Does Every Verse Teach the Opposite of What It Says? (Column 411)
The yeshiva assumption: if there is a verse, there is probably no sevara
The essay opens with an amusing example: a wife cites “Whatever Sarah tells you, heed her voice” as proof that a husband must obey his wife, and the learned husband replies that the verse proves exactly the opposite: had that been the norm, Abraham would not have needed a special command. From there the essay presents a broader yeshiva mode of thought: when a rule has a verse as its source, people tend to treat it as a “gezerat hakatuv,” that is, a rule not grounded in sevara. So instead of seeing the verse as the source and the sevara as the explanation, they are treated as though they were two competing alternatives. The example of “one does not punish on the basis of inference” illustrates this: what should simply be one source and two rationales is sometimes presented as three separate views.
Why binyan av, two verses, and klal ufrat contradict this assumption
The essay argues that this move cannot be a sweeping interpretive rule. Hazal and the Rishonim repeatedly extend a principle learned from one biblical setting to halakhah as a whole through binyan av. The clearest example is “a positive command overrides a prohibition,” which is learned from tzitzit and kilayim but applies far beyond that case. The rule “two verses that come together do not teach” also rests on the opposite assumption: that one verse does teach the whole Torah, and only when two similar sources are written do we understand that the Torah blocked the expansion. The same is true of the method of klal ufrat, which is understood as neutralizing the binyan av we would have made from the פרט had it stood alone. So one should not automatically identify every biblical source with a local rule or with “the opposite of what it says.”
The proposed criterion: in a derashah, sevara does not replace the verse but directs it
The criterion the essay proposes turns on the distinction between an explicit verse and a derashah, and between different kinds of sevara. In an explicit verse there may indeed be a rule with no accessible rationale, and in such a case there is sometimes nothing to extend beyond the written novelty. A derashah is different: the hermeneutic rules provide only a textual trigger, but they do not determine what exactly to include, exclude, or compare. The expositor’s sevara decides that. In a gezerah shavah one must decide what is transferred from A to B; in an inclusion from the word “et” one must decide what is being included. Therefore a derashah always rests on sevara as well, except that this sevara is usually too weak to found the rule on its own. The verse is not redundant, and the sevara is not redundant: they work together.
A positive command overrides a prohibition: a derashah that cannot stand alone and therefore becomes a general principle
This explains “a positive command overrides a prohibition.” The juxtaposition of tzitzit and kilayim does not by itself say which one overrides which; at least formally, one could have read it the other way as well. It is sevara that tilts the derashah toward the prohibition being overridden by the positive command. But since the conclusion does not depend on anything unique to tzitzit and kilayim, and instead rests on a general sevara that the verse validates, Hazal extend it to all of halakhah. This is the case in which there is a real sevara but not one sufficient on its own: the textual source confirms it, and so the halakhah becomes a broad principle rather than a point-specific exception.
“All fat”: why half a shiur becomes a general rule but the fat of a koy does not
The sugya of half a shiur shows clearly the difference between two uses of the same inclusion. According to Rabbi Yohanan, the prohibition of half a shiur rests both on “all fat” and on the sevara of “it can combine,” and this makes it easy to see why it applies to all prohibitions and not only to fat: the verse teaches that this sevara has halakhic force. By contrast, the same “all fat” also includes the fat of a koy. Here the Gemara does not add a parallel sevara, and the rule looks like a local application of an inclusion or like a gezerat hakatuv. That is why no one learns from here a general principle about every biblical doubt, every “qualitative half-shiur,” or other laws of a koy. The conclusion is that it is not enough to ask whether there is a verse; one must ask whether behind it there is a general sevara or only a point-specific novelty.
Returning to Abraham and Sarah: an explicit verse leaves more room for a local exception
From here the essay returns to the husband and wife. If behind “heed her voice” there stands only a weak sevara that a husband should obey his wife, the verse can be seen as support that justifies a binyan av, as the wife suggests. If it is a very strong sevara, then דווקא the fact that the Torah stated it explicitly with Abraham may hint that it is limited to that case, and perhaps even that elsewhere the law is the opposite, as the husband argues. And if there is no sevara here at all, the verse simply creates a local exception for Abraham. Since this is an explicit verse and not a derashah, that last option is genuinely available, unlike derashot, where at least some directing sevara is always required. So the essay concludes that not every verse teaches the opposite of what it says, but neither does every verse automatically become a general principle: the decision depends on the combination of the type of source and the existence and strength of the sevara.
Imagine a debate between a learned yeshiva avrech and his wife. The wife argues that the Torah itself already says, “Whatever Sarah tells you—listen to her voice,” and therefore, she claims, the husband is obligated to obey her. The husband—an experienced yeshiva bochur, as you’ll recall—keeps his cool and immediately replies: on the contrary (exactly the opposite—punkt farkert, while vigorously waving his thumb), the very fact that the Torah commanded Abraham to listen to Sarah proves that, generally speaking, there is no obligation to listen to one’s wife; otherwise Abraham wouldn’t have needed this verse. The verse is teaching that although as a rule a person need not obey his wife, Abraham did need to obey Sarah in that specific case. Thus, the verse instructing Abraham to heed Sarah actually teaches that a husband is not generally obligated to obey his wife.
As is well known, in yeshivot people say, “The opinion of laymen is the opposite of the opinion of Torah” (its source is apparently in the Sema, Choshen Mishpat 3:13: “Know that the rulings of lay householders and the rulings of learners are two opposites”). Returning to our learned couple: who is right in the debate I described—the laywoman or the lamdan?
Is every verse necessarily a “decree of Scripture” (gezerat hakatuv)?
The learned avrech’s argument rests on a mode of thinking common in yeshivot: if a given rule has a scriptural source, it apparently cannot be explained by reason alone. If there were a compelling sevara (logical rationale), the verse would be redundant (“Why do I need a verse? It is dictated by reason!”).
I’ve often mentioned R. Yosef Engel’s example (quoted in the Talmudic Encyclopedia, entry “One does not punish by derivation”), who brings three approaches to explaining the rule that we do not administer punishments learned via logical inference: (a) perhaps there is a refutation to the kal va-chomer; (b) perhaps the penalty for the lighter offense is insufficient for the more severe offense; (c) it is a gezerat hakatuv derived from “and his sister.” I have long wondered about this classification, for we don’t have three explanations here but rather two explanations and a source. Simply put, these are not three opinions but two: the source is “and his sister,” and the explanation could be either of the first two.[1] Note that this is a derash from the word “and his sister,” not an explicit verse. Below we’ll see what this implies. The reason the learned world passes over such a division with equanimity is the prevalent assumption that if there is a textual source, then the rule likely lacks a sevara-based explanation.
Every verse teaches the opposite of what it says
Notice the fascinating interpretive principle that emerges from this thinking: every verse teaches the opposite of what it states. If a verse teaches a certain principle, then apparently that principle is not true throughout the rest of halakhah; otherwise, we would not have needed a special verse to teach it in this case. Hence, such a novelty applies only to its specific context. Therefore, if a given verse yields the novelty X, we may infer that, elsewhere, principle X does not hold.
This is, essentially, what underlies the avrech’s claim: if the verse commands Abraham to listen to Sarah, then the general rule must be the reverse—one need not listen to one’s wife.
The other side of the coin
However, the term “gezerat hakatuv” is quite rare in the literature of Hazal, and it therefore seems they did not treat every law derived from a verse as a mere decree of Scripture. Moreover, as I showed in my article on gezerat hakatuv, even the laws that did receive that label have an underlying rationale. In my article on the status of sevarot I discussed the role of reason and the normative force of laws grounded in it, particularly whether such laws are fully biblical. Here I wish to focus on the relationship between reason and textual source, and specifically on whether we may apply a rationale beyond the context of its source.
