Between Forgiveness and Atonement: On Intention and Action (Column 353)

In a sugya we learned not long ago in the chapter “HaKones,” I came across a puzzling claim by Rabbi Soloveitchik that concerns the intention and awareness required in committing a transgression. This touches on questions I have addressed more than once in the past, in particular the relationship between intention and action, and between awareness and action.

Rabbi Soloveitchik’s Remarks

The Gemara 55b brings four cases of damage by indirect causation (grama), for which one is exempt in human courts (dinei adam) but liable in the heavenly court (dinei shamayim). The first is one who breaches a fence in front of his fellow’s animal. The question is the breacher’s liability for the damages caused by the animal that escaped. In the course of the discussion, the Gemara raises whether we are dealing with a sound wall or a rickety wall, and the Rishonim there also discuss the breacher’s responsibility for the wall that collapsed. Among other things, the Rishonim dispute whether, in the case of a rickety wall, there is an obligation to pay for demolishing the wall—either in human courts or only in the heavenly court.

Tosafot ad loc., s.v. “Ileima,” write that there is no obligation to pay for the wall if it is rickety, even in the heavenly court, and it implies this is because it was bound to be demolished in any case (it is forbidden to keep a rickety wall standing, as it may fall and injure someone or something). Yet some Rishonim (Rashi and Meiri) write that nevertheless there is an obligation to pay in the heavenly court, and Meiri explains that this is because the breacher did not intend a mitzvah (even though in practice he performed a mitzvah by demolishing the rickety wall). By contrast, Tosafot in Sanhedrin 77a write that there is an obligation to pay for the rickety wall in the heavenly court, but not in human courts. And Maimonides (Rambam), both in a responsum and in his code, rules that there is liability in human courts to pay for demolishing the wall, even if it is rickety.

In Reshimot Shiurim on the sugya there, Rabbi Soloveitchik explains the dispute in several ways. In §5 he writes that there is a dispute as to whether a rickety wall has monetary value:

It would seem that, for Tosafot, we are dealing with a case in which the wall has no market value because there is no one who would want to buy it. Yet so long as it stands, the owner derives benefit from it. On this point Tosafot disagree with the Rambam’s responsum. According to Tosafot, the breacher is exempt from payment since the wall has no market price. The Rambam, however, holds that he must pay for depriving the owner of benefit, even though they did not lose market value.

He argues that a rickety wall has no market value (no one will buy a rickety wall), but as long as it stands it serves the owner and gives him some benefit, and therefore, for the owner, it has value. From here he hangs the dispute among the Rishonim on the question whether one who damages an item that has value to its owner but no market price is obligated to pay. In Rambam’s view—yes; in Tosafot’s view—no. I note that this question is discussed quite a bit by the poskim. For example, in Netivot HaMishpat (siman 148, in “Biurim,” §1) he discusses one who damages something that has sentimental value to its owner but no market value (e.g., a photo of his grandfather): is he liable to pay, and how much? See a survey here (and also in R. Z.N. Goldberg’s article in Techumin 8, and many more).

It is difficult to fit this explanation into Rambam, for he explicitly writes that a rickety wall does have a market value, albeit a low one. It therefore seems he is not speaking of a duty to pay a subjective value. The explanation also does not fit the opposing views: even those who exempt the breacher from payment explain it on the grounds that he performed a mitzvah (since the wall was due for demolition), not because it lacks market value.

In §1 there, Rabbi Soloveitchik proposes, in passing, a different explanation. He addresses the meaning of the “liable in the heavenly court” mentioned in the sugya:

It would seem one must inquire, regarding the four matters of R. Yehoshua that are exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly court, whether their liability in the heavenly court is the imposition of a monetary obligation or the imposition of a status of prohibition (issur).

