“Have We Truly Lost the Spirit?” – A Response to Rabbi Inbal’s Critique (Column 568)

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 days ago, the website posted a response featuring Rabbi Inbal’s critique of my book, No One Rules the Spirit, under the title “Have We Truly Lost Control of the Spirit?” He has since suffered the loss of his wife, of blessed memory; I felt it would be inappropriate to respond in real time. I begin with condolences and the hope that he know sorrow no more.

Now I would like nevertheless to present my comments on his critique. I must say that I have read quite a few beautiful and insightful things he has written, and I greatly appreciate his talents and his extensive knowledge in Torah and beyond. I therefore approached his critique of my book with considerable curiosity. At times, however, I have sensed in the past that apologetics tends to deflect him from a straight path of reasoning, and in my view that is also what happens in this critique. Rabbi Inbal writes at the outset that he has not read other relevant materials and thus qualifies his review, but from several of his arguments it seems that relevant parts of the very book under review escaped him.

Preliminary Background

First, let me note that the book in question—the subject of his critique—is the second in a trilogy whose aim is to present a “lean” Judaism, that is, stripped of the (in my view) unreasonable accretions appended to it over the generations.

In the trilogy’s second book I carry out the main “diet” in Jewish theology. My core claim there is that there is no such animal as “Machshevet Yisrael” (“Jewish Thought”) as a binding field. There are reflections by various thinkers whose mothers happened to be Jewish; usually it’s a collection of their own speculations lacking clear sources, and thus there is no obligation to place trust in them (see for example here the question whether the Messiah can be a period rather than a person—how can anyone answer that seriously?! From where does he know?!). Underpinning the claim is the assumption that philosophies and ideas are to be judged by whether they are true or not; it is quite irrelevant whether their origin is Jewish or whether the person who said them carries any authority.

To clarify, I will devote the first part of this column to briefly laying out my positions on these points. In the column’s second part I will discuss Inbal’s criticisms. There, in the course of that discussion, I will complete further parts of the picture described in the first part. I will usually avoid links and references here, since everything is presented in my book in detail and systematically. My aim here is only to clarify matters and explain why the book addresses most of the difficulties raised in the critique.

Two Kinds of Authority

I distinguish between two kinds of authority: formal authority and substantive authority. Formal authority is granted to a person or institution simply by virtue of what it is. For example, the Knesset possesses legal authority and therefore one must obey its directives. This obligation is not based on the great wisdom of its members, nor on their always being correct. One must obey simply because they are members of the Knesset. That is, the institution’s authority arises from what it is.

Substantive authority is altogether different. A doctor instructs me to take a certain pill. I have no obligation to take it, but because I trust his knowledge I will likely take it. A physician has no formal authority by virtue of being a physician; there is no duty to obey doctors. But he does have substantive (expert) authority, for he is a professional who knows more than I do. That means I heed him because he is likely correct—unlike compliance with the Knesset’s laws, which is a formal duty unrelated to the correctness of what is said. To heed the doctor, unlike the legal example, I must be persuaded that he is right; that is not formal authority.

The Realm of Thought Usually Concerns Facts

We can now see why notions of authority in the realm of “Jewish Thought” are problematic, both formally and substantively. To explain this, a further preface: questions and principles in this realm generally concern facts. Consider questions like: Will the Messiah come or not? Is there providence—over whom and how? Is there a special “segulah” in the people of Israel? Was the entire Torah given from Heaven? Does God exist? Was Moses a prophet? Was he the greatest of them? And so on. All these are factual questions, even if the answers are not necessarily based on observation. A fact is either true or it is not; it is not a matter of opinions or perspectives.

This has two implications for our discussion: (A) Formal authority with respect to matters of thought (facts) is not even logically definable. (B) A person claiming in the realm of thought is usually offering mere conjectures (at least where the facts are not based on observation; the sources and their interpretation here are highly dubious). I will elaborate briefly.

Formal Authority About the Realm of Thought

Regarding formal authority, it is easy to see that with respect to facts it cannot exist. A simple logical-conceptual analysis shows that it cannot even be defined: formal authority about facts is an oxymoron.

We saw that formal authority means I must obey a directive regardless of what I think about its correctness. Such a demand can be raised about a halakhic directive: even if you think sorting is permitted on Shabbat, you must refrain because the Sanhedrin ruled it forbidden. Here I am not required to think it is permissible; I must carry out the Sanhedrin’s directive. There is no conceptual problem here—even if someone rejects this authority, that is a substantive dispute but not a conceptual problem in its definition. By contrast, regarding facts this cannot be conceptually defined. Consider a person who has concluded he does not believe the Messiah will come. How can one demand of him to believe this merely because some authoritative person or body said the Messiah will come? What is expected of him—that he recite it without believing it in his heart? That is of course possible, but that is not belief in the coming of the Messiah; it is lip movement, mumbling “I believe in the coming of the Messiah.” At most one can try to persuade him he is mistaken; if persuaded, he will of course accept that conclusion. One can even rely on the wisdom or supposed hidden sources of certain people or institutions to convince me they likely know what they are saying. But this is still acceptance by persuasion—and thus not formal authority. A formal-authority demand expects a person to accept even without being persuaded, and that is impossible vis-à-vis facts. One can command me to do something I think should not be done; one cannot command me to think what I do not think (unless I am persuaded I am mistaken). It is like demanding of someone sitting down to think that he is standing, or to think that a circle is a triangle. Here, by all accounts, one cannot say I must accept an order that “right is left.”

