday is required). Therefore, it is forbidden to eat the egg on Yot.

     Here too, as in the previous issue, the Mishnah intended to convey to us a general law that is true on every Yom Tov, and therefore the wording is general: "an egg that was born on a Yom Tov." The Mishnah does not need to say that this is a Yom Tov that follows Shabbat. The implication of eating an egg that appears in the Mishnah is nothing more than a casuistic expression of the general law. The problem that the Gemara grapples with is the actual manifestation of this implication. Although preparation is required, it is always carried out on a regular Yom Tov. Only in the unique Platonic laboratory situation, the Yom Tov that follows Shabbat, can this implication of the general law be seen. But this law in itself is also true on every regular Yom Tov.

If so, once again, there is no room for questioning why the Mishnah did not specify that it is a Yot that follows Shabbat. It did not specify this because it does not deal only with such Yot. It deals with all Yot; its intention is to say that eating on any Yot requires preparation. The Okimata removes a side obstacle: before every regular Yot there is a weekday, and then there is no problem of preparation. It creates a laboratory situation of a Yot that does not have a weekday before it, and then the prohibition of eating from the law of preparation will appear in its purity. Again, the Gemara does not formulate the general law, but rather demonstrates it through a laboratory situation in which it will be expressed.

     Now we will see some additional implications of this understanding of the issue. Rashi (ibid. 2b, 45 'And there is no good day prepared for Shabbat') explains Rabba's words as follows:

And there is no good day to prepare for Shabbat – and a good day is called Shabbat, and when his meal is invited, and invited on a weekday, but a weekday meal – not a cheshiva, and not a sheikh with an invitation, so on one day on Shabbat, it is not necessary to eat an egg that was born in it, because it is in the hands of Heaven, for a weekday meal, I will not, mercifully, require a day's notice, because it does not belong to a muktaza.

He explains that the egg is forbidden because Yom Tov food requires preparation, and preparation on a holy day (such as Shabbat) is not considered beneficial preparation. In this way, he also explains why there is no prohibition against eating an egg that was born on a Sunday or the day after Yom Tov, even though it was finished and prepared on a holy day: His answer is that on a Sunday, which is a weekday, there is no obligation to prepare, and therefore the egg has not undergone preparation (because preparation on a holy day is not preparation), but on a weekday there is no prohibition against eating an unprepared egg.

     On the other hand, the Rashba's words there suggest a different view:

And I am puzzled by this statement that a Shabbat meal is prepared with an invitation from the day before, and on a weekday, if so, then even a Shabbat does not prepare for itself (and not) [and is it not] a Shabbat of the 19th, purely from the law of a Sharia egg, and on a 9th that is after Shabbat, or not since yesterday, she also prepared for herself, and on the Arovin, I say, "The beginning of the day buys a Shabbat of the 19th, for which she prepares for herself," but rather its meaning is: A Shabbat of the 19th and Shabbat of Cheshiva, for which she is invited, and therefore whoever has an invitation for them, it is not lawful for him to invite Shabbat of the 19th or the 19th for Shabbat, but they prepare for themselves, and a Nami Shabbat is not considered and does not belong to an invitation, and therefore an egg that was born on the day after Shabbat or after the 19th of Sharia, does not qualify as an invitation for a Shabbat meal.

The Rashba argues against Rashi that the Gemara justifies the prohibition of the egg by saying that it ran out yesterday, and it follows that if the egg had run out that day, it would not have been prohibited. According to Rashi, even in such a situation, it should have been prohibited, since after all, the egg was prepared on a holy day and was not prepared on a weekday. According to Rashi, Shabbat and Yom Kippur are not prepared for themselves either.[16]

     The alternative possibility that the Rashba himself suggests is that the problem is not that people eat food that has not been prepared on Yom Tov, but that the preparation was on a holy day, which is a violation of the day of preparation. According to his view, eating an egg on the Yom Tov that follows Shabbat is a violation of Shabbat and not a violation of Yom Tov (as is apparent from Rashi's words). Therefore, the Rashba explains, if the egg had run out on the day it was born, there would really be no problem eating it, because Shabbat or Yom Tov are prepared for themselves.

     The basis of the disagreement between Rashi and Rashba is the question - what is the problem with eating an egg that was born on the Yot after Shabbat? Rashi believes that the problem is that we are eating food that has not been prepared, meaning that the problem is that it harms the importance of Yot. But Rashba believes that the problem is that it harms Shabbat, since it prepared for another holy day, and this harms its importance.

