On Two A Fortiori (Kal Va-Chomer) Arguments and the Secret of “Avodah Tzorekh Gavoah” (Column 360)
This past weekend, on the eve of Parashat Va’era, someone reminded me of something I once wrote about the kal va-chomer (a fortiori) that Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah made from the frogs. That led me to think about it a bit more, and I recalled another kal va-chomer that touches on the same topic. Around it a few insights occurred to me that I wanted to present here.
The first kal va-chomer
The Talmud in Pesachim 53a discusses whether it is permitted to eat a spit-roasted kid on the Seder night (the concern is that this may lead people to consecrate a kid as an offering and then eat sacrificial meat outside the Temple). It relates that Todus of Rome instructed the people of Rome to eat a spit-roasted kid:
It was challenged: R. Yose said, “Todus of Rome instituted that the people of Rome eat spit-roasted kids on the nights of Passover.” They sent to him: “Were you not Todus, we would have decreed excommunication upon you, for you are feeding Israel sacrificial meat outside [the Temple].” Sacrificial meat—could that enter your mind?! Rather say: You are close to feeding Israel sacrificial meat outside [the Temple].
On the next folio the Talmud discusses Todus himself: why was excommunication not decreed upon him—was it because he was an important man (a Torah scholar), or was it fear of a tough guy?
They inquired: Was Todus of Rome a great man or a man of fists?
A statement is then cited to prove that Todus was an important man (a Torah scholar):
Come and hear: Another teaching that Todus of Rome expounded—What did Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah see that they gave [themselves] over for the sanctification of the Name to the fiery furnace? They reasoned a fortiori with themselves from the frogs: And if frogs, who are not commanded regarding the sanctification of the Name, it is written about them, “And they shall come into your house … and into your ovens and into your kneading troughs”—when are kneading troughs found near an oven? You must say, when the oven is hot—then we, who are commanded regarding the sanctification of the Name, all the more so.
Yet at the end the Talmud raises another possibility:
R. Yose bar Avin said: He was one who put merchandise into the purse of Torah scholars [a benefactor], for R. Yoḥanan said: “Whoever puts merchandise into the purse of Torah scholars merits and sits in the Heavenly Academy,” as it is said: “For in the shadow of wisdom is the shadow of money.”
So he was neither a scholar nor a strongman but a philanthropist. That teaches something about the social reality and the Sages’ attitude toward various types of figures—but that is not our topic. I would now like to return to the kal va-chomer from the frogs described above.
The difficulty
What does it mean to learn an a fortiori argument from frogs? Do frogs make value-laden decisions? They acted according to their nature—or rather, God Himself made them do it. And even if frogs had free will, are they a legitimate source from which to learn values? Who authorized them to issue rulings in Israel? True, the Sages say we can learn modesty from a cat, etc., but there’s a limit, no? To derive laws of pikuach nefesh (saving life) from the “decision”(!) of a band of frogs sounds unserious. It is hard to grasp the comparison Todus makes between Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, on the one hand, and frogs on the other. They are simply not on the same plane. Moreover, the Talmud itself notes this difference: we are commanded to sanctify God’s Name while the frogs are not. The very kal va-chomer rests on this point—yet that reasoning seems exactly what should refute it.
“Do not make yourselves loathsome”: a note on the Aggadot
Plainly, this is a cheap homily. A preacher wants to tell us something, and, as preachers do, he hangs it on ridiculous arguments and verses that have nothing to do with the matter. It sounds like a bad joke. Here Todus comes off like a third-rate homilist for the “Ein Yaakov crowd” between Mincha and Ma’ariv—people who don’t have the energy or ability to toil over the laws of “migo to extract” or “nat bar nat of one day.” From here I would prove that Todus was either a strongman or a donor—but certainly not draw proof that he was a Torah scholar. Bear in mind that the laws of martyrdom and sanctifying the Name are extensively treated in the Talmud; we have no shortage of halakhic sources and scriptural exegeses on them. That only sharpens the conclusion that resorting to frogs points more to ignorance (am-ha’aretz-ness) than to scholarship.
We have grown used to the Talmud bringing strange and puzzling derashot, hanging ideas on verses very loosely—vortlach. We have also grown used to people flocking to Bible and Aggadah lectures that contain no innovation, listening eagerly to trivial vortlach as if they were the living word of God. But to regard such a consideration as proof that the speaker is a great man—now that is truly astonishing and demands explanation.
The commentators deal with this kal va-chomer, from Rashi through Tosafot and on to later authorities like the Maharsha, the Chatam Sofer, and others. They discuss its assumptions and its necessity. They do relate to the accepted halakhic sources regarding martyrdom and sanctifying God’s Name, but even among them (I admit I did not search overly much) I did not find anyone who points out the absurdity of deriving a halakhic and ethical principle from frogs. Apparently, we have become accustomed to this eccentric genre. Incidentally, this lack of attention, to my mind, hints that the commentators themselves did not take Aggadot very seriously—and perhaps that is itself evidence for my general stance toward them. My sense is that in most cases these are homilies delivered to laypeople, as is common today among us. True, consummate scholars also engaged in it—but that is exactly what happens today as well. It is apparently legitimate (we see people consume it), but it raises questions about the need and propriety of engaging in serious exegesis of Aggadot.
