On *Shimush* (Apprenticeship), Study, and *Lamdanut* (Column 431)

With God’s help

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

A few years ago, the National Library hosted a series of meetings on the Babylonian Talmud moderated by Kobi Meidan. In the second session of the series, I spoke with Tomer Persico and Meir Buzaglo (a philosophy lecturer at the Hebrew University and one of the thinkers behind the movement of Traditionalism) about the Talmud’s DNA. In conversations before that session, I suggested we take up the sugya of “zeh neheneh ve-zeh lo chaser” (“one benefits and the other does not incur a loss”), because what it contains—and what it does not—sharpens several interesting aspects of the Talmud in general. Here I wish to focus on two interrelated points that emerge mainly from the framing of the sugya (and less from its substantive-analytical content, which serves only as background to my discussion): the development of Talmudic *lamdanut* and the distinction between *shimush* (apprenticeship/service) and study.

“One Benefits and the Other Does Not Incur a Loss”: Opening of the Sugya

The sugya of “one benefits and the other does not incur a loss” appears in Bava Kamma 20a–21a. Here is just its opening:

Rav Ḥisda said to Rami bar Ḥama: You weren’t with us last night within the boundary (on Shabbat), when first-rate matters were raised for our consideration.

Rav Ḥisda tells Rami bar Ḥama that he missed an exciting development that took place on Shabbat in the beit midrash. This opening arouses great curiosity: what was so special about that particular discussion?

Rami bar Ḥama immediately asks:

He said to him: What were those first-rate matters?

And Rav Ḥisda at once reports the substance of the discussion:

He said to him: One who dwells in his fellow’s courtyard without his knowledge—must he pay him rent or not? What are the circumstances? If we are speaking of a courtyard that is not designated for rent and a person who does not rent, this is “one does not benefit and the other does not lose.” Rather, if it is a courtyard designated for rent and a person who rents, this is “one benefits and the other loses.” No—it is necessary [to speak] of a courtyard not designated for rent and a person who rents; what can [the owner] say to him—“What loss did I cause you?” or perhaps [the owner] can say, “But you did benefit.”

The discussion concerns someone who entered his fellow’s courtyard (or apartment) without the owner’s knowledge and lived there. Must he pay for that or not? After some sharpening, it emerges that the focus is a courtyard not designated for rental, and a person in need of housing. At the two extremes the law is clear: when the courtyard is not for rent and the person does not need housing, he certainly need not pay—the owner incurred no loss (his property is not for rent), and the occupant derived no monetary benefit (he had other housing). Likewise, where the courtyard is for rent and the person needs housing, there is both benefit and loss; it is obvious the occupant must pay.

What about a courtyard not designated for rent with a would-be tenant who does need housing? Here there is benefit without loss. What then is the issue? From the Gemara it emerges that the question is whether the obligation to pay is triggered by the benefit (in which case he must pay despite the absence of loss) or by the owner’s loss (in which case he is exempt despite the benefit).

What’s So Special Here?

Recall that the sugya opens with Rav Ḥisda’s great excitement about the beit midrash discussion. What did he find so remarkable? It appears that the excitement stemmed from the discussion’s unique and uncharacteristic nature: the analysis proceeds like an *acharonic* “chakirah” (conceptual two-sided inquiry): Is the payment for the benefit or for the loss? The practical differences are the cases of benefit without loss (our case) and loss without benefit (that latter case does not appear in the sugya itself but only among the Rishonim; the Rif and Tosafot dispute it, and this is not the place to elaborate).

It is crucial to understand that the Talmud generally analyzes cases, not theoretical generalities. Discussions of principles or rules are comparatively rare. The conceptualization and abstraction of cases into theoretical debate usually happens among the commentators, and as the generations progress it becomes ever more abstract. The theoretical-analytical planes expand and deepen over the generations. In modern times, especially the most recent generations, the conceptualization and abstraction have reached much higher levels than before. At that stage the discussion is primarily about principles, and cases serve merely as practical ramifications and instruments for clarifying the theoretical point.