Note that this analysis applies even with respect to God Himself, and certainly with respect to the Torah, the Sages, or the Talmuds. If God or Rabbi Akiva command me to believe in the coming of the Messiah, that is an oxymoronic demand that cannot be fulfilled. Even if God knows everything and even if I assume He does not lie, that can at most persuade me that the Messiah will indeed come (i.e., that I am mistaken), and then I will accept it because I have been persuaded. But formal authority about facts means accepting it although I do not believe it—such a demand cannot issue even from God Himself, and of course not from Hazal or any other source.

Substantive Authority About the Realm of Thought

We have seen that formal authority cannot exist regarding thought (because it deals with facts). I would add that, given the picture above, it is also hard to accept substantive authority regarding matters of thought. Suppose an institution or a person makes a claim of thought. On what could it be based? We saw that this is a factual claim. I would therefore expect an observational basis. But as we have seen, while these are factual claims, they are not based on observation. Observation does not yield that God exists or supervises, nor that the Messiah will arrive.

The question of Israel’s “segulah” may seem an exception, for one might try to observe whether there are essential differences between Israel and the nations. But in my book I argued this too is impossible for three main reasons: (1) the concept is ill-defined (what difference would count as a “segulah” difference? There are differences between any two peoples, two persons, or two groups); (2) even if the concept were defined, empirically such a difference does not appear to exist—there are good and bad in every group and nation, and nothing seems essentially different about us; (3) even if we did discover an essential difference, there is no need to attribute it to “segulah” (an essential, genetic, or spiritual genetics). It could just as well be a cultural difference formed by baggage accumulated over generations.

Thus, in most matters of “Jewish Thought” we are dealing with factual claims that cannot be grounded in empirical observation, and therefore it is difficult to accept substantive (expert) authority about them. Of course there remains the possibility of adducing evidence for such a claim from the sources or from philosophical reasoning (itself based on non-sensory apprehension; see the series 155–160). By “sources” here I mean biblical sources, not Hazal; with respect to Hazal it is unclear whence they have information different from what I have. They were not prophets and drew their (sometimes mistaken) conclusions from their own reasoning—just like you and me. As for Scripture, that is of course possible, but in practice grounding theological principles in the Bible is generally quite dubious: people read out of the sources what they already thought beforehand. If one encounters a source that says the opposite of his prior view, he will interpret creatively and stick with his view. I will not re-enter this; I know it will annoy many readers, but the matter has been thoroughly hashed out on the site and, despite emphatic declarations from many, I have yet to encounter even a single genuine counterexample.

To preempt the usual claims that always arise here, I must clarify that I am not speaking about basic, broadly accepted points, such as the existence of God, of Abraham our father, the events of the Exodus and Sinai, and the like. Beyond the fact that even in these issues one can find different interpretations (and propose more, even if we have not yet found them), these are straightforward points, and at least today it is fairly clear that sources are not needed to teach them to us. In any case, my claim here does not concern such basic principles, but rather non-consensual, unknown, and non-obvious insights. Moreover, if we have been persuaded of God’s existence, then our conclusion is that this is a true fact for the nations as well—there are no “Jewish facts” versus non-Jewish ones.

I stress that my words also apply to Maimonides’ Principles of Faith. These are far from self-evident in my view, and their basis in the Torah is shaky. Even if one finds a basis in Hazal, for me that does not suffice. I ask about Hazal what I ask about any sage: how do they know this? If it is a tradition from Sinai—fine; I will accept it by virtue of the substantive authority of God or a prophet (for even they have no formal authority about facts). But if it is not a Sinaitic tradition but rather an interpretation of texts or a sevara (reasoned inference), I can do that too, and I do not see Hazal’s advantage over me. In halakhah I accept their interpretations, like those of the Sanhedrin, for there is substantive authority defined regarding norms (not necessarily because they are correct). But in matters of thought we are dealing with facts; here I do not accept their authority—neither substantive (because I do not think they possess expertise) nor formal (because it is undefined). As far as I can tell, they are not more expert in metaphysics than I or you (in many cases, I would say less), and therefore I do not see any substantive authority of theirs over such questions.

