On *Shimush* (Apprenticeship), Study, and *Lamdanut* (Column 431)
A few years ago, the National Library hosted a series of meetings on the Babylonian Talmud moderated by Kobi Meidan. In the second session of the series, I spoke with Tomer Persico and Meir Buzaglo (a philosophy lecturer at the Hebrew University and one of the thinkers behind the movement of Traditionalism) about the Talmud’s DNA. In conversations before that session, I suggested we take up the sugya of “zeh neheneh ve-zeh lo chaser” (“one benefits and the other does not incur a loss”), because what it contains—and what it does not—sharpens several interesting aspects of the Talmud in general. Here I wish to focus on two interrelated points that emerge mainly from the framing of the sugya (and less from its substantive-analytical content, which serves only as background to my discussion): the development of Talmudic *lamdanut* and the distinction between *shimush* (apprenticeship/service) and study.
“One Benefits and the Other Does Not Incur a Loss”: Opening of the Sugya
The sugya of “one benefits and the other does not incur a loss” appears in Bava Kamma 20a–21a. Here is just its opening:
Rav Ḥisda said to Rami bar Ḥama: You weren’t with us last night within the boundary (on Shabbat), when first-rate matters were raised for our consideration.
Rav Ḥisda tells Rami bar Ḥama that he missed an exciting development that took place on Shabbat in the beit midrash. This opening arouses great curiosity: what was so special about that particular discussion?
Rami bar Ḥama immediately asks:
He said to him: What were those first-rate matters?
And Rav Ḥisda at once reports the substance of the discussion:
He said to him: One who dwells in his fellow’s courtyard without his knowledge—must he pay him rent or not? What are the circumstances? If we are speaking of a courtyard that is not designated for rent and a person who does not rent, this is “one does not benefit and the other does not lose.” Rather, if it is a courtyard designated for rent and a person who rents, this is “one benefits and the other loses.” No—it is necessary [to speak] of a courtyard not designated for rent and a person who rents; what can [the owner] say to him—“What loss did I cause you?” or perhaps [the owner] can say, “But you did benefit.”
The discussion concerns someone who entered his fellow’s courtyard (or apartment) without the owner’s knowledge and lived there. Must he pay for that or not? After some sharpening, it emerges that the focus is a courtyard not designated for rental, and a person in need of housing. At the two extremes the law is clear: when the courtyard is not for rent and the person does not need housing, he certainly need not pay—the owner incurred no loss (his property is not for rent), and the occupant derived no monetary benefit (he had other housing). Likewise, where the courtyard is for rent and the person needs housing, there is both benefit and loss; it is obvious the occupant must pay.
What about a courtyard not designated for rent with a would-be tenant who does need housing? Here there is benefit without loss. What then is the issue? From the Gemara it emerges that the question is whether the obligation to pay is triggered by the benefit (in which case he must pay despite the absence of loss) or by the owner’s loss (in which case he is exempt despite the benefit).
What’s So Special Here?
Recall that the sugya opens with Rav Ḥisda’s great excitement about the beit midrash discussion. What did he find so remarkable? It appears that the excitement stemmed from the discussion’s unique and uncharacteristic nature: the analysis proceeds like an *acharonic* “chakirah” (conceptual two-sided inquiry): Is the payment for the benefit or for the loss? The practical differences are the cases of benefit without loss (our case) and loss without benefit (that latter case does not appear in the sugya itself but only among the Rishonim; the Rif and Tosafot dispute it, and this is not the place to elaborate).
It is crucial to understand that the Talmud generally analyzes cases, not theoretical generalities. Discussions of principles or rules are comparatively rare. The conceptualization and abstraction of cases into theoretical debate usually happens among the commentators, and as the generations progress it becomes ever more abstract. The theoretical-analytical planes expand and deepen over the generations. In modern times, especially the most recent generations, the conceptualization and abstraction have reached much higher levels than before. At that stage the discussion is primarily about principles, and cases serve merely as practical ramifications and instruments for clarifying the theoretical point.
So too our sugya begins with a question about a case: one who dwells in another’s courtyard without his knowledge—must he pay rent? But immediately it shifts to a *lamdanic* analysis—that is, to the abstract theoretical plane: is the liability based on benefit or on loss? In other words, the Gemara here does what typically occurs among the later authorities: it presents the two sides of a *chakirah*, then seeks consequences and attempts to resolve the theoretical question by analyzing cases. I think this explains Rav Ḥisda’s enthusiasm. Such abstract *lamdanut* is not what one normally finds among the Talmudic sages, and when it did occur in a Talmudic beit midrash, it was thrilling.
This is a familiar phenomenon to any learner. Complex *lamdanic* moves that once evoked great wonder are stated quite readily today—even by young yeshiva students. Questions that once vexed the greats of the generations are resolved fairly easily by ordinary learners who conduct the *lamdanic* analysis taught in virtually all yeshivot. Such analysis no longer amazes and is certainly not exceptional.
Another Example: The Rambam’s “Wondrous Point”
A clear illustration of this phenomenon is what yeshivot call the Rambam’s “nekudah nifla’ah” (wondrous point). In his Commentary on the Mishnah to Keritot 3:4 the Rambam writes:
In what we have said there is a wondrous point to which we shall call attention, for it is a key to other matters in addition to its precise analysis. It is known that meat cooked with milk (*basar be-chalav*) is prohibited in benefit, whereas *cheilev* (forbidden fat), for example, is permitted in benefit. If one cooked the *cheilev* [of that sort] with milk—why should the prohibition of meat-and-milk not take effect upon the prohibition of *cheilev*? The same reasoning would apply to *neveilah* (a carcass), since it adds a prohibition, as we said here regarding the *cheilev* of consecrated offerings, and we ruled that eating it entails *me’ilah* due to the added prohibition of benefit.
By way of preface: the rule is that one prohibition does not take effect upon another—except in three cases (“kolel,” “mosif,” and “be-vat achat”). One of them is “mosif,” i.e., a broader prohibition taking effect upon a narrower one. Accordingly, the Rambam wonders why the prohibition of meat-and-milk should not take effect upon the prohibition of *cheilev* (forbidden fat): if one eats *cheilev* together with milk, he should transgress two prohibitions. True, one prohibition does not take effect upon another, but the meat-and-milk prohibition includes both eating and benefiting, and thus is “mosif” upon the *cheilev* prohibition (which forbids only eating).
The Rambam resolves this as follows:
The answer is that meat-and-milk is prohibited in benefit only because Scripture forbade eating it; according to the rule we explained—that anything prohibited in eating is [also] prohibited in benefit unless Scripture specifies otherwise—there is not one verse forbidding eating and another forbidding benefit. Rather, both together constitute the meat-and-milk prohibition. Since we say that one prohibition does not take effect upon another, the meat-and-milk prohibition does not take effect upon the prohibition of *neveilah*; therefore it will not be prohibited in benefit, but will be permitted in benefit, and one who eats it is liable for *neveilah*. The meat-and-milk prohibition thus falls away entirely because it never took effect… This has been explained in its place—understand this well, for it is a point of error, and by it you shall judge all analogous cases.
Explanation: the rule is that prohibitions of eating are also prohibited in benefit unless a source permits benefit (per R. Abbahu in Pesachim 21b). The prohibition of benefiting from meat-and-milk branches off from the prohibition of eating it; if the prohibition of eating does not take effect, the prohibition of benefit does not either. The Rambam innovates that meat-and-milk should be treated as only a prohibition of eating, which then expands to a prohibition of benefit once the eating prohibition is in place. If so, the meat-and-milk prohibition does not take effect upon the prohibition of *cheilev*—it is a prohibition of eating upon a prohibition of eating—and one prohibition does not take effect upon another. And since the eating prohibition never took effect, there is nothing from which a prohibition of benefit could expand.