So too our sugya begins with a question about a case: one who dwells in another’s courtyard without his knowledge—must he pay rent? But immediately it shifts to a *lamdanic* analysis—that is, to the abstract theoretical plane: is the liability based on benefit or on loss? In other words, the Gemara here does what typically occurs among the later authorities: it presents the two sides of a *chakirah*, then seeks consequences and attempts to resolve the theoretical question by analyzing cases. I think this explains Rav Ḥisda’s enthusiasm. Such abstract *lamdanut* is not what one normally finds among the Talmudic sages, and when it did occur in a Talmudic beit midrash, it was thrilling.

This is a familiar phenomenon to any learner. Complex *lamdanic* moves that once evoked great wonder are stated quite readily today—even by young yeshiva students. Questions that once vexed the greats of the generations are resolved fairly easily by ordinary learners who conduct the *lamdanic* analysis taught in virtually all yeshivot. Such analysis no longer amazes and is certainly not exceptional.

Another Example: The Rambam’s “Wondrous Point”

A clear illustration of this phenomenon is what yeshivot call the Rambam’s “nekudah nifla’ah” (wondrous point). In his Commentary on the Mishnah to Keritot 3:4 the Rambam writes:

In what we have said there is a wondrous point to which we shall call attention, for it is a key to other matters in addition to its precise analysis. It is known that meat cooked with milk (*basar be-chalav*) is prohibited in benefit, whereas *cheilev* (forbidden fat), for example, is permitted in benefit. If one cooked the *cheilev* [of that sort] with milk—why should the prohibition of meat-and-milk not take effect upon the prohibition of *cheilev*? The same reasoning would apply to *neveilah* (a carcass), since it adds a prohibition, as we said here regarding the *cheilev* of consecrated offerings, and we ruled that eating it entails *me’ilah* due to the added prohibition of benefit.

By way of preface: the rule is that one prohibition does not take effect upon another—except in three cases (“kolel,” “mosif,” and “be-vat achat”). One of them is “mosif,” i.e., a broader prohibition taking effect upon a narrower one. Accordingly, the Rambam wonders why the prohibition of meat-and-milk should not take effect upon the prohibition of *cheilev* (forbidden fat): if one eats *cheilev* together with milk, he should transgress two prohibitions. True, one prohibition does not take effect upon another, but the meat-and-milk prohibition includes both eating and benefiting, and thus is “mosif” upon the *cheilev* prohibition (which forbids only eating).

The Rambam resolves this as follows:

The answer is that meat-and-milk is prohibited in benefit only because Scripture forbade eating it; according to the rule we explained—that anything prohibited in eating is [also] prohibited in benefit unless Scripture specifies otherwise—there is not one verse forbidding eating and another forbidding benefit. Rather, both together constitute the meat-and-milk prohibition. Since we say that one prohibition does not take effect upon another, the meat-and-milk prohibition does not take effect upon the prohibition of *neveilah*; therefore it will not be prohibited in benefit, but will be permitted in benefit, and one who eats it is liable for *neveilah*. The meat-and-milk prohibition thus falls away entirely because it never took effect… This has been explained in its place—understand this well, for it is a point of error, and by it you shall judge all analogous cases.

Explanation: the rule is that prohibitions of eating are also prohibited in benefit unless a source permits benefit (per R. Abbahu in Pesachim 21b). The prohibition of benefiting from meat-and-milk branches off from the prohibition of eating it; if the prohibition of eating does not take effect, the prohibition of benefit does not either. The Rambam innovates that meat-and-milk should be treated as only a prohibition of eating, which then expands to a prohibition of benefit once the eating prohibition is in place. If so, the meat-and-milk prohibition does not take effect upon the prohibition of *cheilev*—it is a prohibition of eating upon a prohibition of eating—and one prohibition does not take effect upon another. And since the eating prohibition never took effect, there is nothing from which a prohibition of benefit could expand.