The avrech’s view is of course contradicted by many Talmudic and early sources in which a principle is learned from a specific biblical context and then extended to the whole of halakhah (this is essentially the rule of binyan av). For example, the rule that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition (aseh dokheh lo ta’aseh) is learned from the juxtaposition of tzitzit and kilayim (see Yevamot 5a–b). Our avrech would likely tell us that specifically there the positive commandment of tzitzit overrides the prohibition of mixed fibers, but this would imply that, generally, the rule is the opposite—that the prohibition overrides the positive commandment (otherwise why would we need the special novelty regarding tzitzit and kilayim?). But the Gemara does not say that; rather, it assumes the novelty serves as a binyan av for all of halakhah.
We can see this from other angles too. The Talmudic rule is that “two verses that come as one do not teach” (see, e.g., Kiddushin 42b and parallels). The common explanation is that if a principle is taught from two sources in two different contexts, then apparently the principle is not universally valid. If Scripture wished to teach it as a general rule, one source would have sufficed, and we would have extended it via binyan av. The fact that the Torah needed an additional source for another legal context proves it intended the principle only in those two contexts, not as a general rule. According to this rule, applying the principle to the rest of halakhah remains undecided (you cannot learn anything from those two verses). Some expand this and write that two verses teach the reverse—that elsewhere the principle does not apply (not merely that it remains open; see, for example, here, under “Learning the Reverse”). In any case, this applies only where there are two verses. The underlying assumption is that where there is one verse, it certainly teaches for the whole of halakhah via binyan av. The same holds for “general and particular” (klal ufrat): from it we learn “only what is in the particular,” meaning we do not extend by mere similarity unless there is precise identity. The implication is that if the particular appears alone, without a preceding general, the default is to extend it via binyan av.[2]
So who, then, is truly right—the avrech or his wife? Does every verse really teach the opposite of what it states? We cannot deny that such reasoning appears in the Talmud and its commentators, and certainly in yeshivot. But, as we have seen, in most cases Talmudic inference works the other way. The right question, then, is: what is the criterion? When does a verse’s novelty remain singular—compelling us to assume the opposite elsewhere—and when does a verse serve as a binyan av for a principle that applies throughout halakhah? I will suggest a possible criterion.
A brief analysis of the source for “a positive commandment overrides a prohibition”
I mentioned the passage in Yevamot that derives the rule aseh dokheh lo ta’aseh from the juxtaposition of tzitzit and kilayim. The juxtaposition teaches that the positive commandment of tzitzit overrides the prohibition of mixed fibers; therefore, one may attach woolen tzitzit to a linen garment. The rule that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition is, of course, general—applying across halakhah. Thus, this source was indeed expanded via binyan av. Why not say the opposite: from the Torah’s need to permit kilayim in tzitzit we prove that, generally, a positive commandment does not override a prohibition?
Here the answer seems simple. Nowhere does the Torah explicitly say that tzitzit overrides kilayim. This is a derash based on juxtaposition. But juxtaposition, by itself, tells us nothing. We cannot even know for sure that it should be expounded to establish any rule of override; even if we accept that it signals some override principle, we could have learned the reverse—that a positive does not override a prohibition. What led the Sages to derive specifically that a positive overrides a prohibition? Apparently, reason (sevara) guided them. Once we concluded that we are dealing with an override rule, reason tipped the scales: it is more plausible that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition than the reverse; therefore, that is how the verse is to be expounded.
We might still ask: if there truly is a rationale underpinning this rule, why is a verse needed—“Why do I need a verse? It is dictated by reason!” The likely answer is that the rationale is not strong enough to establish the rule on its own. Without the verse, we would not have instituted such a sweeping general rule by reason alone. But once a verse cues us to derive an override rule, reason says it is more plausible that a positive overrides a prohibition than vice versa.[3] That is how the darshan decided in this case.
We still must ask why the darshan treated this as a general principle rather than as a specific instruction about tzitzit and kilayim. The likely consideration is this: the verse by itself would not have led us to this conclusion without reason’s guidance. Hence, the rule about tzitzit rests on that rationale, not on some unique feature of that case. The natural conclusion is that the verse comes to validate that rationale (i.e., to show it is not too weak). Once we understand that the rationale is sound, it is only fitting to apply it across halakhah.
Broadening the point: distinguishing between a rule learned by derash and one from the plain sense
In our article on the Fifth Shoresh we explained that the maxim “we do not expound the reason for a verse” applies only where the source is explicit in the Torah. But where a law is derived by derash, we always examine its rationale. In practice, the darshan who formulates the law invariably relies on reason. The hermeneutic rules provide merely a textual trigger that licenses derash; they do not tell us what to derive. Reason does that. For example, when identical words appear in two different contexts, the rule of gezerah shavah tells us to draw a comparison. But we must still decide: with respect to what do we compare? Do we take the law from A and apply it to B, or the reverse? At that stage it is always reason that decides.
So too with inclusions from the particle “et.” For example, the verse “You shall fear the Lord your God (et Hashem Elokecha tira)” is expounded to include reverence for Torah scholars. Let us assume the word “et” truly signals an inclusion; the question of what to include remains up to the darshan (who, in this case, struggles mightily—see Pesahim 22b). At that point, reason tells us that the verse comes to include Torah scholars (and not chairs or pigeons). And again we can ask: if there is a rationale for revering Torah scholars, why is a derash from the verse needed? Apparently the rationale is not strong enough by itself; without the verse we would not legislate this. One could even say the rationale is entirely absent (revering anyone other than God smacks of idolatry), but the “et” forces us to include something, and reason says that if we must revere anyone, it is Torah scholars (the least implausible option).[4]
This is the state of affairs for all derashot. The hermeneutic rules say that when there is a certain biblical form we must expound it (to include, compare, exclude, etc.), but the decision about what, exactly, to derive (what to include, exclude, compare, etc.) always lies with the darshan, who has no tool for that beyond his reason. As I explained, it seems the rationale is typically insufficient to stand on its own—otherwise the derash would be superfluous. Reason guides the darshan and is supplemented by the verse’s derash. This is precisely the conclusion we reached above regarding the juxtaposition of tzitzit and kilayim.
The derash from “all fat (kol chelev)” in the sugya of half-measures
The sugya of half-measures (chatzi shiur = C”Sh) provides an instructive example. Yoma 74a records a dispute between R. Yohanan and Reish Lakish regarding one who eats less than the requisite measure of a forbidden item:
To the matter itself: Half a measure—R. Yohanan says it is biblically prohibited; Reish Lakish says it is biblically permitted. R. Yohanan says it is biblically prohibited, since it is fit to combine to a full measure—he is eating an issur; Reish Lakish says it is biblically permitted: “eating,” the Torah said—and this is not [legally] “eating.” R. Yohanan challenged Reish Lakish: I have only that whoever is subject to punishment is subject to warning; as for a koy and half-measure—since they are not subject to punishment, might they also not be subject to warning? Scripture teaches: “all fat (kol chelev).” [Reish Lakish responds:] It is rabbinic, and the verse is a mere asmachta…
According to R. Yohanan—whose view is accepted as halakhah—even one who eats less than a full measure violates a biblical prohibition; for Reish Lakish, it is rabbinic. At the beginning of the passage the Gemara says that R. Yohanan’s view rests on the rationale of “fit to combine” (hazi le-‘itztarufei). The Aharonim offer several explanations of this rationale, but they are not crucial here. Later, however, the Gemara cites a baraita deriving half-measures from the verse “all fat” (kol chelev) (Rashi explains: any amount of fat). The Aharonim debate the relationship between the verse and the rationale, but in light of the above, such pilpul is unnecessary. First, from the plain reading it is clear these are not conflicting sources but complementary; so write the Rishonim there as well. From our discussion above it is easy to see how: the verse “all fat” comes to include something, and reason teaches that it includes half-measures. That rationale is apparently not strong enough to innovate the law on its own, and so we also require the verse; yet the derash does not stand alone without the rationale.