One can certainly debate this point from several angles, but my concern here is the Rambam’s enthusiasm at the outset: he calls this a “wondrous point… of precise analysis.” It is a nice *vort*, and I think one can hear something like it in any basic yeshiva shiur today. In R. Ḥayyim’s writings or in virtually any contemporary scholar’s book you will find far more intricate and subtle novelties on almost every page. So why the great excitement of a giant like the Rambam over this charming *vort*? This again attests to the shift I described above. What today seems simple and obvious evoked great excitement in one of the greatest sages of all generations. In his day, there were likely far fewer such *lamdanic* moves; when he hit upon one, it naturally thrilled him.[1]
Clarifying Note
I have often thought that the scope of material R. Akiva Eiger (19th c.) had to master (and certainly R. Ovadia Yosef) cannot be compared with the scope R. Akiva (1st–2nd c.) commanded. Moreover, I suspect that R. Akiva would not have been able to write—and perhaps not even follow—a complex analytical construction of R. Akiva Eiger.
But the difference in *lamdanic* level (the analytical ability to dissect and conceptualize) between our generation and earlier ones does not mean that our halakhic conclusions are truer than theirs. I have noted more than once that this analytical ability serves as a kind of compensation for the loss of intuition (or loss of confidence in intuition). *Lamdanic* analyses help us reach conclusions that the Rishonim reached by sheer *sevara*, without erecting complex analytical edifices. In yeshivot they say that if the Rosh brings proofs for some foundation he establishes, one can argue with him; but if he states something with “it seems to me,” don’t waste your time. It is accepted that the halakhic intuition of the Rishonim guided them to the truth even without the developed analytical ability we possess. Hence the halakhic tendency to limit disputes with the Rishonim. This is not because of some inherent authority they have—for there is none. In my view, it stems from recognition of the superiority of their intuition, perhaps due to their closeness to the source.[2]
Continuation of the Sugya
We saw Rav Ḥisda’s excitement over what transpired in the beit midrash regarding “one benefits and the other does not lose.” He describes the discussion to Rami bar Ḥama (the *chakirah* set out above). Rami bar Ḥama dismisses it:
He said to him: It’s a Mishnah.
This “thrilling” analysis is unnecessary—an explicit Mishnah resolves it.[3]
Rav Ḥisda is puzzled:
Which Mishnah?
Rami bar Ḥama gives a surprising answer:
He said to him: Go serve me. He took his scarf and wrapped it for him.
He conditions the answer on Rav Ḥisda serving him. Rav Ḥisda indeed dresses him with the scarf as an act of *shimush*, and then Rami bar Ḥama answers:
He said to him: If one benefited, he pays what he benefited.
This is the Mishnah in Bava Kamma 19b regarding an animal that eats vegetables in the public domain. There, for damage by “tooth and foot,” one is exempt; but the Mishnah adds that if it benefited, it pays what it benefited. Apparently, then, even where there is benefit without loss, one pays.
Rava then dismisses Rami bar Ḥama’s words:
Rava said: How unfeeling and unaware is this man whom Heaven assists—for even though it is dissimilar to the Mishnah, he accepted it from him.
Rava argues that Rav Ḥisda accepted Rami bar Ḥama’s words even though the case is nothing like the Mishnah. He quips that apparently Rami bar Ḥama had “heavenly assistance” that his far-fetched idea would be accepted.
Why is it dissimilar? He explains:
That [Mishnah] is “one benefits and the other loses,” whereas here it is “one benefits and the other does not lose.”
Obviously, the animal that ate caused a loss, and thus that case is “one benefits and the other loses.” As we saw, such a case is obviously liable; that was not the question under discussion. The words indeed sound foolish; Rava’s mockery of Rav Ḥisda and Rami bar Ḥama seems entirely justified.
But the Gemara immediately explains:
Rami bar Ḥama holds that produce placed in the public domain is rendered ownerless.
In other words, Rami bar Ḥama has an explanation for his proposed analogy: produce in the public domain is considered *hefker*. His claim is that even if the owner rendered it ownerless (and thus incurred no loss), one still pays for the benefit.
This is indeed strange: if he rendered the fruit ownerless, on what basis would one pay him? It is not his. It is therefore more reasonable (and so write the Rishonim in various formulations—see Tosafot, the Rosh, and others) that produce placed in the public domain is considered *as if* ownerless for purposes of the owner’s culpability. For our purposes, even though he did not actually intend to render them ownerless, legally placing them in the public domain renders them akin to *hefker* with no monetary value; consequently, this is a case of no loss.
*Shimush* and Study
We have seen a series of odd steps in the sugya: missing an explicit Mishnah; demanding *shimush* as a condition for providing an explanation; a strange—indeed, seemingly untenable—analogy to a Mishnah; and, finally, a very strained explanation for that analogy. It is hard to escape the impression that these oddities are connected—and perhaps also to the initial excitement explained above. I will now suggest a way to string these curious facts together into a coherent picture.
Rami bar Ḥama hears that he missed deep *lamdanic* analysis and wants to teach Rav Ḥisda an analytical lesson (and perhaps to show that he himself is not lacking in *lamdanut*). He therefore tosses out a puzzling assertion: there’s an explicit Mishnah that resolves your *lamdanic* debate. In short—don’t impress me with *lamdanut*. Seemingly, his claim is that full information plus a dash of straight thinking obviates *lamdanut* (echoing R. Ovadia’s critiques of Ashkenazic pilpul). But when one examines this “information,” it turns out not to be information at all, but a claim that demands nontrivial *lamdanic* analysis and is far from obvious. Back to their exchange.
When Rav Ḥisda asks which Mishnah, Rami bar Ḥama demands *shimush*. Why here, specifically, does he require serving him? What is special about this sugya? The answer is that Rami bar Ḥama is about to offer a response that will sound puzzling and forced, and he wants to see whether Rav Ḥisda trusts him. Without trust in Rami bar Ḥama’s *lamdanut* and stature, there’s no point in giving the answer, as it will be dismissed out of hand without a second look.
After Rav Ḥisda serves him (now bursting with curiosity—the tension is at its peak, and we await catharsis with him), he receives a strange—indeed, seemingly preposterous—answer: the Mishnah of eating produce in the public domain. These are very odd words: that Mishnah deals with “one benefits and the other loses.” Did Rav Ḥisda and Rami bar Ḥama not know that? Moreover, Rava mocks the answer, yet Rav Ḥisda does not respond. He hears this “nonsense,” and appears to accept it without comment (Rava explicitly says Rav Ḥisda accepted it). Only at the end does the Gemara itself propose an explanation for their approach. But Rav Ḥisda himself does not even wonder or ask Rami bar Ḥama to explain; he accepts his words as self-evident despite their apparent absurdity.
The explanation is that Rav Ḥisda valued Rami bar Ḥama’s *lamdanut*, and this was manifest in his *shimush* of him. *Shimush talmidei ḥakhamim* expresses or perhaps creates such esteem. In any case, because of that esteem, when Rav Ḥisda heard which Mishnah was in question—though he surely initially thought the analogy was absurd (no special insight is required to see the disanalogy)—he nevertheless decided to give it further thought and try to understand. From their context it was clear to him that Rami bar Ḥama wished to demonstrate a lesson in *lamdanut*. Moreover, he had served him—i.e., granted him credit that he was not speaking foolishness. He therefore reconsidered and likely arrived at the conclusion the Gemara ultimately presents: placing fruit in the public domain constitutes *de facto* *hefker* (though not *hefker* legally), and *lamdanically* this is a case of “one benefits and the other does not lose.” His esteem for Rami bar Ḥama, expressed through *shimush*, bore fruit: he grasped the depth because he gave him credit.