That is, is it a monetary obligation which, for some reason, is not collected by a human court but only “in Heaven,” or is it a liability of punishment in Heaven for the prohibition? The background is Meiri on 56a, who cites the author of HaHashlama and takes the first option:

Whenever we wrote here that one is liable in the heavenly court, its meaning is that he is obligated to make restitution. As for prohibition, even that for which he is exempt in the heavenly court still carries prohibition; but as to restitution, this is what was said. From here the great authorities wrote that anyone of whom it was said “liable in the heavenly court” is disqualified from testimony until he returns (what he owes). And this appears correct, for since he is obligated to restore (what he took), the law of theft applies to him until he returns it.

He determines that there certainly is an issur, but the liability to which the sugya refers is a full monetary obligation (and one who does not pay is a thief and even disqualified from testimony), except that it cannot be collected in court. In his view, “liable in the heavenly court” parallels “liable in human courts,” and both concern monetary liability.

Rabbi Soloveitchik brings several practical ramifications of his inquiry:

There will be ramifications in several areas—for example, with respect to self-help seizure (tefisah). See Rashi to Bava Metzia (91a), s.v. “Rava …,” that according to Rashi’s revered teacher’s teacher, self-help is effective where one is “liable in the heavenly court,” since he is obligated to fulfill his heavenly duty; that is, a monetary obligation takes effect even if the court does not collect it. Another ramification: where there is liability in the heavenly court, a monetary obligation takes hold with respect to acquisition by money as explained later (78b).

Now we arrive at the passage of his that is most important for our purposes:

And it stands to reason that, according to Rashi and Meiri—who hold that one who breaches a rickety wall is liable in the heavenly court because he did not intend a mitzvah—the liability is not monetary but a status of issur alone. For the mitzvah “You shall not place blood in your house” requires demolishing the wall. Accordingly, one cannot term this demolition an act of damage, and no monetary liability can attach to it.

Those who hold there is liability in the heavenly court for breaching a rickety wall cannot mean a duty to pay, for there is a duty to demolish the wall and thus there is no act of damage at all. They demolished a wall that was in any case required to be demolished. Here, then, it is clear that the intent is to a heavenly punishment and not to a monetary obligation. That is, there is a transgression here but no monetary liability. But this raises the question: why is there a transgression here at all? For what does the breacher deserve punishment?

On this he writes:

However, since he did not intend a mitzvah but intended to cause damage, he committed a transgression—and that is precisely his liability in the heavenly court. This is analogous to the prohibition mentioned in Nazir (23a) concerning one who intended that pork come to his hand but lamb came to his hand, which requires atonement, per the verse “and the Lord shall forgive her”; see there. Here, too, he intended to cause forbidden harm and not to fulfill a mitzvah; forbidden intention constitutes an issur—and that is his liability in the heavenly court.

Because the breacher did not intend a mitzvah but to cause damage, then even though the wall was due for demolition and there was an obligation to demolish it, the one who breached it transgressed. On the face of it, there is here only an intent to transgress but no transgressive act (since the act itself is a mitzvah), so why is there an issur and punishment? His claim is that the transgression depends on the intention, and his proof is from the Gemara in Nazir 23a regarding one who intended to eat pork and ended up with lamb.

The Relationship Between Awareness and Act: He Intended to Eat Pork and Ended Up with Lamb

The Mishnah in Nazir 23a brings the following law (also cited by Rashi at the beginning of Parashat Mattot):

A woman who vowed to be a Nazirite and was drinking wine and becoming impure to the dead—she receives forty lashes. If her husband annulled her vow and she did not know that he had annulled it, and she was drinking wine and becoming impure to the dead—she does not receive forty lashes. R. Yehuda says: If she does not receive forty, she receives disciplinary lashes.

That woman thought the food was forbidden to her by a vow, whereas in truth her husband had annulled the vow (but did not inform her). She decided to eat the food despite the prohibition, but in practice she did not transgress, since the vow had been annulled. The Mishnah says she does not receive the forty lashes—simply because she did not violate the prohibition. R. Yehuda maintains she should receive disciplinary lashes, but that is a separate discussion.

