Deriving Ta‘ama de-Kra: A. Why Don’t We Derive It? (Column 713)
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.
In the previous column I discussed cultural influences that enter into Halakhah. In passing I noted that with respect to derashot we do in fact derive the ta‘ama de-kra (the “reason of the verse”), since the exegete’s reasoning always informs the derashah and therefore it is not correct to ignore the explanatory dimension that shaped it. In the comments I was asked about ta‘ama de-kra, and I said I would dedicate the next column to it. Here it is. This is the first column, to be followed by more. I will note that a very detailed discussion of ta‘ama de-kra appears in our book, Yishlach Shoreshav, in the essay on the Fifth Root.
Ta‘ama de-Kra
There is a Tannaitic dispute about whether we derive the reasons for the commandments or not. For example, we find in the Torah a prohibition against taking a widow’s garment as collateral (Deuteronomy 24:17–18):
“You shall not pervert the justice due to the stranger or the orphan, and you shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge. And you shall remember that you were a slave in Egypt and the LORD your God redeemed you from there; therefore I command you to do this thing.”
A simple reading suggests that the point of the prohibition is not to seize collateral from the poor and downtrodden. The widow is merely a salient example. This is also indicated by the context of the verse and by the reminder (which is not exactly a reason) that appears in the next verse. The Torah here appeals to our sense of justice and morality.
Now, in Mishnah Bava Metzia 115a the following law is brought:
“A widow—whether she is poor or rich—one does not take a pledge from her, as it says, ‘You shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge.’”
The Mishnah rules that the prohibition applies even to taking collateral from a wealthy widow, since the wording of the verse does not distinguish between a poor widow and a rich one. Somewhat surprising.
However, the Gemara there brings a baraita with a Tannaitic dispute on this matter:
“Our Rabbis taught: A widow—whether poor or rich—one does not take a pledge from her; these are the words of Rabbi Yehuda. Rabbi Shimon says: If she is rich, one may take a pledge; if she is poor, one does not take a pledge—because you are obligated to return it to her [at night], and you cause her ill repute among her neighbors.”
From the baraita it emerges that the Mishnah reflects the view of Rabbi Yehuda, but R. Shimon disputes him and holds that the verse indeed speaks only about a poor widow. He does not state the law regarding another poor person who is not a widow (a poor widower or simply a poor person).
Further in the Gemara it is explained that the basis of the dispute is whether we derive ta‘ama de-kra. Rabbi Yehuda does not derive the verse’s reason; that is, he interprets the verse as written without resorting to its rationale. R. Shimon, however, does derive its reasons and interprets the verse teleologically. In the article noted above I pointed out that Rabbi Yehuda is not opposed to seeking and proposing interpretations for the Torah’s commandments. Deriving ta‘ama de-kra is what the legal world calls “purposive interpretation,” namely drawing halakhic conclusions based on a hypothesis about the commandment’s purpose (its reason—what it seeks to achieve). It is this that Rabbi Yehuda objects to. In his view one may interpret the commandments, but we must not draw halakhic conclusions from that.
In practice, the poskim generally rule like Rabbi Yehuda, who does not derive ta‘ama de-kra.
A note about the reason brought here
We saw that R. Shimon does bring a reason and even employs it teleologically. He concludes from it that the law applies only to a poor widow and not to a rich one. Yet R. Shimon’s reason is surprising. I would have expected him to say that it is because we have compassion on the poor widow who has no garment for her use, and therefore we forbid taking it from her. But R. Shimon ties it to a concern for her reputation: because the Torah obligates returning the pledge to her at night so she can use it, her neighbors will gossip that men are visiting her at night. This concern exists only for a poor widow, since a rich one has another garment and there is no halakhic obligation to return it to her; thus for her, the gossip does not arise.
We see that instead of the moral and human reason we would expect, R. Shimon offers a “religious-legal” reason. The Torah is not sparing her because of her poverty, that she would lack a garment. The entire problem is that people will gossip about her modesty. What accounts for this apparent moral insensitivity? Even when the Torah says something that seems on its face humane and moral, and even R. Shimon—who is prepared to derive the reason and apply it halakhically—seems to extract the matter from its plain sense artificially and, for some reason, insists on distancing from moral reasons. Recall that Rabbi Yehuda is not prepared to consider the reason for the commandment at all; and even R. Shimon, who is ready to qualify the Torah’s law, to interpret it purposively and rule that it applies only to a poor widow, does not attribute it to a moral reason but to matters of modesty. Note that according to R. Shimon, the law that emerges from purposive interpretation would indeed not apply to an ordinary poor person, widower or not. It is stated only about a poor widow.
But on closer look this is a mistake. First, we must note that the Torah indeed obligates us to return a poor borrower’s pledge (Deuteronomy 24:10–13):
“When you make your fellow a loan of any amount, you shall not enter his house to take his pledge. You shall stand outside, and the man to whom you are lending shall bring the pledge out to you. And if he is a poor man, you shall not sleep with his pledge. You shall surely return the pledge to him at sunset, and he shall sleep in his garment and bless you; and it shall be righteousness for you before the LORD your God.”
There is an obligation to return the pledge at night so the poor person can use it. Here there is clearly human sensitivity. That is also evident from the first two verses here. But if indeed we return the pledge to a poor person so he can use it, then there is truly no need to spare the poor widow by not taking the pledge; the Torah has already ensured that in any case she will have a garment because we return it to her. What remains is only the concern that if it is returned to her at night she will acquire an ill repute. This reason really applies only to a (female) poor widow, not to other poor people or to a rich widow.
Similarly, I once brought Mishnah Bikkurim 3:7, which states:
“At first, anyone who knew how to recite would recite, and anyone who did not know how to recite would be prompted. When people refrained from bringing [bikkurim], they enacted that they would prompt both those who knew and those who did not.”
The Sages enacted that a person should not read the Bikkurim passage himself but be prompted, because there were those who did not know how to read. Again, at first glance I would interpret the reason for the enactment as a concern for the shame of those who cannot read—a lofty human and moral concern. But no; it is a “religious-legal” concern: that people would refrain from bringing bikkurim. And again a question arises about the moral sensitivity of the Mishnah.
On the face of it, we can explain this as we did regarding the pledge. Those illiterate people will in fact not be embarrassed, for they will not come to the Temple with their first fruits at all. Thus what remains is the concern for the mitzvah’s neglect, not the shame they would experience. Admittedly here the explanation is weaker, since it is certainly possible that righteous people would still bring bikkurim and then indeed experience shame. There would have been room to enact for their sake because of the shame. Perhaps, however, the Sages wished to present a general reason that works either way: either they will bring and be shamed, or they will not bring and then we have a problem with the mitzvah of bikkurim.
Let us now return to the question of ta‘ama de-kra.
Why not derive ta‘ama de-kra: the concern that the reason is wrong
In column 619 and in the article cited above, I brought the continuation of the sugya dealing with the prohibition for a king to multiply wives. The Gemara there says that when the reason appears in the verse, Rabbi Yehuda does derive it. Specifically R. Shimon, who usually derives ta‘ama de-kra, says that in such a case it is an additional command, not a reason. I showed there that, at least according to the Rambam, there is a third view in that Mishnah (the Tanna Kamma in Sanhedrin 21a) who holds that we do not derive ta‘ama de-kra even when it is explicitly written in the verse. It is a “reason-verse” with no halakhic significance.