     Which of the two is right? In light of what I said above, it is quite clear that Rashi is right. According to Rashi, the Mishnah contains an innovation in the laws of regular Yot: the statement that eating Yot requires preparation, and eating unprepared food is an infringement of the sanctity of Yot. The practical manifestation of this general law required the execution of an Okimata, according to which it refers to the Yot that follows Shabbat, but the principle innovation of the Mishnah applies to all regular Yot, as I explained above. On the other hand, according to the Rashba's opinion, it follows that the innovation of the Mishnah is generally in the laws of the Sabbath that preceded Yot, since if it prepares for the Yot that follows it, it is an infringement of it. In his opinion, there is truly "a major missing piece from the book." Why does the Mishnah speak of Yot when it comes to innovating a law that concerns the Sabbath after which Yot falls? According to my proposal for understanding the Okimata phenomenon, it is not possible for the Mishnah's fundamental and principle innovation to appear only in the Okimata. The Mishnah's innovation appears in the plain language of the Shabbat, and its wording is always precise. The Okimata, as mentioned, is intended only to eliminate side distractions. According to the Rashba, it seems that the main innovation of the Mishnah appears in the Okimata (that is, without knowing that it is a Yom Tov, after which the innovation of the Mishnah cannot be understood), and then the problem of the Okimata really arises (why the Mishnah did not write this explicitly).

     This is a clear implication of understanding the role of the Okimata. This understanding helps us understand the fundamental principle that appears in the issue. This principle cannot touch on the Sabbath before the Yot, but clearly concerns the Yot after the Sabbath. This reflects on the concept of preparatory law, which is the subject of the issue, and allows us to decide in favor of Rashi and against the Rashba.

Explanation of the Rashba method

Nevertheless, to complete the picture on the issue, I will offer here a possible explanation according to the Rashba's method. The Gemara, immediately following Rabba's words cited above, asks:

– My father said to him: But from now on, on a good day, you will not be able to stay!On a regular day of rest – it will be permissible.]

 – A decree for a holy day after Shabbat.

– Don't stay on Saturday!

 – A ruling because of Shabbat after Yom Tov.

First, we must note that Abaye's difficulty with Rabba is incomprehensible. He makes it difficult and asks why we should not allow an egg that was born on a regular Yom Kippur or on a regular Shabbat. How does he know that this is really not permitted? If it is indeed a Yom Kippur that follows Shabbat, then how does he understand that the egg is also prohibited on a regular Yom Kippur or Shabbat? I will explain this immediately.

     Rabba's answer is that the egg was forbidden by the decree because? Shabbat after Yot or Yot after Shabbat. In other words, the conclusion is that even an egg born on a Yot or a regular Shabbat is forbidden to eat by the rabbis. Now we are presented with the possibility of understanding that Rabba's explanation in the Mishnah is not at all a valid argument: Rabba is merely explaining the basis of the law of preparation in that if Yot falls after Shabbat, the egg is forbidden from the Torah by the law of preparation. This is a law agreed upon by both Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel. In the Mishnah, Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel disagree only about the decree on a regular Yot (which does not come after Shabbat), whether or not an egg is also forbidden on a regular Yot. If so, the language of the Mishnah, "an egg born on a Yot" really deals with a regular Yot, and not a Yot after Shabbat. The bottom line is that there is no need to assume that Rabba made a valid argument here.

     And here, the Rashba there truly wonders about the language of Rabba, who places the Mishnah on the Sabbath after Shabbat:

Rather, Rabbi said about the chicken that is ready to be eaten and the 19th day that is after Shabbat, "My business," etc. My question is, why did he say 19th day after Shabbat, "We are dealing with it" [in this case] 19th day simply because it is 19th day after Shabbat.

He does not understand why a Rabbi makes an okimata and claims that this is a Yot after Shabbat, and does not place the Mishnah on a regular Yot? According to our method, we say that the concept of okimata in the Mishnah was indeed difficult for Rashba, because in his opinion it really does not make sense. Therefore, he probably understands that Rabbi did not really make an okimata here for the Mishnah, but explained it on a regular Yot, as we have seen. However, Rashba comments on Rabbi's language, since it seems like an okimata, and that was difficult for him. Rashi, on the other hand, will teach Rabbi's language simply, that the disagreement between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel is regarding the law of preparation itself, and this is true for all Yot, as I have explained.

     Above I asked: How was it clear to Abaye that the Rabbi also forbids an egg that was born on a regular Yom Tov or Shabbat? According to my proposed understanding of the Rashba, this is very understandable. If Rabba does not make an okimath to the Mishnah, this means that the Mishnah itself also forbids an egg that was born on a regular Yom Tov. If so, the Mishnah itself states that an egg that was born on a regular Yom Tov is forbidden. Abaye challenges the Rabbi to this: Why is this forbidden, since in such a situation there is no problem of preparation law, since the egg was prepared on a weekday? And the Rabbi answers him that in reality this is only a rabbinical prohibition, ruling "It is forbidden [because of] the Yom Tov that follows the Shabbat."[17]

C. The issue of burnt leaven

We saw that the Gemara in Pesachim placed the Mishnah in the Okimta of leaven that was burnt before the time of prohibition, and the discussion is about its status during the time of prohibition. This is in contrast to leaven that was burnt during the time of prohibition, from which it is forbidden to enjoy. According to the principle we saw here, the Okimta never contains the main innovation of the Mishnah, but only removes side motives. How is this expressed in our issue?