In any case, the baraita learns two things from that verse: half-measures and the prohibition of the fat of a koy. Note that the standard view is that a koy is an animal of doubtful status—perhaps a hybrid of a he-goat and a doe. Also, fat (chelev) is prohibited only in domesticated animals (behemah), not wild animals (hayyah). Therefore, the fat of a koy is of doubtful prohibition, and the Gemara includes it from the verse (later it discusses why such an inclusion is needed at all).[5]
A question arises (rarely addressed): how can two different laws be included from the same source? Usually, we assume a single source serves to include one law. Two basic possibilities: (a) the two laws share a common core, and it is that core which the verse includes.[6] Indeed, the Peliti, “Beit HaSafek,” Orach Chayim 110 at the beginning, raises this difficulty and suggests this direction: the fat of a koy is the fat of a creature with aspects of both wild and domesticated; thus, it is a kind of qualitative half-measure of the fat of a domesticated animal, and is therefore prohibited via the rule of half-measures.[7] (b) Alternatively, we can broaden the point: the word “all” (kol) is a general-inclusive term. Rashi indeed writes that it includes “any amount of fat”—that is, anything bearing some degree of the fat prohibition. This is a “basket inclusion” that encompasses anything with some connection to the prohibition of fat. Half-measures and the fat of a koy are two examples: the former is a quantitative slice of the prohibition; the latter is an object whose species-status is connected to the prohibition. On this view, one could include many other cases from the verse, so long as they bear some relation to the prohibition of fat.
The difficulty
The question here is why the inclusion of the prohibition of half-measures is applied across the board (not only to fat), i.e., that for all prohibitions we also forbid less than a full measure—whereas the inclusion regarding the fat of a koy is specific to fat. No one learns from here to be stringent in biblical doubts generally,[8] and even the notion of a qualitative half-measure would be hard to accept as a general principle (otherwise, for every biblical prohibition we would forbid anything with the slightest connection to it, leaving the descendants of Abraham with nothing permitted!). Nor does anyone derive from here an obligation to cover the blood of a koy (since it is also a wild animal), even though the Gemara itself explicitly discusses this.
A proposed resolution
In light of what I explained about the combination of derash and rationale, it is clear why the rule forbidding half-measures is a general principle. We saw above that when a derash is accompanied by a (somewhat) compelling rationale—albeit one insufficient on its own—the result is a principle applied across halakhah. The derash shows that the rationale is valid, and we therefore apply it broadly.
Accordingly, we may suggest that the inclusion regarding the koy’s fat is not backed by a rationale (the Gemara does not present any rationale there, like the “fit to combine” offered for half-measures). In such a case, we are dealing with a law derived from a verse that lacks a reasoned basis.[9] In that situation, we cannot extract a general principle applicable elsewhere. It is a specific law about the fat of a koy. Incidentally, the sugya concludes that the koy is treated as its own species, and the novelty is that its fat is also prohibited. Here, plainly, there is no general principle to apply in other contexts—if only because this is a specific rule, not an abstract principle (as with half-measures). In the terms of this column’s opening, we could call this a gezerat hakatuv.
What happens when the rationale is strong?
We saw that if a derash is accompanied by a weak rationale (i.e., one insufficient on its own), the likely outcome is that we apply the rationale throughout halakhah. We also saw that when there is no rationale at all, the derash yields a specific statute—a gezerat hakatuv—relevant only to that context. Elsewhere the matter remains open (and perhaps we should even infer the reverse).
What if, alongside a derash, there is a strong rationale—one robust enough to establish the law even without the derash? In that case a question arises: “Why do I need a verse? It is dictated by reason!” The derash seems superfluous. A reasonable inference is that the derash comes to negate the rationale—to say the rationale is not correct and should apply only in the context addressed by the derash. Here is where it makes sense to say the verse’s novelty teaches the opposite of what it states (for the rest of halakhah). It is not merely a gezerat hakatuv for that case; it can also serve to exclude the rationale elsewhere.
Back to our avrech: the difference between an explicit verse and a derash
The avrech’s wife argued that he must listen to her voice, as learned from the Torah’s statement regarding Abraham and Sarah. She is making a binyan av from that case to a general rule. Her claim assumes that the duty of a husband to obey his wife is not an overly strong rationale in and of itself; otherwise, her husband would be right. In her view it is a weak rationale buttressed by the verse, and thus a sweeping rule is created. Her husband, by contrast, apparently thinks it is a very strong rationale (that every husband must obey his wife!), and he wonders why the Torah had to say it to Abraham—concluding that the verse likely teaches the opposite elsewhere. Another possibility is that, in the husband’s view, there is no rationale whatsoever to require a husband to obey his wife; therefore, the verse is a singular novelty. Only Abraham had to heed Sarah, but generally the matter remains open. Moreover, according to him, reason shows there is no obligation for a husband to obey his wife, and that is his general conclusion.
Note that here we are dealing with an explicit verse, not a derash. The difference is that a derash must have a rationale—even if not a strong one (as we saw, without it there is nothing to expound)—whereas with an explicit verse there may be no rationale at all. For our case, that means that with respect to obedience to a wife there need not be any rationale, and both interpretations of the husband’s view remain possible.
Observe that had this been a derash rather than an explicit verse, the upshot would be that the wife believes there is a weak rationale for the husband to obey her, while the husband thinks the rationale is strong; yet their final conclusions would almost invert (the wife derives a general rule despite conceding the rationale is weak, whereas the husband—who holds the rationale is strong—would conclude the rule does not generally apply). It’s fortunate, then, that we have an explicit verse rather than a derash, allowing the husband to stay consistent without inverting his conclusion (i.e., he may hold that there is no rationale for the husband to obey, and the verse teaches Abraham is an exception; the general rule remains that he is not obligated to obey).
Beyond the bit of levity in the example, I believe the analysis itself has merit. I don’t think it covers every case, but the basic logic strikes me as sound.
[1] Incidentally, in my view the straightforward explanation differs from both: there is no direct proportion between the severity of an offense and the severity of the penalty imposed for it. See my article on punishment in the Torah (and also here and here).
[2] Several commentators on the hermeneutic rules note that the entire point of “general and particular” is to neutralize the binyan av we would have made from the particular had it appeared on its own. In the second volume of our Talmudic Logic series we elaborate on this and explain the scope of extension via binyan av and how each of the three “general and particular” rules operates (general–particular; particular–general; general–particular–general; and also particular–general–particular, which appears only once in the Talmud).
[3] Incidentally, I suspect most people you ask will say the rationale goes the other way. The commentators deal at length with understanding this rationale (see, for example, Ramban to Exod. 20:8, and more; see also an extended treatment in the third volume of our Talmudic Logic series).
[4] This is also the plain sense of Pesahim 22b, as Shimon ha-Amsuni thought it impossible to include anything from that verse, and R. Akiva proposed a forced solution merely to salvage the inclusions from “et.”
[5] You can listen to and read more about all this in classes 6–7 of my series on Yoma ch. 8 (2020–21).
[6] In those classes I gave, for example, the Rashba (Berakhot 15a), who explains how the Torah teaches two laws from the verse “Shema Yisrael”: that one must make the words audible to one’s ears, and that Shema may be recited in any language.
[7] For qualitative half-measures, see many sources and examples in class 3 of that series.
[8] The Gemara seems to reject the interpretation that this source forbids doubtful cases, but the Rishonim dispute the matter. See my classes 6–7 in that series.
[9] Even so, once an inclusion is required, the fat of a koy is the least implausible candidate—hence it was included.
Discussion
By the way, it seems to me that the distinction about combining the components in a derashah emerges clearly from the scholion to the baraita of the 32 (or 33) hermeneutical rules of Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili.
Interesting, enlightening, and fascinating — thank you!
You wrote: “Once we reached the conclusion that this is a rule of override, then reason now decides whether the positive commandment overrides the prohibition or vice versa. The exegete apparently understood that it is more reasonable that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition than the other way around, and therefore from his perspective the verse could be expounded this way.”