Indeed, the analogy Rami bar Ḥama draws between our sugya and the Mishnah is a complex *lamdanic* move. It dances, as it were, at two weddings: it cannot be true *hefker*, yet it cannot be not-*hefker*. If the fruit were *hefker*, there would be nothing to pay; if it were not *hefker*, there would be loss. How does Rami bar Ḥama see a situation of no loss with an obligation to pay? The answer is that it is a non-*hefker* state similar to *hefker*. R. Ḥayyim would doubtless formulate it as “two dinim in *hefker*”: absence of ownership and absence of value, and he would draw distinctions and ramifications accordingly. That is precisely what Rami bar Ḥama intended, and Rav Ḥisda, on further reflection, understood it. Thus Rami bar Ḥama pays Rav Ḥisda in his own coin: he demonstrates his own “later-authorities-style” *lamdanut*. But to ensure Rav Ḥisda invests the effort to understand and not dismiss it out of hand, Rami bar Ḥama requires *shimush* first.
To see this more clearly, compare Rava’s reaction. Rava rejects Rami bar Ḥama’s words outright. He mocks their supposed nonsense, comparing disparate things. At first glance he is right. That is the natural first response to such a strange analogy. The key point is that Rava did not serve Rami bar Ḥama and apparently did not esteem him enough to invest the extra thought to plumb his depth. He dismisses it outright because it truly looks foolish. Note: precisely to avoid this predictable reaction, Rami bar Ḥama asks Rav Ḥisda to serve him before clarifying his point. And, as noted, it worked.
The Halakhic Ruling
Interestingly, the sugya does not reach a clear conclusion. Proofs are offered both ways, but there is no definitive resolution. In practice, the poskim ruled that one who lives in his fellow’s courtyard without his knowledge, where the courtyard is not designated for rent, does not have to pay rent. So ruled the Rambam (Gezeilah va’Aveidah 3:9) and the Tur and Shulchan Aruch. Yet Tosafot DH “Kegon,” in the sugya of “the measure of Sodom,” Bava Batra 12b, write:
Moreover, that which we compel in cases of the measure of Sodom—where one benefits and the other does not lose—applies if he has already lived in his fellow’s courtyard, such that he does not pay rent; but it is obvious that the owner can protest and prevent him from entering to live in his house even in a courtyard not designated for rent and a person who does not rent—this is a case of “one benefits and the other does not lose.”
They rule that the owner may prevent the would-be tenant from entering, even if the courtyard is not for rent. We see that the fact the tenant need not pay rent is not because of strict law but only because we compel [people not to act] with the “measure of Sodom.” So too rules the Rema in the Shulchan Aruch, ḤM 363:6:
This is only where he has already lived there, but one cannot initially compel [the owner] to let him live there; although we compel [people] regarding the measure of Sodom when one benefits and the other does not lose, that applies where, even if [the beneficiary] wanted to benefit, he could not [otherwise] benefit. But in such a case as this, where if the owner wished to benefit and profit by renting out his courtyard he could do so, but simply does not want to, we do not compel him to give for free (Mordechai and Nimukei Yosef ad loc.).
Between the lines it appears that strictly speaking there is an obligation to pay, but it is “the measure of Sodom” to collect it. So writes the Pnei Yehoshua on our sugya in Bava Kamma (20a): essentially one must pay for benefit alone, but if there is no loss, it is the measure of Sodom to collect payment. The ruling that “one benefits and the other does not lose” is exempt—derives only from compelling against the measure of Sodom; strictly speaking, one is liable.
If so, Rami bar Ḥama’s analogy to the Mishnah may stand even *le-halakhah*: just as in the Mishnah one must pay (and there it is not the measure of Sodom to collect, because after all there was loss—even if *lamdanically* it is not considered loss, like the rationale of “the blackening of the oven-wall” in our Bava Kamma sugya).
The Introduction to Sha’arei Yosher: The Importance of *Shimush* and Trust in One’s Teacher
R. Shimon Shkop, in the introduction to his Sha’arei Yosher, discusses this point at length and even invokes our sugya. I will cite his words in full because of their importance:[4]
For the beginning of the training necessary to be worthy of acquiring Torah, the Torah requires special conditions. The first condition is toil and effort, as our Sages expounded on “If you walk in My statutes”—that you should toil in Torah—and the other matters required for acquiring Torah…
As for me—whom, by God’s compassion, He granted a share among those who toil with the community—since 5644 [1884] I was called by my uncle and teacher, the Gaon R. Eliezer Gordon z”l, to teach students in the Telz yeshiva; in 5663 to the city of Maltsh; in 5667 to Bransk; and in 5680 to Grodno. And I merited, in all these places of Torah dissemination, to draw after me the hearts of those who heeded my instruction. All this is not commensurate with my deeds nor my talents, but rather by the virtue of “You shall surely tithe,” as we wrote—that from my youth until this day my times have been “tithed” for myself and for those who heed my instruction.
Therefore I hope that also in publishing this book to disseminate it widely, the Good and Beneficent will grant me favor to draw the hearts of those who toil in the depths of halakhah, that they study it and gain instruction, and may my portion be with them forever. I know that my book will not be accepted by all, for many learners are unaccustomed to study by analysis, in the manner of analysis that revolves throughout many matters in this book. There are many paths in Torah, and each finds flavor according to his habit. Moreover, most of the topics elucidated here require analysis and toil, and will not be grasped—even by an understanding heart—at a mere glance; and not everyone wishes to ascribe the deficiency to himself—on account of the depth of the concept and the deficiency of the apprehender.
He warns that the book contains matters that require toil and effort and may seem puzzling at first glance, and he fears the reader will not invest further effort and will dismiss them out of hand.
You will not be surprised to find that he now brings our sugya:
I heard a pleasing and persuasive point in the name of my lamented brother-in-law, the rabbi R. Shlomo Zalman b. R. Kalman Abel of Telz, regarding what is related in Bava Kamma (20a) in the sugya of “one benefits and the other does not lose”: that Rav Ḥisda asked of Rami bar Ḥama, and he replied, “Go serve me; he took his scarf and wrapped it for him.” At first glance, this is puzzling. The aforesaid rabbi explained that in matters requiring analysis and toil, everything depends on whether the student believes in the stature of his teacher. If at first he does not understand, he will ascribe the deficiency to himself and intensify his toil, and will ultimately understand. But if the teacher’s words are trifling in his eyes and unworthy of the effort, then if he does not accept the words at first weighing, he will set them aside or dismiss them in his heart, and that will suffice. Therefore, since Rami bar Ḥama knew the depth of the matter he wished to teach him, he did not want to teach until it was established that Rav Ḥisda yearned to learn from him as a disciple from a master; hence he did not teach him until he served him as a disciple serves a master. And this is sufficient for the understanding heart.