This particular case, however, does require explanation, for this homily is cited as evidence of Todus’s greatness. The Sages themselves took this derash seriously (which I am far from sure about regarding other Aggadot). Years ago I therefore decided that here I must gird myself and look for a more reasonable explanation. I turned up a fine pearl (see here in a thread on the “Stop Here and Think” forum, and also here in the Q&A you will find a continuation and a few eulogistic words about me and my ilk), and I shall expand on it a bit here.[1]
In passing I will add that people have claimed that were I to invest similar effort in other Aggadot, perhaps my general view of them would change. Perhaps—but I am very doubtful, even after trying in a few cases. First, because in many cases I did not find (but “we did not find” is no proof); second, because the explanations of Aggadot, even when significant and important (very rarely), are doubtful indicators of the Aggadah’s true meaning and the homilist’s intention. It is clear that if enough smart people invest effort in interpreting any text—even Chipofo in the Congo (by the illustrious Morat R. Bornstein-Lazar)—they can produce pearls. After you read my words, you will have to decide whether what I offer is an interpretation (i.e., that I uncovered Todus’s intent) or a homily (as is customary). I myself am not entirely sure.
A dispute between Rashi and Tosafot
Rashi there explains why this kal va-chomer was needed:
“What did they see”—that they did not expound “and you shall live by them” and not die by them.
That is, Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah faced a halakhic dilemma: must they give up their lives or not? From the behavior of the frogs they concluded that they must. What was the reason not to give up their lives? Rashi explains that it is the derashah “and you shall live by them” (it is not clear whether this is anachronistic or whether already in their time this tannaitic derashah existed—which was disputed even among the Tannaim; see Yoma 85b and parallels). Note that Rashi inserts a serious halakhic discussion of martyrdom and sanctifying God’s Name—i.e., the frogs’ kal va-chomer participates in a real halakhic deliberation that Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah are conducting.[2] It is a source countering the derashah of “and you shall live by them” (and even overcomes it). The wonder only increases.
Tosafot s.v. “mah” there challenge Rashi:
“What did Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah see”—Rashi explains: what did they see that they did not expound “and you shall live by them and not die by them.” Difficulty: This was in public, and we conclude in Sanhedrin 74a that all agree that in public one must give up his life even for a minor commandment.
They continue Rashi’s approach as if this is a serious halakhic debate, and ask why indeed the derashah “and you shall live by them” is relevant, for in public one must give up one’s life even for a minor transgression—and certainly for idolatry. I would note that in Sanhedrin 74a R. Yishmael’s view is cited that regarding idolatry there is no requirement of “be killed rather than transgress,” and perhaps they were in doubt whether the law follows him and resolved it from the frogs. But if it was in public, as Tosafot say, that is not relevant.[3]
Rabbenu Tam answers:
Rabbenu Tam explains that the image Nebuchadnezzar made was not idolatry at all, but an effigy made to his own honor. Therefore it says “what did they see.” So it seems from the verse “Your god we do not serve, and the golden image we will not bow to”—implying that “his god” and “the image” are two different things. It also fits what we say in Ketubot 33b: “Had they flogged Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, they would have served the image.” And if it were idolatry—Heaven forbid that they would have bowed to it! (Granted, the word “served” is difficult.) And R. Yose explains: What did they see that they did not flee, for before the act they could have fled, as Daniel did, as it says in Helek (Sanhedrin 93a): three were in that counsel.
Rabbenu Tam explains that the statue was not idolatry at all but an honorific monument to Nebuchadnezzar; they were asked only to honor him, not to serve idolatry. If so, there was no demand to commit idolatry. Seemingly, that does not resolve the difficulty, for in a public setting one must give up one’s life even for a minor prohibition. It seems Rabbenu Tam’s intent is not merely that there was no idolatry—but that there was no prohibition at all.
If so, what was their dilemma? Why give up their lives if they were not being asked to transgress? Apparently, in the circumstances, refusing to bow to Nebuchadnezzar (even if he was not demanding a transgression) would constitute sanctification of God’s Name. The question was whether that requires—or is even worthwhile—martyrdom. But if honoring Nebuchadnezzar would constitute a ḥillul Hashem (desecration of God’s Name), then for that very “transgression” one would have to give up his life in public—and Tosafot’s question returns: what was their dilemma? It seems this is a case where the symmetry between sanctification and desecration of the Name breaks down. We tend to think that wherever doing X is a sanctification of the Name, refraining from X is a desecration—and vice versa (see Rambam, Yesodei HaTorah 5:1). But there are cases where the situations are not symmetric (see ibid. 5:11, though it is not entirely clear). For example, returning a lost object to a gentile is a sanctification of the Name, but refraining (when no one knows) is not a desecration. Similarly, showing honor to Nebuchadnezzar is not necessarily a desecration; but refusing to submit to him is an act of sanctification. Thus there was no obligation to give up life for a transgression, and still there is room to consider whether one should (though perhaps not must) give up life for sanctification of the Name. Perhaps that was their dilemma.
Explaining the kal va-chomer
We can now explain the comparison to frogs. According to Rabbenu Tam, the dilemma was whether to give up life for sanctification of the Name when they were not being asked to transgress. What were the two sides? Likely the sense that if they did not die and remained alive, they could serve God and do many more good deeds, bringing much benefit to the Master of the world (in the previous series I discussed the “globalist” perspective, from which a person weighs considerations from the vantage point of benefit to the Master of the world). Seemingly, God would prefer that they not die, rather than the one-time benefit of dying for sanctification of the Name. The assumption is that if God created us, He wants us and our deeds. We bring Him benefit by serving Him during our lives. Thus the question of martyrdom is not only a personal loss calculation but also alignment with the Creator’s plan (a global consideration of maximizing benefit from His perspective).