1- How did we reach the conclusion that this is a rule of override? By reason?
2- If this whole matter depends on reason (except that a verse is needed to reinforce it), then a student would very much expect a dispute to appear here about this matter (like everything in Judaism that depends on reason). We should find at least one Tanna or Amora who holds that it is more reasonable to say that a prohibition overrides a positive commandment. And here, by chance, there is a consensus that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition?
I did address it. It seems you read too quickly.
1. Presumably the other options seemed less plausible to the exegete.
2. On the contrary: דווקא those things in the Talmud that are explicitly based on reason are the things about which there is no dispute.
Of course, it is possible that this is a supportive derashah and not a creative one; I do not know.
If the scholar knew the Torah, he would not need excuses and theories from his own head. There is an explicit verse: “And to Adam He said: Because you listened to the voice of your wife … cursed is the ground because of you; in pain shall you eat of it all the days of your life.”
And therefore Abraham needed a special command to listen to his wife’s voice.
A. Indeed, I missed that line.
B. Even so, I think you could have enriched the topic much more with the dispute about two and three verses that come as one — what teaches and what does not — and the reasoning involved there.
Two verses that contradict one another…
And perhaps when comparing leniency and stringency, we compare to stringency. Now go and learn what the stringency is here.
🙂 I had completely forgotten this thread. Good thing there’s someone keeping track.
With God’s help, 23 Elul 5780
The relationship between Abraham and Sarah was one of “mutual listening.” Sarah accepts Abraham’s request that she say she is his sister so that they will not harm him, and Abraham listens to her voice when she asks him to take Hagar into the marriage. And when she complains about her, Abraham permits her to do with her maidservant as she sees fit.
However, here, when Sarah demands that Ishmael be sent away, Abraham hesitates greatly about whether to listen to her voice — both because of his love for Ishmael, who is also his son, and because of the very likely concern that expelling him from Abraham’s household would lead to his deterioration into evil ways. And here divine intervention is needed, with God telling him to listen to “the voice of the holy spirit within her.” This is not an unjustified demand arising from anger and hatred, but from deep insight: that Ishmael’s remaining there carries within it a physical and spiritual danger to Isaac.
The exception to the principle of mutual listening is when the rejection of a son from the home is at issue.
With blessings, Nehorai Shraga Pesisovitz
A. You wrote that the verse goes together with the reasoning, and then asked: if so, why do we need a verse? And you answered that the reasoning is not strong enough. This whole phenomenon also appears in Tosafot, Shevuot 22b, s.v. i ba’it eima kera; see there.
B. There is accepted terminology for the two forms — a binyan av or mide’itztarikh. And the Gemara itself uses both. If sources were brought for the two usages, perhaps one could identify the differences in a more grounded way (even though really the whole column says that reason directs the sources). I searched for mide’itztarikh in the Gemara and found several sources, as follows. All the sources I saw are well explained by what you say here.
But it seems to me — and I am not entirely sure from the column what you think about this — that when one uses mide’itztarikh, it is not that the verse “teaches” us the opposite of itself. The verse merely reveals to us how we should interpret another source, or what we ought to have thought on the basis of reason, and in the end we have another source for the general rule, and that source would have been in force even without this mide’itztarikh. Meaning: if we were clever enough, we would not have needed this revelation; rather, we would have interpreted the other source this way, or relied on the reasoning even without the mide’itztarikh.
For example, in Pesachim 21b, the permissibility of deriving benefit from carrion does not teach us that in all other food prohibitions benefit is included; rather, it reveals to us that Rabbi Abbahu was indeed right that every prohibition of eating includes a prohibition of benefit, and therefore a verse was needed for carrion. And we do not make a binyan av from the permissibility of benefit from carrion, because that would run against another derivation or against a positive reasoning that we have.
In Gittin 74b, Hillel instituted for someone selling a house in a walled city that he may deposit the redemption money even against the buyer’s will, and from this Rava learns that Hillel held that throughout the Torah, giving against someone’s will is not considered giving (and therefore, if one says, “This is your get on condition that you give me two hundred zuz,” and she gave it against his will, she is not divorced). Of course, Hillel is not the source for the law that giving against someone’s will is not giving; rather, the source of that law is Torah-level reasoning, and Hillel merely reveals to us what he held the Torah-level reasoning to say.
In Kiddushin 17b, a gentile does not bequeath a Hebrew slave to his sons, and from the fact that a limiting verse was needed, they learn that in other matters a gentile does bequeath to his sons. The explanation is that the law that a gentile bequeaths to his sons comes to us from reason, from the law of civil matters, and this fits for us with the fact that the Torah required an exclusion. So we do not derive a binyan av to undermine a positive reasoning of ours; rather, we limit the novelty.
And see further Yoma 5a, Tosafot s.v. itkash, where they found a derivation akin to reasoning in accordance with the opposite derivation from the verse, so that the mide’itztarikh itself does not teach, but only reveals and integrates.
C. You wrote that when the reasoning is strong alongside the derashah, then one derives for the rest of the Torah the opposite (mide’itztarikh), because otherwise the derashah is superfluous. That is a major claim which, in my view, needs an explicit source, and strong reasoning is not enough for it 🙂. I find it hard to assume there is a case where a verse really teaches the opposite, and that is the entire source for the opposite rule. If that were so, it would have been one of the hermeneutical principles. [There is a difference between a case where there is strong reasoning alongside the derashah, and a case where the default is alongside the derashah. If only the default is alongside the derashah, but the reasoning is fairly open, then it is indeed plausible to use mide’itztarikh. And of course, reasoning cannot create commandments; it can only interpret parameters.]
D. The Gemara in Kiddushin 41b works hard to derive agency throughout the Torah by a binyan av. Tosafot s.v. nafka suggest deriving agency in sacrifices from the fact that a verse was needed to exclude agency for Aaron’s bull, implying that in other offerings there is agency. It turns out that a verse for agency teaches that there is agency by a binyan av, and a verse that there is no agency teaches that there is agency via mide’itztarikh. The question leaps out on its own. Maharsha explains there: “for one cannot derive by a mah matzinu from Aaron’s bull that in other holy offerings owners are required, because if so no verse would have been needed at all, for from where would we know that owners are not required — from where would agency be known?” Meaning, without a verse it is obvious that the default is that agency is not valid (even though conceptually there are arguments both ways), and therefore to derive by a binyan av would be superfluous; so we prefer to infer that reasoning dictates allowing agency, from the need for a verse to exclude it. We could say, “For something that follows from reasoning or from the default, the Torah still took the trouble to write a verse,” but that is a last resort, and where one can answer differently, one does. It seems to me that I once brought this source here, since it deals directly with the problem and the solution.
E. You asked why one does not derive from the koy for the entire Torah that doubt is treated stringently, but the Gemara concludes that the koy is a creature unto itself, and the laws of doubt do not apply to it (for some reason you mentioned that conclusion later only at the stage of your explanation).
You also asked why one does not derive an obligation to cover the blood of a koy, but how can one derive from the law of forbidden fat to the law of covering the blood and invent that a koy is forbidden in fat because it is considered a wild animal? One derives only the law (the prohibition of fat), not general definitions (that a koy “is” a wild animal).
Rebecca disagrees with Isaac’s desire to give the blessing of rule to Esau, out of concern for what would happen to Jacob under Esau’s rule. She does not argue with him head-on, but instead sends Jacob to take the blessings by cunning. But she is certain that Isaac will agree after the fact when he learns that she initiated the move, and therefore she can promise Jacob, “Your curse be upon me, my son” — there will be no curse..
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Isaac accepts Rebecca’s advice to send Jacob to marry a woman from her family in Haran. Jacob goes even further than he does, giving his wives the right to name his sons; and when he is commanded by the angel to return to his land, Jacob does not “drop” the instruction on his wives, but calls them for consultation and asks for their consent. In other words: with Isaac and Jacob too, the norm is mutual attentiveness, unless there is a dispute about the place and fate of a son.