     I will offer the following explanation here: The Mishnah renewed the general law that there cannot be a prohibition on the enjoyment of leaven that belongs to the time before the time of prohibition (the afternoon of the 14th of Nisan). However, with regular leaven, this general law has no meaning, since before the afternoon of the 14th of Nisan, it is clear that it is not prohibited, since there is still no prohibition on the enjoyment of leaven, and from the afternoon it is certainly prohibited on its own, and not because it was leaven before the time of prohibition (i.e., it is leaven from after the time of prohibition began). Therefore, the Gemara seeks an example that will be able to show us an uncommon and unusual implication of the principle established by the Mishnah: How can we see a halachic expression of the principle that leaven that is before the time of prohibition is not prohibited in any way?

     The side problem that the Gemara deals with is that in our real world, when one eats chametz at a time that could be forbidden (after noon on the 14th), it is chametz from after the time of the prohibition and not chametz from before the time, and then it is clearly forbidden. This problem prevents us from seeing the law of the Mishnah in its purity, and this is what the Okimata came to solve. The purpose of the Okimata is to create a situation in which a person eats chametz during the holiday of Passover, but the chametz that is eaten is chametz that belongs to the time before the time of the prohibition. The object that is eaten and the act of eating are indeed at the same point in time, but in fact they belong to different points in time. This is a split of the timeline into two different timelines: in terms of the chametz, we are before noon on the 14th, and in terms of the act of eating, we are in real time (which is already after noon on the 14th).[18]

     Indeed, it turns out that the Gemara found an okima that "does the work": burning. Some Rishonim (see the Tosafot of Rabbeinu Peretz and the Mayiri here, and more) note that burning is not a complete burning. In a complete burning, the point in time at which it occurs is not significant, since if a person enjoys the ashes, he does not enjoy the chametz. The ashes are no longer the object that is burned, but something else, and therefore it is permitted for enjoyment (according to most opinions among the Rishonim. Here, we will assume for the sake of simplicity that the ashes are permitted). On the other hand, chametz that has not undergone any process is of no use to us, since it is clear that enjoying it during the time of prohibition is prohibited. Burning is an interesting intermediate case, since it involves a kind of "freezing" of the situation that prevailed before the time of prohibition (the moment of burning). Chametz that is burned is chametz whose status was frozen at the moment of burning. Therefore, charring is an okima that creates a split between the two axes of time, the one to which the chametz belongs and the one that describes the time of eating, and thus it allows us to bring to expression in our halachic "laboratory" the innovation that a prohibition cannot apply to chametz that belongs to the time before the time of prohibition. Chametz that is charred before the time of prohibition remains throughout the time chametz that belongs to the time in which it was charred (i.e., before the time of prohibition). Even when it is eaten during the holiday, it is considered as eating chametz that was before the time of prohibition.

Two mechanisms of splitting timelines in the early

To solve the side problem that hinders seeing the law of the Mishnah in the real world, we are looking for a mechanism that will succeed in creating a laboratory situation in which the timeline splits. In our laboratory, there are supposed to be two timelines, one describing the association of the leaven eaten (whether the leaven is from before or during the time of prohibition) and the other describing the timing of the act of eating (whether it is done after the time of prohibition or not). The okimata is supposed to bring us to a situation where, from the perspective of the first timeline, we are at a point in time before the prohibition (therefore, this is leaven from before the time of prohibition), and from the perspective of the second timeline, which is the regular timeline, we are at a point in time during the time of prohibition (therefore, the act of eating is done during the time of prohibition).

     As we have seen, the roasting allows for such a split of the timeline: it is leaven that is from before the time of prohibition, but its consumption takes place within the time of prohibition.

     How does this multiplication mechanism work in our issue? To understand this, let's look at the words of two of the first in the issue.

1. The Meiri here explains the law as follows:

And the one that was mentioned later and is permissible in its enjoyment was not required at all, and from this they interpreted it in the G.M. even after the time of its prohibition and in its burning before its prohibition, so that it would go outside the Torah of the Lord's food that is burned even from it and is permissible in enjoyment, such as in a slur or something else. And the law is that eating is permissible, even if eating it is not eating another food that goes outside the Torah of food, which no prohibition applies to it, since it is a mere dust.

Up to this point he states that charring is nothing more than a fire that removes the leaven from the food, and therefore it is permissible for enjoyment and eating. He then specifies:

Is it true that everything that is burnt after its time is forbidden from any enjoyment, since the prohibition of leaven applies to it, its prohibition does not expire until after a complete burning, R.A. may it be made into coals, and in this it is completely permitted even after its time, since all that is burnt is ashes permitted and coals are treated as ashes, is it true that everything that has not reached this point, even though it is completely burnt, is forbidden, since the entire prohibition of enjoyment applies to it and does not expire?