The Gemara there brings the source of this ruling:

“Her husband annulled them, and the Lord shall forgive her” (Num. 30:13)—the verse speaks of a woman whose husband annulled for her and she did not know; Scripture speaks of her as requiring atonement and forgiveness. When R. Akiva reached this verse he would weep: If one who intended that pork come to his hand and lamb came to his hand requires atonement and forgiveness, then one who intended that pork come to his hand and pork came to his hand—how much more so!

The source is a verse at the beginning of Parashat Mattot, and the Gemara compares it to one who intended to eat pork and ended up with lamb. Both require forgiveness and atonement because they had an intention to transgress, even though they did not perform a transgressive act. The Gemara also learns from here an a fortiori argument about the deliberate sinner, who has both intent and act, that he certainly requires forgiveness and atonement.

The Brisker Rav (R. Yitzchak Zev Soloveitchik), in his mimeographed chiddushim to the passage, understands that one who harbored criminal intent thereby violated an actual prohibition and is exempt only from the punishment (lashes). This is a very novel understanding. Usually we think that if no transgressive act was done, there is no prohibition of a negative commandment. The forgiveness and atonement required here are for the intention itself, even without violating a prohibition. The lesson from the Gemara is that criminal intent is itself unworthy and also demands atonement and forgiveness from the Holy One, blessed be He. The language of the Gemara does not support that stringent reading, for it does not say that he violated a prohibition, only that he requires forgiveness and atonement. Had there been an actual prohibition, the Gemara should have said he violated it. Incidentally, the last sentence in Rabbi Soloveitchik’s cited passage implies that he read like his uncle (the Brisker Rav), i.e., that in his view too this is an actual negative prohibition.

The Status of Criminal Thought

Can we learn from here that anyone in whose mind a criminal intention passed requires forgiveness and atonement? If so, it is not clear why the Gemara speaks of one who intended to eat pork and ended up with lamb. It would seem sufficient that he intended to eat pork—even if he did not eat at all. Moreover, that would seem to contradict the principle that “the Holy One, blessed be He, does not combine an evil thought to an act” (Kiddushin 39b). True, without an act we have no way to know that he committed the transgression, but here we speak of heavenly forgiveness and atonement, and the Holy One, blessed be He, does not need such indicators to know what is in a person’s heart.[1]

It is therefore more reasonable to explain that the Gemara speaks specifically of a person in whose heart a criminal thought arose, who also decided to carry it out and did in fact act. Only that, as a matter of fact, he did not succeed—and not through his own “fault.” Circumstances unknown to him caused his intent to transgress not to succeed. In such a case he requires forgiveness and atonement because the thought issued into action. For his part, he was ready to commit a full transgression in deed, and only circumstances “saved” him. True, in retrospect the act turned out to be a permitted act, but from the doer’s perspective there was a full transgression—both in thought and in action. In such a case he requires forgiveness and atonement. But for mere criminal thought (that is, a decision to eat forbidden food that was never implemented in action—not even in an act of permission), there is no need for forgiveness and atonement, at least not in the sense of the Gemara here.

I have noted more than once (see, for example, columns 1, 229, 253, 226, and in the responsum Between “Offender” and “Wicked”) that, as a matter of reason, an attempt to commit a transgression is as severe as actually committing it. A person who attempted to murder his fellow, pulled the trigger, but the firing pin was broken and therefore he did not succeed, is a murderer in every sense. True, there is no result and no act of murder, but all the elements of a murder are present from the murderer’s perspective. In such a case, the murderer’s thought was carried out in deed—the thought did not remain mere thought—and there is no doubt he is wicked just like a full murderer. Does he in such a case require forgiveness and atonement? It would seem this is like one who intended to eat pork and ended up with lamb, for the thought was in fact implemented, and only circumstances prevented it from being a transgression.