The Sages (Bava Metzia 59a) instructed not to follow a woman’s counsel in heavenly matters, but to follow her counsel in household matters, and some say even in worldly matters. However, in the Gemara’s discussion of Manoah, who followed his wife, one opinion says that Manoah was not an ignoramus, for he did not literally follow her, but followed her advice to ask that the angel of God return and tell them “what shall be the rule concerning the child.” In other words: even in heavenly matters, there is room to accept a woman’s advice regarding the practical implementation of the divine instruction.
With blessings, Nehorai Shraga Agami-Pesisovitz
And from one matter to another on the same matter. There was a joke about a yeshiva student who married a student of “the College,” and they had a son. At night the baby started crying. The kollel fellow said to his wife: “Arise, shine, for your light has come.” She answered him: “You will arise and have compassion on Zion” 🙂
With blessings, Nasa”f
Wonderful column, thank you very much!
A. Indeed. Many thanks.
B. Credit to you, sir, for doing a bit of research that I did not do. Regarding the examples you brought:
1. Regarding prohibitions of benefit, in my opinion you are not right. For from the fact that the Torah revealed this in the case of carrion, we see that Rabbi Abbahu is right that every prohibition of eating includes also a prohibition of benefit. But Rabbi Abbahu’s words are interpretive reasoning (about the prohibition of eating). He has no separate source. Therefore, the revelation in carrion is what creates the prohibitions of benefit elsewhere in the Torah. True, it reveals the meaning of the term “eating,” but that is not called interpreting another source. After all, almost every rule speaks about sources in the Torah, and the question is how to interpret them. So too half a measure interprets Torah prohibitions as applying even to less than the minimum measure (at least according to the more accepted and more plausible understanding of the law of half a measure).
And beyond all this, how do you know that this was not Rabbi Abbahu’s source for his reasoning?
2. In Hillel’s case, there is no source that the Torah reveals regarding houses in walled cities. This is a law we see in Hillel, and from it we infer his position. What does that have to do with a scriptural revelation?
3. Regarding a gentile’s inheritance rights — that is exactly what I said. When there is a good reasoning, the verse teaches the opposite. I did not understand what you saw here beyond that.
C. Indeed, this requires clarification and sources. But why is the permission in carrion not an example of this? Especially in light of my remark at the end of section 1 above. Any mide’itztarikh can serve as an example. Otherwise, why don’t we make a binyan av there from carrion?
D. I did not understand what you wanted to derive from the sugya of agency. That can also be explained according to my approach. We derive by a binyan av that there is agency in sacrificial matters, and therefore the verse about Aaron’s bull is local. You can ask why the initial binyan av, from which it emerges that there is agency in sacrificial matters, was indeed stated, rather than saying mide’itztarikh there. But that was already addressed there by establishing a necessary interplay between the sources, and therefore it is an ordinary binyan av. Especially since one can say there is a weak reasoning there that agency should exist in halakhah.
E. About the koy, I was speaking about the Gemara’s initial assumption, when they understood that there was a novelty here regarding doubts. They challenged this by asking why a novelty regarding doubts was needed, and they did not say this was an exception; rather, they answered that it is a creature unto itself.
Your final point was also made by me. It is a particular law, not a rule.
There are two sub-discussions here stemming from one root issue.
(1) Does the verse itself teach the opposite, or does the opposite derivation have a parallel source? You say that the verse itself teaches the opposite. I assume that the opposite derivation has a separate basis, and the verse merely integrates with it.
(2) In a case where there is a strong reasoning and it accords with the verse: you say that one derives the opposite, with the result that there is no separate basis for the opposite derivation. I assume that in such a case too one derives by a binyan av in the same direction as the verse, and “for something that follows from reasoning, the Torah still took the trouble to write a verse.”
And if the strong reasoning runs contrary to the verse — this is not explicit in the column, but from your words I assume that in such a case one derives a binyan av throughout the Torah against the reasoning. Whereas I think one always follows the strong reasoning, and even if the verse goes against it, one remains with it and says, on the contrary, the reasoning is solid, and a verse was needed to innovate locally against it.
But if there is no strong reasoning like the verse, only a default in line with the verse, while the reasoning is open, then indeed one derives the opposite, and that is what happens in deriving from a verse that agency is impossible: since the absence of agency is the default (and the reasoning is open), one derives the opposite, namely that agency is possible (and the real source that agency is possible is reasoning, which we now discovered the Torah expected us to think). But to derive something for the whole Torah contrary to strong reasoning — that cannot be done by mide’itztarikh.
And if there is no default, only weak considerations in both directions (for example, whether drinking is included in eating), then, as you wrote, one always goes with the verse in a binyan av, whether it says what the reasoning says or the opposite.
Regarding (1): according to your words, one can use mide’itztarikh freely, and there is no need to check that there is a parallel source teaching the opposite of the verse. But according to my assumption, there always has to be a sufficient source that also teaches the opposite of the verse. And for that I showed in several examples that one can say indeed there is such a sufficient source there. And my claim is that scriptural revelation works exactly like the revelation from Hillel the Elder’s enactment: it is not a source of authority, but a revelation that confirms another source of authority. And according to your view I asked: if so, is this then a new hermeneutical principle in the Torah — learning from mide’itztarikh?
Regarding (2): this is what I found in the case of a gentile’s inheritance. There the verse prevents a gentile from bequeathing, and from it they derive the opposite, that throughout the Torah a gentile does bequeath. I understand the strong reasoning to be that a gentile indeed bequeaths, because this belongs to the law of civil matters and the nature of things; and the verse locally negates that reasoning, while elsewhere in the Torah we remain with the reasoning. From your reply it sounds like you understand the reverse: that the strong reasoning is that a gentile does not bequeath, and since the verse accords with the reasoning, from the verse itself one derives against the reasoning throughout the Torah and says that a gentile does bequeath. Is that indeed how you understand it?
C. You wrote that the permission in carrion is an example of this. Meaning, the permission in carrion is an example of deriving the opposite from a verse where the reasoning accords with the verse, and throughout the Torah one derives against the reasoning. Meaning, you understand that strong reasoning says benefit is not included in eating, and therefore the verse about carrion is superfluous, and therefore it teaches the opposite throughout the Torah — that benefit is included. I understand the reverse: the strong interpretive reasoning is that benefit is included in eating, and since we have a verse against the reasoning, we say that on the contrary it reinforces the reasoning in the rest of the Torah and therefore comes to reveal in a special law. And precisely for this reason we do not make a binyan av, because there is a general interpretive reasoning that there is nothing special about eating more than benefit and the two should not be separated; so we preserve the reasoning, and the verse too presupposed it, and therefore it was needed.
D. I brought agency merely as an anecdote, because there the issue stands out plainly on the table: both a verse in favor of agency and a verse against agency both teach for the whole Torah that there is agency. [In my view the explanation is that the default is that there is no agency, while the reasoning is open, and therefore every derivation is only against the default.]
1. It seems to me that this parallels what I wrote about a case where there is a reasoning that says X, and a verse that says Y in a certain context. The conclusion is that this context is exceptional and the rule is X. Even if there is a source that states rule X and a specific place that says Y, that would be the situation. This excludes cases of something that was included in a general rule and then went out to teach — not about itself, but about the whole rule.
2. “For something that follows from reasoning, the Torah still took the trouble to write a verse” is, in my opinion, a very rare case (a last resort, because it presents the verse as completely superfluous, contrary to the general logic of Hazal in understanding Scripture).
Regarding strong contrary reasoning, I completely agree. See my remark here in section 1.
Regarding a gentile’s inheritance, I am certainly willing to accept your proposal. The mechanism is certainly acceptable to me: if there is opposite reasoning, then the verse is an exception to something and one learns nothing from it. That is not the dispute.