One can certainly debate this point from several angles, but my concern here is the Rambam’s enthusiasm at the outset: he calls this a “wondrous point… of precise analysis.” It is a nice *vort*, and I think one can hear something like it in any basic yeshiva shiur today. In R. Ḥayyim’s writings or in virtually any contemporary scholar’s book you will find far more intricate and subtle novelties on almost every page. So why the great excitement of a giant like the Rambam over this charming *vort*? This again attests to the shift I described above. What today seems simple and obvious evoked great excitement in one of the greatest sages of all generations. In his day, there were likely far fewer such *lamdanic* moves; when he hit upon one, it naturally thrilled him.[1]

Clarifying Note

I have often thought that the scope of material R. Akiva Eiger (19th c.) had to master (and certainly R. Ovadia Yosef) cannot be compared with the scope R. Akiva (1st–2nd c.) commanded. Moreover, I suspect that R. Akiva would not have been able to write—and perhaps not even follow—a complex analytical construction of R. Akiva Eiger.

But the difference in *lamdanic* level (the analytical ability to dissect and conceptualize) between our generation and earlier ones does not mean that our halakhic conclusions are truer than theirs. I have noted more than once that this analytical ability serves as a kind of compensation for the loss of intuition (or loss of confidence in intuition). *Lamdanic* analyses help us reach conclusions that the Rishonim reached by sheer *sevara*, without erecting complex analytical edifices. In yeshivot they say that if the Rosh brings proofs for some foundation he establishes, one can argue with him; but if he states something with “it seems to me,” don’t waste your time. It is accepted that the halakhic intuition of the Rishonim guided them to the truth even without the developed analytical ability we possess. Hence the halakhic tendency to limit disputes with the Rishonim. This is not because of some inherent authority they have—for there is none. In my view, it stems from recognition of the superiority of their intuition, perhaps due to their closeness to the source.[2]

Continuation of the Sugya

We saw Rav Ḥisda’s excitement over what transpired in the beit midrash regarding “one benefits and the other does not lose.” He describes the discussion to Rami bar Ḥama (the *chakirah* set out above). Rami bar Ḥama dismisses it:

He said to him: It’s a Mishnah.

This “thrilling” analysis is unnecessary—an explicit Mishnah resolves it.[3]

Rav Ḥisda is puzzled:

Which Mishnah?

Rami bar Ḥama gives a surprising answer:

He said to him: Go serve me. He took his scarf and wrapped it for him.

He conditions the answer on Rav Ḥisda serving him. Rav Ḥisda indeed dresses him with the scarf as an act of *shimush*, and then Rami bar Ḥama answers:

He said to him: If one benefited, he pays what he benefited.

This is the Mishnah in Bava Kamma 19b regarding an animal that eats vegetables in the public domain. There, for damage by “tooth and foot,” one is exempt; but the Mishnah adds that if it benefited, it pays what it benefited. Apparently, then, even where there is benefit without loss, one pays.

Rava then dismisses Rami bar Ḥama’s words:

Rava said: How unfeeling and unaware is this man whom Heaven assists—for even though it is dissimilar to the Mishnah, he accepted it from him.

Rava argues that Rav Ḥisda accepted Rami bar Ḥama’s words even though the case is nothing like the Mishnah. He quips that apparently Rami bar Ḥama had “heavenly assistance” that his far-fetched idea would be accepted.

Why is it dissimilar? He explains:

That [Mishnah] is “one benefits and the other loses,” whereas here it is “one benefits and the other does not lose.”

Obviously, the animal that ate caused a loss, and thus that case is “one benefits and the other loses.” As we saw, such a case is obviously liable; that was not the question under discussion. The words indeed sound foolish; Rava’s mockery of Rav Ḥisda and Rami bar Ḥama seems entirely justified.

But the Gemara immediately explains:

Rami bar Ḥama holds that produce placed in the public domain is rendered ownerless.

In other words, Rami bar Ḥama has an explanation for his proposed analogy: produce in the public domain is considered *hefker*. His claim is that even if the owner rendered it ownerless (and thus incurred no loss), one still pays for the benefit.

This is indeed strange: if he rendered the fruit ownerless, on what basis would one pay him? It is not his. It is therefore more reasonable (and so write the Rishonim in various formulations—see Tosafot, the Rosh, and others) that produce placed in the public domain is considered *as if* ownerless for purposes of the owner’s culpability. For our purposes, even though he did not actually intend to render them ownerless, legally placing them in the public domain renders them akin to *hefker* with no monetary value; consequently, this is a case of no loss.