In the article I expanded on the foundation of the Tannaitic dispute. It is commonly thought that the problem is the concern that we did not hit upon the correct reason, and therefore Rabbi Yehuda rules that we do not derive it. From here it would follow that if the reason is explicitly written in the verse—then there is no concern that we erred—and in such cases Rabbi Yehuda does derive it. But we saw that the Tanna Kamma does not derive even when the reason is explicit in the verse, and therefore it seems his explanation for not deriving the reason is different. I will add that the common explanation is problematic in another way. Suppose R. Shimon thinks that the reason one may not pledge a widow’s garment is the ill repute this causes among her neighbors, and Rabbi Yehuda worries that perhaps that is not the correct explanation and therefore applies the law also to a wealthy widow. Even if we do not derive ta‘ama de-kra, there remains the concern that we have erred—that the reason is indeed what R. Shimon proposed. If that reason is correct, then it is permitted to take a pledge from a wealthy widow. We must understand that in such a case we have harmed the lender’s rights: he risks his money by not taking collateral against his loan. Why then does Rabbi Yehuda prefer to act as though the reason is not correct and not worry that perhaps it is? Moreover, if I have a reasonable reason and the alternative is that perhaps I nonetheless erred and there is some unknown alternative reason, then choosing the reasonable reason as the correct one is far more sensible than deciding that it is not correct. Why abandon a reasonable possibility merely because of the concern that there is another possibility that our reason does not see at all? It is much more plausible that the reasonable reason is the correct one. And in general, since when do we worry that our reason is wrong? Reason is the tool we have; one can always wonder about any conclusion we reach—maybe we erred. “A judge has only what his eyes see,” and “a doubt does not overturn a certainty.” Therefore, even if Rabbi Yehuda is not convinced that this is the reason and indeed it is possible that we erred and the reason is something else, the choice between the two possibilities is to assume that this is the correct reason. That is the most rational path and its cost is minimal.
Why not derive ta‘ama de-kra: precision of the text (the concern for misapplying the reason)
In that article I proposed an explanation according to which we do not derive the reason because even if it is correct, we likely did not interpret it correctly. For example, when the Torah forbids a king to multiply wives “lest his heart turn aside,” the reason is that many wives turn his heart. R. Shimon believes this reason refers to wicked wives, and thus concludes that it is forbidden to marry wicked wives even if there are few of them. But the Tanna Kamma argues that here he is mistaken: even righteous wives will turn his heart if he has a whole harem of them. He will spend all his time with his wives and not on the matters his office demands. What happens with R. Shimon is a misapplication of a correct reason. So too with King Solomon, who multiplied wives assuming they would not turn his heart. In the end it turned out he erred: they did turn his heart. Did he err in interpreting the reason? Not at all—on the contrary, he was right that the reason is the turning of the heart. His error lay in application: he thought his heart would not be turned, and in that he was wrong. Therefore the Tanna Kamma in Sanhedrin holds that one should not multiply wives of any kind, for the verse is troubled only by the multiplication of wives, not their character or spiritual level. And as noted, this is also the Rambam’s ruling.
I explained there that the assumption underlying this explanation is that the Torah’s wording is entirely precise. It writes exactly what it wants. Therefore, if there is a difference between what emerges from the wording of the text and what emerges from deriving the reason (especially when the reason is written), it likely results from our misapplication of the reason. This is why, according to the Tanna Kamma, we do not derive the reason even when it is stated explicitly (and this is also the Rambam’s ruling).
However, even this explanation is far from perfect. We often depart from the plain sense of the Torah’s verses, so the assumption that the Torah always writes phrasing that exactly expresses what it wants from us does not really characterize the Sages’ thinking. It does not seem to withstand the factual record of the Talmud, and it is hard to assume this is truly their premise.
A new explanation: Halakhah and Morality
I have now thought of another possible explanation for the Tanna Kamma’s view and perhaps also for Rabbi Yehuda. I have often emphasized that Halakhah does not strive for moral goals, but for religious ones. On the other hand, the reasons we will usually find when deriving ta‘ama de-kra are moral (because that is where our reasoning leads us). If so, we are prone to err in deriving the reason because of the category to which we will assign it. Perhaps this is why we should follow the wording and not the reason. That, in brief—now I will elaborate.
In column 541 I sketched the general map of the relationship between Halakhah and morality. I distinguished there among three categories of mitzvot/halakhot: moral laws, anti-moral laws, and a-moral laws. From the very existence of the latter two it follows that Halakhah also strives for religious goals, not only moral ones. That is difficult to dispute (though some try). But I then argued something stronger: that Halakhah strives only (!) for religious goals and not at all for moral ones. I contend that there is a categorical, principled disconnect between Halakhah and morality; therefore even laws that appear moral do not strive for moral ends. Moral laws are those in which there is a correlation (but not identity) between what morality demands of us and what Halakhah demands of us. The same actions lead us to both the moral and religious goals. In a milder formulation, it is not really two different goals: the actions are the same and the desired outcome is the same (a healthy society). But the will for such a society can come from morality and from Halakhah. It has moral value and also religious value. That is with respect to moral laws. In the other two categories such a correlation does not exist, and thus tensions between Halakhah and morality arise.
I have often been asked how, on my view, I explain the extensive correlation that exists between Halakhah and morality. Is it reasonable that this is coincidental? I have also been asked about the reasons the Torah itself offers, which in the main appear blatantly moral. Given these two considerations, how can one argue for such a categorical and complete disconnect between Halakhah and morality?
My answer is that the Holy One created the world and wrote the Torah in a manner that allows us to implement them as well and as morally as possible, and therefore, to the extent possible, He did so such that there would be as few conflicts as possible between Halakhah and morality (for each such conflict forces us to harm either a religious value or a moral value). In principle there is no necessity that religious goals contradict moral goals on the practical plane. The goals are different but not necessarily contradictory. What is required of us halakhically can also align with actions that realize moral values. But since we are nevertheless dealing with two different types of goals and the alignment occurs only on the practical level, local misalignments can arise on the practical plane as well. These are situations in which behaving according to the halakhic requirement harms a moral value and vice versa.
The conclusion is that in most cases there will indeed be alignment between Halakhah and morality, but there will be cases in which a conflict will arise. This testifies that even when there is alignment, it is alignment between two different things, not identity. Halakhah and morality are two parallel and distinct planes of reference, though there is extensive alignment between them. Still, they are different, and the proof is those cases in which the alignment breaks. Below I will return to the two difficulties cited above, but first I will sharpen the logical claim.
On two kinds of alignment and on topological defects
From a quasi-mathematical perspective, such situations are almost inevitable. I previously explained this as “topological defects” that must appear in global alignments between parallel explanatory planes. I expanded on this in the second book of the quartet, That Which Is and That Which Is Not, in the section on parallel explanatory planes, and in several articles and columns here (see, for example, in this article, in column 243, and more). I will explain briefly here.
We know many situations in which we need multiple parallel planes of reference for the same event. For example, when someone becomes religious, his secular friends tend to attribute it to some psychological crisis. In contrast, his religious friends explain that he discovered the truth. That is, the religious are philosophers and the secular are psychologists. Conversely, when someone leaves religion, the roles reverse: the secular explain he discovered the truth—that is, they become philosophers—while the religious explain he wanted to permit forbidden pleasures to himself—that is, they become psychologists. Who is right? Of course, all of them are. When a person makes a decision, I can explain it on the psychological plane and I can explain it on the philosophical plane. The problematic part is the choice between the planes, for people tend to choose the explanatory plane that suits them. When it suits them they are philosophers; when it does not, they become psychologists. Here are two parallel explanatory planes, employing different language, different conceptual systems, and different principles to explain the same phenomenon—and both are right. I will now explain why I call such a state global alignment between these planes.