The question is whether there are not cases where the derivation itself teaches the opposite, as I claim. This requires examination in the Talmud, but conceptually I see no reason why not. You claim that in such situations we should say, “For something that follows from reasoning, the Torah still took the trouble to write a verse,” and I say that is a last resort and not plausible (and therefore it itself is said only when there is some external compulsion), but ordinarily the conclusion is as I said — that the verse comes to remove us from the reasoning. This is exactly like the dispute among the commentators regarding two verses: whether they do not teach, or whether they teach the opposite. According to your view, they do not teach the opposite and perhaps can even teach like a single verse, since the second verse would be a case of “for something already derived from the first verse, the Torah still took the trouble to write the second verse.” In practice, we do not say that.
C. Now I understand that this is what you are claiming also in carrion (as in a gentile’s inheritance). I am, of course, willing to accept that there too, with all the reservations I wrote concerning a gentile’s inheritance and as above. The mechanism certainly exists; the question in our dispute is whether it is necessary (whether there is ever a case in which a verse teaches the opposite, or whether we always say: something that follows from reasoning — the Torah still took the trouble to write a verse).
Two verses together can also teach the opposite, but reasoning and a verse together, in my estimation, cannot teach the opposite — that simply is not a hermeneutical rule in the Torah. If we discover that in all cases of mide’itztarikh there is no strong reasoning that goes with the verse, that would seemingly confirm what I am saying.
As for “the Torah took the trouble to write a verse,” the question is what the alternative is: to innovate a law that directly contradicts a reasoning that seems strong enough to us to establish laws on its basis, or to purr with pleasure that the verse lines up with our reasoning.
Now that we have reached a touch of mockery, let us claim that the dispute between the kollel fellow and his wife depends on changes over time.
In Abraham’s time, there was no reason at all to assume that a husband should obey his wife, at most for the sake of domestic peace. Perhaps in Sarah’s case there is a rationale that she too had divine inspiration and was an important woman, so the verse joins the reasoning and one learns a binyan av for the entire Torah.
But in our day, when it is clear that the woman is wiser and reason requires listening to the woman, the verse comes and teaches us that, on the contrary, there is no need to listen to the woman — and thus her remedy becomes her ruin.
And if we ask how the derivation can change — that is no difficulty, for if one court derived a derashah, another court is permitted to derive a different derashah, even if it is inferior to the first in wisdom and number.
Now I thought about what Hezekiah’s opinion would be, since he disagrees with Rabbi Abbahu. According to him, a prohibition of eating does not include benefit. You might say that he disagrees with Rabbi Abbahu’s reasoning, but we do not multiply disputes unnecessarily. So he too agrees that eating includes benefit. But there is permission in carrion. So it seems that the verse comes to remove us from the reasoning. But if the force of the reasoning is weak, there is no need to remove us from it (because without another source we would not have followed it anyway). Apparently, then, he holds that the reasoning is strong, and the verse comes to remove us from it — that is, to teach the opposite. Admittedly, here the verse is against the reasoning and not parallel to it.
I recall that I once concluded that, regarding Rabbi Abbahu’s view, this is a dispute between Tosafot and Rambam: whether the permission in carrion is the source (as Tosafot there imply), or whether it supports the reasoning (Rambam). That is how I presented it in my lectures on Pesachim.
I opened the sugya, and it seems that right at the entrance there is definitive proof for your view that the verse itself teaches the opposite, and not that there is a parallel source.
The Gemara says: granted, according to Rabbi Abbahu in accordance with Rabbi Meir, there is sweeping permission to derive benefit from carrion, and from here one learns the opposite for the whole Torah — that benefit is included in eating (whether from the verse itself, or from Rabbi Abbahu’s interpretive reasoning); but according to Rabbi Abbahu in accordance with Rabbi Yehudah, where there is no sweeping permission to derive benefit from carrion, from where do we know that all prohibitions in the Torah are forbidden in benefit?
It is explicitly proven that in order to prohibit benefit throughout the Torah, one needs a special derivation from carrion, and if one does not have that derivation, then the interpretive reasoning that eating includes benefit is not sufficient.
If it turns out (to my delight) that this is not sufficient proof, then I will discuss your proof from Hezekiah. And if it is sufficient proof, then Rambam’s view, as you said, needs clarification — since you said that according to him the permission in carrion is not the source.
The body of the matter: Rabbi Michi said that reasoning and a verse that come as one teach the opposite. But regarding two verses that come as one, there is a view that they simply do not teach. The native is on the ground and the stranger on lofty wings?
Indeed. And in my lectures there, and in my article on prohibitions from a historical source, I explained that Rambam apparently did not rule in accordance with that sugya at all. You can see this from many details in the sugya that Rambam rules the opposite way on (with regard to some matters I attributed this to the sugya in Beitzah). For example, at the beginning of the laws of leaven, it is clear that in his opinion the prohibition of benefit does not derive from the prohibition of eating, even though in Rabbi Abbahu’s discussion there the sugya says explicitly that it does. There are several other major halakhot where he rules contrary to the sugya there.
Regarding your last point, the easiest thing is to attribute it to the dispute over whether two verses teach the opposite or not. But perhaps one can say even without that, that reasoning is indeed preferable to Scripture, since the Scripture was said about a specific context (though it can be broadened by a binyan av to the whole Torah), whereas the reasoning is general by its very nature.
Accepted. But then why is a verse that teaches the opposite not counted as a separate hermeneutical rule?
I did not understand. Are you asking why it is not counted among Rabbi Ishmael’s rules? People have already noted that there are many rules that are not listed there. For example, two verses that come as one. Especially since this is a kind of binyan av.
In honor of the Rabbi, may he live and be well:
The Rabbi commented on the “pilpulim” with which the later authorities debated the difficulty between a scriptural decree and reasoning in the sugya of half a measure. However, Tosafot, Tosafot Yeshanim, and Ran discussed this right there on the spot. Tosafot Yeshanim were pressed in the plain meaning of the Gemara by force of this difficulty, and from the words of Tosafot and Ran it emerges that the reasoning operates only regarding the scope of the prohibition and not in its fundamental rationale; all this is there.
The Rabbi wrote that according to his explanation of the sugya of half a measure, it is understood why the law of half a measure applies “throughout the entire breadth of the Torah.” However, in Rambam’s opinion (Shabbat 12:19) it is proven that half a measure is Torah-permitted in the prohibitions of Shabbat; Ran (Shevuot 23) brings those who say that there is no prohibition at all of half a measure in the laws of oaths; the Chacham Tzvi (§96), the Sha’agat Aryeh, and many later authorities elaborated in proving (among other things from the plain meaning of the Mishnah at the beginning of tractate Beitzah) that the law of half a measure does not apply to the prohibition of “it shall not be seen”; Rashash (Kiddushin 50) brought those who say that the law of half a measure applies only to prohibitions punishable by karet; and in Yad HaMelekh on Rambam (Theft 1:2) and R. Chaim of Brisk (Bava Metzia 61) they dispute the Maggid Mishneh (there), who holds that the law of half a measure exists in the prohibition of theft. If we accept the Rabbi’s understanding of the sugya, what room is there to distinguish in this law according to the type of punishment and the like?
With blessings for a good year.
I do not think they were forced into it. In any case, they of course took it as obvious that there are no conflicting sources here.
The law of half a measure applies throughout the entire breadth of the Torah according to all views. The fact that some qualify it to half a measure of an act, or only to forbidden foods, is a side qualification. No one limited it only to forbidden fat, and that is the focal point here. And those who qualify it according to the punishment — I see no contradiction to my words in that. The binyan av is refuted by the difference in punishments. What is the problem?
A belated ignition, to my shame.
Something here does not sit right with me at the level of terminology. You say that wherever there is a strong reasoning, one always learns from the verse the opposite.
If the verse contradicts the strong reasoning, then one derives the opposite (mide’itztarikh) and the strong reasoning remains in place. For example: there is strong reasoning that a gentile bequeaths, and there is a verse that he does not bequeath a Hebrew slave to his sons, so one derives the opposite — that in other matters a gentile does bequeath, in line with the strong reasoning.