*Shimush* and Study

We have seen a series of odd steps in the sugya: missing an explicit Mishnah; demanding *shimush* as a condition for providing an explanation; a strange—indeed, seemingly untenable—analogy to a Mishnah; and, finally, a very strained explanation for that analogy. It is hard to escape the impression that these oddities are connected—and perhaps also to the initial excitement explained above. I will now suggest a way to string these curious facts together into a coherent picture.

Rami bar Ḥama hears that he missed deep *lamdanic* analysis and wants to teach Rav Ḥisda an analytical lesson (and perhaps to show that he himself is not lacking in *lamdanut*). He therefore tosses out a puzzling assertion: there’s an explicit Mishnah that resolves your *lamdanic* debate. In short—don’t impress me with *lamdanut*. Seemingly, his claim is that full information plus a dash of straight thinking obviates *lamdanut* (echoing R. Ovadia’s critiques of Ashkenazic pilpul). But when one examines this “information,” it turns out not to be information at all, but a claim that demands nontrivial *lamdanic* analysis and is far from obvious. Back to their exchange.

When Rav Ḥisda asks which Mishnah, Rami bar Ḥama demands *shimush*. Why here, specifically, does he require serving him? What is special about this sugya? The answer is that Rami bar Ḥama is about to offer a response that will sound puzzling and forced, and he wants to see whether Rav Ḥisda trusts him. Without trust in Rami bar Ḥama’s *lamdanut* and stature, there’s no point in giving the answer, as it will be dismissed out of hand without a second look.

After Rav Ḥisda serves him (now bursting with curiosity—the tension is at its peak, and we await catharsis with him), he receives a strange—indeed, seemingly preposterous—answer: the Mishnah of eating produce in the public domain. These are very odd words: that Mishnah deals with “one benefits and the other loses.” Did Rav Ḥisda and Rami bar Ḥama not know that? Moreover, Rava mocks the answer, yet Rav Ḥisda does not respond. He hears this “nonsense,” and appears to accept it without comment (Rava explicitly says Rav Ḥisda accepted it). Only at the end does the Gemara itself propose an explanation for their approach. But Rav Ḥisda himself does not even wonder or ask Rami bar Ḥama to explain; he accepts his words as self-evident despite their apparent absurdity.

The explanation is that Rav Ḥisda valued Rami bar Ḥama’s *lamdanut*, and this was manifest in his *shimush* of him. *Shimush talmidei ḥakhamim* expresses or perhaps creates such esteem. In any case, because of that esteem, when Rav Ḥisda heard which Mishnah was in question—though he surely initially thought the analogy was absurd (no special insight is required to see the disanalogy)—he nevertheless decided to give it further thought and try to understand. From their context it was clear to him that Rami bar Ḥama wished to demonstrate a lesson in *lamdanut*. Moreover, he had served him—i.e., granted him credit that he was not speaking foolishness. He therefore reconsidered and likely arrived at the conclusion the Gemara ultimately presents: placing fruit in the public domain constitutes *de facto* *hefker* (though not *hefker* legally), and *lamdanically* this is a case of “one benefits and the other does not lose.” His esteem for Rami bar Ḥama, expressed through *shimush*, bore fruit: he grasped the depth because he gave him credit.

Indeed, the analogy Rami bar Ḥama draws between our sugya and the Mishnah is a complex *lamdanic* move. It dances, as it were, at two weddings: it cannot be true *hefker*, yet it cannot be not-*hefker*. If the fruit were *hefker*, there would be nothing to pay; if it were not *hefker*, there would be loss. How does Rami bar Ḥama see a situation of no loss with an obligation to pay? The answer is that it is a non-*hefker* state similar to *hefker*. R. Ḥayyim would doubtless formulate it as “two dinim in *hefker*”: absence of ownership and absence of value, and he would draw distinctions and ramifications accordingly. That is precisely what Rami bar Ḥama intended, and Rav Ḥisda, on further reflection, understood it. Thus Rami bar Ḥama pays Rav Ḥisda in his own coin: he demonstrates his own “later-authorities-style” *lamdanut*. But to ensure Rav Ḥisda invests the effort to understand and not dismiss it out of hand, Rami bar Ḥama requires *shimush* first.