As a matter of reason, in such cases atonement (kapparah) is not required, for atonement—unlike forgiveness (selichah)—comes to cleanse the stain created by the sin; if there are no problematic consequences, there is nothing to cleanse. By this logic, forgiveness may be required here, but not atonement. Regarding “intended to eat pork but ended up with lamb,” there is room to discuss: apparently an act was done but there was no result. Is this like pulling a trigger with a broken pin, where there was no act of murder at all? I am not sure. It may be that in “intended pork and got lamb” there is even an act, only with no prohibited result, whereas pulling the trigger without the bullet leaving is no act at all. Put differently: perhaps the one who intended pork and got lamb needs atonement as well as forgiveness (the question being whether atonement is for the act or for the result). But it is clear that all of them require forgiveness, for in the subjective sense there is full criminality.

Back to Rabbi Soloveitchik

Rabbi Soloveitchik’s comparison between the case of demolishing a rickety wall and “intended to eat pork and ended up with lamb” is very puzzling. In the case of one who breaches and demolishes a rickety wall, the breacher knows from the outset that the wall is rickety and must be demolished—unlike the person who intended to eat pork and was sure the piece he was eating was pork. In our case the breacher lacks no information. On the face of it, demolition of the wall here is merely a forbidden intention, with no realization in action.

We saw that in the case of one who intended to eat pork and ended up with lamb, his criminal intention issued in action. From his perspective he implemented his forbidden intent in practice, only that circumstances made it so that there was no transgression. But in our case, the breacher knows from the outset that this wall must be demolished. He does indeed demolish it in order to harm, but he knows from the outset that the act, in and of itself, is permitted. This is akin to one who wants to eat pork but eats pork while he is dangerously ill and has no choice (and let us assume for the discussion that he would have eaten it even without being ill). In such a case there is, ostensibly, no practical expression of his criminal intention, because the act in and of itself is a permitted act (indeed, a mitzvah). Such a case is akin to mere criminal intention (without any practical expression).

By the same token we can imagine a person who decided to eat pork and stood on one leg. There is no connection between his criminal intention and the act he performed. The fact that he did something—if that something is not the result of his criminal intention—means there is no practical expression of the intention; the case is equivalent to mere intention, which does not require forgiveness and atonement. On its face, Rabbi Soloveitchik’s words are very puzzling.

Yet on a second look, this is an intermediate case, for breaching the wall was indeed done out of his criminal intention. True, he knew it was permitted, yet the act would not have been done without the criminal intention (he would have done it even had the wall not been rickety and even had there been no mitzvah involved). In this sense, such a case is not like one who intended to eat pork and stood on one leg. Standing on one leg is in no way connected to his criminal intention, whereas here there is such a connection. One can compare it to one who commits a transgression under duress but would have done it even without the duress. In such a case the commentators dispute whether he is considered coerced or not (see Encyclopaedia Talmudit, entry “Ones (coercion),” §10). One can treat such a situation as exploiting an opportunity, for the breacher essentially wishes to transgress and exploits the opportunity to do so permissibly.

It appears that Rabbi Soloveitchik holds there are five stages up to the full transgression:

1. Mere thought. He intended to eat pork but did not act at all (or an unrelated act accompanied the thought—e.g., standing on one leg).
2. Exploiting an opportunity. He intends to eat pork at a time when he is ill and required to eat pork. Here it is carried out in practice and done out of the criminal intention, but at the time he did it he knew the act was permitted (indeed, a mitzvah). It is merely exploiting an opportunity to do a forbidden act permissibly. This is the case analogous to demolishing a rickety wall in order to harm.
3. A thought that was carried out in an act but without a result—not even a permitted result (an attempted murder with a broken firing pin). This is an intermediate state; there is room to wonder whether it resembles (1) or (4).
4. A thought that was carried out in a permitted act. He intended to eat pork and acted, but it turns out the act was permitted (he ate lamb).
5. A thought that was carried out in a forbidden act (a deliberate transgression). He intended to eat pork and ate pork.