There can be local alignment between planes of reference, where each psychological principle has a philosophical correlate and vice versa. In that case, it is two different languages describing the same thing. In such a situation, mismatch between planes cannot occur, and everything we must explain psychologically will receive a parallel philosophical explanation and vice versa. But in the example of philosophy and psychology, there will not always be such alignment. Sometimes there will be cases in which one does something with no philosophical justification due to psychological influences, and vice versa (he overcomes his psychological tendencies because there is no philosophical justification). Such a state can occur only when there is global alignment between parallel planes of reference. In such a case there is no alignment between every psychological principle and a parallel philosophical principle and vice versa. These are two entirely different sets of principles, but for some reason almost every act we do can be described and explained in the terms of the philosophical set and also in the terms of the psychological set. In such a situation the two planes are not translations from one language to another, but truly two different explanations. In cases of global alignment, topological defects are expected to appear in the transition between languages—that is, cases in which there will be one explanation but not the other. This is where the alignment between the two planes breaks.
Consider two coordinate systems used to describe points in space. Two translated Cartesian systems have local alignment between them (I can translate each axis in one system into the terms of the axes of the other system and vice versa). In such a case any point described in one system can also be described in the other; one only needs to translate from the language of one to that of the other. But between a Cartesian system and a polar system there is no such alignment, or at least it is not complete. It is true that almost any point in the plane can be expressed using both systems, but at the origin the alignment breaks [in Cartesian the description of that point is (0,0), but in polar the description is (0, θ), i.e., an entire ray and not a point. The Cartesian point corresponds to a whole set in the polar description].
Another example of such broken global alignment is the Pardes of Torah interpretation. It is commonly thought that there is alignment between peshat and sod, for example. Any verse can be interpreted this way or that way. But there is no local alignment between a peshat principle and a principle in sod and vice versa. These are different systems that can explain the same set of phenomena (verses). Consequently, topological defects must appear; that is, laws that have an explanation in sod but not in peshat. We call such laws “gezeirat ha-katuv.”
A third example is Newton’s apple. Newton was a very devout Christian, yet when the apple fell on his head he did not suffice with a theological explanation (that it was God’s punishment for not turning the other cheek) but sought a scientific explanation (the law of gravitation). Why? Because he assumed there is an explanation in each of the two planes, and one does not displace the other. Thus, a believer can have a theological explanation for every event and, in parallel, a reasonable scientific-natural explanation for the same event. Except that there are situations in which we will not find a scientific explanation, such as the splitting of the Red Sea or the miracle of the cruse of oil. In such cases the alignment between the theological explanation and the scientific-natural explanation breaks. When does this happen? When God’s theological consideration leads to the conclusion that X must occur, but the laws of nature lead to Y. In such a case God must perform a miracle—that is, intervene and suspend the laws of nature for the sake of theology. He breaks the alignment. Even an omnipotent being cannot create two planes of reference with global alignment and no topological defects. Note that if the alignment were local—i.e., if every principle of natural law had a theological correlate and vice versa—no such defects would arise. It would be a mere translation from one language to another and nothing more. But the relation between natural laws and theological principles is not one of translation between languages. It is a global alignment, and therefore defects are expected to appear.
The conclusion is that just as a gezeirat ha-katuv is a topological defect in the (global) alignment between peshat-interpretation and sod-interpretation, so too a miracle is a topological defect in the (global) alignment between a theological consideration or explanation and a natural-scientific one. The same applies to the alignment between morality and Halakhah. As I suggested, God would want there to be complete alignment between the planes—i.e., when a person wishes to act morally this would fit Halakhah and vice versa. But since the alignment is not local (for it is not true that every moral principle has a halakhic correlate and vice versa), there is no choice but to make it a global alignment. God indeed succeeds in most cases, but in some a topological defect appears. These are the anti-moral laws (the a-moral laws are not related at all to the moral plane or to aligning with it). In these laws, the desire to achieve the religious goal necessarily contradicts moral conduct.
Back to the earlier difficulties: the broad alignment between Halakhah and morality and the Torah’s moral-seeming rationales
Above I noted two challenges to my view: (1) Why is there such broad alignment between Halakhah and morality if they are different systems? (2) Why do the rationales the Torah provides for various laws appear to be moral rationales?
I propose that the picture described in the previous section is the reason that many halakhot align with moral aims and values. This is God’s deliberate policy, and it is no wonder that this is the case in most instances (except for the topological defects—that is, the anti-moral laws). The flip side is that this alignment does not necessarily mean that the aim of these halakhot is moral. The aims are always religious, but in these cases (the great majority) there is no contradiction between achieving the religious aims and achieving the moral aims, and therefore a practical alignment between the planes is achieved. This resolves difficulty (1).
I brought an indication of this from the differences that exist between the moral halakhot and morality itself. For example, consider all the types of killing for which we exempt the killer from punishment and do not deem him a murderer in the full halakhic sense: mekarev davar etzel ha’esh (bringing something near the fire), sof chama lavo (its end is to come, e.g., eventual sun/heat), grama (indirect causation), metzamtzem, and many more. All of these are cases that, morally speaking, constitute full-fledged murder. The moral wickedness of the killer in these cases is complete, and there is no difference between it and the wickedness of one who murders directly. And yet, in Halakhah we determine that he did not violate “You shall not murder,” or at least is not liable for death. My explanation was that although regarding murder there is alignment between the moral and religious command (hence the prohibition of murder belongs to the moral halakhot), still this does not mean that the religious aim of the prohibition is the moral aim. Morally, a person must not take another’s life; religiously, what is required is not to perform the act of murder. That is not the same thing, hence the differences. Note that these differences appear in the moral halakhot. This indicates that even those halakhot are not really laws aimed at attaining moral goals and values. It is alignment, not identity.
This also explains why a command “You shall not murder” was needed when the prohibition is obvious by reason, and why God reproaches Cain for murdering Abel even before there was a command prohibiting murder. If everything is so clear and self-evident even without a command, why is a command needed? My claim is that the Torah comes to say that murder is not only a moral problem but also a religious one. It comes to add a religious dimension to the moral prohibition. It is the same act, but the Torah tells us that it injures not only moral values but also religious values. A murderer is not only an immoral person but also a religious offender.
Thus we can also understand the rationales that the Torah brings for various laws—for example, labeling certain things an “abomination,” or pointing to the evil inherent in a given act—rationales that seem to us moral. These are not necessarily moral rationales. They may be religious rationales that, in these cases, align with moral rationales. When I am told not to murder because it “defiles the land,” or not to take ransom for a murderer’s life because I “flatter the land,” the intent is not moral ruin of the land but its metaphysical/religious ruin. In these instances the Torah’s phrasing even strengthens my claim: it is metaphysical language, not moral. But even when it is said that homosexuality is an “abomination,” I argue that this is not necessarily to say that the act is immoral (in my view there is nothing immoral about it). It is a religious abomination. Even when the rationale seems to belong to the moral plane, I argue this is superficial resemblance; it is a religious rationale. And even where it truly seems like a moral problem—for example, the concern and prohibition against harming the stranger because “you were strangers in Egypt”—what seems patently like a moral rationale, I argue that this is not necessarily the case. That same moral problem has a religious dimension. Harming a person is evil, just as we felt when we were mistreated in Egypt, but the problem such harms create is not only moral but also religious.