He continues about the importance of the student’s esteem for the teacher:
The primary benefit of recognizing the advantage of elderliness is to the student; for if he recognizes that it is fitting before him to deepen his analysis in his teacher’s words, he will then attain the desired benefit, as we have written. Likewise, I think that only those who esteem my words before seeing or hearing them will find it desirable to study this book and will deem it worthwhile to deepen their analysis even if they do not grasp matters at first weighing; then, with God’s help, they will accept my words. But it is fit to know and consider, in my view, what our Sages said (Ḥagigah 15b): “And how did R. Meir learn Torah from the mouth of Aḥer, and did not R. Yoḥanan say [on the verse], ‘For the priest’s lips should guard knowledge, and they shall seek Torah at his mouth; for he is an angel of the Lord of Hosts’—if the teacher is like an angel of the Lord of Hosts, seek Torah at his mouth; if not, do not seek Torah at his mouth’? The Gemara resolves: There is no difficulty—this [warning] is for a child, that [exception] for an adult.” This needs to be understood: how can R. Yoḥanan’s statement be limited to a child, and not to an adult? We may say that when we are precise about R. Yoḥanan’s wording—“seek Torah at his mouth,” and he did not say “learn from him”—truly, one who learns from his fellow does not learn from the mouth of the teacher; rather he listens and weighs it on the scales of his intellect, and he understands the matter. Such a one is not learning “from the mouth” of the teacher, but from the teacher’s intellect. “Torah from the mouth” means accepting the words as heard, without critique. And about this R. Yoḥanan said: to accept Torah “from the mouth,” it is proper only if the teacher is like an angel of the Lord of Hosts.
The explanation he proposes is novel. When the Sages say the teacher must appear to you like an angel, this is not some mystical or spiritual matter; it is a condition for the possibility of learning from him. If you dismiss out of hand anything that does not immediately strike you as convincing, you will not learn anything from your teacher. What seems right to you—you will accept; but that you already knew. What does not seem right—you will reject. Thus you will remain with the same set of insights you had, without adding anything you learned from your teacher.
I once told my students in Yeruham that the debate from which you gained something is the debate you “lost”: in such a debate you learned something new. At first you thought X; then it turned out you were mistaken, and the truth is Y. But in a debate you “won,” you emerge as you entered; you gained nothing. So too with a shiur: if you dismiss everything that does not immediately seem right to you, you have gained nothing from it; there is no point in attending. Here I recall the jaundice story I cited in Column 426 about Occam’s razor as a basis for intellectual conservatism.
Reservation: Does This Contradict Intellectual Independence?
At first glance, the foregoing contradicts the demand for independent thinking. The student is supposed to nullify himself before the teacher and accept everything from him—even if it seems puzzling and untenable. R. Shimon Shkop himself anticipates this and qualifies his words:
Accordingly, a distinction is hinted at in R. Yoḥanan’s words between a child and an adult: a child learns “Torah from the mouth”—he is not fit to critique what to draw near and what to distance; an adult, who can critique, does not learn “from the mouth.” Likewise, it is proper to awaken all who study the books of the Acharonim not to learn “Torah from their mouths”—not to make a foundation of everything stated in their words before thoroughly critiquing them. As a hint to this we may learn from what the Gemara says (BM, “Ha-Socher et ha-Po’alim”): R. Ḥiyya said, “I make arrangements so that Torah will not be forgotten from Israel,” and it explains that he planted flax, made nets, trapped deer, made parchment, and wrote scrolls—hinting that whatever we can begin from the start of Torah, we should do ourselves, to the extent we are permitted to investigate and contemplate, and not rely on the words of the greats who preceded us. Let this declaration of my view tip the scales toward merit for those who study my book if they find my words contradict those of greats whose little finger is thicker than my loins; whether I intended their words and did not cite them, or cited and rejected them. For in the path of study described, I consulted little the books of the Acharonim, for this book is not responsa but an elucidation of halakhot, regarding which free judgment has been granted to all who engage in proper and beneficial analysis.
Here he qualifies the student’s trust in the teacher and demands critical thinking. Just as R. Shimon allowed himself to reject or omit Acharonim, so should a reader do with his own book: on the one hand, grant trust and reconsider—perhaps the words are not untenable and have reason and logic; on the other hand, ultimately do not accept what you do not agree with. But only after deep thought—not at first glance.
In Column 304 I set out these principles and cited the Magen Avraham, whose words are interpreted similarly. And the matter stands as before.
Summary
The framing of the sugya “one benefits and the other does not lose” teaches us something about *lamdanut* and its historical development. Clearly, analytical and conceptual capacity continually improves across generations. On the other hand, it is quite possible—and likely—that even in the past, though it was not explicitly and broadly employed, such capacity stood behind the words. The *lamdanic* discussion in this sugya shows that the principled capacity already existed.
Rami bar Ḥama teaches Rav Ḥisda—and Rava—an important *lamdanic* lesson. The importance of *shimush* is that it enables us to learn something from our teacher. On the one hand, we should reconsider his words repeatedly, even if they seem untenable; otherwise there is no point in attending the shiur or reading the book. On the other hand, we should not accept a person’s words solely by virtue of authority and our esteem for him.
Beyond that, it seems *shimush* matters most when dealing with *lamdanut* rather than the transmission of information. Information can usually be understood without great credit to the teacher. But *lamdanic* and logical principles require skill and effort, and without esteem for the teacher this will likely not happen. No accident, then, that Rami bar Ḥama asks Rav Ḥisda to serve him precisely in the context of a *lamdanic* discussion.
[1] I will not enter here the obvious question whether the Brisker-style *lamdanic* constructions—often applied to reconcile the Rambam’s own words—truly reflect his intent. It is very likely the Rambam never entertained them at all, and yet in my view there is no barrier to their serving as a true explanation of his words (see on this here).
[2] In the third gate of Two Carriages (*Shtei Agalot*) I discussed “decline of the generations,” arguing that analytical abilities have risen while synthetic abilities have fallen. I also explained there the attitude toward the Rishonim’s authority derived from this picture, attributing it to their closeness to the source.
[3] This structure recalls the words of R. Eliezer the Banned (Ḥagigah 3b) when his student came from Yavneh (after the upheaval and his, and Rabban Gamliel’s, removal) to visit him in Lod. R. Eliezer says that their clever debate (there too there was excitement) in Yavneh was unnecessary because there is a halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai that states the answer explicitly (Ammon and Moab tithe in the sabbatical year). See my article here.
[4] After writing this, I recalled that in Column 304 I set out these principles. I decided to leave them here as well to complete the picture.
Discussion
Excellent point!
Correction: it says, “And indeed Rambach puts the scarf on him in order to attend to him,” but it should say: R. Ch. puts on…
Thanks. It will be corrected.
Many thanks.
The stirring series of columns on statistical proofs is filling my thoughts, and there’s no room in my head to get into another topic, so here I am just drawing a little from the side.
A. Just as an addition, a fairly similar story appears in Beitzah 38. Rabbi Abba came from Babylonia to the Land of Israel, where they did not know him or appreciate his stature, and so, in what seems an unusual way, he prayed: “May it be the will that I say something that will be accepted.” He met a group of amoraim who were stuck on a difficulty in the mishnah, and he tried to resolve it for them by analogy to an agreed law. In response, they “laughed at him” twice, and the sugya there debates who was right. The rishonim already have great difficulty with the sugya; the Ra’ah begins: “This sugya is defective, and I have struggled with it greatly,” and the Shitah Mekubetzet sums up: “This teaching is obscure to the commentators in explaining it, for what they challenged he did not answer, and the answer is not similar to the question, and they struggled with it greatly.” The Pnei Yehoshua, not a man of exaggerations, opens this way: “At first glance this sugya is very puzzling, and it is like the words of a sealed book. Was Rabbi Abba giving parables or posing riddles? For the parable is not at all similar to the thing it is meant to illustrate, etc.; and likewise in this matter that he compares to it, etc., it appears to be nothing but matters of mere fancy.” And in the end, the Pnei Yehoshua and Sha’arei Yosher extract pearls and gems from there. [By the way, after they laughed at him, Rabbi Abba responds, “Have I taken your cloaks?” and Rashi explains: “Did I take your garment, that you mock me?” It is not clear what taking a garment has to do with mockery. This is a bit homiletical, but perhaps one can explain it slightly differently—taking a garment is a sign of honor, like the scarf here, and like “to carry his cloak after him”; and this is what Rabbi Abba said to them: had you placed a garment in my hands—that is, had you recognized my worth—you would not have laughed but would have delved in and gotten to the bottom of what I meant].