Enter the frogs. Precisely because they lack free choice, their “decision” to enter hot ovens and die is not their own decision. It is their nature—indeed, it is the act of God. He is the One who made them enter the ovens and die. The assumption is that frogs too were created by Him and thus also serve Him in some sense (see Perek Shirah on the frog that sings before Him, and Column 115 and here). And yet, God made them enter the ovens—meaning that by His reckoning, they would bring Him more benefit by giving up their lives for the sanctification of His Name than by continuing to live. That is precisely the answer to the dilemma of Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. Note that the comparison is made because of the difference between them and humans. If it were their own choice, we could not learn anything from it—frogs are not halakhic authorities. But precisely the fact that they lack choice indicates that this is God’s policy, and thus we may learn from it. Therefore the Talmud indeed notes that they are not commanded regarding sanctifying the Name whereas we are—this is the basis of the kal va-chomer. It is not a refutation, as it might first seem, but the very logic that grounds it.[4]
Needless to say, this comparison is also not free of problems: human life is presumably of far greater value to God, so it is not clear how it can be compared to the lives of frogs. But here one can indeed say that the aggadic genre does not really intend a comparison to frogs; it uses them as an illustration of the consideration I described. Todus claims that Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, in effect, made (or, more precisely: could have made) God’s calculation and concluded that the one-time act of martyrdom is preferable to continued life—just as with the frogs. That is quite a significant claim—enough to see its proponent as a great man.
Explaining Rashi’s approach
Tosafot themselves hesitate whether to explain that Nebuchadnezzar’s image was not idolatry. The plain sense of the verses indicates that it was. Rashi also implies that he understood it as martyrdom to avoid a transgression (precisely what Tosafot question). I now wish to argue that even on that assumption one can offer exactly the same explanation of the kal va-chomer.
Consider a case where they were being asked to transgress, and they knew that since it was in public they were halakhically required to give up their lives. A person in such a situation naturally finds all kinds of justifications for why he should not die. I have mentioned (in Column 62 and elsewhere) the words of the Ḥasid Ya’avetz, one of the exiles from Spain, who said that simple folk stood up to the trial of forced conversion far more than scholars. The reason is that simple folk know they must give up their lives—and they do so. Scholars, by contrast, know the halakhah and the ways to minimize the gravity of the prohibition and escape the need to pay the price of exile or martyrdom—especially where the price is heavy and the temptation to find halakhic justifications grows. They will serve idolatry with the left hand and without intent, and tell themselves that in so doing they are exempt. The heavy price exacted can lead a person to believe that these justifications are available even when they are not. Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah may have been in a similar position. They were required to give up their lives, and it is entirely possible that they entertained justifications of the type: surely God does not want this; surely He would prefer that they remain alive and continue to serve Him and benefit the world.
Because they were great men, they sought to test these justifications before deciding. They looked at the frogs and told themselves what I described above: apparently God prefers martyrdom even at the price of foregoing the ongoing good and benefit they could bring Him. Thus they rejected the counsel of their inclination. If so, the comparison to frogs that I described above can explain Todus’s reasoning even if we assume (unlike Tosafot) that Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah were asked to transgress, and despite the fact that they had a clear halakhic obligation to give up their lives.
A side lesson: how to contend with the evil inclination
We can learn an important lesson. Sometimes a student or young man comes to a rabbi raising questions of faith. A common approach is to treat such questions as answers: the assumption is that he is not truly troubled by the questions but is using them to justify (to provide rational-intellectual cover for) his desires. He wants to permit himself sexual licentiousness and backs it with the claim that he has theological difficulties. That will justify leaving religious and halakhic commitment and present it (to others and to himself) as a rational, well-grounded step rather than yielding to desire. The assumption is: “They worshiped the stars only in order to permit themselves sexual immorality in public” (Sanhedrin 63b). Many rabbis in such a case will say there is no point in answering such questions, for they are really answers. What is needed is to hug him and give him warmth and love.
If I take the measure they take—i.e., reduce that rabbi psychologically (as he did to the young man)—I would say what I have said before: this is a very convenient exit for those who do not have answers. Giving warmth and love is much easier than seriously addressing the difficulties. It is also more convenient, for it is easy for a person to believe that his stance is free of problems and that he need not examine himself. Easiest of all is to think the problems are only with the questioner, not—God forbid—with us.
Beyond that, I object to this approach on two grounds: (1) How can one determine that these are not genuine questions but the counsel of the inclination? In most cases one cannot—so the rabbi who treats them that way, at least in those cases, does so because it is convenient for him or because he has no answers. It is entirely possible these are genuine difficulties that demand a response. (2) Even if indeed the inclination is the fundamental motivation and the questions only provide rational-intellectual cover, it is still important and right to answer the difficulties. If the difficulties are answered satisfactorily, that young man may not yield to his desires (for he himself raises the difficulties because he does not want to take the step without rational-intellectual backing).
The interpretation I proposed for the kal va-chomer of Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah is based on the notion that a person sometimes genuinely seeks justifications for a step he himself understands is improper. He is moved by desires and finds rational cover for them (see Column 199 on “the Hindik” and on dual consciousness). And still, it is important to contend with those justifications on their merits—and doing so can prevent the very step in question even if the desire, not the reason, is the true underlying force.
Another kal va-chomer
In Columns 120 and 170 I discussed a puzzling kal va-chomer regarding the qiqayon at the end of the Book of Jonah. I have already presented the difficulty and my explanations there, so here I will only point out its connection to Todus’s kal va-chomer and the discussion we have just had. That kal va-chomer is similar to Todus’s in two respects (beyond both being a fortiori arguments): Todus strangely compared human beings to frogs; there, the kal va-chomer strangely compares Jonah’s considerations to God’s. Beyond that, I will show that the underlying framework is similar in both cases (both concern the contribution human beings make to God).