The case of breaching a rickety wall is level 2, and in Rabbi Soloveitchik’s view it is similar to (3) and requires forgiveness and atonement. As noted, the similarity is not compelling; to my judgment, reason suggests it should rather be treated like (1). I did not include the inadvertent sinner: he intended to eat lamb and ate pork. In such a case there is a transgressive act but no intention/awareness. This case is not exactly on the axis I sketched here, for in terms of culpability (with respect to forgiveness) it is less severe even than (1). But in terms of outcomes there was a transgression, and in that sense, with respect to atonement, it is more severe than all except (5).[2]

From the Permitted to the Obligatory

I now add another layer to the discussion. Demolishing a rickety wall is not merely a permitted act but an outright mitzvah. If so, even if we assume that the person sought an opportunity to harm his fellow and therefore demolished his rickety wall, he still knows all along that in doing so he is performing a mitzvah (not merely a permitted act). There is a great difference between a permitted act and a mitzvah in this regard: even if we accept that a bad intention can turn a permitted act into a transgression—since he was required to refrain—when it is a mitzvah, even if his intention is bad it is difficult to say he was required not to do it. After all, it is a mitzvah. How, then, can one say there is a transgression here due to his intention? Here it seems clear that breaching the wall is like category (1) above (a bad intention alone).

Consider a person who goes to serve as the court’s agent to flog or execute (an executioner), but he does so because he has an inclination and desire to kill. Shall we, on account of his bad intentions, treat his flogging or executing as a transgression (injurer or murderer) that requires forgiveness and atonement? Generally executioners are people with aggressive impulses, and this role provides a legitimate outlet for their negative drives—akin to what the Sages said (Shabbat 156a) that one born under Mars has a tendency to shed blood, and they advise him to become a slaughterer or a mohel as a legitimate outlet for his bad inclinations. The act he performs is a mitzvah; therefore, even if his intentions are bad, it is not reasonable to say he was required to refrain from the mitzvah because he cannot overcome his bad inclinations. So why would he deserve punishment for not refraining? After all, he did what was required of him.

It is not reasonable that, in such a case, the bad intention ruins the mitzvah. And if not, is it conceivable that he performed a mitzvah and at the same time needs forgiveness and atonement for his act? It would seem he is simply performing a mitzvah not for its own sake (lo lishmah): demolishing a rickety wall with the intention to harm; or circumcising with the intention to spill human blood; or slaughtering with the intention to spill an animal’s blood. This leads us to the topic of “a transgression for its own sake” and “a mitzvah not for its own sake.”

The Relationship Between Intention and Act: The Link to “A Transgression for Its Own Sake”

The Gemara in Nazir 23b brings the following statement:

R. Natan bar Yitzchak said: A transgression for its own sake (aveirah lishmah) is greater than a mitzvah not for its own sake. But did not Rav Yehuda say in the name of Rav: A person should always engage in Torah and mitzvot even not for their own sake, for from doing them not for their own sake he will come to do them for their own sake? Rather, say: it is like a mitzvah not for its own sake. As it is written, “Most blessed of women be Jael, wife of Heber the Kenite; more blessed than women in tents” (Judges 5:24). Who are the “women in tents”? Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. R. Yohanan said: That wicked man (Sisera) had relations with her seven times at that moment, as it is said, “Between her legs he knelt, he fell, he lay …” (Judges 5:27). But did she not derive pleasure from relations with him? R. Yohanan said: All the “good” of the wicked is only evil for the righteous, as it is said, “Beware of speaking with Jacob either good or bad” (Gen. 31:24). Bad is understandable; but why not good? Rather, learn from here that their “good” is bad for the righteous.

The example of a transgression for its own sake is the act of Jael, wife of Heber the Kenite, who, as a married woman, had relations with Sisera in order to kill him and thereby save Israel. Later on that page are also the acts of Lot’s daughters who, in order to preserve humanity (they believed humanity had been entirely destroyed), had relations with their father. This is not widely known, but the Sages there praise them for that decision. In both cases they committed the most severe Torah transgressions (sexual prohibitions) because the exigency of the hour required it.