B. A quick search on the Dicta site for Talmud search turns up at least two more places where they tempted the absent member of the study hall with “excellent things.” Bava Batra 51: “Excellent things”—if one sells a field to his wife, she acquires it, and we do not say that the husband merely wanted to locate and take the money his wife had hidden (I at least don’t find any special depth here). Zevachim 2: sacrifices, when unspecified, stand for their own sake, and a woman, when unspecified, does not stand for divorce (here indeed at first glance there does seem to be a special insight in the conception of lishmah). And there are also “excellent things” said about aggadot floating in the air. So it is not certain that this turn of phrase signifies anything especially unique.
[C. Rav Chisda and Rami bar Chama were both known for their sharpness, in contrast to Rav Sheshet’s mastery of material (Rav Chisda in Eruvin 67a; Rami bar Chama in Zevachim 96b. I haven’t learned Eruvin or Zevachim, but the colorful descriptions there are famous). There is a sense that in such a clash between two masters of their craft there is a special tension, and perhaps that is why Rami bar Chama demanded that Rav Chisda acknowledge whose hand was uppermost.]
[D. The truly wonderful point seems to me indeed rather wonderful (that even in logical causality one preserves the order. Though on the substance it seems to me a very strange thing, and I cannot understand why in fact the Holy One, blessed be He, decided that forbidden fat in milk is permitted for benefit), and I don’t relate to your describing it as something routine and of little value. By the way, I recall reading in the name of the Chazon Ish that he remarked (in Yiddish; I’m phrasing roughly what I remember from the Hebrew translation): the Rambam was deeply impressed by the Ri Migash, who was overall only “a bit” of Rabbenu Tam—so what would he have said about Rabbenu Tam himself?..]
E. And the main thing. The very idea that in matters that are not necessary, appreciation for the teacher is required is very widely accepted, and I have seen it in my own flesh. But as for myself, I say that even when there is great appreciation, it is still quite hard to muster true openness to accept major innovations. I work on this consciously and declare that it is not easy, and sometimes impossible. There are cases where something looks puzzling on its face, but then the arguments come and slap me in the face, and then it isn’t too hard for me to be fully convinced and retract. But when there are no arguments, and the reasoning stands on its own, then if in my first thoughts after understanding it, it seems strange to me, it is already very hard to accept it consciously. (But sometimes I discover after some time that suddenly it has seeped into me and in fact I was convinced without noticing. I really do not know how to explain that phenomenon.) It is rather troubling. On the one hand, the fear of stubborn fixation is indeed great. On the other hand, I have only my own judgment—what can I do if that is how it seems to me, and it digs in its heels. Therefore, by the way, there is great benefit in engaging also in solid things and not only in flexible things, because then one can absorb the appreciation and measure, etc., and from there by a kind of psychological analogy transfer it also to the flexible things.
A. Nice.
Do you have a fuller and more developed definition of “the analytical ability of analysis and conceptualization”?
With God’s help, 27 Kislev 5782
It is told of a student of Rabbi Yerucham of Mir who was already serving as a town rabbi, but would come in Elul to the yeshivah to hear the mashgiach’s ethical talks. One day the mashgiach turned to his student and said to him: “You must pay for hearing the talk,” and charged him a significant sum of money.
Several years later, a certain incident occurred in that town, and the rabbi remembered that talk for which he had paid, and acted successfully with the aid of the message his teacher Rabbi Yerucham had conveyed to him. When he came in Elul of that year to Mir, Rabbi Yerucham met him and returned to him the “tuition” he had charged him several years earlier, saying: “The tuition achieved its purpose.”
It turned out that from the outset Rabbi Yerucham had foreseen that the message in that talk would be vital for his student, and therefore required from him “tuition” for hearing the talk, so that the message of that talk would be engraved in the listener’s heart, just as “a doctor who heals for free—is worth free,” for the patient relates less seriously to a free doctor.
So too here, Rami bar Chama clarifies that already from the mishnah one learns the basic principle that benefit is no less a cause of payment than compensation for loss. In the mishnah there is indeed a loss, but it is not the cause of payment, for beyond the benefit there is no liability for the damage (since responsibility for guarding what was eaten rests on its owner, who left it in the public domain). The cause of payment is clearly the benefit.
To be sure, there is no direct place to derive the law of “this one benefits and that one does not lose” directly from the mishnah, for one could say that in a situation where there is not a drop of loss, it would be fitting for the owner of the object to act in “the way of the good” and waive the payment due him for the benefit from his property. But the principle that benefit is a cause of liability is indeed learned from the mishnah.
Regards, Pedahzur Fishel Peri-Gan
Perhaps the demand for “service” connects with Rami bar Chama’s message, for one may see “service” as a kind of “payment” for the novel insight. The innovator loses nothing for which it would be fitting to pay, but it is fitting that the listener who becomes acquainted with the new idea should give a kind of “payment” for his enjoyment.
No. I think everyone understands that.
Rami bar Chama’s demand that Rav Chisda “render him service” is interesting also because Rami bar Chama was both his student and his son-in-law of Rav Chisda, and he demands that his teacher serve him. Perhaps Rava’s resentment also stems from the fact that he too was a student of Rav Chisda (and after Rambach’s death, his son-in-law), and he expresses his dissatisfaction with his colleague Rambach, “whose Master assisted him,” in that his teacher and father-in-law was compelled to serve him.
Regards, PPG, may he live long
[“A doctor who heals for free (meaning who protects and heals) is worth free” does not mean that if the patient does not pay then he will not value the healing and will not follow instructions (for if so, that is a problem of the injured patient, and he would have no claim here against the damager, as may be seen in the gemara there), but rather that if the doctor does not take money for a given treatment, then he will not exert himself in healing and will not feel responsibility (and all the more so for a doctor who generally offers his services for free, which is usually a sign that he is poor-quality)].
The common denominator between Persico the lover of mysticism and Buzaglo the lover of tradition is that both “benefit” from religion and are willing to take from it what “does them good,” but in the sugya it is explained that for the “benefit” from religion it is proper to “pay” in the coin of “halakhic obligation” to the will of the “Master of the house” 🙂
Regards, Feivish Lipa Sosnovitzki-Dehari
[The expression “asya de-magen be-magen” can be explained in two ways.
(1) A pun: a physician who protects/heals (magen) for free (be-magen). The first magen is in the Hebrew sense (protection, that is, healing) and the second in the Aramaic sense (gratis; “and you served me for nothing” is translated “and you labored for me for free”). And just as in Tanakh in many places there are puns—for example, in Micah 1:10–15 there is a whole list of wordplays.
(2) “Asya de-magen” is an adjective for the physician: a free physician, and so he is gratis. Thus the damager says to the injured party, I will bring you an “asya de-magen,” and therefore he is free, and so I do not have to pay you healing expenses, for I can repair your loss free of charge.
The practical difference is if the doctor is generally a doctor who charges payment, but in this particular treatment he is for some reason willing to heal for free. According to the first explanation, since this particular treatment is free, the injured party can refuse him and claim that such treatment will not be successful. According to the second explanation, since the doctor is an ordinary doctor and not an “asya de-magen,” the injured party has nothing to complain about, even though this particular treatment is free.