The Book of Jonah revolves around a debate between God and Jonah regarding his mission to Nineveh. Its people were sinful, and God sends Jonah to bring them to repentance and to warn that if they do not repent Nineveh will be overturned. Jonah refuses to comply. I once saw an explanation (I think in an essay by Prof. Aviezer, which I could not now locate, but I assume it appears elsewhere) that Jonah essentially disagreed in principle with God’s policy. In his view, sinners should die because they do not fulfill their purpose, and God ought not to give them the option of repenting and being saved.
The book ends in a crescendo whose peak is the discussion around the qiqayon:
“And Jonah left the city and sat to the east of the city; he made himself a booth there and sat under it in the shade, till he would see what would happen in the city. And the Lord God appointed a qiqayon, and it came up over Jonah to be shade over his head to save him from his discomfort; and Jonah rejoiced over the qiqayon with great joy. And God appointed a worm when the dawn rose on the morrow, and it struck the qiqayon and it withered. And it came to pass when the sun rose that God appointed a sultry east wind, and the sun beat upon the head of Jonah and he fainted, and he asked that he might die, and said, ‘Better my death than my life.’ And God said to Jonah, ‘Do you do well to be angry about the qiqayon?’ And he said, ‘I do well to be angry, unto death.’ And the Lord said, ‘You have had pity on the qiqayon for which you did not labor and did not make grow, which came up in a night and perished in a night. And I—should I not have pity on Nineveh, the great city, wherein are more than one hundred and twenty thousand persons who cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand, and many cattle as well?’”
God’s kal va-chomer seems very puzzling. Apparently, Jonah did not pity the qiqayon but himself; he needed the shade it provided. God, by contrast, certainly does not need Nineveh—He pities it. So what room is there for a comparison? It calls to mind Todus’s comparison between people and frogs.
I explained the comparison there in two ways—one the focus of Column 120 and the other of Column 170: (1) In Column 120 I discussed the existence of altruistic actions. I argued that the mere fact that Jonah had an interest does not mean he did not pity the qiqayon. The existence of an interest does not prove that the action was only interest-driven and not altruistic. Jonah may indeed have needed the plant, but at the same time he also pitied it. (2) In Column 170 I discussed “the secret of avodah tzorekh gavoah,” focusing on the opposite resolution. I proposed there that God too does not only pity Nineveh—He needs it. “The secret of avodah tzorekh gavoah” says that God created us because He needs us. It is a “secret,” for theologies commonly maintain that a perfect Being cannot need mortal, frail creatures like us. What could be lacking to Him that we can do for Him? What does He lack and need? But as the Ari learns from the verse “Give strength to God,” the truth is that He indeed needs us—and for that He created us.[5]
In Column 170 I cited that in the second volume of Orot HaKodesh, R. Kook (the Ra’ayah) explains the secret of “service as a need of the Most High” through the problem of perfection and hishtalmut (self-perfecting). His claim is that a perfect entity cannot exist, for one of the perfections is the very capacity for hishtalmut—becoming more complete. Hishtalmut is not merely a means to arrive at a more complete state; it has value in itself. If so, then to a perfect entity this perfection is necessarily lacking: it cannot become more complete, for it is already perfect. We thus learn that by virtue of being perfect it lacks the perfection of being perfectible—hence, it is not truly perfect. I explained there that, per R. Kook, the potential for hishtalmut exists in God, but it cannot be actualized except through deficient creatures like us, who, because of our deficiencies, can become more complete. When we perfect ourselves, we do something for God that He Himself cannot do—we bring His potential for hishtalmut from potential to actual.[6]
This sheds quite a different light on the debate between God and Jonah. We can now understand that God’s claim to Jonah is that the very purpose and justification of human existence lies in our sinning and repenting (hishtalmut). Were God to destroy every person or society that sins, there would be no point to their existence. Perfect creatures would not provide Him the benefit for which all Creation was brought into being. Hence the dispute over the repentance of Nineveh’s inhabitants concerns the entire thrust of the book. The comparison to the qiqayon teaches Jonah that just as he needs the plant for shade, God needs human beings to bring His potential for hishtalmut into actuality. Therefore, not only does God act beyond the letter of the law to enable our repentance; much more than that: a world of wholly righteous people would be, from His perspective, superfluous. The world was created so that we would sin and return.[7]
The relationship between the two topics
At first glance there is a contradiction between these two topics. In Todus’s kal va-chomer we see that the benefit we bring God should not prevail over our duty to give up our lives; the benefit we bring Him by living does not justify avoiding martyrdom. That would suggest that God does not really need us. Whereas in Jonah we see the opposite: God needs us and does not want us destroyed, even if we have sinned; our continued life benefits Him more, and He is unwilling to forgo it.
One can say there is no contradiction, for perhaps the benefit our martyrdom provides Him surpasses the benefit of our continued lives. That is a quantitative consideration. Beyond that, there is a difference in vantage point. From God’s perspective, He prefers that we continue to live rather than die. But from our perspective, if there is an obligation or value to martyrdom, then that is what we must do—not wrangle with tendentious considerations allegedly made from God’s perspective (again, see the recent series about this), in the spirit of “Why involve yourself with the hidden matters of the Merciful?” (Behedi k’vassya d’Raḥmana lama lakh). We must leave His considerations to Him; we are to fulfill our obligations.
This is akin to the well-known “contradiction” between Abraham’s response to the plan to destroy Sodom—there he bargains with God like a market peddler—and his immediate, unhesitating readiness to bind his son Isaac. Here too the difference is vantage point: when it is a task laid upon you, you are not meant to philosophize—you are to carry it out as commanded. That we can learn from the frogs. But if you are a neutral party, you may view the picture from God’s vantage point and even contend with Him over what brings Him more benefit, as we see in the Book of Jonah.