Interim Summary: From Lean Theology to Lean Judaism

Thus, the domain called “Machshevet Yisrael” does not truly exist. There is a collection of musings by different people; I may adopt from it what seems right to me and add ideas of my own—like anyone else. But the fact that something came from this or that sage is meaningless, and certainly irrelevant whether he was Jewish or not. Moreover, if it is true, then every non-Jew should accept it; if it is false, then even a Jew should not. There is the domain of philosophy and of science (facts), where claims are assessed by a true/false prism; there is no place for a domain like “Jewish Thought” (a field judged by who the thinker’s mother was).

It follows that what remains of Judaism after this pruning is halakhah, which deals with norms rather than facts. There is space for authority there, and there one also finds particularity (Jewish distinctiveness). Facts, if true, are true for everyone in the world, Jew or not (a non-Jew, too, should accept that the Messiah will come if that claim is true; and a Jew should reject it if it is not). Norms address those upon whom they are imposed, and halakhah addresses only Jews. A non-Jew can understand that according to halakhah one must redeem a firstborn donkey, but he himself is not obligated to redeem it, for the norm does not command him. Moral norms, of course, obligate all humanity, and facts by definition bind everyone, but religious norms need not. Thus, for example, some opinions hold that a Noahide is not warned against “shittuf” (association). Does that mean that if a gentile believes in shittuf he is correct? Certainly not. The fact is that God is one and has no partners; if that is a true fact, it is true for gentiles as well. Those views merely say that a gentile does not transgress a prohibition by holding such a view (to the extent that prohibitions regarding holding views exist at all—see below).

Finally, even halakhah undergoes a diet and flexibilization in the trilogy’s third book. There I point to non-binding elements that were added to it and to many possibilities for interpreting and changing it. Thus, having excised “Jewish Thought” and then slimmed and loosened halakhah as well, what remains is indeed rather limited—yet flexible and open to interpretation and change. This is the core of my position that Rabbi Inbal attacks. The halakhic “diet” is only in the background. His critique focuses on the second book—i.e., on “Jewish Thought”—and a bit on the seam between it and halakhah.

The Critique’s Claims: What Is “Judaism”?

He opens with the question driving his critique: can one dispense with Maimonides’ Principles and still be considered Orthodox? He immediately proceeds to ask: whence the need to be Orthodox? Anyone can define those who disagree with him as non-Orthodox, and it is difficult to reach consensus on the framework’s definition. In this context he brings my “swimsuit” parable. Suppose we have a tradition from our forefathers that one must go about in swimsuits; they lived in hot Africa, while we live in cold Scandinavia. One can speak of “literalist conservatism,” which holds that even in Scandinavia one must go about in swimsuits; but one can also define “midrashic conservatism,” according to which the preserved rule is that one must dress according to the climate, and therefore in Scandinavia the tradition obligates us to wear warm clothing. Inbal uses this parable to show that one can always define someone as Orthodox by a rule he constructs; therefore there is no agreed definition of Orthodoxy and, consequently, it is difficult to speak of an obligation to be Orthodox.

From here he argues that my creature has risen up against its maker: it follows that Judaism obligates nothing, and therefore there is no definition of who is a Jew or who is obligated by halakhah.[1] If every step can count as faithful to halakhah, then what is “faithfulness to halakhah” at all? Is it not an empty phrase?

Let me say at the outset that I have no intention of engaging the semantic-sociological question, “What is Orthodoxy?” For my part, everyone may define Orthodoxy as he wishes and exclude whomever he pleases. The substantive question is: what is obligation to halakhah and what ought to be included in it—i.e., who is acceptable in God’s eyes and who is not. I am not asking “what is Orthodoxy” but “what is Judaism.” That is not a semantic question—even though one can, of course, always redefine terms. As we will see, this question does not even coincide with who is right and who is wrong. We will now see why Inbal conflates categories and errs philosophically and logically.

The Conflation

Inbal fails to distinguish between facts and norms—surprising, since I devoted much effort to showing this is the basic foundation for all the claims he attacks.

Maimonides’ Principles belong to the realm of thought and thus deal with facts. Regarding those, I argued there is no need for any “midrashic conservatism,” since Maimonides, like anyone else, has no authority in such domains. Authority regarding facts is an oxymoron. What I think is what I think. “Jewish Thought” is what Jews think—i.e., the empty set. I will not enter the question how Inbal would treat disputes among the Rishonim about Maimonides’ Principles and whether, in his view, they fall within his non-empty Orthodox/Jewish framework. As noted, halakhic “rulings” in this area do not exist and are not even definable; thus one cannot claim that halakhah has been decided on such matters.