Rashi explains that “asya de-magen be-magen” means “a doctor who will heal for free, and he is his relative,” that is, the doctor is a relative of the damager. It seems that he comes to explain that the intention is not that it is always the doctor’s way to heal for free (and specifically in that case the injured party can refuse and claim that such a doctor is inferior), but rather that even though the doctor is a normal doctor and others pay him money for his services, and only here in this case he is willing to volunteer to heal the injured party for the benefit of the damager—even so, the injured party may refuse, since the treatment is free. That is, like the first explanation (and so too is the implication of his words “a doctor who will heal for free,” which comes to establish the literal meaning)].
To LTG — greetings,
On the plain meaning of the gemara, perhaps you are right, but there is room to say that even without negligence on the patient’s part, the very fact that he does not place trust and importance in his doctor and is full of worry and anxiety interferes with the chances of recovery.
And so did Prof. Arnold Rosin, of blessed memory, who was head of the geriatric department at Shaare Zedek. Even when he went to treat those of limited means, he demanded some payment so that the patient would not relate to him as to “a doctor who heals for free and is worth free.”
Regards, PPG, may he live long
And if we mentioned Prof. Rosin, of blessed memory—I will tell what I heard when I came to pay a condolence call (about a year ago). His son, Rabbi Yonatan, told how his mother (Prof. Martha Weinstock-Rosin, Israel Prize laureate) chose his father to be her husband. Every young man who met her, she played with him a game that required thought. She beat them all, but sensed in all the young men a feeling of discomfort when they lost, except for Arnold Rosin, who knew how to accept even defeat in good spirit.
Why, in the Bava Kamma case of “this one benefits and that one does not lose,” do we compel the right-holder against the trait of Sodom—meaning we compel him not to exercise his right—whereas in Bava Kamma 60, in the case of saving oneself with another’s property, we do not say that we compel the owner against the trait of Sodom, and therefore allow someone to use another’s property to save his life?
Who says we don’t compel? The gemara in Bava Kamma discusses the question of what the law is, not what is done in practice. It is possible that in practice they would compel. According to the overwhelming majority of the rishonim, even as a matter of basic law it is permitted to steal in order to save oneself.
And the practical difference would be if the doctor is free but the patient thinks the doctor is being paid.
It is important to know how to lose (to acknowledge the loss, internalize it, and learn from it), but not to overdo even that. Someone who feels no discomfort when he loses has in him (to my sense) something defeated, lazy, and boring, and all his days he remains in his inferiority.
But in principle one does not compel a person when he incurs a loss. That is not the trait of Sodom. The trait of Sodom is usually defined as “this one benefits and that one does not lose.” True, in the proportions of money versus life, perhaps there is room to view even the loss as though it were not, and then it would be the trait of Sodom. But simply speaking, that is not the case.
By the way, according to explanation (1), which as noted seems to be how Rashi explained it, de-magen = that heals, it turns out they mixed Aramaic and Hebrew, both within one expression (de-magen “that heals,” be-magen “for free”) and within one word, de-magen: the de- is an Aramaic prefix and magen is a Hebrew word. This is unlike what I recall that R. Meir Mazuz mocks in several places—those who use an androgynous language of Hebrew and Aramaic together, such as “she-amrinan” and the like (it is his position that there is value in extra stringency in language).
In the “Daf Yomi Portal” (Bava Kamma 20) there is an article devoted to the question: “How could Rami bar Chama say to Rav Chisda—who was his father-in-law, his teacher, and a priest—‘Go and serve me’?”
The writer cites the words of the Tosefot Chachmei Anglia and the Midrash Shmuel that the service was intended so that the student would recognize the greatness of the rabbi and thus apply himself to delve into his words. But the Petach Einayim and the Mor u-Ketzi’ah ask: how was Rambach permitted to demand that his teacher serve him?
The Chida (in Birkei Yosef and in Rosh David) suggests that since Rav Chisda also learned from Rambach, he is considered “a teacher who is not his primary teacher” [and this can be connected with the gemara in the chapter “These Lost Objects,” that “the Torah scholars in Babylonia stand for one another,” each one seeing his colleague as his teacher. S.Z.]. But in Petach Einayim the Chida prefers the explanation of the Yaavetz in Mor u-Ketzi’ah, that Rambach’s demand of Rav Chisda, “Go and serve,” was said jokingly.
In the Hagahot Maimoniyot it asks how Rambach used Rav Chisda, who was a priest. The Magen Avraham resolved that here Rav Chisda waived his honor. The משנה למלך resolved that for payment it is permitted to use a priest, and here, since he resolved Rav Chisda’s inquiry from the mishnah, the service is like payment for the novel insight.
Regards, PPG, may he live long
And perhaps Rambach wanted—and Rav Chisda agreed with him—that the ability to resolve the inquiry from the mishnah is more important than the ability to formulate an “inquiry” from reasoning, for reasonings can be proposed endlessly, but anchoring them in sources is a great thing.
And this can be connected to the gemara’s statement that for “analysis” one does not need special heavenly assistance, but in order “to arrive at the teaching in accordance with the halakhah,” for that one needs extra heavenly assistance (and therefore even Rava, who did not agree with Rambach’s words, called him “a man whose Master assisted him”).
“Rav Yitzchak bar Yehudah used to study regularly before Rami bar Chama. He left him and went to Rav Sheshet. One day he met him and said to him: Has the caper-bud taken on fragrance because you went to Rav Sheshet—have you become like Rav Sheshet? He said to him: Not for that reason. Master, when I ask him something, he resolves it for me from reasoning; when I then find a mishnah, it refutes it. Rav Sheshet, when I ask him something, resolves it for me from a mishnah, so that even if you then find a mishnah and it refutes it—the mishnah refutes a mishnah. He said to him: Ask me something that I resolve for you like a mishnah, etc.” See there.
And here Rambach showed that his power was great also in resolving from a mishnah.
Regards, PPG, may he live long
Indeed. However, in the story with Rav Yitzchak, Rambach’s whole claim was that (he thought that) by reasoning he could resolve things just like the mishnah (“like a mishnah”). Therefore it is hard to see him as a standard-bearer for anchoring in sources over making do with mere reasoning.
To LTG — greetings,
And perhaps here he used “heals” in the language of “protects,” because even if the doctor does not heal with medicines but gives advice on how to protect and preserve oneself through diet and a healthy lifestyle, since this is only giving advice and not active medical treatment, the doctor thinks there is no need for payment. Therefore it teaches us that even advice for protection should be paid for, so that the patient will place trust in it.
Regards, PPG, may he live long
However, Prof. Martha Rosin-Weinstock, who developed drugs for Alzheimer’s, for which she registered a patent and receives royalties, gives for free (in an interview with her) the advice that physical activity, proper nutrition, and a healthy lifestyle slow the deterioration of Alzheimer’s.
Maybe indeed that is the source of the saying (but specifically in that sugya the case is one who was injured and needs healing, not just advice. The issue is whether the damager can exempt himself from healing expenses by bringing a doctor who volunteers to heal for free).
You wrote that “fruits lying in the public domain are considered ownerless with respect to the owner’s culpability.”
Is that because of culpability, or waiver, or despair?
If it is culpability, then how is that connected to benefiting without causing loss?
If it is the owner’s fault, then I did not cause his loss (I broke a barrel already broken), and therefore it is as though he is not losing.
With God’s help, 28 Kislev 5782 (the 133rd birthday of Rabbi Yitzhak Herzog)
To Chaim — greetings,
The conceptual discussion whether one who uses another’s property pays because of the benefit or because of the loss rests on a revolutionary premise: a person’s right to his money is not something self-evident.