The Meiri explains that if the chametz was burned before the time of prohibition and when the prohibition came into effect it was already charred, then it is not considered chametz and therefore it is permissible even after this time. But if it was burned during the time of prohibition, then when the prohibition came into effect this chametz was forbidden, and therefore even if it is burned afterwards, its prohibition remains upon it. Only burning can remove it from the prohibition that already applies to it. In this sense, charring is not really burning. Unlike burning, which removes the chametz from the world, charring freezes the status of the chametz at the moment of burning. The Meiri essentially believes that the chametz captures its coals (in the sense of "capturing its blood"), meaning that charring freezes the status of the chametz, and the law that applies to the coals is exactly the same law that applied to the chametz before burning.

     I will note that in the Ritva's novellas (ibid.), this concept is expressed much more sharply. According to him, just as leaven that is burnt at the sixth hour of the afternoon of the fourteenth day is forbidden to be eaten but permitted to be enjoyed, so is the status of the charcoals even after they are burnt: throughout the holiday, they are forbidden to be eaten and permitted to be enjoyed. This is a clear expression of the phenomenon of "freezing status" that the burning creates.

2. Maharam Halawa, in his innovations on this issue, explains the ruling on charred leaven as follows:

And Rabba said: They burned it before its time, but they killed it after its time, meaning that they burned it until they removed it from the Torah of bread and were disqualified from eating it. Even if a dog eats it after its time, it is permissible to do so after its time. And he took it after its time because it is not worthy of eating, but God did not allow it to be eaten because it is a sin, and it was burned before its time. But after its time, it is forbidden once because of leaven, which is never forbidden. If it is found to be enjoying what was forbidden to it, then it is completely burned until it becomes dust, then it is permissible. Therefore, all cremated ashes are permitted, and we would have imagined it as a Baba, imagined it before its time, to say that the rest of the pleasure after its time depends on the deed before its time.

Maharam Halava explains this law slightly differently than the Meiri. Leaven that is burnt during the time of prohibition remains forbidden, because when we enjoy its coals, we are actually enjoying the leaven that was there before the burning. It seems that his intention is to say that although the burnt leaven itself is not leaven, when a person enjoys the coals during the time of prohibition, it becomes clear retroactively that the act of burning was an act of deriving pleasure from the leaven. The burning turned the leaven into something that can be enjoyed on Passover (coals), and therefore, in the act of burning, the person actually derived pleasure from the burnt leaven. He made it valuable to its owner, and this is the derivation of pleasure from leaven that the Torah prohibits.

     Why is it that when the leaven is burned before the time of prohibition, its coals are not forbidden? Because, although enjoying the coals during the holiday proves retroactively that the burning of the leaven was a means of obtaining pleasure from the leaven, this obtaining of pleasure was done at a time when there was no prohibition yet to derive pleasure from the leaven (before the time of prohibition), and therefore it is permissible.

The two mechanisms I have described here explain in different ways the assertion that charring is a freezing of the state that existed before it. Therefore, charring essentially splits the timeline in two: for the leaven, time ceases altogether, and it remains in the same state it was in before the charring; on the other hand, with regard to the act of eating, time continues to run, and therefore eating charred leaven during the forbidden time is eating leaven during the forbidden time that belongs to the permitted time.

     Thus, according to these two methods, we see that the innovation in the Mishnah is a general law stated regarding leaven that existed before time: leaven that existed before time cannot be forbidden in any way. The okimata of burning aims only to remove a hindrance that hinders the emergence of the innovation of the general law: to undermine the unity and singularity of the timeline (with regard to the association of leaven and with regard to the act of eating). The separation between these two points in time allows us to see in a non-trivial way the principle innovation of the Mishnah: leaven that belongs to the time of permission will never be forbidden.

Understanding the framework of the issue in Pesach

We saw that the first section of the Pesach Mishnah states that leavened bread made before the time of prohibition is permissible for enjoyment. The question of "peshitah" arose there, and the Gemara explained this through the okimata of charring.

     And now, the next passage in the Mishnah of Pesach states that leaven that is within the time of prohibition is forbidden for enjoyment. And again the Gemara (21b) begins with the difficulty: "Peshita!". On the surface, these things seem very puzzling, for if the previous passage dealt with leaven that was burnt before the time of prohibition, and it innovated in its determination that it is permissible for enjoyment even within the time of prohibition, it follows that this passage in the Mishnah deals with leaven that was burnt during the time of prohibition, and the innovation is that such leaven is forbidden for enjoyment (even though now it is about charcoal). If this is indeed the innovation in this passage in the Mishnah, it is difficult to see why the Gemara considers this such a simple law that there is no innovation in it? Why does it make it difficult for it to be "Peshita"? Why does it not answer that it is a matter of burning during the time of prohibition?

     In light of what I have said so far, it seems that this difficulty has disappeared. As we have seen, the first section of the Mishnah does not deal with leaven that was burnt before Passover, but with regular leaven before its time. The novelty is that leaven that was burnt before the time of prohibition does not apply to enjoyment (even during the time of prohibition). The okimata, according to which it was burnt before the time of prohibition, was intended only to show a halachic realization of the principled determination in the Mishnah. If so, it is clear that the next section also does not discuss leaven that was burnt, but rather regular leaven; hence, the main novelty of its novelty is that leaven during the time of prohibition is forbidden, and there is no permission to enjoy it. Here, of course, an okimata is not required that applies the Mishnah to leaven that was burnt. Leaven during the time of prohibition is forbidden without any okimat. On the contrary, we have seen that burning freezes the status of leaven, and therefore in this case burning obviously leaves the leaven forbidden.