We are now ready to return to the matter of the pledge. Consider first the parallel passage in which the Torah commands returning a poor person’s pledge (Exodus 22:24–26):
“If you lend money to My people, to the poor among you, do not be to him as a creditor; do not impose interest upon him. If you indeed take your fellow’s garment as pledge, you shall return it to him by sunset. For it is his only covering; it is his garment for his skin—what shall he sleep in? And when he cries out to Me, I will hear, for I am gracious.”
This appears to be a thoroughly moral rationale. But according to my proposal, this is not the case. Our emotions are aroused by this rationale and thus it seems to us a moral matter, but in fact it is a religious, not a moral, rationale. When you hold the pledge you injure a religious value, not only a moral one. The poor person’s pain and the prohibition to cause it are religious matters, not merely moral ones. Just as we saw that the command “You shall not murder” comes to add a religious value on top of the moral value. As noted, the alignment between Halakhah and morality in such cases is not accidental; it is God’s deliberate policy. The novelty is that this cannot always be maintained, and therefore there are also anti-moral halakhot.
Back to deriving ta‘ama de-kra
From here we can understand why we do not derive ta‘ama de-kra. If we were to derive the reason for returning the pledge, we might reach certain conclusions based on the assumption that it is a moral prohibition, and these would not fit the halakhic conclusions whose foundation lies in the religious prohibition. For example, we might conclude that one may not take collateral from any poor person, not only a widow—and certainly that this would apply to a male widower or any poor man whatsoever. Morally, there is no difference. But the religious prohibition exists only for a (female) widow (and according to Rabbi Yehuda, not only a poor one). I remind you that even regarding murder we could derive ta‘ama de-kra and make one liable for death also for grama or mekarev davar etzel ha’esh, for morally there is no difference. But the religious prohibition of murder has different parameters. This is a possible reason why we do not derive ta‘ama de-kra.
Incidentally, R. Shimon, who does derive ta‘ama de-kra, we saw that he too takes it into religious, non-moral realms (concern for modesty rather than compassion for the unfortunate widow). Perhaps for the very same reason (although with respect to the Bikkurim declaration—there it is an enactment, not an interpretation of a Torah law—this is less likely; enactments are indeed often based on moral considerations as well). He derives the reason of the verse but not on the moral plane. That is, he too agrees to the disconnect I described between Halakhah and morality; only that, in his opinion, we can understand the religious reason and derive it, and he sees no concern for error.
Still, one could wonder why Rabbi Yehuda prefers not to derive ta‘ama de-kra. Let him derive the religious reason like R. Shimon, for at least that is a reasonable explanation and preferable to an unknown possibility that there is some explanation we do not know. I think that once we have concluded that it is a religious reason, the priority of the “reasonable” reason plummets. With such a reason the concern that we have missed is indeed significant. We saw that even in the moral halakhot there may be no full alignment between what emerges from the moral reason and what emerges from the religious reason. For example, is it really so clear that the prohibition to pledge a widow’s garment is because returning the pledge would cause her ill repute among her neighbors? Even after R. Shimon says so, it still strikes me as quite odd. One can always rule that a woman should be sent to return the pledge to the widow, or that it be returned during the day, or any other solution. Therefore, R. Shimon’s explanation is indeed dubious.
Now I will take one more step. If indeed the “reasonable” explanation is not the preferred option, then it is not correct to describe the situation as a doubt. The Torah itself should have realized that we would be uncertain and would not necessarily infer the moral or religious reason; therefore it should not have left the phrasing ambiguous and confused us. If it left it that way, it apparently did not want us to derive the reason at all. This analysis suggests that our refraining from deriving ta‘ama de-kra is not a doubt but a certainty. Something similar is written in Birkas Shmuel at the beginning of Bava Kamma in the name of his teacher R. Chaim, concerning a doubt in the interpretation of a verse. Usually, a biblical doubt is treated stringently. But his claim there is that if the doubt is in the interpretation of a verse, this is not an ordinary doubt that we treat stringently. His claim is that the verse itself chose an ambiguous phrasing even though God surely understood we would be in doubt, and therefore He knew we would rule stringently. If He left the phrasing thus, it is clear that the stringent interpretation is the correct interpretation. Consequently, the instruction to act stringently in such a case is not from the laws of doubt but an instruction of certainty.
This approach may also explain another difficulty. Tosafot HaRosh writes in Bava Metzia 90 that where the reason is self-evident we do derive ta‘ama de-kra, even for Rabbi Yehuda:
“She was eating and becoming sickly—what is the law? Even according to the one who does not derive ta‘ama de-kra later, in Perek HaMekabel (115a), who says: ‘A widow, whether poor or rich, one does not take a pledge from her’—that is because the plain sense of the verse implies both poor and rich. But here it is obvious that the Merciful One warned only for the animal’s benefit, whether because it is salutary for her or so that she not suffer.”
Regarding the prohibition of muzzling (Deuteronomy 25:4), he assumes as self-evident that the reason for the prohibition is concern for the animal. Therefore it is clear to him that one may muzzle her out of concern for her wellbeing. It is not clear how he will explain Rabbi Yehuda’s refusal to derive the reason in the case of pledging a widow’s garment. Seemingly, there too the reason is compelling and self-evident, no less than the prohibition of muzzling which he discusses. Is it not clear from the context there that the reason is moral—on behalf of the unfortunate widow?
But according to what I have explained here, it is not self-evident at all. If we were dealing with the moral problem, then indeed it would look self-evident. But we saw that the moral problem is resolved even if we take a widow’s pledge (since we return it to her at night). What remains is only a religious problem of modesty, and this is by no means a self-evident purposive interpretation. Therefore here Rabbi Yehuda and the Tanna Kamma do not derive ta‘ama de-kra (for if we were to derive it we would reach erroneous conclusions: only a poor widow, and also a poor man—widower or not).
According to this, it seems that the Rosh’s words about deriving the reason when it is self-evident refer to a religious reason and not to a moral one. That is, he is effectively saying that there are cases in which even the religious reason is self-evident, such as the prohibition of muzzling. On my view one must say that there too the reason is self-evident, but not because the reason is moral (for Halakhah is disconnected from moral considerations). So how is it self-evident to us? Apparently it is a reason that seems clear from interpretive considerations and from the textual context (and not necessarily from moral reasoning). In the language common in yeshivot we could say that this is really the geder (definition) of the law rather than its “reason,” which brings us to the question of the relation between ta‘am and geder—to be discussed in the next column.
You say that God cannot make a local adjustment between religion and morality, and He usually tries. Is this assuming that morality and religion are two independent systems created by God, each for its own purpose? That they were each created separately and God has a desire to adjust them both?
I think neither of them are his creation. Their skeleton is imposed on him by their very definition. See column 457.
When you say that God tried to reconcile religion and morality and the best he succeeded in is the reconciliation we received in the Torah (because there is no better option and therefore there is really no incapacity here), I don't understand what manipulation God did here? After all, religious and moral values are independent of God, he did not choose them. All in all, he only commanded us to follow them. So again the question arises: how does the magic happen that there is a correlation between 2 systems independent of God (he did not arbitrarily invent them)?