[1] In my searches I now saw quite a few modern, foolish treatments (as is common in the field) of this kal va-chomer. I will mention only two that are more reasonable and worth reading: this one by R. Brandes and this one by Yaakov Meir (I was told it also appears in the “Yomi” group on Facebook).
[2] Of course I do not mean to say that Ḥananiah, Mishael, and Azariah actually made this calculation—and I am sure Rashi did not think so either. But he did think they could have made it, i.e., that it is a serious consideration from which halakhic conclusions can be drawn.
[3] The Maharsha here cites R. Yishmael and suggests perhaps it was not public because there were not ten Jews present.
[4] The question here is why this is a kal va-chomer and not merely an analogy. One might say the a fortiori form is rhetorical flourish and it is in fact only a comparison. But perhaps it is truly an a fortiori. As the Talmud itself describes, the kal va-chomer is based on the fact that we are commanded to sanctify God’s Name while frogs are not. If so, in our case there is more benefit to God and a greater sanctification of the Name.
[5] In a certain sense this means that God Himself does not act altruistically, for Creation was for His sake, not ours. In fact, it is not plausible that Creation was for our sake, for without Creation we would not exist at all. Logically, it is hard to accept that a being is brought into existence for its own sake: if it did not exist, there would be no one to care for. But perhaps with respect to God, caring for Himself is not egoism, for there altruism and egoism converge. Caring for God’s perfection is our altruism—and perhaps also His. (Again we return to the recent series, in which I discussed global considerations—i.e., considerations made from the vantage point of benefit to God.)
[6] See also the final lecture in the series on God and the world.
[7] I have already mentioned the ḥasidic reading of “I will sin and repent,” according to which it describes a person who thinks he wants ab initio to sin and then repent in order to attain the exalted level of a penitent, which is higher than that of a perfectly righteous person. Here one can see the conceptual root of that idea.
Discussion
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*When the Sha'agat Aryeh kissed the Vilna Gaon*
The Gemara in Pesachim 53b (just a few days ago in the Daf Yomi) says: "What did Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah see that led them to give themselves over for the sanctification of God's name to the fiery furnace? They derived an a fortiori argument on their own from the frogs. If frogs, which are not commanded regarding sanctification of God's name, of them it is written, 'and they shall come up and enter your house, and your ovens, and your kneading bowls'… then we, who are commanded regarding sanctification of God's name, all the more so."
The Sha'agat Aryeh asked: this is a refuted a fortiori argument, for the frogs were indeed commanded regarding sanctification of God's name, since it says, "and they shall come up and enter"!
The Vilna Gaon was there, only 7 years old, and replied:
True, the frogs were commanded to enter the ovens, but they were not commanded only about that; they were also commanded regarding the beds and the bedrooms. If so, every frog could have said to its fellows: you enter the oven, and I will enter the bed or the room.
Yet since it entered the oven anyway, despite not being specifically commanded to do so, it follows that the a fortiori argument stands.
And they tell that when the Sha'agat Aryeh heard this, he jumped from his place, lifted up the Vilna Gaon, and kissed him on the forehead.
Two roaring lions meet, and neither of them is bothered by the fact that frogs have no free choice, so the a fortiori argument is refuted.
By the way, they tell that when they met again in the Vilna Gaon's adulthood, he said to the Sha'agat Aryeh: you in the revealed realm, and I in the hidden.
To the best of my knowledge, the issue of animal consciousness and choice is a complex topic that is disputed among researchers. You surely know Yuval Noah Harari's claims.
As for consciousness, I know about it (and as far as I understand there is no evidence either way), but as for choice—no. There isn't even evidence regarding humans, so with animals I don't see how one could show scientifically that they have choice.
And as for Yuval Noah Harari, I hope he's not the "researcher" you're relying on. A major windbag who deals in things he has no understanding of.
For our purposes, of course, this makes no difference, because even if you think otherwise, the overwhelming majority of commentators presumably assume that animals have no free choice, so there is still room for discussion according to their view.
The entire post leads to the "analytic" conclusion according to which God (the perfect being, or perfection) is a linguistic fiction. For the perfect is logically bound from the outset to that same additional "perfecting" value that creatures grant Him. That is, God by definition will attain His final goal only retroactively, when creatures complete their contribution to Him. As long as time, and the history that develops upon it, have not exhausted the process to its end, there is not really a separate and "perfect" entity (that initiated that process in the first place…). So what does exist? What exists is a concept of "God" that is necessarily empty of content, since this concept itself is gradually formed in the course of history in the minds of creatures, without any actual counterpart in a separate world. In other words: the definition of God will acquire its "reference" (in Frege's term) only at the end of the process. Anyone familiar with Hegel's argument about the "true infinite" and the "bad infinite" will recognize this immediately.
Doron, I get the impression that you are well versed in philosophy, and precisely because of that I am surprised every time anew to discover strange logical leaps in your arguments.
By your logic, I myself do not really exist now. I will come into actuality only when I finish my biographical development. Until then nothing exists, and in the end I will pop out of the vacuum and be created ex nihilo.
The fact that the Holy One, blessed be He, at the moment before creation is not perfect—even if for the sake of argument I accept that claim—does not mean that He does not exist then. He exists in the imperfect phase and then creates the world as part of His own completion. How do you get from here to the claim that God is a linguistic fiction? I keep scratching my forehead again and again, but I cannot extract an answer from it. It is as perplexed as I am.
Not to mention that by now He is indeed already perfect, since we are in the middle of the process of perfection, and that itself is what completes Him.
Speaking of logical leaps…
I hope you won't be offended that I find it hard to behave as you do and make a gezerah shavah (there, I've adopted yeshivish language) from your existence to that of your Creator.