And indeed, in column 295, when I discussed this topic, I cited several later authorities (for example, the Netziv and R. A.Y. Kook) who claim one may and should commit a transgression for its own sake only if one’s intention is to do good. That is, someone who faces a situation calling for a transgression for its own sake but does it with a bad intention is committing an issur. Thus, for example, had Lot’s daughters done what they did out of lust, it would have been forbidden for them. And likewise for Jael. That is exactly our situation: the one who breaches the wall performs a mitzvah with a bad intention—i.e., a transgression for its own sake (and perhaps a mitzvah not for its own sake; see below).

As I explained there, this position seems to me entirely unreasonable. The permission to do such an act stems from the great and vital need it serves (saving Israel or preserving the continuation of humanity). The idea of “a transgression for its own sake” is that such an acute need justifies committing a severe transgression—even if there is no formal halachic permission—and even if the decision is made by an ordinary person, not by the Sanhedrin or a recognized decisor. Now think of Jael, wife of Heber the Kenite, who in fact lusts greatly for Sisera; she knows that her act will save the people of Israel, but she does it to satisfy her desire. Suppose she comes to ask me, as a halachic decisor, whether to do it or not. Should I tell her it is forbidden? The price is severe harm to the people of Israel, and what justifies the transgression is precisely the cost of refraining. Why, then, should Jael’s intentions be relevant? Should the entire people of Israel perish because Jael cannot overcome her desires?

So too with Lot’s daughters: suppose they were to ask whether it is permitted for them to do so when their motive is solely lust. Should I rule to forbid? But humanity is about to be annihilated! The permission to do these acts follows from the circumstances themselves and the expected consequences were they not done, independent of intentions. Can their bad intentions justify a decree of annihilation upon humanity?

Exactly so I argue in our case. Demolishing a rickety wall is a mitzvah, for one must prevent potential harm to the public from its collapse. True, this person does so with the intention of harming another. Can we therefore say he committed an issur? Had he come to ask me whether to demolish the wall or not, should I have ruled to forbid and leave in place the danger to the public posed by the wall? To my judgment, this is very implausible.

In sum, Rabbi Soloveitchik’s words seem to me untenable. Even if the act were merely permitted, there is still no practical realization of the criminal intention. And given that it is a mitzvah, the difficulty only increases. Plainly there is no transgression here at all; at most there is a bad intention that was not realized in any way (category 1 above).

Transgression for Its Own Sake or Mitzvah Not for Its Own Sake

The Gemara in Nazir compares “a transgression for its own sake” to “a mitzvah not for its own sake.” If we think of Lot’s daughters or Jael, we will understand that there the intention was good accompanying an act that, halachically, is a transgression. In our case of breaching the wall, the situation is the reverse: the intention is bad, but the act is halachically mandated (a mitzvah). It seems to me that in our case it is more correct to classify this as a mitzvah not for its own sake, not as a transgression for its own sake. If so, it is all the less clear how one can view it as a transgression. At most, it is an imperfect mitzvah.

True, the Gemara says that a transgression for its own sake is greater than a mitzvah not for its own sake, but I think this is relevant only to the dimension of forgiveness. For the dimension of atonement there is no distinction between them. Moreover, with respect to atonement, the hierarchy may even be reversed. As to which person is more worthy of esteem, it is very reasonable that someone who commits a transgression for its own sake is more worthy than one who performs a mitzvah not for its own sake (who is not worthy of esteem at all). Esteem for the mitzvah parallels forgiveness for the transgression. Thus, a transgression for its own sake requires no forgiveness, whereas a mitzvah not for its own sake certainly does. But in the dimension of atonement, in a transgression for its own sake (such as Jael or Lot’s daughters), a transgression was in fact committed; the act was done, only that it was done with a good and proper intention. There, it is clear there is no need for forgiveness, but atonement may still be spoken of, for the stain (the result of the transgression) exists: there was sexual intercourse prohibited by the Torah, even if it was done for a positive need and with a good intention, and perhaps that requires atonement. By contrast, in a mitzvah not for its own sake, as here, the act itself is a mitzvah; what remains is only the bad intention. Therefore one can perhaps speak here of forgiveness, but it would seem there is no place to speak of atonement. There is no transgression here; hence there are no bad results, and therefore nothing to atone for.