From what has been said, I indeed conclude that Judaism is defined by norms (halakhah) and not by facts (beliefs). Of course, there is a factual-theological substrate—God’s existence and the giving of the Torah—without which the commandments and their observance are meaningless. But someone who does not accept that substrate does not enter the Jewish framework because he cannot fulfill commandments (and even if he performs them, they are not commandments: commandments are instructions given to us by a commanding source). Such a person is not a “transgressor,” for failing to accept facts is not and cannot be an offense; but his “commandments” are not commandments. In this sense, he does not belong to the Jewish framework. The beliefs here function not as necessarily correct or binding by authority, but as necessary conditions for the very possibility of obeying the norms (the commandments). Below I will address the supposed halakhic obligation to hold certain beliefs, which seemingly turns factual beliefs into a halakhic duty.

So much for beliefs and facts. By contrast, the “swimsuit” parable speaks about norms—halakhah and only halakhah. That parable presupposes commitment to prior principles (something one can assume only regarding norms, not facts), for “midrashic conservatism” comes to justify a proposed new practice (wearing a coat) in the terms of that commitment. The parable shows that such commitment tolerates several interpretations—all deserving the title “conservative” (for our purposes: “committed to halakhah”). In short, Maimonides’ Principles are the subject of the trilogy’s second book, whereas the swimsuit parable belongs entirely to the third. Never the twain shall meet; conflating them mixes categories. Since our topic here is thought, not halakhah (remember, his critique addresses the second book), I will briefly explain why he is also mistaken in his criticism of halakhah—and then return to his main critique.

The Error

I never claimed that every argument and every proposal are legitimate, nor even that they deserve the title “conservative” (= committed to halakhah). Consider someone who says he will go naked in Scandinavia because, in his view, the principle to preserve is that one must wear a covering whose initial letter follows the place one lives: our forefathers in Africa (aleph) wore a bathing suit (beged-yam, bet), hence we in Scandinavia (samekh) must go ‘erom (ayin). This nonsense is not “midrashic conservatism” but muddle. It is devoid of logic; to equate it with the reasonable interpretation (even if one insists on distancing oneself from reason) of “clothing appropriate to the climate” is mere demagoguery. You see that, even on my view, there is a framework to Judaism and there are those who do not fall within it. Inbal’s inference from my words that there is no framework and Judaism is emptied of content simply assumes that every logically valid argument is acceptable.

Incidentally, what I am saying is self-evident, and I cannot see how one can argue otherwise unless he insists on ignoring halakhic facts. The history of halakhah up to our day is full of “midrashic-conservative” arguments like mine, from the greatest decisors. One who rejects such arguments creates a Judaism that never existed and does not exist today. My sole claim is that the gates of interpretation have not been locked—that there are quite a few possible readings and all may count as conservative. I did not say, nor do I think, that every crazy proposal and every foolishness qualify as an interpretation. If someone engages in deception or simply errs in a matter explicitly ruled, he cannot be considered a “midrashic conservative.” He is a heretic or a Reformist in disguise. I expanded on this in my series (475–480) on Modern Orthodoxy; see especially the discussion of the difference between “midrashic conservative” and “Reformist” in column 478.

Ironically, Inbal’s ostensibly conservative claim adopts precisely the childish logic of postmodernism. Those folks, too, claim that every coherent argument is equivalent to every other coherent argument; therefore, there is no way to determine truth and falsehood or to prefer one position or value over another. For them, the aleph-bet argument for going naked in Scandinavia is equivalent to the argument for wearing a coat there, since both rely on (formally) valid reasoning. Their mistake is that even if there is no way to prove to someone that he is wrong—as long as he presents a coherent argument—that does not mean he is right. It may only mean that he is locked in error and cannot be persuaded otherwise. In my example, I assume even the person who offered that argument understands it is wrong and is merely babbling. In other words, there is a difference between the claim that nothing can be proved (except on the basis of assumptions that themselves are unprovable), and the claim that no statement is any truer than its negation.

As I have often explained (my books Shtei Agalot and Emet ve-Lo Yatziv are devoted to this point), the proper Zionist response to postmodern critique is the synthetic stance, not dogmatism. The way to respond is not to bring a proof that my position is certain; that plays on the postmodern field that identifies truth/acceptability with provability. One must point out the critic’s error and explain that I can adopt positions that are not certain if they are reasonable. Even if something is only 90% likely, for me it is acceptable or “true” (not with certainty) until shown otherwise.

Similarly, the alternative I propose to Inbal’s postmodernish critique is that anyone who advances a reasonable argument showing that the norm he proposes preserves the traditional value merits the honorable title “conservative.” That does not mean he is right, but it does mean he belongs to the legitimate domain. Whether he is right—that each of us will determine by his own reasoning. Exactly as we are accustomed to do in every halakhic dispute.

So we have a mistaken conservative and a correct conservative. But there are also those who are not conservative at all. Recall the example of going naked in Scandinavia: there, no conservative argument was made, only a pseudo-argument. In my view, anyone who advances a reasonable case for his proposal can be considered conservative. One who does not is Reformist or a heretic—even if he hides behind a pseudo-argument like the “naked in Scandinavia” one. Again, see column 478.