God "exists in His imperfect phase"…? Do you understand that sentence? Does it have any meaning at all? Is the reference of the concept "God," in your view, an entity that develops in time (in the course of history!) like human beings, elephants, or galaxies? The day will come and God, if He works hard, will finally achieve His desire to exist in a perfect phase…
In the meantime, you are left without God in your bag, but with a great deal of "God." Analyticity, as we said?
That is not a gezerah shavah but an analogy or illustration. Not very difficult to understand. And indeed, the claim is that God is a developing entity (through us). Exactly as you and I are developing entities. How do you get from here to the claim that He is a linguistic fiction? Perhaps you have the answer…
Or perhaps you are presenting the following pilpul: 1. God is defined as the perfect being (even though there is no such thing as perfect). 2. Perfection is an empty term, since the perfect cannot perfect itself and therefore is not perfect. Conclusion: God does not exist.
That is of course a fallacy, since the required conclusion is that definition 1 is nonsense. The conclusion is that God is not perfect (because there is no such thing as perfect). Indeed, you are right that something defined in an empty and self-contradictory way does not exist, but God certainly does exist.
With God's help, 4 Shevat
Todus's learning from the self-sacrifice of the frogs says that our self-sacrifice to do God's will must be without too many calculations, but rather as an existential instinct—somewhat like Rabbi Akiva's words to Pappos that we are like fish that cannot separate from the water, which is our place of life.
Moreover, according to the version in Midrash Tehillim 28, in Todus's view it was דווקא the frogs "that made themselves complete to sanctify the name of the Holy One, blessed be He" that remained alive: "all the frogs died, but those that went down into the oven did not die, because they gave themselves over to burning in order to fulfill the decree of the Holy One, blessed be He."
Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah learned the a fortiori argument, according to Todus there, from the rescue of the frogs that entered the oven: "If the frogs, who have neither ancestral merit nor covenant, by giving themselves over and sacrificing themselves for the sanctification of God's name did not die, then we, who are the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and have ancestral merit and are commanded concerning sanctification of God's name—all the more so" that there is hope of being saved.
Regards, Simchah Fishel HaLevi Plankton
In contrast to Todus of Rome, who sees self-sacrifice for the word of God as an existential need of the Jew, his fellow townsman Plation of Rome sees self-sacrifice as part of the process of repentance and rectification for the sin that brought about the exile, as he says there: "Plation of Rome said: They expounded it from the Torah, as it is said: 'And from there you will seek the Lord your God, and you will find Him.'"
Plation has an exposition about Torah as an existential need—thus, according to him (Shir HaShirim Rabbah 8:1), "Mount Sinai was uprooted and stood over the heads of Israel"—but in the process of repentance it is not enough to receive Torah through "the mountain being held over them like a barrel"; here a renewed acceptance is needed, out of conscious decision: "And from there you will seek the Lord your God, and you will find Him, if you seek Him with all your heart and with all your soul."
Regards, Ami'oz Yaron Schnitzler
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… Plation has an exposition …
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… a renewed acceptance out of decision …
With God's help, 4 Shevat 5781
The Vilna Gaon's explanation—that every frog had the option of finding somewhere else to enter—fits well with the view of Ri, that Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah could have avoided bowing to the image by fleeing elsewhere, and nevertheless chose to remain so that there would be a sanctification of God's name in deed and openly, and not merely avoidance of desecration of the Name in a way no one would notice. This they learned from the frogs that entered the oven, even though they could have slipped away elsewhere.
Regards, Yifa'or
And perhaps the frogs held like Kant's view, that one must follow the "categorical imperative," for if every frog dodges off to another place, God's command "and they shall come… into your ovens and into your kneading bowls" would be nullified. The categorical imperative is what obligates there to be a frog that volunteers to enter the oven 🙂
One may say that Todus learned from the frogs the way of public struggle, which must involve charging at the enemy, even if some of those charging are harmed in the course of the assault.
The frogs charge the Egyptian's house in order to conquer it and make it their territory. They receive an order from the leader of the pack to penetrate every possible space, and they carry it out without calculating what their personal fate will be.
From here Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah learn, according to Todus, the tactic that must be adopted toward the king's decree to bow to the image: not to bow the head and not to flee, but to look the thugs straight in the eye and refuse. Then some of the protesters will be killed, but there is no way they will kill them all. In the end, the king/emperor will understand that his decree cannot be enforced without uprooting all the Jews, and the king will not do that, because after all he needs submissive taxpayers and governmental stability.
Plation, the man of spirit (named after the well-known philosopher), explains the refusal to bow to the image as a spiritual act: "And from there you will seek the Lord your God." Todus, the man of action, learns from the frogs that taking risks is an effective tactic of public struggle. Emperors are not eager to break all the rules with their subjects, and most likely the "status quo" exempting Jews from the imperial cult will be restored.
Regards, Akiva Yosef HaLevi Radetzky.
Maybe one really need not toil here more than with other aggadot. The proof that Todus was a great man is that his words were engraved into a baraita, even without directly judging the content of the words. And the content itself is indeed a refutable a fortiori argument, but as you explained about every derashah, one judges not the inference but the claim itself, and if it comes to teach fear of Heaven and commitment to the Holy One, blessed be He, beyond the letter of the law, then more power to him and strength to the Torah. Therefore the commentators need not deal with the a fortiori argument itself—that the frogs have no free choice—but they do need to deal (and Tosafot do deal) with the very need to propose a source for Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, that is, with the notion that they did something that was not a full and ordinary halakhic obligation.
I rest my case
Those who inserted his words into the baraita also made some kind of judgment. Why did they do so?