     The conclusion is that when the Mishnah says that after its time, leaven is forbidden for enjoyment, there is no problem with the realization of this principle in the real world, because leaven is also forbidden during the time of prohibition, and therefore there is no need for any Okimta. Therefore, it is clear here that there is no point in arguing for leaven that has been burnt after its time, since it is not fundamentally different from leaven that has not been burnt at all. Therefore, the difficulty arises here: "Peshita!", since it is clear that leaven during the time of prohibition is forbidden.

     And indeed, the answer the Gemara offers to this question is not valid. It explains that it is a leaven for the hours of the rabbinate (at the sixth hour). The reason for this is that the difficulty the Gemara answers was not how the principle is realized in the real world, but only what this principle comes to be new.

     In conclusion, it now appears that the explanation in the Mishnah Pesachim is a logical chain, each link of which is contained in the previous one. To explain this, I will now describe the entire chain (including its previous link, which has not been discussed so far):

Every hour that it is permissible to eat – feed it to livestock, animals, and birds, and sell it to a foreigner. The Gemara in an earlier section (21a) discusses the purpose of this sentence in the Mishnah. The Gemara there explains that it was intended to be an exception to the words of Beit Shammai, who believe that there is a prohibition against selling chametz even before Pesach (unless it is consumed before the time of prohibition). Why was such an innovation required? Why would there even be a prohibition against selling chametz before Pesach? It seems that this is because there is an obligation to eliminate chametz, which applies to chametz even before the time of prohibition (toward the time of prohibition). The implication from this is that bread is chametz even before the time of prohibition, at least with regard to the commandment of eliminating ("tishbithu").[19]

And it is permitted at his pleasure. Now we can see that this passage, which was already discussed above, is intended to advance the course of the Mishnah further. In the previous passage in the Mishnah, we saw that there is an obligation to eliminate before the time of prohibition, and therefore, at this stage, it is already called chametz for the purpose of the obligation to eliminate. This passage is intended to teach that it is nevertheless not considered as chametz for the purpose of the prohibition of enjoyment. Here the Mishnah states that chametz that occurs before the time of prohibition cannot be prohibited from enjoyment in any way. We have seen that the Gemara explains that this innovation is relevant in the real world only in a situation where this chametz itself appears after the time of prohibition (this happens when it was burned before the time).

His time has passed – he is forbidden to enjoy himself. This passage apparently does not renew anything, as I explained above, and therefore the Gemara criticizes it: "Peshita!" It replies that it comes to renew the rabbinical prohibition on leaven at the sixth hour on the eve of Passover.

The Relationship Between the Mishnah and the Gemara: The Essential Meaning of the Okimata

First, I must summarize the general structural diagram that emerges from my remarks. In the scientific context, there is a world of abstract ideas and pure entities, in which general laws of nature prevail; "beneath" it exists our practical world, which is populated by complicated real entities, and the laws of nature appear in it in a jumbled manner. In scientific experiments, we observe specific cases, and the theorist extracts from them general laws that are not yet known. In this, he essentially rises from the practical plane to the world of ideas, since we have seen that these laws deal only with abstract entities and Platonic laboratory situations. After we have found these laws, we can use them to say what will happen in real situations that we have not encountered (either technologically using these laws of nature, or predicting the results of a future experiment from the known laws). This is an activity opposite to the previous one, in which we descend from the world of ideas to the real world.

     And here, in the halakhic context, if the Mishnah had formulated general laws, then there would be no need for interpretation through abstraction and generalization. The rules would appear explicitly in the Mishnah. In such a situation, all we would have to do was apply them to various real situations. If the Mishnahs were formulated in this way, halakhic law would not need the first type of activity defined above in relation to science (finding the laws from the cases – generalization and abstraction), but only the second type (applying the laws to various practical situations).

     However, as I noted, the Mishnah and the Gemara do not use formulations of general laws. The Sages prefer casuistic formulations, that is, conveying to us the halakhic information through halakhic rulings in cases that are ostensibly specific. Therefore, when there is such a Mishnah or Mimra, it says its thing in the formulation of a specific halakhic law (the name Get in the hand of an old slave – a divorce, an egg that was born on Yom Kippur may not be eaten, and so on). But the Gemara approaches the Mishnah with the assumption that this case is nothing more than a casuistic form of expression of a general law. To show this, the Gemara constructs, by way of abstraction and generalization, an abstract laboratory situation in which the general law can appear.