To see this more clearly, compare Rava’s reaction. Rava rejects Rami bar Ḥama’s words outright. He mocks their supposed nonsense, comparing disparate things. At first glance he is right. That is the natural first response to such a strange analogy. The key point is that Rava did not serve Rami bar Ḥama and apparently did not esteem him enough to invest the extra thought to plumb his depth. He dismisses it outright because it truly looks foolish. Note: precisely to avoid this predictable reaction, Rami bar Ḥama asks Rav Ḥisda to serve him before clarifying his point. And, as noted, it worked.

The Halakhic Ruling

Interestingly, the sugya does not reach a clear conclusion. Proofs are offered both ways, but there is no definitive resolution. In practice, the poskim ruled that one who lives in his fellow’s courtyard without his knowledge, where the courtyard is not designated for rent, does not have to pay rent. So ruled the Rambam (Gezeilah va’Aveidah 3:9) and the Tur and Shulchan Aruch. Yet Tosafot DH “Kegon,” in the sugya of “the measure of Sodom,” Bava Batra 12b, write:

Moreover, that which we compel in cases of the measure of Sodom—where one benefits and the other does not lose—applies if he has already lived in his fellow’s courtyard, such that he does not pay rent; but it is obvious that the owner can protest and prevent him from entering to live in his house even in a courtyard not designated for rent and a person who does not rent—this is a case of “one benefits and the other does not lose.”

They rule that the owner may prevent the would-be tenant from entering, even if the courtyard is not for rent. We see that the fact the tenant need not pay rent is not because of strict law but only because we compel [people not to act] with the “measure of Sodom.” So too rules the Rema in the Shulchan Aruch, ḤM 363:6:

This is only where he has already lived there, but one cannot initially compel [the owner] to let him live there; although we compel [people] regarding the measure of Sodom when one benefits and the other does not lose, that applies where, even if [the beneficiary] wanted to benefit, he could not [otherwise] benefit. But in such a case as this, where if the owner wished to benefit and profit by renting out his courtyard he could do so, but simply does not want to, we do not compel him to give for free (Mordechai and Nimukei Yosef ad loc.).

Between the lines it appears that strictly speaking there is an obligation to pay, but it is “the measure of Sodom” to collect it. So writes the Pnei Yehoshua on our sugya in Bava Kamma (20a): essentially one must pay for benefit alone, but if there is no loss, it is the measure of Sodom to collect payment. The ruling that “one benefits and the other does not lose” is exempt—derives only from compelling against the measure of Sodom; strictly speaking, one is liable.

If so, Rami bar Ḥama’s analogy to the Mishnah may stand even *le-halakhah*: just as in the Mishnah one must pay (and there it is not the measure of Sodom to collect, because after all there was loss—even if *lamdanically* it is not considered loss, like the rationale of “the blackening of the oven-wall” in our Bava Kamma sugya).

The Introduction to Sha’arei Yosher: The Importance of *Shimush* and Trust in One’s Teacher

R. Shimon Shkop, in the introduction to his Sha’arei Yosher, discusses this point at length and even invokes our sugya. I will cite his words in full because of their importance:[4]

For the beginning of the training necessary to be worthy of acquiring Torah, the Torah requires special conditions. The first condition is toil and effort, as our Sages expounded on “If you walk in My statutes”—that you should toil in Torah—and the other matters required for acquiring Torah…

As for me—whom, by God’s compassion, He granted a share among those who toil with the community—since 5644 [1884] I was called by my uncle and teacher, the Gaon R. Eliezer Gordon z”l, to teach students in the Telz yeshiva; in 5663 to the city of Maltsh; in 5667 to Bransk; and in 5680 to Grodno. And I merited, in all these places of Torah dissemination, to draw after me the hearts of those who heeded my instruction. All this is not commensurate with my deeds nor my talents, but rather by the virtue of “You shall surely tithe,” as we wrote—that from my youth until this day my times have been “tithed” for myself and for those who heed my instruction.