The Logical Error

To conclude this point: suppose my arguments do in fact entail that there is no agreed framework for religious, theological, or halakhic commitment. Why is that an argument against me? If my premises are correct and the conclusion indeed follows, then the conclusion is that Judaism is in fact empty (on that understanding). Unless you show which premise is wrong, I do not see your point as a critique of my position. At most you have pointed out that my arguments show Judaism to be empty. In other words, Inbal—even if he tries—will not succeed in presenting an Orthodox framework meeting his stringent demands (as we saw). Thus, his attack on me boomerangs back on him. He refuses to distinguish between arguments that hold water and pseudo-arguments that do not. He assumes that once one accepts an argument for changing halakhah, one must accept every argument or pseudo-argument. Yet the annals of halakhah are filled with such arguments. On his own terms, there is and cannot be a definable Orthodox framework—Judaism remains empty.

In the past he wrote me that, for him, the framework is “the words of earlier generations’ sages.” I will not enter the absurdity in that definition and its lack of logical basis. But what does “commitment to the sages of earlier generations” mean? Everything written before the 18th century? Or the 10th? There are disputes among sages. Does history decide who is wiser than whom and who has authority over whom? On what is that based? Where in the Torah—or anywhere—do we find such a criterion? Moreover, does Inbal not know of arguments by Aharonim who disputed Rishonim or interpretations that changed halakhah in light of changed circumstances? Is he a Karaite? Note: by his logic, if there are any such arguments at all, then every such argument is legitimate.

One More Puzzlement to End the First Part

At the end of his critique’s first section, Inbal concludes with this surprising paragraph:

Even if we grant that there is no formal argument that refutes “lean Judaism,” that does not make it legitimate (as we supposedly assume: if a certain view is not “heresy,” then it is legitimate). For by the same token, there is no formal argument refuting Conservative Judaism, or the Christianity of Jesus. “Lean Judaism” itself aspires to claim legitimacy—but if there is no formal argument by which one can invalidate anything at all, what meaning has that aspiration? It is not on the formal plane. “Lean Judaism” wants to be legitimate in Orthodoxy’s consciousness, to be no less equal, no less correct, no less consonant with the sincere will of the tradition-observant believer.

We have seen that Inbal’s weapons against me are mainly empty formalistic pilpul. And here, suddenly, I become the formalist and he attacks me in the name of common sense. Strange indeed. I must remind again that my claim was not “there is no formal argument refuting ‘lean Judaism.’” On the contrary, for me the entire discussion is about whether it is true, not about whether there is an argument that refutes it. The discussion is conducted wholly in the domain of common sense, not in the logical-formalist realm. Precisely for this reason I accept the “coat” argument but not the “nakedness” argument—even though formally both are valid and you will not be able to refute both. We saw above that he attacked me that, if one accepts my form of argument, Judaism is emptied of content; I explained that he is assuming formalism (that all formally valid arguments possess the same standing). It is odd that in this paragraph everything flips. An upside-down world I have seen.

Finally, I never claimed that my views are not “heresy,” if only because I do not accept that criterion. Labeling a position as “heresy” is, to me, a cheap substitute where arguments have run out. When there are no arguments, one pulls labels from a sleeve. I seek what is true, not what is “not heresy.” It is certainly possible that I am mistaken and have not hit upon the truth, but I do not see how anyone could understand from my words that my aim is to be considered “not a heretic.” I am not engaged in sociological classifications; I am not discussing whether my positions are Christianity, heresy, Orthodox Judaism, Reform, or Zen Buddhism. I claim one thing only: that my positions are true. That, and only that, I seek to show—whether or not I have succeeded.

Moreover, my “lean Judaism” does not seek to be “equally worthy,” nor “legitimate in the Orthodox’s consciousness” (which does not interest me in the least), nor even “consonant with the sincere will of the tradition-observant believer” (which interests me equally little). I surmise and understand that this is what Inbal’s Judaism seeks (he himself testifies so, hence he attacks me in the name of convention). The Judaism I speak of seeks to be consonant with the will of the Almighty—even if that does not accord with the views of any of its believers. That is all. I have never sought ratings, nor do I hang on the coattails of popularity and imagined authorities, but on common sense and conceptual, logical analysis. One can, of course, disagree about whether I have succeeded—but as to my aims, the picture seems quite clear. If my goal were to flatter certain believers’ views, the last thing I would do is deny the authority of every power in the universe and his wife, and certainly not go against convention. An upside-down world I have seen.

The Meaning of a Purpose-Driven Discussion

Having “proven” the absurdity of my outlook on the merits, Rabbi Inbal moves on to a teleological question:

In the end, the question is whether we desire the legitimacy and spread of the “lean” outlook, or not?