     The Gemara also does not use the formulations of general laws, and therefore, instead of explicitly formulating the general law that it finds in the Mishnah, it prefers to point to an Okimata in which the general law appears in its purity. This is nothing more than a casuistic form of expression for the claim that behind the seemingly specific case in the Mishnah stands a general, theoretical law. This is the Gemara's way of making a generalization from the seemingly specific case in the Mishnah to the general law. Now we can see that this is of course a distinct process of interpretation, and hence the conclusion that I mentioned at the beginning of my remarks, that the Okimata is an interpretive process and not a hidden controversy. The interpretation takes us from the cases in the Mishnah (which are formulated as if they deal with the real world) to the general laws in the world of ideas.

     The Okimata is the most refined expression of this process: the transition from the real to the abstract. It distills the Platonic idea from the real cases, and thus allows us to understand that when the Mishnah speaks of the Yot, it is not dealing with the real Yot, but with the "idea of Yot"; when it speaks of a slave, it is not dealing with a concrete slave, but with the idea of pure slavery; and the same is true of chametz.

     However, as in science, in halakhah, a reverse process also takes place: after we have arrived at a collection of general halakhic laws (each of which can only be observed in a laboratory setting, that is, in the world of ideas), we use them to analyze a new real situation. This is what is called halakhic ruling: ruling uses the general laws found by interpretation to rule on halakhah in new situations. We see that legislation is the reduction of general laws from the world of ideas to situations in the real world, such as the technological use of the laws of science.

     It can be said that the Gemara and the Oral Torah in general (to this day) deal with interpretation and jurisprudence (application to new situations). Interpretation deals mainly with the first transition, from the real to the abstract (abstraction and generalization); jurisprudence and the analysis of new situations also entail walking the opposite path: from the world of general laws back to the real world (composition). The obvious conclusion from all this is that the existence of validity is essential to the relationship between the Mishnah and the Gemara. Not only are existences not supposed to bother us, but we are supposed to anticipate their existence.

     I will note that the later commentators and poskim continue both directions of this process: the commentators return us from the Gemara to the world of ideas. They do to the Gemara what it itself did to the Mishnah in the first track: they extract from the cases discussed in the Gemara abstract general principles, which can then be applied to new situations in the real world. The poskim continue the second track. They do to the Gemara what it itself did to the Mishnah in the opposite track: they construct a reference to a new and complex real situation from the general laws that they arrived at in the interpretive processes.[20]

Two approaches to Torah study and scientific research

 

I will conclude with another comparative remark. When a scientific researcher examines phenomena in the real world, his goal is to arrive at general theoretical laws. Interpretation (which, as we have seen, is a transition from the real world to the theoretical world of ideas) is the goal of scientific research and study. There are those who see these laws only as a means to understand additional real situations (the descent from the world of ideas to the real world). According to this approach, the scientist's goal is to understand the real world, not to understand the world of ideas (the general laws of nature); therefore, if the scientist knew what would happen in every situation that could arise in the real world, scientific research would have completed its function. On the other hand, according to the previous approach, this is not true: the goal of research is to understand general laws, and facts are only the means to reach them. Knowing all the facts will, of course, not satisfy the scientist with this approach.

     These two approaches also exist in relation to Torah study. Some see Talmudic study, that is, the interpretation of the sources of halakhah, as a value in itself. According to this method, the goal of study is to arrive at the general theoretical laws that stand behind the previous rulings, that is, the theoretical world of ideas of halakhah. Halakhah rulings are means (which are analogous to facts, or observations, in science) from which we extract ideas.[21] In contrast, others see Talmudic study as merely a means, since the laws are merely a means by which halakhic law can be determined in new situations. According to this method, the goal of Talmudic and halakhic study is ruling (descending from the world of ideas to the world of reality) and not interpretation.[22]

Summary

In this article, I have proposed an explanation that sees the Okimata as a faithful interpretation of the original intent of the Mishnah. This explanation fits well with the tradition that is clearly expressed throughout the Talmud, according to which Amoraim are not permitted to dispute Tannaim. Contrary to what many suggest, I argue here that Amoraim do not do so. My words indicate that the Okimata can certainly be an interpretation of the Tannaim's words, and not necessarily a covert (or "polite") disagreement with their words. This suggestion also makes unnecessary, of course, the collection of problematic explanations that have been put forward regarding Okimata (some of which I have presented).

     I discussed the connection between the Okimata and the scientific way of thinking and the interpretive way of thinking in general. In this way, we came to a better understanding of the essence of the connection between the Talmud and the Mishnah, and in fact between the world of ideas and general theoretical laws and the real world. From this, I also discussed the relationship between jurisprudence and interpretation, which represent/express a transition in opposite directions between these two types of worlds. Through a comparison with scientific thinking and method, I also presented two possibilities for understanding the essence and purpose of Torah study.