Therefore I hope that also in publishing this book to disseminate it widely, the Good and Beneficent will grant me favor to draw the hearts of those who toil in the depths of halakhah, that they study it and gain instruction, and may my portion be with them forever. I know that my book will not be accepted by all, for many learners are unaccustomed to study by analysis, in the manner of analysis that revolves throughout many matters in this book. There are many paths in Torah, and each finds flavor according to his habit. Moreover, most of the topics elucidated here require analysis and toil, and will not be grasped—even by an understanding heart—at a mere glance; and not everyone wishes to ascribe the deficiency to himself—on account of the depth of the concept and the deficiency of the apprehender.

He warns that the book contains matters that require toil and effort and may seem puzzling at first glance, and he fears the reader will not invest further effort and will dismiss them out of hand.

You will not be surprised to find that he now brings our sugya:

I heard a pleasing and persuasive point in the name of my lamented brother-in-law, the rabbi R. Shlomo Zalman b. R. Kalman Abel of Telz, regarding what is related in Bava Kamma (20a) in the sugya of “one benefits and the other does not lose”: that Rav Ḥisda asked of Rami bar Ḥama, and he replied, “Go serve me; he took his scarf and wrapped it for him.” At first glance, this is puzzling. The aforesaid rabbi explained that in matters requiring analysis and toil, everything depends on whether the student believes in the stature of his teacher. If at first he does not understand, he will ascribe the deficiency to himself and intensify his toil, and will ultimately understand. But if the teacher’s words are trifling in his eyes and unworthy of the effort, then if he does not accept the words at first weighing, he will set them aside or dismiss them in his heart, and that will suffice. Therefore, since Rami bar Ḥama knew the depth of the matter he wished to teach him, he did not want to teach until it was established that Rav Ḥisda yearned to learn from him as a disciple from a master; hence he did not teach him until he served him as a disciple serves a master. And this is sufficient for the understanding heart.

He continues about the importance of the student’s esteem for the teacher:

The primary benefit of recognizing the advantage of elderliness is to the student; for if he recognizes that it is fitting before him to deepen his analysis in his teacher’s words, he will then attain the desired benefit, as we have written. Likewise, I think that only those who esteem my words before seeing or hearing them will find it desirable to study this book and will deem it worthwhile to deepen their analysis even if they do not grasp matters at first weighing; then, with God’s help, they will accept my words. But it is fit to know and consider, in my view, what our Sages said (Ḥagigah 15b): “And how did R. Meir learn Torah from the mouth of Aḥer, and did not R. Yoḥanan say [on the verse], ‘For the priest’s lips should guard knowledge, and they shall seek Torah at his mouth; for he is an angel of the Lord of Hosts’—if the teacher is like an angel of the Lord of Hosts, seek Torah at his mouth; if not, do not seek Torah at his mouth’? The Gemara resolves: There is no difficulty—this [warning] is for a child, that [exception] for an adult.” This needs to be understood: how can R. Yoḥanan’s statement be limited to a child, and not to an adult? We may say that when we are precise about R. Yoḥanan’s wording—“seek Torah at his mouth,” and he did not say “learn from him”—truly, one who learns from his fellow does not learn from the mouth of the teacher; rather he listens and weighs it on the scales of his intellect, and he understands the matter. Such a one is not learning “from the mouth” of the teacher, but from the teacher’s intellect. “Torah from the mouth” means accepting the words as heard, without critique. And about this R. Yoḥanan said: to accept Torah “from the mouth,” it is proper only if the teacher is like an angel of the Lord of Hosts.

The explanation he proposes is novel. When the Sages say the teacher must appear to you like an angel, this is not some mystical or spiritual matter; it is a condition for the possibility of learning from him. If you dismiss out of hand anything that does not immediately strike you as convincing, you will not learn anything from your teacher. What seems right to you—you will accept; but that you already knew. What does not seem right—you will reject. Thus you will remain with the same set of insights you had, without adding anything you learned from your teacher.

I once told my students in Yeruham that the debate from which you gained something is the debate you “lost”: in such a debate you learned something new. At first you thought X; then it turned out you were mistaken, and the truth is Y. But in a debate you “won,” you emerge as you entered; you gained nothing. So too with a shiur: if you dismiss everything that does not immediately seem right to you, you have gained nothing from it; there is no point in attending. Here I recall the jaundice story I cited in Column 426 about Occam’s razor as a basis for intellectual conservatism.