But if the verse accords with the strong reasoning, then one derives the opposite (reasoning and a verse that come as one), and the strong reasoning is overturned. Here I had thought one derives a binyan av, and the strong reasoning remains.
The question is: what Talmudic terminology (even if there is not currently a specific example) describes this mechanism whereby reasoning and a verse that come as one teach the opposite? The term mide’itztarikh no longer fits. The term two verses that come as one also does not fit.
Ordinary mide’itztarikh means that from the fact that the verse contradicts strong reasoning it is proven that a special derivation is needed to undermine that reasoning, and therefore one infers that elsewhere it is correct.
But in the case of reasoning and a verse that come as one, what shall we say? From the fact that a verse was needed to tell me something I already know, it follows that what I know is incorrect? It does not “prove” the reasoning; rather, it teaches by its own force. And if so, it proves nothing to us. Would anyone say that a gezerah shavah of lah-lah “proves” that a slave goes free by a document just as a woman goes out by a document?
This too can fall under mide’itztarikh. From the fact that the verse had to be said, it is proven that the strong reasoning is not correct.
It proves either that we were mistaken, or that there is an opposite derivation.
Throughout the article you keep returning to the point that there are considerations that lead us to apply the verse or the derashah only in the context with which they deal (for example, if together with the verse there is strong reasoning). What about a verse that has no specific context, but is simply an instruction for all our lives? For example, the commandment of charity: here there is both a verse and strong reasoning, and there are two difficulties. A. Why don’t we apply it to a particular context, given that here there is strong reasoning together with a verse? B. To what context would we apply the verse, if it has no context at all and is general?
The first question arises regarding every command from a verse that has strong reasoning behind it (such as the great majority of commandments between אדם and his fellow — even if they were said in a certain context, go out and see that in any case we apply them generally); and the second question arises regarding every command from a verse where no context is stated at all.
I did not understand the question. What is the dilemma regarding the commandment of charity? What does it mean to apply it locally rather than generally? That does not seem relevant there. If you see room for discussion, bring an example and suggest how to apply it locally, and what we actually do in practice.
In other words, after I understood myself (!) well, the question I wanted to ask is:
How can the Gemara ask, “Why do I need a verse? It is reasoning,” when without the verse there is no commandment here! Perhaps because of the reasoning you need to do X, and if you do it then you are a wise and consistent person, but without the verse you still have not fulfilled a commandment to do X! As you always say, the verse adds a religious and halakhic dimension to the act, so what is the meaning of these expressions, “Why do I need a verse? It is reasoning”?
I discussed this at great length in the article on logical reasoning.
https://mikyab.net/%D7%9B%D7%AA%D7%91%D7%99%D7%9D/%D7%9E%D7%90%D7%9E%D7%A8%D7%99%D7%9D/%D7%A1%D7%91%D7%A8%D7%95%D7%AA-%D7%AA%D7%95%D7%A8%D7%A0%D7%99%D7%95%D7%AA-%D7%95%D7%9E%D7%A2%D7%9E%D7%93%D7%9F-%D7%94%D7%94%D7%9C%D7%9B%D7%AA%D7%99
Reasoning is involved in the process of interpretation. And so too in the whole Torah, the Sages tried to understand it by means of their reasoning, and only when there was no alternative did they determine that it was a scriptural decree or something of that sort.
That means that in principle the Torah can be understood.
But that sounds a bit strange to me. As you explained, the Torah’s commandments are meant to achieve religious goals and values (and not moral, human, etc. ones). If so, it comes out that a person has the power to understand such things. He has the ability to understand religious matters and lofty values of the higher worlds and so forth.
That surprises me. I had thought that a person has the ability only to understand things that belong to the human plane. No?
When we study Gemara, we are not confronted with reasonings and discussions revolving around religious values. We are standing before logical reasonings that belong to the world of reality as we see it, and not reasonings that ground things in religious values and so forth.
We have intuition even in spiritual matters that do not belong to our world. See how Kodashim and Taharot are studied. There too there are reasonings and intuitions. That does not necessarily mean that one can understand the goals and values, though that too is possible. But there is a sense of what is right and what is not.
In Pesachim 22, Shimon HaAmsuni expounds every occurrence of the word “et” in the Torah. He comes to a certain “et,” finds no interpretation, and then withdraws from all the “ets.”
Why did he do that? Why didn’t he just say, “This case requires investigation”?? Why should this case affect all the others? Especially if interpretation is a matter of reasoning and not merely the mechanical, technical application of a rule (for then I would understand: either the rule applies in all cases or it applies in none of them — meaning the rule itself is incorrect).
I explained this at length in the second book in the Talmudic Logic series. My claim is that the world of derash began with Moses’ study with the Holy One, blessed be He, who read the verses with him according to both peshat and derash, but did not explain to him the rules (the hermeneutical principles). He learned the language of derash the way a baby learns a language — naturally, without rules. Over the generations, there was forgetting, and in order to reconstruct the derash, rules were created that try to approximate it, but of course they do not always hit the truth. Therefore there are several different systems of derash (each one reconstructed it differently). Rabbi Akiva proposed a rule that “et” comes to include something, and when they tested it against the examples they encountered an example where this could not work (because it is impossible that one can include something that would be similar to the Holy One, blessed be He). This is not just a difficulty, but something that seemed impossible. Therefore this is proof that the rule that “et” comes to include is incorrect, and so Shimon HaAmsuni decided to abandon that hermeneutical rule altogether.
Rabbi Akiva disagrees with him, and in his view something can be included even if it is not entirely similar. But Shimon HaAmsuni remained of his opinion even after Rabbi Akiva’s answer (because in the sugya in Pesachim it is clear that there is a tannaitic dispute about this, and the Gemara says that they disagree in the dispute between Shimon HaAmsuni and Rabbi Akiva).
I came across an interesting passage in Tosafot related to what is said in the column, and I am bringing it here so that at least it will be preserved.
In the column and the comments there is a claim that where there is strong reasoning, the verse always teaches the opposite by itself. If the verse accords with the reasoning, then it is superfluous and comes to teach us for the rest of the Torah the opposite, by itself and opposite to the reasoning. And if the verse contradicts the strong reasoning, one can say that it comes to exclude only the case under discussion in the verse, while elsewhere in the Torah the reasoning remains — which is like teaching the opposite of the verse in accordance with the reasoning.
In Kiddushin 13a the Gemara’s wording is as follows: “And she acquires herself by a get and by the husband’s death. From where do we know the husband’s death? It is reasoning: he forbade her, he permits her. But with incestuous relations, he forbade them and does not permit them… Rather, because the verse says, ‘lest he die in the war and another man take her.’” Meaning, there is strong reasoning that death removes every prohibition created by kiddushin, except that from incestuous relations it is proven against this reasoning, for a father’s wife after the father’s death remains forbidden (Rashi), and therefore a verse is needed — “lest he die in the war and another man take her” — to reveal that a widow is permitted to the public. And Tosafot there bring that in Sanhedrin they derive from a verse that in incestuous relations death does not permit, and Tosafot write that we ought to have derived by a binyan av from a widow permitted to the public to incestuous relations, that death should permit there too; therefore a verse was needed in incestuous relations that death does not permit.
This is a case where the Gemara explicitly says there is strong reasoning (“he forbade her, he permits her”) in line with the verse (“lest he die and another man take her”), and Tosafot write that we would have derived by a binyan av to incestuous relations that there too death permits. But seemingly, in such a case, according to what is explained straightforwardly in the column, one should derive the opposite and say that in incestuous relations death does not permit (and no verse is needed there, and the verses there are superfluous), and nevertheless not derive by a binyan av to incestuous relations.