Couldn't God create a world in which the emergence of halakhic values and the emergence of moral values would be completely foreign? That the halakhic values in their emergence in this world would deal with the colors of socks in it and the moral values in their emergence in this world would deal with the shape of shoes? This is the simplest way to resolve conflicts, and if there is no fundamental connection between the systems, then there is no conceivable reason why there shouldn't be a way to completely separate them. Therefore, in my opinion, the fact of the many inclusions does indeed prove that the halakhic commandment intended it to be a single commandment that includes all the complete obligations.
Tirgitz, see column 457. In my opinion, both systems have elements that are forced upon God, and He did not create them. The realization depends on the structure of the world and therefore depends on Him.
I accidentally responded under Boaz even though I didn't see his response when I came in and copied my response. I remember column 457, so I asked about the structure of the world, which is in His hands and on which the specific appearance of abstract values depends. https://mikyab.net/posts/79775/#comment-69871
Probably not, otherwise he would have done it. I don't understand what the problem is.
In my opinion, the claim "It is probably impossible to create a world in which the two foreign systems of law, Halacha and morality, do not mix in their individual manifestations" is more problematic than all the difficulties it attempts to solve.
So we have a disagreement. In my opinion, there is no problem here. It sounds very reasonable to me.
He created us and the world. The structure of the world dictates the forms of implementation. For example, if there were other creatures here, the way to kill them would be by standing on one leg. And perhaps standing on one leg has religious value. Then God can create the creatures in such a way that the realization of the halakhic value would be in accordance with morality.
Regarding your famous separation between religious values and morality, I ask about the very association of the redemption with you.
The Torah is full of explanations that seem moral. Not once does the Torah explicitly say that the purpose of all the commandments is some kind of religious value that is not even humanly perceptible (like Rabbi Yehuda who ruled in the halakhah that we are incapable of understanding the religious meaning). The Sages do not explicitly mention that the purpose of all the laws is some religious category and that the moral discussion should be done separately. Neither do the commentators from after the time of the Sages to the present day (maybe you will manage to find commentators here and there who argue with a hint like you).
You are like Josiah who suddenly finds a book that no one knew. I ask how do you explain that we have lost this very fundamental division in the perception of halakhah?
The Torah can hardly base the commandments on religious values, since the writing of the reasons is intended to motivate us to act. The Torah details them for us on the emotional level. The fact is that the Torah does not bother to justify all the commandments, but only a tiny minority of them (the same minority for which a reason can be given that seems moral and consistent with morality). The reason for this is that we have no understanding or motivation in relation to religious goals. And yet, as I mentioned, there are places where the Torah does provide reasons that seem religious, such as flattering or defiling the land.
The Sages definitely mention this in several places. A prominent example is the mishna on a bird's nest, your compassion will reach you, and they are all just decrees. Incidentally, when a murderer is exempted from punishment with the left hand, isn't this a clear enough statement? Note that the Sages decided on these exemptions based on an explanation and without a source. Nothing forced them to do so.
Moreover, I think many throughout history have understood it exactly this way, since I have provided clear evidence for my words (for example, exemptions from murder). The problem is that their analytical and conceptual ability probably did not allow them to define religious values and their complex relationship to moral values. For them, as for many today, everything that needs to be done is called morality. Even after I say what I say, people are reluctant to accept it. It is difficult to digest, although to me it is simply a statement.
I will note that this is related to the next column I will be posting soon (714), where I will explain that in many cases people have a correct intuitive understanding, but when they try to conceptualize and formulate it, they run into problems, contradictions, and weaknesses. Related to Kahneman's systems 1 and 2. People understood the distinction between law and morality very well, but when they tried to talk about it explicitly, they got into thought loops because it seemed to them that every value is by definition part of morality.
In your opinion, we have no understanding and motivation in religious values, and that is why it gave us such motivation. Why should we be given motivation? Let him explain to us that the goal is eternity in glory without us understanding exactly what it is, and that would really help us understand the boundaries of the mitzvot. That would save thousands of years of confusion about how to understand the morality involved. We have plenty of motivation throughout the Torah, in the style of "for your own good," and after that, "Chazal came with the Garden of Eden."
We need a clearer explanation than the quotes you provided, which can be easily explained as a moral metaphor.
Regarding the bird's nest in the simple Sugiya, it is not at all clear that it is a kind of derivation of Scripture. If I remember correctly, it follows from there that it is moral.
Let's say that they failed to conceptualize the distinction for themselves as you do and they saw everything as a moral category, what is the self-loop they got themselves into? After all, there are contradictions and conflicts in the purely moral sphere.
Bottom line: Do you really believe that if we let the sages of the ages read your column on the orthogonality between Halacha and morality, most of them would bang on the table and shout, "Bingo! That's exactly what we think and couldn't express"?
I have almost no doubt that this is what would have happened. Except for those who are locked into what they are used to. That is how I see it today as well.
So you claim that most of the sages of all generations would agree with the conceptual separation. But today your categorical separation is not accepted by most students of the sages, even though we are the best conceptualists who have ever existed. How does this magic happen that even today people do not agree with your thesis?
Just this morning I wrote in response to someone who I am not concerned with the question of why others do not say as I do. Conservatism offends many intelligent people. Just look at the ultra-Orthodox justifications that are offered today for all sorts of different and strange principles by the most intelligent people in the world.
There is no problem in claiming that you disagree with everyone and that everyone is wrong. Here, on the other hand, you claim that you are revealing the intuition that all the sages of the generations had in understanding Halacha. In a magical way, however, it is precisely in our generation that the students of the sages do not agree with the categorical division.
This distinction that mitzvot have religious value and not moral value was not invented by Rabbi Mikhi.
See, for example, the words of the Maharal in Be'er Gola regarding a loss due to the owner's despair that does not need to be returned: “The reason for this is that the moral religion requires something that is appropriate to do according to the righteousness of the world, even though reason does not require that thing, only that such is the righteousness of the world. And therefore the moral religion sometimes has substance in something, even though according to reason and straight law it should not have been done. And sometimes the moral religion is extremely lenient, when that thing does not need to be done according to the righteousness of the world, even though it is inappropriate according to reason, only according to the moral religion. Therefore, according to the moral religion, the loss must be returned due to the owner's despair, and this is a matter of substance. And vice versa; if he finds a silver or gold vessel, and announces it once or twice, and no one claims the loss for a year or two, then he is delaying it for himself, and uses that vessel. For there is no other worldly correction in this that he announced several times, and waited a year or two or more, will not come again. And this matter is not according to the Torah, but if he finds a silver or gold vessel, and he announces it many times, it is forbidden to him forever, only that it be laid down until Elijah comes, he shall never touch them. Thus they have become very strict. And all this, because the words of the sages are according to the Torah, that all the words of the Torah are estimated by reason. And as is proper according to reason, so is proper to do. And as the Torah said (Deuteronomy 4:6) “And you shall keep and do it, for it is your wisdom, etc.”. And it is not a moral religion, because the moral religion assumes things according to reason and according to thought, and the Torah is completely rational, and the Torah does not turn to reason”.
The Torah, according to his words, is divine and therefore operates in a different system than the moral religion (natural morality) that came to correct the world. In this way he also explains several other laws such as ‘Kill not those who are killed’ by conspiring witnesses and more.