Reservation: Does This Contradict Intellectual Independence?

At first glance, the foregoing contradicts the demand for independent thinking. The student is supposed to nullify himself before the teacher and accept everything from him—even if it seems puzzling and untenable. R. Shimon Shkop himself anticipates this and qualifies his words:

Accordingly, a distinction is hinted at in R. Yoḥanan’s words between a child and an adult: a child learns “Torah from the mouth”—he is not fit to critique what to draw near and what to distance; an adult, who can critique, does not learn “from the mouth.” Likewise, it is proper to awaken all who study the books of the Acharonim not to learn “Torah from their mouths”—not to make a foundation of everything stated in their words before thoroughly critiquing them. As a hint to this we may learn from what the Gemara says (BM, “Ha-Socher et ha-Po’alim”): R. Ḥiyya said, “I make arrangements so that Torah will not be forgotten from Israel,” and it explains that he planted flax, made nets, trapped deer, made parchment, and wrote scrolls—hinting that whatever we can begin from the start of Torah, we should do ourselves, to the extent we are permitted to investigate and contemplate, and not rely on the words of the greats who preceded us. Let this declaration of my view tip the scales toward merit for those who study my book if they find my words contradict those of greats whose little finger is thicker than my loins; whether I intended their words and did not cite them, or cited and rejected them. For in the path of study described, I consulted little the books of the Acharonim, for this book is not responsa but an elucidation of halakhot, regarding which free judgment has been granted to all who engage in proper and beneficial analysis.

Here he qualifies the student’s trust in the teacher and demands critical thinking. Just as R. Shimon allowed himself to reject or omit Acharonim, so should a reader do with his own book: on the one hand, grant trust and reconsider—perhaps the words are not untenable and have reason and logic; on the other hand, ultimately do not accept what you do not agree with. But only after deep thought—not at first glance.

In Column 304 I set out these principles and cited the Magen Avraham, whose words are interpreted similarly. And the matter stands as before.

Summary

The framing of the sugya “one benefits and the other does not lose” teaches us something about *lamdanut* and its historical development. Clearly, analytical and conceptual capacity continually improves across generations. On the other hand, it is quite possible—and likely—that even in the past, though it was not explicitly and broadly employed, such capacity stood behind the words. The *lamdanic* discussion in this sugya shows that the principled capacity already existed.

Rami bar Ḥama teaches Rav Ḥisda—and Rava—an important *lamdanic* lesson. The importance of *shimush* is that it enables us to learn something from our teacher. On the one hand, we should reconsider his words repeatedly, even if they seem untenable; otherwise there is no point in attending the shiur or reading the book. On the other hand, we should not accept a person’s words solely by virtue of authority and our esteem for him.

Beyond that, it seems *shimush* matters most when dealing with *lamdanut* rather than the transmission of information. Information can usually be understood without great credit to the teacher. But *lamdanic* and logical principles require skill and effort, and without esteem for the teacher this will likely not happen. No accident, then, that Rami bar Ḥama asks Rav Ḥisda to serve him precisely in the context of a *lamdanic* discussion.

[1] I will not enter here the obvious question whether the Brisker-style *lamdanic* constructions—often applied to reconcile the Rambam’s own words—truly reflect his intent. It is very likely the Rambam never entertained them at all, and yet in my view there is no barrier to their serving as a true explanation of his words (see on this here).

[2] In the third gate of Two Carriages (*Shtei Agalot*) I discussed “decline of the generations,” arguing that analytical abilities have risen while synthetic abilities have fallen. I also explained there the attitude toward the Rishonim’s authority derived from this picture, attributing it to their closeness to the source.

[3] This structure recalls the words of R. Eliezer the Banned (Ḥagigah 3b) when his student came from Yavneh (after the upheaval and his, and Rabban Gamliel’s, removal) to visit him in Lod. R. Eliezer says that their clever debate (there too there was excitement) in Yavneh was unnecessary because there is a halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai that states the answer explicitly (Ammon and Moab tithe in the sabbatical year). See my article here.

[4] After writing this, I recalled that in Column 304 I set out these principles. I decided to leave them here as well to complete the picture.