And if this is merely homiletics, then there is no explanation why the Rishonim nevertheless discuss it. These are chit-chats for ordinary laymen, and one should not judge them in halakhic terms.
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… that the 'status quo' exempting Jews from the king's cult will be restored.
The essence of the analytic position, which is your position in this case, is the blurring of the distinction—Platonic at its foundation—between form and content. This blurring is also the attempt to erase the clear hierarchy in which being (content or perfection) necessarily precedes becoming (form or perfecting).
The analytic model wants to subordinate everything to form, that is, to logic, and this is expressed in placing central emphasis on the inferential side of logic, that is, the inferential "transition" from premise to conclusion. In effect, the analytic stance tries to "intensify" rationality by grounding all our claims on pure inferences, but it ends its course in a suicidal act—the emptying of every claim of content is also the emptying of itself.
Your assumption that God Himself changes reinforces precisely this point. In a world where even God changes identity all the time, one cannot even speak of rationality. This is in effect the destruction of the objective Archimedean point for the world and its laws.
If even so the analyst chooses to say something—and in practice he always does—then according to his own method his speech is empty of content.
In the context of the question before us, the synthetic thinker understands that the assumption of the eternal and unchanging perfection of the deity arouses a "strangeness" that is hard to digest. The point is that when he looks to the side, he sees the analytic option, which is far worse. Therefore he continues to adhere to his position. It is not perfect rationality, but it is the most that can be achieved.
Josephus tells (Wars, Book 2, Chapter 10) of the attempt by the emperor Gaius Caligula to place his statue in the Temple. For this purpose he sent Petronius with a large military force to carry it out. After masses of Jews pleaded with Petronius near Acre not to place an image in the Sanctuary, Petronius assembled thousands of Jews near Tiberias to warn them that their refusal constituted a declaration of war against the emperor.
Then, Josephus relates:
"The Jews replied that they offer sacrifices twice daily for the welfare of the emperor and the Romans; but if he wishes to set up the images in the Sanctuary, then he must first slaughter the whole Jewish people, for they will willingly surrender themselves to slaughter together with their children and wives."
Petronius's impression of the Jews' courage, and also his fear of the ruin of the land, since the Jews refrained from dispersing and going to sow their fields, led him to take a risk and delay carrying out the emperor's order, and to petition him to revoke it. The emperor grew very angry with Petronius and ordered him executed, but before the order reached the land, the emperor had already been murdered and his decree was annulled.
According to another source, Agrippa I, Caligula's friend, intervened and brought about the cancellation of the decree, but the emperor ordered Petronius to commit suicide on the charge that he had yielded to Jewish pressure; yet he was saved because Caligula was murdered.
In any case, we have seen here that the resolute declaration of masses of Jews of their willingness to sacrifice their lives in order to prevent implementation of the decree ultimately succeeded in stopping and even canceling the Roman attempt to place an image in the Sanctuary. Roman generals were not eager to bring about war with their determined subjects.
Regards, Ben-Zion Yohanan Korinaldi-Radetzky
"Logically it is not reasonable to accept that some creature was created for its own sake, because if it did not exist there would be no need to care (there would be no one to care for)."
The claim seems puzzling on its face—why does it matter that there was no need to care? Still, if it lives a good life then its creation would be a good thing for it.
Once someone exists, it makes sense to care that his condition be good. But to create him so that his condition will be good is absurd. Don't create him, and nobody will be lacking anything.
I liked the explanation. Structurally, it recalls Rabbi Tarfon's words: "If about the tooth and eye, which are one limb among his limbs, the slave goes free through them, then all the more so for his whole body" (a proof from frog to frog reveals the difference in level between a person who sanctifies God in his life and one who gives up his life).
But it seems simpler to me that when Hazal attributed miraculous and non-natural behavior to an animal, or even to inanimate matter, they also attributed choice to it as part of the whole package.
We also find that the earth disobeyed God's command. And animals were also rewarded for good deeds. All the terms of command and reward, according to Rambam, also require choice.
So one should not discuss the question of free choice with regard to a frog that jumps into fire from an ordinary croaking frog.
With God's help, 7 Shevat 5781
Rabbi Aryeh Stern, Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem, explains (in his lecture "The Plague of Frogs and Sanctification of the Name," on the Yeshivat Kerem B'Yavneh website) on the basis of the words of Nimukei Yosef (Sanhedrin 18a in the Rif pages):
"But if he is a great person, pious and God-fearing, and sees that the generation is lax in this matter, he is permitted to sanctify the Name and give himself over even for a minor commandment, so that the people may see and learn to fear God and love Him with all their heart.
And this is what we say: 'What did Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah see that they cast themselves into the fiery furnace'—that is, and did not bow to the image, for it was not actual idolatry but only a royal statue for mere honor? Rather, because most were mistaken and thought it was idolatry, there was sanctification of the Name in what they did.
And we also say in the Midrash: 'Why are you going out to be stoned? Because I circumcised my son. Why are you going out to be burned? Because I took the lulav'—which implies that they were giving themselves over for the sanctification of the Name beyond the letter of the law, for certainly they were not obligated to do so even at a time of persecution, since it was in their power to evade and avoid it. But even so they were killed because the time required it."
According to Rambam, apparently it is impossible to explain it this way, for he wrote in Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah 5:4 that a person may not be stringent with himself and be killed where the Torah did not obligate him to do so. Also in Sefer HaMitzvot (positive commandment 9), where he cited the learning of Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah from the frogs, this is specifically "when a coercive tyrant comes upon us and asks us to deny Him, may He be exalted." And according to Rambam it still requires clarification.
Regards, Yifa'or
But that is exactly what I explained here.