Simple logic would say: “This is my property. You used it—pay.” Then the sages of the Torah come and say: your ownership of your property is not absolute. God entrusted the property to your hand, with a lofty moral demand: do not behave tyrannically with your property. You cannot charge your fellow for “nothing.” Perhaps you may charge him for his benefit, and perhaps for your loss, but one does not pay for “nothing.”
How much lesson for life is hidden in a seemingly “dry” conceptual discussion…
With an illuminating Hanukkah blessing, Ami’oz Yaron Shnitzer
Am I the only one bothered by these words of the rabbi: “Moreover, I assume that R. Akiva would not have been capable of writing, and perhaps not even of following, a complex analytical construction of R. Akiva Eiger”
This view of R. Akiva as if all his wisdom was merely simple intuitions and straightforward reasoning—and to say that what an average Torah scholar today can understand, the great R. Akiva could not understand??
Would one also say that King Solomon, of whom Scripture testifies that he was wiser than all men, also could not follow a construction of R. Akiva Eiger??
See the Maharal in his introduction to Be’er HaGolah: “Since man’s perfection lies in knowing and apprehending existing things, it would have been most proper first to know and apprehend his own essence, and not to be foolish regarding the apprehension of himself. And truly this apprehension is not easy, for not many become wise in this apprehension, namely the apprehension of one’s own level. And if it is easy in terms of the essence of this apprehension, for one need only open his eyes and he will find himself, for it is neither far nor in heaven to recognize the value of his own existence, than which nothing is closer. Yet most people apprehend this apprehension contrary to what they are, for he compares himself to the earlier ones and says that he too has a heart, and the former days are not better than these, for the wisdom implanted by the Creator of all surely came from one place, for the individuals of the species are one. And this stumbling-block is under their hand.
But the wise know their own worth; they do not violate justice in their money, and all the more so in their own person, and this is called the worth of the wise. As they said in tractate Eruvin (53a): Rabbi Yohanan said: The heart of the earlier ones was like the entrance to the Ulam, and of the later ones like the entrance to the Heikhal, and we are like the eye of a fine needle. The earlier ones—Rabbi Akiva. The later ones—Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua. Some say: The earlier ones—Rabbi Eliezer ben Shamua. The later ones—Rabbi Oshaya Beribbi. And we are like the hole of a fine needle. Abaye said: And we are like a peg in the wall with respect to Gemara. Rava said: And we are like a finger in wax with respect to reasoning. Rav Ashi said: And we are like a finger in a pit with respect to forgetfulness. Thus far. Behold, they admitted and were not ashamed, and gave a measure to the earlier ones and also to the later ones, and acknowledged their own level.
And now see how they measured the generations, for they explained that the earlier ones were all intellect, for man consists of body and intellect, and in the earlier generations the intellectual power prevailed over the body and had the upper hand, so that they had a broad heart to receive wisdom, and there was no hindrance from the body… Whereas in these generations the body prevails over the intellect, and the intellect is found only to the extent absolutely necessary according to the form of man. For insofar as man is man, it is impossible that he not have intellect, for if not he would be like the beasts. And since his intellect is only enough for him to be called by the name ‘intellect,’ its measure is exceedingly small, just enough that the name intellect may remain with him. And this is the measure of this generation, for the body prevails over the intellect.
Now what Abaye said, ‘And we are like a peg in the wall with respect to Gemara,’ means that the intelligibles and wisdoms that are deep, which a person cannot grasp by himself but only from his teacher, who also received them, it is impossible for us to grasp them except little by little. And of these deep intelligibles, only what is weak and apt to be received enters our hearts, just as a peg enters hard wood only a little, in the place where the wood is weak and fit to receive. So too, of those intelligibles what enters our hearts is only what is weak and apt to be received, not the core of the matter.
And Rava added, ‘And we are like a finger in wax with respect to reasoning.’ That is, the intelligibles that a person grasps by himself, for which he does not need a teacher’s transmission, being merely reasoning, are like a finger in wax. One who places his finger in wax—although the finger is impressed in the wax—can tilt it in any direction he wishes. So too, our reasoning is not clear reasoning such that a person cannot tilt it to another side wherever he wishes; rather, he can tilt the reasoning to any side he wishes, because it is not strong reasoning that has stability without turning right or left.
And Rav Ashi added, ‘And we are like a finger in a pit with respect to forgetfulness,’ meaning that the wisdom we attain does not remain in us so that it should not be removed easily, but remains in us like a finger in a pit, which has no adhesion there and is easily removed. And what one has received cannot be called reception at all, because of how easily it is removed.
Thus they laid blame on themselves, that the human soul is deficient from what is fitting. And if the waters of wisdom kept diminishing from the generation of Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua to Rabbi Yohanan—and there were from Rabbi Elazar to Rabbi Yohanan only two or three generations at most, for Rabbi was a student of Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua, as stated in Yevamot in the chapter HaArel (84a), and Rabbi Yohanan was a student of Rabbi, as stated in the chapter Eilu Tereifot in the discussion of ‘trampled’ (Hullin 54a), so there were only two or three generations at most—what has happened until now, that the land has dried up in general and no moisture of wisdom is to be found? And Rabbi Yohanan did not leave us in these generations any pedigree or measure at all.
And this matter—our smallness of intellect—is the reason that the words of the earlier ones are to us like a sealed book. And even more so where they spoke in wisdoms whose depth of wisdom and apprehension are hidden from us. And even if we understand something of their words, a person should not think that we have reached the end or even the middle. For Abaye already admitted, ‘And we are like a peg in the wall with respect to Gemara,’ and Abaye left us no positive report concerning ourselves.
Therefore, when one finds in the words of the earlier ones matters distant from reason and from the intellect implanted in us, and he entertains a strange thought about the earlier ones, this is only the foolishness of the thinker, who is foolish in two ways: he is foolish in that he does not know how to understand the words of the wisdom of the earlier ones, and he is foolish about himself in thinking himself wise and knowledgeable. For if not, he would say that the blame lies with the later generation, as is the truth. And if he says that all the sages in this generation are lacking knowledge, and all the discerning are lacking intellect compared to the earlier ones, then he is foolish only in one way: that he does not grasp the words of the wisdom of the earlier ones; but he knows and apprehends his own worth, and that is considered wisdom for him. For as we said, not many become wise in this apprehension, though it is easy, since man is close to himself to know the truth about himself; but he acts like a stranger and does not wish to recognize the essence of his own level. But one who gives honest admission regarding himself and does not overcharge himself in judgment—his deficiency atones for him. For one who recognizes and senses his deficiency thereby senses and recognizes excellence, for otherwise he would not sense deficiency at all. For one who does not know excellence does not recognize deficiency. Therefore the recognition of deficiency is for him in some measure knowledge of excellence, and knowledge of excellence is closer to it than one who does not recognize excellence at all, who has no closeness to it whatever. And this is the ultimate highest level in our generations: recognition of our deficiency relative to excellence, and in this we have closeness to intellectual excellence. Not as when we think ourselves perfect in intellect, for that is completely distant from it. For living flesh feels the scalpel, but dead flesh does not feel the scalpel (Shabbat 13b). This is because what has no life does not sense deficiency at all. Thus recognition of our deficiency is the level that we possess. But when we do not know or feel at all, this is because of the greatness of the deficiency in wisdom that is within us.