You will also see in the sermons of the Rabbi, Drosh 11, regarding the distinction between the king's law and the commandments of the Torah: “And I explain this further, and say that just as our Torah was distinguished from the manners of the nations of the world in commandments and laws, they are not concerned with political correction at all, but what is drawn from them is the flow of divine abundance into our nation and they have become attached to us, whether that matter appears to us as the matters of sacrifices and everything that is done in the Temple, or whether it does not appear like the rest of the laws whose meaning has not been revealed, in any case there is no doubt that divine abundance would have been attached to us, and would have been attached to those actions, even though they were far from the straw of reason. And there is no wonder, for just as we have thwarted many of the causes of natural beings, and with all this their reality is consistent, all the more so should we thwart the causes of the world of divine abundance and have them cling to us. And this is what our Holy Torah distinguishes from the customs of the aforementioned nations, which have nothing to do with this at all, except for correcting the matter of their gathering.
Indeed, I have cited these two sources more than once.
Just now I saw in the book of the Principles, article 1, chapter 7:
And religion has three aspects, whether natural, whether moral, or divine. And the natural is the same in every person and at every time and in every place. And the moral is that which will be arranged by a wise man or wise men according to the place and according to the time and according to the nature of those who practice it, like the religions and laws that were arranged in some countries among the ancients, worshipers of idols or worshipers of God, from the point of view of the intellectual arrangement that the human mind will require without divine comment. And the divine is that which will be arranged from God by a prophet like Adam or Noah, and like the leadership and religion that Abraham taught and accustomed the people to worship God and circumcised them in the commandments of God, or that which will be arranged from God by a messenger sent from Him to be given a religion by Him, like the Torah of Moses.
And the intention of natural religion is to remove oppression and bring in honesty, so that people will stay away from theft, robbery, and murder, in such a way that society will stand and exist among people and everyone will be benefited from the yoke of oppression and vinegar. And the intention of polite religion is to remove the obscene and bring in pleasure, so that people will stay away from the defenses, as is well-known, and in this it will be preferred over natural, because polite will also correct people's behavior and arrange their affairs in a proper manner so that the political group will be corrected as is natural. And the divine intention is to direct people to the attainment of true success, which is the success of the soul and eternal permanence, and to show them the paths to follow in reaching it, and to inform them of the true good so that they may strive to attain it, and to inform them of the true evil so that they may guard against it, and to train them to abandon the imaginary successes until they neither desire them nor regret having abandoned them. It will also lay down the paths of righteousness so that the political group may be properly and completely reformed, until the evil of their groupings will not disturb them from attaining true success, and will not hinder them from striving to attain the ultimate success and purpose for the human race, which is the tendency of the divine religion, and in this it will take precedence over the moral.
Natural religion is morality. The moral are the conventions (the famous ones of Maimonides in the book of the Book of Revelation). And the divine are the religious values. So you have the doctrine of separation on one foot.
1. So, in your opinion, the dispute between Ri and Rish is whether we are able to understand and ”see with the mind” the religious reason clearly? After all, Ri also agrees that there are places where it is possible to see, so it is not clear to me what the normative implication of the halakha is.
2. When Chazal determine that a murderer in the Grammar is not a murderer, does this stem from the fact that they “saw” the boundaries of religious value? We, through our sins, stopped seeing it with the passing of generations? When was it lost to us?
3. How do Chazal limit and circumscribe the punishment for a murderer? After all, the halakha of Rish does not require a reason, and therefore we are not able to grasp the apparent religious reason. It is better to leave it consistent with the moral boundary because there is usually a correlation. No?
4. “In the language accepted in yeshivahs, it can be said that this is actually the boundary of the law and not the reason” – You yourself have written more than once that the Brisk preference for pure lemmas because there is only what without why is fundamentally unfounded. There is no fence without a reason.
1. I didn't understand the question.
2. We have intuitions that accompany the Torah and the Halacha. We can see this today too. And yet, without having a tradition about it, it is doubtful that we would draw such conclusions. See my article on the decree of the Scripture. I have mentioned more than once (I saw that you brought this up later) that the Briskers flee to the holy places and purity so that they would not have intuitions of “why” that would interfere with describing the ”what”. But it turns out that they also have intuitions there. See the next column.
3. This is a fence and not a reason. See the next column.
4. See the next column.
1. You claim that the Ri and Rash controversy is a factual controversy. To what extent do we have a grasp of the religious meaning of the Torah commandments? There are clear cases where Ri also requires. There are cases where we clearly have no perception that even Rash would admit to Ri not requiring. I ask what is the halachic normative implication of the Keri ruling in this context? That it is forbidden to rule on a Torah ruling based on reasons unless we are clear about the religious reason? This is very vague.
2. I fail to see today why a murderer in the Grammar does not violate the eternal meaning of Hod. Do we have to abandon the sanctity of the Torah in order to see this?
1. That's not what I'm claiming. I'm claiming that we don't have a grasp on the Tema D'Kra. We have intuitions that can understand things about it. When we grasp that, we'll get confused. Of course, we may sometimes stumble upon the truth, but if we need to establish a blanket rule, then it's right to state that we shouldn't demand the Tema D'Kra. But as mentioned, we'll have to wait for the next column.
2. You won't see that it's flawed in this other sefirot, if there are any sefirot at all. The analysis in Hod is just my cynical formulation. I claimed that you can sense that there is a religious problem and there isn't. Again, that's what the next column is about.
A few questions following the above:
1. In light of your distinction that morality and law are two different and independent categories, does a judge who comes to judge Torah law between two people, and according to Torah law, a moral injustice will be committed – Does he have the authority at all as a judge to judge according to the moral commandment as he sees fit. Or is he obligated by virtue of his role to judge according to the rules of dry law?
2. In your opinion, is there a place in the study of legal commandments with a moral aspect, which in your opinion have only religious value, to interpret the commandment according to explanations that originate from morality and consequently to derive different laws? After all, these are two different categories? And if not, where do the explanations of the sages come from in everything that concerns moral prohibitions?
3. When you say that the prohibition ‘Thou shalt not murder’ has religious value and therefore the Torah commanded it – Did God determine that it has religious value or does religious value exist and have validity in itself, like moral values and their validity?
4. Do you also apply your distinction regarding the commandments of the Torah and morality to the laws of the Sages? The “Law of the Returnees,” for example, seems to have a moral aspect of world improvement and not any religious value.
I have answered these questions several times in the past (the question of morality and halakhah is not the subject of this column). I will answer briefly:
1. A judge is supposed to decide according to halakhah. Compromises and rulings that are not according to halakhah are problematic. The Sanhedrin can amend a regulation to decide on any issue in accordance with the law and not according to halakhah. The entire category of in accordance with the law expresses what I am saying. If this is morality, then why didn't they define it as a law? Why is it in accordance with the law? The king can decide according to morality.
2. Where it suffers from several interpretations, it is possible to decide according to morality. And I explained that this decision is not necessarily an interpretative decision, meaning that this is the true meaning of the mitzvah in question. However, if I have two legitimate halakhic ways, there is no reason to choose the one that does not contradict morality. This is no worse than any other arbitrary choice between two ways. What is more, I explained here that the default is that there should be a correspondence (even if not identical) between halakhah and morality.
3. See column 457. I said this about morality, and I assumed that it was the same for halakhah.
4. No. It is clear that morality plays a role among the Sages. It is part of their role (and the role of the king, as the Rabbi explains in sermon 11). But the rules of the Sages are not Torah but rather a halakhic complement. See my column on the status and meaning of the rabbinical laws.