Before entering that discussion, I must say that the question does not interest me. Not only because I do not know who “we” are and why there is a collective voice here; perhaps So-and-so desires it and So-and-so does not. The phrasing smells of speaking in the name of the nation or the congregation of all believers—perhaps in the name of God Himself. I feel bound to contribute at least my two cents: at least I desire nothing. Neither to promote nor to impede the promotion of the “lean” outlook. Why? That brings me to the second point: because a teleological, interest-based discussion is irrelevant; it is a matter of taste.

For me, the only thing that matters here is whether the outlook is true or not. If it is true, it should be advanced even if you do not desire it; if not, it should not be advanced even if you do. Shifting to a teleological, outcome-oriented discussion is a move to an unprincipled plane—especially when it follows arguments as flimsy and confused on the principled plane as I have described.

But since in the second part of his critique—which ostensibly should be teleological—there also appear arguments on the merits, I will address those and ignore teleological and outcome-oriented questions.

The Question of Authority Regarding Facts: What Is “Minut”?

Inbal opens with an accurate summary of my view about the absence of authority regarding facts. He cites two main reasons I give: (1) authority was granted only for halakhic determinations (there is no authority in Aggadah); (2) authority about facts is a logical contradiction. I explained this in the first part of the column.

I am impressed that he is careful here to be precise—and that is good. He does not find in me a view that denies the existence of true beliefs. I too think there are true beliefs and untrue ones. My claim is that there are no binding beliefs—that is, there is no place for demanding that a person believe something factual (and hence no sanction for holding certain beliefs). More broadly, I argue there are no “Jewish beliefs.” True beliefs should be accepted even if their source is a non-Jew; false beliefs should be rejected even if they come from Moses our teacher. One can, in principle, define a conceptual framework: a “Jewish believer” is only one who believes in some set of facts {X, Y, Z…}, and anyone who deviates is not holding “Jewish belief.” But in my view that definition is not very interesting. One should still not impose sanctions on a person for his beliefs—even if they are, in your eyes, “non-Jewish,” and even if, in your eyes, they are false.

Still, it is clear that sometimes one must take beliefs into account when determining our relation to a person. Take, for example, the question whether to count in a minyan a Jew who does not believe in God or in the giving of the Torah and in prayer. I too agree there is no point in counting him—not as a sanction, but because the concept of prayer simply does not apply to him (in my view he is like a potted plant in the synagogue). Thus, beliefs can have consequences, but not punitive ones; and certainly there is no duty to believe. This is a definition that can also have halakhic ramifications (like inclusion in a minyan).

Inbal begins his critique by saying that these claims clash with Hazal’s halakhic rulings regarding a min and an apikoros, or one who separates himself from the community—for example, that such a person is not counted in a minyan, or the rule of moridin ve-lo ma’alin (“we bring him down and do not raise him”). He claims that Maimonides’ Principles are an interpretation of those halakhic rulings; thus we are dealing with rejection of halakhic authority, not merely of factual authority. He adds that although Maimonides’ Principles are disputed (both in substance and in how far from the “correct” beliefs one must be to be deemed an apikoros), the principle that there are correct beliefs and that one who deviates is a min is agreed upon. And, he says, that is a halakhic determination.

Where Does He Err?

In several places. First, Inbal notes that I already answered these questions in the book. I wrote there that even if he is right, I have no way to fulfill such a halakhah. If I have concluded that the Messiah will not come, I cannot accept a demand to believe in his coming because there is a halakhic duty to do so. That is a logical conclusion and cannot be overridden by a thousand conclusive proofs from Hazal. Therefore arguments from Hazal are irrelevant when dealing with logic (as with facts).

Indeed, as he writes, in my view even if the laws of “minim” existed (and I do not think they do in the form he paints—see below), they are null, because they are based on false factual assumptions. Exactly as the laws permitting killing lice on Shabbat are null, being based on Hazal’s mistaken factual premise. I see no difference. Translating facts into the halakhic sphere does not change the underlying situation: there is not and cannot be authority regarding facts.

But beyond that, Inbal is simply wrong in claiming that the Talmud imposes halakhic sanctions on minim and apikorsim as people who hold certain beliefs because those are their reasoned conclusions. I am speaking of a min who holds certain views because that is where his inquiry led him. Such a person cannot be demanded anything, nor can sanctions be imposed upon him. I do not see how one can dispute this (I also cited halakhic sources that there is “coercion” in matters of belief, such as the well-known responsum of Radbaz). Hazal spoke of the “minim” they encountered, who adopted other beliefs due to desire. The “minim” we encounter today are usually different: they are people who reached different conclusions—usually wrong in my opinion too—but they are their conclusions. Toward such people there is and can be no claim, and I think Hazal—had they known this phenomenon (at least in its current magnitude)—would not have said such things about them. Certainly not the rule of moridin, which all contemporary poskim agree does not apply to such cases (tinok shenishba, no one who knows how to rebuke, etc.), and not even exclusion from a minyan. If a person knows to Whom we pray and believes in prayer, he is counted. Anything beyond that is sanction; but there are no sanctions upon a person for the beliefs he holds (unless he does not actually hold them, and adopts them only due to desire—le-ta’avon—or to provoke—le-hakh’is). I pointed out this distinction briefly here.