At the beginning of Parashat Mattot, Rashi brings another Midrash of the Sages dealing with the reverse case: a woman whose husband did not annul her vow but told her that he had. She ate the loaf from which she had vowed to abstain, thinking it was permitted to her, but in practice she violated her vow. In the earlier case (“intended to eat pork but ended up with lamb”) there was criminal intent but no transgressive act; therefore she needs forgiveness. In this case (“intended to eat lamb but ended up with pork”) there was a transgressive act but no intention. What is her status here? This is precisely the case of an inadvertent sinner (shogeg): he intended a permitted act but, by mistake, committed a transgression.[3]

It is commonly thought that an inadvertent transgression is more severe than the case of one who intended to eat pork and ended up with lamb, for the inadvertent sinner must bring a sin-offering (for transgressions that carry such) while the latter does not. This means that the former requires atonement (the offering is brought for atonement), whereas the latter does not. From here one can clearly see my earlier claim: with respect to atonement, what determines is the act—for when an act is done, there are consequences, and there is something to atone for. Intention is not essential to that aspect. By contrast, with respect to forgiveness (or esteem, in the context of mitzvot), what matters is intention, for that determines his culpability and spiritual standing irrespective of what occurred in practice. As noted, an attempted murder that did not succeed (intention without an act) is full wickedness, just like a successful murder. It calls for forgiveness to the same degree, even if not for atonement.

A General View and Summary

Regarding the rule of “aino mitkaven” (one who lacks intention) in transgressions, it is common among later authorities to say that it bifurcates into two distinct branches: awareness and intention. R. Chaim of Brisk in Hilchot Shabbat 17 (and many later authorities who followed him) divides into two categories: in “aino mitkaven” in the rest of the Torah, only intention is required, not awareness (of practical consequences), whereas in “aino mitkaven” in Shabbat (derived from “melechet machshevet,” deliberate craftsmanship), awareness of consequences is also required. Intention (which itself contains components of awareness) and awareness of circumstances and outcomes are the two mental components of a transgression, and in addition to them an act is, of course, required. When one of these components is missing, we arrive at all the types of cases described above.

The relationship between intention and act is discussed in the topic of “a transgression for its own sake”: there the act is present but not the (proper) intention, and of course, as for awareness, it is fully present there. By contrast, in the case of the inadvertent sinner there is neither awareness nor intention—but there is an act. And in the case of “intended to eat pork and ended up with lamb,” there is intention but no (forbidden) act. As for the role of awareness in the third case, it would seem there must be awareness of the transgression, though not necessarily of the factual circumstances. Rabbi Soloveitchik claims that awareness of circumstances is not important here; what determines is only the intention. This, of course, brings us back to the five categories of criminal thought we distinguished above.

We saw that, regarding the degree of a person’s criminality, intention is crucial—and this is reflected in the need for forgiveness. But regarding the need for atonement, what matters is chiefly the act.

[1] Therefore, when a person commits a transgression that carries karet, if there were witnesses and warning he is flogged or executed and exempted from karet; but if there were no witnesses or warning, he bears karet. The punishment of karet is meted out by Heaven; hence there is no need for warning. An earthly court requires warning to establish that the sinner is deliberate; but the Holy One, blessed be He, knows this without such indicators.

[2] See on this R. Elchanan Wasserman’s essay “Teshuvah” in his Kovetz Ma’amarim.

[3] See on this in the aforementioned essay of R. E. Wasserman.