[Were it not for Tosafot, I would have thought to resolve it as follows (with a somewhat mechanical and blunt approach). In Sanhedrin there, the derivations forbidding a father’s wife after death are from an extra verse: “the nakedness of your father’s wife” (according to Rabbi Yehudah) or “the nakedness of your father” (according to the Rabbis). They looked for what to derive from it and decided to derive a father’s wife after death. Now that is a derashah against a strong reasoning (“he forbade her, he permits her”) and against a revelation concerning a married woman permitted to the public (“lest he die in war and another man take her”). And since, as explained in the column, any derashah with a free field always involves reasoning, it is a bit strange that this was the “least implausible” thing the Tannaim found to include. So it seems that from the permission of a widow who had been a married woman to marry the public, one really learns the opposite — that throughout the rest of the Torah, such as incestuous relations with a father’s wife, death does not permit. But the verse regarding a married woman permitted to the public is not a verse of command but an incidental statement — “lest he die in the war and another man take her” — and therefore one cannot derive from it for the rest of the Torah a formal warning about a father’s wife after death. But it does have the power to teach us that this is the expected state of affairs, and therefore when we find an available verse, we immediately jump to attach to it the case of a father’s wife after death.]
Regarding the sugya of a positive commandment overriding a prohibition, Tosafot throughout the sugya address the tension discussed in the column: the relationship between reasoning and derivation from the verse, and when one derives a general principle by a binyan av and when one derives that the law is true only in the place where it is stated, from which it follows that the general principle is the opposite.
Regarding the question why one derives from the juxtaposition of shaatnez to tzitzit specifically that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition, and not the reverse, Tosafot write (Yevamot 4a, s.v. dikhtiv, and similarly the other Rishonim) that without the verse our initial assumption would in fact have been the opposite — that a prohibition overrides a positive commandment (because a prohibition is more severe — Rashba) — and therefore one must derive from the juxtaposition the opposite, because otherwise the juxtaposition is superfluous. And for that reason one does not derive that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition that carries karet, because with regard to that no opposite principle was innovated, and therefore we remain with the initial assumption that the positive commandment does not override.
And this is explicit in the Gemara (there, 7a):
“He then said: What? ‘A positive commandment overrides a prohibition’ — is not the prohibition more severe than it, and yet the positive commandment comes and pushes it aside? What difference is there to me between lesser severity and greater severity?” — that is, it is explicit in the Gemara that the basic assumption is that a positive commandment should not override a prohibition, since a prohibition is more severe (because one is flogged for it — Rashi; and because one commits the transgression actively — another explanation in Meiri), except that nevertheless there is a verse teaching that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition. Therefore at this stage the Gemara thought that since the verse runs contrary to the initial assumption, we should derive from it that our reasoning is not correct at all, and that a positive commandment overrides even prohibitions more severe than it, and therefore one should derive that a positive commandment overrides even a prohibition carrying karet. However, in the conclusion the Gemara rejects this understanding and nevertheless distinguishes between a prohibition without karet, only with regard to which we derive that it is set aside before a positive commandment, and a prohibition with karet, which is more severe.
By contrast, later in the sugya other cases are brought in which one derives from the verse that it is true only in the place where it is stated, while the general principle is the opposite. Thus, when the sugya proposes sources that a positive commandment overrides even a prohibition carrying karet, it brings sources where the Torah goes out of its way to say that a positive commandment does not override a prohibition carrying karet — such as honoring parents does not override Shabbat, and court-imposed execution does not override Shabbat — from which it follows that the general principle is the opposite, because otherwise the verse would be superfluous. Here Tosafot explain this (though regarding court-imposed execution Tosafot also suggested another explanation, and this is not the place to elaborate) by saying that the law stated in the verse accords with our initial assumption, for as stated, the basic assumption is that a positive commandment does not override a prohibition carrying karet because the positive commandment is lighter. Therefore, the verse is seemingly superfluous, and so we are compelled to say in these cases that the verse teaches precisely the opposite: only in the place where it is written is this principle correct, but elsewhere it is not.
It follows that the principle is that, by default, a law derived from a verse is supposed to be applied as a general principle throughout the Torah in accordance with the hermeneutical rule of binyan av. However, in cases where if we were to derive it this way the verse would become superfluous — because even without the verse the principle stated there would already have been known to us as the baseline assumption — we are forced to say in such cases that the verse teaches specifically the opposite: only in the place where it was stated is the principle correct, but elsewhere this principle is not correct.
It is clear, however, as you write, that this does not mean that every verse is a “scriptural decree” devoid of logic and reasoning and even contrary to reasoning. Rather, even when there is reasoning, that reasoning is, in your terms, “weak reasoning” or tenuous — that is, reasoning that is not compelling, so that although it is logical, we could not have used it as having halakhic force without a verse to teach it, and therefore the verse is needed in order to give that reasoning force. For example, concerning a positive commandment overriding a prohibition, there is indeed a rationale for the positive commandment’s overriding, such as Ramban’s explanation that the positive commandment represents love whereas the prohibition represents awe, or the other reasons given by commentators. But these reasons are not compelling halakhic reasonings, and therefore without a verse we would have followed stricter, more halakhic reasonings — namely, to go according to the severity of the prohibition, such that the prohibition would override the lighter positive commandment — and the verse is needed to give halakhic force to the sensible considerations why nevertheless the positive commandment overrides the prohibition.
Therefore, it seems that although the outcome is indeed that the verse teaches, as it were, contrary to the reasoning, it is more accurate to say that the verse teaches contrary to the baseline assumption. That is, even when there is sensible reasoning and rationale for the verse, without it we could not have followed those rationales because they are not compelling and absolute. Therefore our baseline assumption — absent the verse — grounded on stricter and more absolute halakhic reasoning, would have been the opposite of those rationales, and the verse removes us from that baseline assumption and gives force to the sensible rationales. Thus, although the verse runs contrary to the baseline assumption, it certainly has reason and logic behind it.
This can also be seen in the sugya of “one engaged in a commandment is exempt from a commandment.” Ritva holds that the exemption applies only when it is impossible to fulfill both commandments, but he is then troubled why a verse is needed to teach this — after all, it is obvious that when there is no choice but to fulfill one of the commandments, one cannot be obligated to fulfill both. He answers that without the verse we would have said that a person must (or is permitted — not the place to elaborate) interrupt the commandment in order to fulfill a time-sensitive commandment or a more severe commandment, and the verse teaches that one should continue with the commandment in which one is engaged even if its time is not passing and even if it is less severe. At first glance, here too one might initially understand that the verse runs contrary to reasoning, since the sensible reasoning is to interrupt the commandment for the sake of a time-sensitive or more severe commandment, while the verse teaches, as a “scriptural decree” and against logic, not to move to the other commandment. But in truth this does not seem precise. Rather, there is certainly sense and logic in the verse teaching that one should not interrupt the commandment in which one is engaged even for the sake of another commandment whose time is passing or which is more severe (as one can find reasons for this among the Rishonim and Acharonim); it is only that those reasons are not compelling, and therefore they would not have had halakhic force without a verse to grant such force. Thus, without the verse, we would have been compelled to follow the baseline assumption according to the compelling and strict criteria — whether the commandment is time-sensitive or according to the severity of the commandment — and the verse removes us from that baseline assumption and gives force to the contrary considerations.
More power to you. You really wrote an essay here. I seem to recall that in my lectures on Yevamot I indeed dwelled on this point at length. Tosafot’s words are difficult logically, and I suggested several possibilities there.
I would add that in the sugya in Shabbat 106 two sources are brought for destructive action in the contexts of wounding and kindling, and they operate with directly opposite logics. In circumcision, the assumption is that the verse teaches the opposite, while in the burning of the priest’s daughter, the assumption is that it teaches the rule itself. I mention this in the current series of columns on ta’ama de-kra.
Hello Rabbi.
A. Thank you for the very successful article.
B. I was really surprised that you didn’t address the issue of “two verses that come as one do not teach.” That is exactly the topic here, is it not?