     In conclusion, it is important to reiterate that I have not examined all the examples in the Talmud. Indeed, many will say that perhaps this solution is appropriate for some of the examples but not all of them. I will answer that in my answer:

• It is enough for me to explain that some of the examples apply, since, as in the scientific context, even in our situation where there are few exceptions to the general theory, it is still acceptable and applicable. The Talmud itself tends to disdain dogmatic thinking that treats rules with excessive seriousness. A clear expression of this is the Talmudic rule (!) that says: "One should not generalize even in a place where it says except" (see Bavli, Eruvin 27a and parallels). The principle that explains validity is also a rule, and therefore here too we should not be alarmed by the existence of a few exceptions.
• As we have seen in the three examples I have given, in some issues the explanation does not arise simply and clearly, and it requires further study. Therefore, even if we encounter an issue that is seemingly exceptional, meaning that we do not easily find the general law that the Okimata is merely applying, we should not despair. Further study may certainly bring up such a law (this statement is based on personal experience with several issues).

     What compensation for the trouble we will receive when the requested explanation illuminates for us several other difficulties that the issue raises. We saw in the last two examples cited above that understanding the role and meaning of the okimata clarifies the course of the issue, the subject it deals with and the general principle it tries to teach, and sometimes also sparks disputes among commentators and perhaps even allows us to decide between the different opinions. It is definitely worth the effort.

[1] See words from a lesson by David Haneshka, which were published in the Hesder Yeshiva bulletin in Yeruham, From the desert of a gift, and in my response in the following issue (From the desert of a gift, Parashat Hukat, Tammuz 5700), where I addressed both the claim itself and its attribution to the Grand Master. The accusations against the Grand Master are mainly based on the words brought by Rabbi Menashe Maillya, his student, in the introduction to his book. Biblical understanding, but several other places in the words of his disciples teach us otherwise. Here I will give just one example from the book Voice of Elijah, Egg 8 a.

And what they sometimes said Hasuri Mahsra And most importantly, it must be said There is no deficiency in the Rabbi's teaching in the Lishna. And what they added is understandable due to the purity of the language of our holy Rabbi, the late. In order to explain to the eyes of the multitude who see with their first glance before them, more explanation is needed, and the one who studies his words will see that it is included in his words with the advantage of one letter., And it must be interpreted in all places..

See also the article by Rabbi Shlomo Fischer, in his book Beit Yishai (Sermons), Jerusalem 1990, 15, which offers a meta-halakhic explanation for this. See also Hanan Gafni's new book, A Simple Mishnah: Studies in the Study of Sage Literature in Modern Times, Tel Aviv 2010, quite a bit of which is devoted to this polemic.

     I would like to point out that the Meiri, in his introduction to his commentary on Tractate Avot (at the end of his remarks on the Tannaim), writes that sometimes the Amoraim do disagree on the Tannaim, but it seems that his intention is not with regard to validity but rather with the principled determination; and he certainly does not propose there to interpret all validity in this way.

[2] There are a few exceptions, but they do not prove the rule. The phenomenon of okimata is so common in the Talmud that if it is truly seen as a disagreement (even if hidden) on the Mishnah, it completely shatters the principle of the authority of the Tan'im over the Amoraim.

[3] See Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner, Fear of Yitzhak – Hanukkah, New York 1995. The claim is reminiscent of the policy of esoteric writing, which was previously practiced in philosophical and scientific literature to prevent laypeople from intervening and trying to understand things (see on this: Aharon Katzir, The firstborn of the scientific revolution, Tel Aviv 1972), or as an attempt to appeal exclusively to a specific target audience (as with Leo Strauss, see his entry inWikipedia) In the Jewish context, although with regard to literature from the medieval period, see Dov Schwartz's book, Contradiction and Concealment in Medieval Jewish Thought, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat-Gan 2002.

[4] See, for example, the 'Introduction to the Eight Gates' printed as the introduction toIntroductions page and in the introduction toTree of Life (p. 11 in the regular edition) in the writings of the Arizal. And also inEight files See Raya, 2, paragraphs 10 and 29.

[5] For sources on this matter, see the aforementioned articles inFrom the desert of a gift (above, note 1).

[6] See interpretation The Glory of Israel For the Mishnayots, Archin 4, a.

Additional relevant sources from halakhic literature on the question of the okimata appear in the two articles by Yona Emanuel mentioned below, in note 8. See also the article by Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, 'The Talmudic Interpretation of the Mishnah', Fire remains, 4, Jerusalem 1929, p. 115.

[7] See Rabbi Fisher, Beit Yishai Ibid. (above, note 1). This is also implied by the Netziv's introduction to his work. The Valley asked, where he writes that the Amoraim made the Mishnah "consistent with the halakhah." His language there means that they interpreted it contrary to the original intention of the Mishnah, so that the conclusion would fit the halakhah. This is indeed a moderate view, since according to it they do not disagree with the Mishnah but rather adjust its language so that it fits the halakhah of the verses, which also derives from conditional sources; but still, from the point of view of intellectual honesty, this seems problematic (because they present the Mishnah as saying what it did not intend to say).