As for Rambam, in my opinion there is no difficulty. It is clear to me that he too agrees that it is permitted (perhaps only if it is a great person) to decide that the time requires it and to sacrifice one's life. What he writes is that one should not make such a decision merely in order to be stringent, and that is what Tosafot dispute. That seems completely straightforward to me.
With God's help, 15 Shevat 5781
To Ramda"a—greetings,
In the "Epistle on Apostasy," Rambam writes concerning Nebuchadnezzar's image: "And it is known what happened to Israel in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the wicked, and that everyone who was in Babylon bowed to the image except Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah… and it is possible that the craftsmen and the smiths were among those who bowed… and nevertheless we have never seen anyone call them wicked, or gentiles, or disqualified as witnesses, nor did God, blessed be He, reckon to them the sin of idolaters, because they were under compulsion; and thus our Sages said: 'They acted only outwardly, and so I too will act only outwardly with them in the days of Haman'" (Letters of Rambam, ed. R. Yosef Kapach, p. 111).
It seems that the image was idolatry, except that one should not regard one who bowed to it as wicked or an idolater, because he was compelled and "did it only outwardly" (and as Rambam wrote in Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah that even in a case where one must give up one's life, if one transgressed and did not give up his life, he is under compulsion and exempt).
Regarding the persecution in his own day in North Africa, Rambam wrote (ibid., p. 118) that since they do not coerce one to violate the Torah through an action, "for this coercion does not obligate any person to do any deed, but speech alone, and they know very well that we do not believe in that speech, and it is only in the mouth of the speaker in order to save himself from the king and to appease him with simple words.
And anyone who is killed in order not to acknowledge the mission of that man—nothing should be said of him except that he did what is right and good, and he has great reward before God, and his rank is a supreme rank, for he gave up his life for the sanctification of the Name, blessed and exalted be He.
But one who comes to ask us whether he should be killed or acknowledge— we say to him that he should acknowledge and not be killed; but he should not remain in the kingdom of that king, rather he should stay in his house until he can leave, and if he needs the work of his hands, he should work in secret. For never has there been heard such a wondrous persecution as this, in which they compel only speech and nothing else. And it does not appear from the words of our Sages, of blessed memory, that they would say, 'Let him be killed and not say one word where there is no action'; rather, one is killed when they compel him to do an act or to say something concerning which he is warned" (p. 118).
Rabbi Kapach writes in a note that from Rambam's words in Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah, where Rambam wrote that in a case where they said "transgress and do not be killed"—if one is killed, he is liable for his own life—it seems that he retracted what he wrote in the "Epistle on Apostasy." However, he cites what the Kesef Mishneh wrote in the name of the Nimukei Yosef, that even according to Rambam, "if he is a great person and sees that the generation is lax in this matter, he is permitted to sanctify the Name and give up his life even for a minor commandment, so that the people may see and learn to fear God and to love Him with all their heart."
In my humble opinion, it seems that Rambam's words in the "Epistle on Apostasy," where he did not make the permission to give up one's life conditional on "a great person who sees that the generation is lax," reflect an intermediate case. It is more severe than coercion to commit an ordinary transgression (not one of the three cardinal sins), where he ruled in Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah that one may not be stringent and give up one's life, because here the Jew was required to appear by his speech as one who denies the Torah.
Since this is an "intermediate case," a person is permitted to give up his life so as not to appear as one who denies the Torah, but he is not obligated to do so, since he is not being required to transgress in action one of the three cardinal sins.
Regards, Ami'oz Yaron Schnitzler
With God's help, 4 Shevat 5781
It seems to me that Todus of Rome, unlike the owner of this site—see—attached great value to cultivating the experiential inner world of one who serves God. Therefore he thought that it was not enough merely to make a memorial to the Paschal offering; there was also a need for an experiential reenactment of the occasion by eating the kid roasted whole, with its legs and entrails, and at this point the Sages opposed him "because it looks like eating consecrated meat outside [the Temple precincts]."
So too, the a fortiori argument from the frogs does not teach the obligation itself to give up one's life for the sanctification of God's name; rather, it gives a person the inner psychological strength to do what is required. Apparently Todus lived at the time of one of the decrees of the Roman emperors. Some wish to associate him with Hadrian's decrees of religious persecution, and some (Prof. M. D. Herr) connect Todus with Domitian's attempt to force the Jews to practice the imperial cult.
Todus's exposition of the a fortiori argument—that he learned from the frogs, who jumped into the ovens in order to fulfill God's command even though they had not been commanded regarding sanctification of the Name—was what gave the Jews strength to stand stubbornly against the emperor's thugs, who might murder them or torture them cruelly if they did not comply with the emperor's decree. A learned persuasion about the duty to give up one's life will not necessarily help a person who sees the soldier's drawn sword in front of him, but the example of the frog jumping into the oven "without making calculations" and against its natural instinct—that example "does it."
The deep understanding of the traits of the human soul is also what led Todus to assist the Sages by "placing merchandise into their purse," that is, investing money in the hands of the Sages so that they would engage in a business venture that would bring profit to both the investor and the one conducting the venture. In this way there is no active giver and passive receiver; rather, an economic partnership is created, in which both the giver and the receiver are partners in creating it.
The business arrangement helps the Torah scholar earn a respectable livelihood and profit, but does not exempt him from laboring for his livelihood; and likewise the wealthy man relates to him not as to a poor man receiving charity, but as a partner, both on the spiritual plane and on the economic one. Making a business arrangement with someone in need is described by Hazal as one of the finest forms of charity, a way that preserves the recipient's dignity in the optimal manner.
Indeed, Todus was a "great man" in wisdom of the soul.
Regards, Yaron Fishel Korinaldi