Not for nothing are the main categories in the Talmud here: le-ta’avon (out of appetite) or le-hakh’is (out of spite). Beyond that, we find tinok shenishba, who certainly is counted and upon whom there is no sanction—so long as he meets necessary requirements. Moreover, I have often written that for Hazal even a tinok shenishba is someone who, if he knew Torah and halakhah, would surely admit to everything and be fully obligated; he merely grew up in a different world and thus the truth is hidden from him—his deficiency is ignorance. In their world there is no such thing as a person who knows everything and, without desire, reaches other conclusions. In their Talmudic world every person understands that one must be a believer and fulfill mitzvot, but he sometimes grows up in a world where belief and mitzvot are different (Christianity, paganism, etc.). In our world there truly are people who simply do not believe—and that is their genuine conclusion. Even if they knew everything, they would not admit. Therefore, the modern atheist—i.e., a “transgressor” due to ideological/theological coercion—is far more distant from Hazal’s tinok shenishba than they imagined.

Inbal himself presents my explanation that these halakhot are null because their factual and logical basis is absent. That too is correct—but he ignores another claim of mine: that these halakhot are not null but simply do not exist regarding a person who holds different beliefs (erroneous in his inquiry). A person who understands what the truth is is not indicted for an intellectual mistake but for denying a truth he himself knows. Thus, the Talmud does not speak of minim and apikorsim who hold erroneous positions; it speaks of those who adopted such positions out of appetite or spite. They are not judged for holding wrong positions but for failing to hold right ones—or, more precisely, for denying truths they themselves know.

Therefore I am not only saying that these halakhot are null even if I accept Hazal’s authority in halakhah; I am saying they do not exist. Inbal simply errs in halakhah: there is no halakhic sanction upon one who holds erroneous beliefs. My words therefore do not contradict Hazal’s halakhic rulings (even though, as noted, even if they did, it would not matter—halakhot based on false facts are null).

What Is Judaism: Does It Have a Spiritual Message for the World?

After presenting the possibility that these halakhot are null due to their factual/logical basis (a correct but, for me, unnecessary claim), he rejects it because of a further difficulty. In his words:

But there is a much deeper problem. Hazal’s definition of “minut” is something opposed to Judaism; minim are as gentiles, a Sefer Torah they write must be burned. Abolishing all of this validates not only a specific “lean Judaism,” but all heresy. It abolishes Hazal’s principle that the Torah and Judaism have some spiritual statement about the world. A Torah that tells one to do a series of actions is meaningless—mere instructions for hand movements. The Torah is supposed to be the divine message to man about what happens in the world, what will happen, and man’s role in all this.

This does not validate all heresy. It merely says there is no way to demand someone return from it or to impose sanctions upon him. I do indeed agree that, on my approach, Judaism has no particularistic message for the world. Perhaps in the past it did—and even then very minimal: moral principles not then self-evident, belief in God, and the like. But not “principles of faith.” If these are true, then they are true for all humanity, not only Jews.

A Torah that instructs us in a series of actions is not at all meaningless—primarily because those actions bring about spiritual benefit of some kind. My claim that there are no binding theological principles does not mean there are no true principles; nor does it mean that halakhic actions lack a theological substrate. I only claim that we need not understand those meanings and benefits for the actions to have value. Indeed, in halakhah we do not require ta’ama de-kra; according to most interpreters, that means we are to perform these practices independently of their theological “explanation” (not because it is false, but because it is unnecessary for the spiritual ends). I also claim that all of Hazal’s and later sages’ proposals to understand the theological substrate of the commandments never rose above speculation (for they have no way of knowing). I see no problem with this stance, and certainly found none in Rabbi Inbal’s critique.

Yeshayahu Leibowitz always claimed the exact opposite of Inbal: that groups and individuals were not ejected from the legitimate framework because of beliefs, but only when they began to harm their halakhic commitment. His picture is somewhat extreme—as always—but there is certainly truth in it. It is nothing like Inbal’s opposite picture, according to which halakhic disputes do not trouble Hazal as much as disputes about belief. He makes an improper comparison. Lack of halakhic commitment troubles them far more than lack of theological commitment. Disputes do not greatly trouble them—neither here nor there. Even his example of Rabbi Hillel—who, ostensibly, denied the coming of the Messiah (Sanhedrin 99a)—if anything proves the opposite of what he seeks to prove. The Gemara says “May his Master forgive Rabbi Hillel,” but he is still called “Rabbi Hillel,” and his words are brought and discussed—unlike one who abandons halakhic commitment (such as Elisha ben Avuyah, “Aher”), who is treated far more severely. (Recall that the Sefer ha-Ikkarim learns from Rabbi Hillel precisely the lack of importance of “principles of faith.”)