You mentioned here that someone who murders but not according to the boundaries of halakhah is a moral and not a religious offender. There are other laws where there is no moral problem and yet someone who violates them not according to the boundaries of halakhah is considered a criminal. For example, someone who puts their fruit through roofs and roof tiles in order to be exempt from tithes or someone who has a meal outside the sukkah in a permitted manner. Maybe the problem with the murderer is also religious, as in these cases?
First, your examples are irrelevant here. Bringing fruit through roofs and window frames is not a halakhic problem. It is a hoarding. The Sages condemn it on the level of worship, not halakhic. The same applies to a meal outside the sukkah.
But I didn’t understand your question in any way.
Yes, after I sent it, I saw that the question was not worded properly. I meant that there is no evidence that the prohibition of murder is religious and not moral, from the fact that there are situations where there is a moral prohibition and there is no prohibition of murder. After all, there are situations where the reason for the prohibition applies and it is still not forbidden, as in the situations I mentioned (as I understood it). I wanted to say that the same explanation that we explain there will also be explained in murder.
I understand what the rabbi answered regarding tithing. The problem is that he is evading a mitzvah. But what is the problem with a meal outside the sukkah? The Torah did not command him to eat the meal in the sukkah.
Now I thought that perhaps the reason for the prohibition exists but with a lower intensity and therefore it is not forbidden but not proper. In murder, there is no difference between murder in the grama and ordinary murder from a moral perspective, and therefore this cannot be the explanation.
The prohibition of murder is moral first and foremost. In places where I see that the halakha deviates from moral definitions, it is reasonable to explain that it pursues religious goals. What does this have to do with the examples you gave?
What you wrote at the end is of course true.
Regarding Rabbi Yitzchak's sermon on why the Torah does not give reasons for the commandment, because it did twice and Shlomo failed:
1. Why did it really give these reasons regarding women and horses if it adds nothing to us (and only misleads Shlomo and his ilk)
2. How was Shlomo wrong to think that the scope of the mitzvah did not apply to him? After all, from a moral point of view, he did think that a great man like him would not deviate from his heart, but in the religious category, where we have no concept, it certainly applies to him as well
1. I don't know. According to R”sh, it really is an additional commandment.
2. He thought that his heart would not be removed, and then there is no religious problem. He doesn't understand what religious problem there is in removing the heart, but the problem arises from removing the heart, and when that doesn't happen there is no moral or religious problem.
By the way, removing the heart is itself a religious, not a moral, issue.
This is a religious problem that can be explained morally in a broad sense (they will make him worship idols that have moral flaws for the functioning of society and the individual). The horses' reasoning that he will not return the people to Egypt is also an "earthly" consideration. My difficulty is with the innovation that in fact the consideration is always heavenly and historical.
Also regarding the widow, Sheresh brings up the reason that they should not mourn her. This is not a religious explanation. It is a moral explanation that she should not be given a bad name because there was no injustice committed that could harm her.
All of these simply do not seem moral. It is difficult to interpret that the intention is moral. But even if they were truly moral, there are clear considerations why the halakha is not moral, and in any case I interpret it this way here as well.
How did the sages nullify the religious value that is received through the stoning of a rebellious son and teacher? Did they “see” that the religious value is received only in a constellation so precise that it could never actually occur in real life?
There are sermons there. They didn't just cancel it and that's it.
I ask about the sermons themselves. How dare they make an impractical omen when they have no clear idea of what the religious value is?
Because there is a textual trigger (the qualities of the sermon). This is exactly the difference between a sermon and a simple interpretation. The latter is based on an assumption and the text, and the sermon begins with the quality of the sermon that obliges us to demand. An interpretation only says what to demand.
When the Gemara asks, “Why did he call me Sabrah?”, according to your method, the question is not understood. The Torah adds the religious dimension to me.
This question really never arises in relation to any commandment such as "Thou shalt not murder." This is my argument in itself. It only arises where the details of evidentiary law are sought (the one who cites from his author, or the mouth that forbade), and there it is used to interpret a verse. The argument is that we would interpret the verse in this way from the perspective of the author even without a special source. There is no moral issue that requires adding a religious layer to it.
If I am not mistaken regarding the obligation to recite blessings, the Beneficiaries learn the very obligation from a sabbath, and it sounds strange to say that there is really no halachic obligation to recite blessings.
On the contrary, it is evidence to the contrary. There is really no obligation from the Torah to recite a blessing. After all, blessings are a sign of forgiveness, and hence it is not an obligation from the Torah. This is precisely what makes it difficult to recite blessings to her and the blessing there answers to it. See my article on the status of sabbaths, where I explained this further.
So the law of interest payments or back payments, which have no source in the Torah but are Sabra, is the obligation in them moral and not religious? In other words, do the Sages also discuss the limits of purely moral laws? This is terribly confusing, because it seems from your words that their focus is religious (only that they choose the moral option if there are some considerations)
Back payments and interest payments are simple notions derived from the very concept of property and ownership. Therefore, they can have a moral aspect and a parallel legal-ontic aspect, and it does not matter. The obligation itself arises from a conceptual notion independent of these aspects. An obligation from the letter of the law to restore a loss after despair is a good example of a moral obligation. And the fact that the halakha does not require it shows that the halakha is not morality.
“Global correspondence between Halacha and morality”,
“Topological flaw in Halacha”,
or “Parallel explanatory systems between the simple and the mysterious”
Are you using scientific language purely metaphorically as a parable? Or beyond that?
Strange question. If you understood what it says, you can answer it yourself. If you didn't understand what it says, you should ask it.
Regarding the boundary gap between moral murder and religious murder:
As you explain, God engineered the world so that there would be maximum compatibility between the moral and religious categories. If, for example, in the matter of murder, He had succeeded in creating a perfect match (a local match in your terminology), He would not have had to write to us in the Torah, “Thou shalt not murder,” the religious value would have been fulfilled anyway. What interest does He have in informing us that there is a religious value if there is no profit from it? Apparently, that is His concern alone, not ours.
Perhaps the very commandment, “Thou shalt not murder,” teaches us a priori that there is a boundary gap between them, and now we need to look for which one.
According to my assumption, perhaps they have many more religious values hidden within moral obligations that we have no idea about, because there is a local match there.
I didn't understand. First, he sometimes writes things to inform us and not just to command. For example, regarding the reasons written in the Torah. But even if we assume that it was unnecessary, after all it was written and therefore it is not unnecessary. Hence there is a difference in the categories between the religious and the moral, just as you wrote and as I wrote.
I didn't understand your last sentence.
If the assumption is correct, that God does not need to inform us about the religious value when it is completely aligned with the moral obligation (he managed to engineer the world in perfect coordination with morality in a particular case) because it is a high necessity that has no particular benefit for us, then the fact that he commands us not to kill, for example, is an a priori indication that we need to look for where there is a gap in the scope of the commandment from the corresponding moral obligation (God did not manage to create perfect coordination, so he had to inform us). It also means that there may be a lot of hidden religious values that exist in parallel with our moral obligations and he simply will not inform us because it is none of our business (high necessity), for example, perhaps when I fulfill my commitment to someone else I am also fulfilling a religious value even though there is no such commandment, just because God managed to engineer the alignment there perfectly.
On the other hand, if this assumption is incorrect and it is in God's interest to inform us even when there is no practical benefit, then why does the Gemara make it difficult in many places, "Why did I call it a reason?" God informs me that there is a religious dimension in addition to the moral reason.
Now I see that you answered me about why I called Sabra.