[8]  The basic principle of this explanation is not mine. It "goes around" the world in various variations, and one explicit formulation of it appears in Rabbi Yitzhak Shilat's book, In the teachings of Rabbi Gedaliah, Ma'ale Adumim 5764 (can be read online), p. 36. After a time, my friend Menachem Teitelbaum warned me that such a thing would happen, and Rabbi Yona Emanuel wrote inThe kind 12, 1 (5771), p. 27, and also in the following article inThe kind No. 2 (5751), p. 27. In his second article, Emanuel addresses various misunderstandings that arose regarding his statements in the first article. Most of them disappear in light of the explanation that will be given here.

     See also on this subject the article by Rabbi Yehuda Brandes, 'Ekira ve Naz'a Ma'al Maqom D' al D'', Planted 11-12 (5764), pp. 9–38. In note 27 there he refers to the article by Matityahu Gutman, 'Academic Questions in the Talmud', Dvir A (1873), p. 38, fDvir 2 (1914), p. 101, and offers a concise explanation of the phenomenon of the okimata. I believe that the intention of his words is to offer an explanation along the lines presented here. I believe that the context in which I will place the things here and the examples I will provide clarify and expand this explanation, and thus perhaps it will be given its proper place.

[9] I do not mean to say here that every scientific law known to us is completely accurate, or that it will never need to be updated. I mean only to argue that such a situation is possible, that is, that the fact that the law does not materialize in the real world is not sufficient reason to conclude from it that it is wrong. Only a laboratory experiment, that is, observation in an unrealistic situation, can lead us clearly to the conclusion that the law should be replaced or updated.

[10] I have not addressed the details of the elimination process here at all. It is a very unclear process, and its justification is a serious philosophical problem (it is part of what is called the "problem of induction"). The essence of the problem is that even after abstracting away all the features that are not common to all the events we have observed, there still remain a great many modes of generalization. See a discussion of this in Appendix II of my book God plays dice, Tel Aviv 2011.

[11] Second and revised edition, Jerusalem 2007.

[12] The Aramaic touches in this text are of course intended to demonstrate the similarity to the Talmudic negotiations.

[13] The urban source for the use of this example is Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman (see Aharon Sourasky, Or Elhanan(Jerusalem, 1998). When he was asked how Zionism, led by evildoers, succeeds in its path, he answered by citing this saying, and it seems that he was referring to the move that will be described below.

[14] Why do the Sages really prefer a casuistic formulation, and not use the formulation of theoretical laws (like the positivist method)? I cannot address this important question here, and for my purposes here it is sufficient for me to state the fact that this is indeed the way of the Sages.

[15] It is interesting that Rava finds it appropriate to state in the commentary that he is speaking of a sleeping slave, even though he omits the fact that he is a slave. If my suggestion is correct, one would expect Rava to be speaking of a general slave, and the Gemara would place this in the context of a slave who is sleeping.

     This may be related to the fact that Rava is a late Amora, and therefore his main concern is not with setting forth abstract principles as the Mishnah does, but with interpretation and application in the real world (see below). Of course, this is only a suggestion, as it is clear that the polar presentation of the distinction between Mishnah and Gemara is not entirely accurate; however, it is true that this is the general/typical trend of these two genres.

[16] Rashi apparently believes that the Gemara's words about the egg running out yesterday were intended to exclude the possibility that it runs out the day before, and not to exclude the possibility that it runs out that day.

[17] Rashi could not learn this from the Mishnah, since according to him the Mishnah deals with the Yot after Shabbat and the prohibition of preparation from the Torah. If so, according to Rashi it is not clear how Abaye knew that Rabbi Rabbah also forbids an egg that was born on a regular Yot. It seems that according to Rashi Abaye knew this from the halachic tradition in his possession (for this is indeed the halachic tradition, since we do not rule on the law of preparation on a rabbinic day), and therefore he asked Rabbi Rabbah how he explained this. To this Rabbi Rabbah replied that it was a rabbinic prohibition from the ruling "to prepare a Yot after Shabbat."

[18] In the fourth book in the series 'Studies in Talmudic Logic', Logic of Time in the Talmud (London 2011), my colleagues (Y. Belfer, D. Gabbay, and A. Shield) and I deal with such a split, from two aspects: the reasons for assuming the existence of two timelines, and the implications and expressions of this split in halacha, law, physics, and in general.

[19] theJoshua's face There he explains that according to Beit Hillel, there is also an obligation to destroy the leaven even before the time of destruction, but they believe that the leaven is consumed even before the time of prohibition.

[20] There is, of course, no reason why a posak should also be an interpreter and vice versa. This distinction itself also deals with ideas, and not necessarily with concrete people; on the contrary, in the concrete world almost every posak worthy of the name is also an interpreter (although not every interpreter is a posak). A process of innovative ruling (such as a reply in the Responsa literature) always involves constructing interpretive concepts for situations that were discussed in earlier issues and sources, and only then are they used to reach a conclusion regarding the new real situation.

[21] In general, it can be said that this concept describes the approach of the Lithuanian yeshiva world.

[22] This approach is clearly advocated by Rabbi Ovadia Yosef and his sons.