Authority Regarding Facts

His critique of my stance on authority about facts shows that he writes without having read my words:

As for the claim that there is no authority regarding factual questions—it is entirely erroneous. Clearly, when a person is present to a fact, authority is meaningless. But when we do not know the facts, what we always do is turn to authority. The physician is an authority on the factual question of how to cure a disease; the engineer is an authority on the factual question of how much concrete is needed so the column will not collapse on our heads. The authority can err, and when it is clear that he errs we dismiss him. But certainly there is authority regarding factual questions. The judge in court determines whether So-and-so stole or murdered, and we act according to his determination of the facts, even though his determination derives from his authority; the judge did not necessarily bring definitive forensic proof. The reason is that this is the maximum we can do to ascertain the facts, and thus we rely on the one empowered to examine them.

After what we saw at the beginning of the column, it is unnecessary to say that he is speaking here about substantive authority, while I was speaking of formal authority. There is indeed substantive authority even about facts—but I explained above that this is not “authority” in the usual sense; certainly there is no demand upon a person to adopt facts from an expert by virtue of his status unless the person is persuaded the expert is right. This is a simple misunderstanding. It is strange and careless to miss so central a point, elaborated at length in my book, when writing a critique of it.

Conclusion

In three closing paragraphs, Inbal concludes. The first reads:

I am not troubled by the formal side; one can patch together a formula that will sustain “lean Judaism” without internal contradiction, let us say. But if so, why is it not selfish? What is the point of weaving a non-authentic Judaism that walks between the raindrops of obligation by flexible definitions? Just as the book’s preface describes young people who raise questions about religion’s logic and rationality and their rabbis have no answers—used as a push to institute “lean Judaism”—so now, no fewer young people from the “lean Judaism” community will face questions about the logic of accepting halakhot founded on a theology with no guarantee of truth, and of excising the central halakhah that defines the religion. Or at all whether it is a sincere and authentic interpretation to say that providence and prayer, which are central in the Bible, were once a reality but the Creator decided to stop them? And what will the rabbis of ‘lean Judaism’ answer them? Will they appease them with incoherent excuses? Or declare them wicked for having questions?

Here the mistake I explained above returns. I do not claim there are no ideas or theological substrate underlying the halakhot. I only claim that any statement about that substrate is an unbinding speculation and we have no way of knowing what it is. That is all. Moreover, at least in my sample, people are willing to accept positions for which they have no explanation, as long as it is clear that this is what is required of them and what God wants of them because it was given at Sinai. But they are unwilling to accept things that are untrue, unfounded, and patently illogical. If someone reaches the conclusion that he has no explanation for what he does and has no trust in it, offering belly-born speculations—by a wiser or less wise person—as principles of faith will not improve his condition. You must persuade him that it is true. Therefore, my not offering an explanation does not mean that a thesis offering crooked, unfounded “explanations” is preferable. As yeshiva students say, better to leave it be-tzerikh iyyun. What matters is that I be persuaded that these are indeed the acts God requires of me. That suffices for me to feel obligated to perform them. Lame and unpersuasive “explanations” as a basis for these acts will not change this one whit.

In the following paragraphs he concludes:

The idea of principles of faith is basic and necessary to every religion and every group. So long as people are in the gray zone, abstract principles are unnecessary; but when there is discussion of “what is Judaism,” or “what is Christianity,” or anything else, one must reach a definition. Just as it is clear that someone who accepts nothing of Judaism is not part of the Jewish religion, so it is clear that if he accepts one thing—say, refrains from eating pork—he will not be defined as faithful to the Jewish religion. Likewise, it is clear that one must set some minimal boundary. There is no meaning to a religion without a critical mass with a defined minimum—at least in Judaism, which is a religion of demands and not merely a source of inspiration. And this is exemplified by the claim that in theory one can take Judaism itself only as a source of inspiration, as the Reform do—and hence the counter-claim is understandable.

I am not here to determine exactly what Hazal’s “minut” is, and one can certainly debate details. What I am saying (if two of the generation’s greats will agree with me) is that there is such a thing as “minut,” and ‘lean Judaism’ must test itself accordingly: is it “minut” or not? And the claim that in the absence of a formal definition of heresy everything is legitimate licenses heresy and is therefore to be rejected.

You may, of course, define a conceptual framework as you wish. Above I explained that this is possible. I simply argue that it lacks content and meaning. The need for self-definition does not justify the acceptability or correctness of any definition. Moreover, my claim is that there is such a framework—halakhah. The theological contents are products of human minds; it is not fitting to use them to define the framework—certainly not if you wish to derive halakhic and practical conclusions, rather than merely a conceptual definition.

[1] For some reason, Gödel’s incompleteness theorem was thrown in here; it has nothing to do with the issue.