And about the rest too
I didn't quite understand a few things:
1. What do you mean when you say that moral commandments have a 'religious value'? What is a 'religious value', who determines it, and how is it fundamentally different from a 'moral value', which required certain commandments to have a binding effect twice (the religious and the moral).
2. You are presenting an argument here that all commandments, even when they appear to us to be moral, actually have a religious purpose, even though the Torah itself gives a moral reason for the matter. But such an argument requires some reinforcement and proof from the Torah itself. Would you say the same about the commandments of charity (gathering, forgetting, and giving) that have a religious value in addition to the moral one? Likewise, commandments such as: the prohibition of ignoring another's animal when it falls, blocking an ox from trampling it, the commandment of guarding it, and so on and so forth? In addition, it follows from your words that when the Torah commands, for example in Parashat Shofitim, “Justice shall be pursued,” we are talking about justice with religious value only? What exactly is justice that has religious value?
3. Above, you gave an explanation why even the Rabbis do not require a reason to read, even though it could be that the reason is correct (and the judge has only what his eyes see), it is not because we are mistaken in the meaning of the command, but because even when we hit a nail on the head, we are liable to give an incorrect application of the reason and make a mistake. That’s all your explanation, but I don’t understand how everything you criticized about the previous explanation (the fear that the reason is incorrect) does not apply to the second explanation you gave. Here too, it is necessary to criticize, “What if he was mistaken? The judge has only what his eyes see.” (This question is less critical because you yourself rejected and gave your new explanation.)
4. I don't quite understand why you see the reason that R”S gave for prohibiting the pledge of a widow's garment as a "dosi"? The concern is not about her modesty but about the possibility of her getting a bad name. The Torah wanted (at least according to R”S) to spare the widow and not to shame her. And there was no other moral reason, such as the fear that she would not have anything to sleep with at night, since this is an explicit verse regarding every poor person who must return his covering at night so that he will have something to sleep with (as you yourself wrote)... You treated R”S's reason as if he had a variety of moral reasons and that he specifically chose the religious reason. I don't quite understand what other moral reasons you saw.
I didn't quite understand a few things:
1. A religious value means a value that is not moral. The one who determined it is God, just like the moral values. For example, maintaining the sanctity of the priesthood or avoiding impurity is a religious value that is not moral.
2. I have given the reinforcements several times in the past. This is not the issue here.
3. I explained this in the column itself. The fear of error is based on the fact that we will interpret it morally and this is not the right reason. Beyond that, Rabbi Yehuda's method is perhaps like the common interpretation that does not require reasons because they are afraid of making a mistake. The Tikvah method is different.
4. There is an obvious moral reason there of harming the poor widow who will take a pledge from her or will not lend to her because it is impossible to take a pledge from her. This is the obvious reason that everyone would say if it were not for the Gemara.
Forgive me, but I still don't quite understand the first point…
What “religious value” is there in a commandment like giving the poor man his cloak at night, and how does it differ from the moral value? In both cases, the goal is to prevent suffering from the poor, so what is the religious reference? It seems like there's just a play on words here and the same thing is said twice
I don't understand what explanation you expect. Should I point out the circle in which this occurs? I don't know.
No need to point to any number…
I can understand that the commandments of the Sabbath and the festivals, as well as holiness and purity, have religious value even without being knowledgeable in the wisdom of Kabbalah and the Sefirot because they have binding validity and there is no moral system from which they derive, so what remains is the religious value system to which I am committed by God Almighty…
But you claim that even moral commandments, and even those to which they are given a moral meaning, have a religious meaning at all and I did not understand where you jumped to this conclusion and without proving it? And even when it is clear to me from the simple explanation that the commandment to return the pledge to the poor is moral (and the Torah according to the plain language also says so).
Why is it impossible to say that the Torah commands us to be “religious” and to observe religious commandments and in addition requires us to be moral and observe moral commandments (even when they have no religious value)?
You also believe that God is the binding authority of these two systems.
There is certainly evidence for this, and it is very strong. But this is not the topic here in this column. I referred to another column and the third book in the trilogy where I elaborated more.
Yes, great. I have a few questions, and I would appreciate it if the rabbi could answer them.
– The rabbi stressed the common sense, that then the rabbi should at least be concerned about the sense. Although it is not that difficult for the rabbi, it is a rule that when there are two equal options that the rabbi can interpret, we demand both things with certainty and not just because of a doubt. ‘Hei Menyehou Mekket’, and the reason is that if the Torah is written in a way that can be interpreted equally in both directions, it is actually telling you to demand both. In any case, it can also be said in the Rabbi's method, because basically there is a fear of error in taste, in any case the Torah tells you not to address the taste and the fears that arise from it (and this is kind of what the Rabbi brought up at the end in the name of the blessing).
– Then the Rabbi suggests that perhaps the intention is not a wrong interpretation but a wrong application, and I don't understand why the Rabbi said that we usually trust our logic, etc., and from the Rabbi's words it seems that with regard to the ‘fear of incorrect application’ it is already understood that we do not trust our logic. I would be happy to explain..
– Regarding what the Rabbi suggested according to the text that the Torah is completely precise, then for the answer the same can be said according to the method of the Rabbis that the Torah is completely precise, and when the reason is explicit anyway, it is important as part of the Torah's formulation (like a plurality and then a minority, etc., where the next interprets the previous).
Regarding what the Rabbi says that there is a complete categorical separation between Halacha and Musar, etc., does the Rabbi include in this also things from Kabbalah such as "The remnant of Israel shall not make an oleh," etc., or specifically the commandment of Daw? (At the end, the Rabbi referred to the ’Teknuts’ and it seems that the ”Tehranim’ commandments’ are forbidden, at least in some cases..)
– ‘And everything that can be explained’ – to succeed.
– Regarding what the Rabbi explained that the Torah commanded simple things morally in order to say that there is an additional value/purpose, does the Rabbi think that he defended the Seven Commandments of the Noahide Children?
– Regarding what the Rabbi said that flattering the land is the religious reasoning, etc., and in general the above principle in dividing the levels. Does the Rabbi think that it is possible (not that the Rabbi believes this, but it is possible) to say that there are indeed two levels here, but that the religious purposes – Their ultimate goal is for us-humanity to have good (such as it will lead to the revelation of the kingdom of God and then there will be happiness and wealth for all humanity, etc.). And I know that from our point of view this contradicts morality, but in principle it will lead to a better moral result. And it seems that unwillingness to make a deal to release hostages seems like an immoral act, but this is because we (or some of us) have a certain long-term view (or it is fundamentally wrong) and in fact this act will lead to a more moral good in general (I know that the dog is not accurate, but it was brought up only for the sake of clarification..).
– The rabbi said that according to the Rabbi, it is simple what is the moral reason for the widow, and therefore he is puzzled about the rabbi, although for the poor, after we saw that indeed there is already a verse that requires returning the pledge to the poor, and therefore in the case of a widow it is a special reason - I no longer understand the rabbi's puzzlement, indeed understanding what the reason is specifically in the case of a widow is not so simple... and there is no need to get to what the rabbi said that there are two categories, etc., but even if this were also a moral category, it is still not so clear what the moral thing is here (after all, the Torah already spares the poor, as above).
I didn't understand everything, and it's hard to address a bunch of different questions at once, especially when they're not numbered.
Because here it's not an interpretation of the text but of its purposes.
In application, the concern is greater, especially when it contradicts the language of the verse. See the example of "Let his heart not be turned aside."
I've expanded on halacha and morality elsewhere.
Also on the Seven Commandments of the Sons of Noah.