And there is no need to warn the sages of Israel in this generation about this, for they are all warned and standing in the utmost caution, for the words of the earlier ones are Sinai, and anyone who touches them shall surely be shot or surely be stoned (based on Exodus 19:13). And if something is distant from his understanding, let him lay the blame on himself—unless the leprosy of heresy has blossomed on his forehead, and of that one may not speak. But recently there have entered the gates of the Talmud those for whom, in truth, its gates are locked, for no man knows their entrances. Yet they passed from gate to gate, and in their own view they stood over all its treasure chambers and saw all the hidden things within, and found in it matters fit to be rejected, and because of this they spread an evil report of the Talmud which they spied out. And they did not remember what they ought to have said; rather, they said that it is the ancient sages with whom wisdom departed, discernment failed, and knowledge was lost from mankind.
And now, if we remain silent, sin and guilt will be found in us; for we hear contemptuous words about the sages of the world, and repay evil for good, for they intended to benefit us, the last generation, empty of wisdom and lacking intellect, and we remain silent and do not remove their disgrace. But to explain the matters that need explanation, and which are difficult for one who does not understand their words—this is impossible, especially when a person seeks a pretext. But we shall explain some of their words, and it will be a testimony and proof regarding the rest of what they said. Also, with the help of the One who gives life to the living, the matters will be clarified in their places, in their proper settings, in the order of the Talmud. Therefore, if a person seeks more, he will find it in its place, for in faithfulness they spoke what they spoke.
I understand that this is revenge for the anger I caused you. I thank God that you didn’t copy here the entire Talmud and Tanakh. Apparently the anger did not reach that far. In any case, the site’s storage is limited.
With God’s help, on the eve of the holy Sabbath, “Take from the choice fruits of the land,” 5782
The frequent mention of deep reasonings in the words of the ancients does not mean that they were not there. Analytical thinking that breaks a concept into its components or finds a common denominator appears explicitly in several places showing that the Sages were familiar with the concepts. For example, the concepts of chefza and gavra are mentioned in the gemara as the distinction between a vow and an oath. Rabbi Chaim merely used this concept to explain many other sugyot as well.
One must remember: in the days of Hazal and the rishonim, written books were expensive valuables, and the Torah of the sages was transmitted orally from teacher to student, in accordance with the law that “matters transmitted orally you are not permitted to say in writing.” In Temple times there was no great need to write, since the sages would meet when they came up for the pilgrimage three times a year and discuss together face to face.
Only with the destruction and the dispersal of the nation was there a need to condense the Oral Torah into compositions such as the Mishnah and the Talmud, and even these were usually reviewed by heart. In the days of the rishonim the permission was broadened, but books were still costly manuscripts, until the printing press came and made it possible to put into writing everything one thought.
The number of deeply analytical students was also small. Of a thousand who enter Scripture, a hundred emerge for Mishnah; of them ten emerge for Talmud, and of them one emerges to issue rulings. Naturally one had to be brief and explain what most students were capable of understanding, and especially what touched on practical halakhah or on understanding the plain sense of the mishnah or the sugya. The depths of subtle reasonings were transmitted only in a limited forum to those capable of abstract thinking.
Even today one can see that the physics most students learn is the relatively simple kind connected to practical applications. Only a select few enter the mysteries of relativity and quantum mechanics. How many people have heard of dark matter or antimatter, of up quarks and down quarks—concepts known among scientists for decades, yet they are like “a sealed book” to most people.
And so too with Brisker concepts, known for decades; it took a long time until they became the possession of every boy in a “junior yeshivah.” A certain important rosh yeshivah, who had been a student of Rabbi A. Y. Steinman in a junior yeshivah, related that back then they learned Gemara-Rashi-Tosafot in their plain sense and these concepts were not common. So when Rabbi Steinman mentioned in a class that in a certain matter there is a chalut, the students did not understand how Sabbath challahs had arrived in tractate Yevamot 🙂
In short: abstraction was present in the world of Hazal and the rishonim; some of it was mentioned explicitly, and in most of its existence it is learned by implication. As the generations advanced, deep knowledge became more popularized, and one could speak even before young students and “laymen” about abstract concepts—an abstraction by whose power we understand more of the depth of the intention of Hazal and the rishonim.
With a blessing for tasty Sabbath challahs that will ease the chalot of sanctity, Gabriel Chefzadi Zweidinimovsky
The question to be asked is what R. Akiva Eiger himself thought about the relation between himself and the rishonim (or between his parallels, like the Netivot, and the rishonim). Even if his explicit formulations about the greatness of the rishonim, such as the famous siman 55 (as for the amoraim and those above them, no one ever disputed that), can be explained away as deception and pedagogic manipulation, and all his prayers that God should show him favor and enlighten his eyes can be explained as false modesty, still one can infer from the content of his discussions that he did not think that way, but thought like everyone else that his predecessors were sages of sages. For there are calculations and difficulties that are not a matter of clear perception, but where the ancient sage had to keep his head precisely on the details of the calculation in order to learn one thing from another and infer. So what is the meaning of this spectacle—did he lack self-knowledge?
If in truth he himself perceived that the rishonim (and the amoraim) grasped everything from beginning to end in complete clarity, and that all his own thoughts and ideas they too knew—then the matter is astonishing: how did he err so badly (if he erred)?
Not so much do we need examples for this, but here is one that by the luck they call “Fox” happened to come my way a few days ago. Certainly one well-versed in the writings of R. Akiva Eiger (and likewise any other acharon) will find hundreds more such examples.
https://hebrewbooks.org/pdfpager.aspx?req=14351&st=&pgnum=81 Ketubot 29b: according to Rabbi Akiva, even in the case of a positive prohibition the child is a mamzer, and there are two tannaim according to him as to whether this applies also to a non-virgin with a High Priest, like any other positive commandment, or whether since it is a positive commandment not applying equally to all (the usual meaning: it applies only to a High Priest) it does not create mamzerim.
R. Akiva Eiger asks: but among negative prohibitions too, a prohibition not applying equally to all according to Rabbi Akiva creates mamzerim (for example, a widow to a High Priest), and according to Rabbi Akiva negative and positive prohibitions are learned from the same verse. R. Akiva Eiger answers that with a non-virgin and a High Priest, the prohibition is only on him and not on her, unlike a widow to a High Priest, where both he and she are forbidden to each other.
And he derives this from another exposition, where we learn that fit women are warned not to marry disqualified men from the plural expression “they shall not take”; therefore in the case of a non-virgin to a High Priest, where it says “A virgin from his people he shall take as a wife,” the fit non-virgin woman was not warned against marrying one disqualified for her, namely a High Priest. And specifically this is called “does not apply equally to all,” since it is only on the man and not on the woman.
With this R. Akiva Eiger explains the gemara elsewhere that if acquisition is completed only at the end of intercourse, then a High Priest is forbidden to betroth by intercourse (because he betroths a non-virgin). The משנה למלך asked that since he knows there is a prohibition, the priest should be regarded as specifying that the acquisition takes effect at the beginning of intercourse (the משנה למלך brings some proof that we make such an assessment), and R. Akiva Eiger answers that since for her there is no prohibition, she is not regarded as specifying that she is acquired at the beginning of intercourse, and therefore he cannot acquire her. And there too R. Akiva Eiger makes an effort to avoid contradiction with Tosafot; that is, it seems to him that they had thought through this calculation.
This is not a matter of clear perception of halakhic concepts but of calculations and expositions, and R. Akiva Eiger ceremoniously assumes that Rabbi Akiva had a smooth and perfect system, and that the gemara knew it, and Tosafot knew it too, and everything comes out beautifully in the reckoning. And this is an example of a light and short calculation. As I said, I am sure that one who knows more from R. Akiva Eiger will find much stronger examples.
(Personally, despite myself, I accept what you wrote in the post, but the above matter is extremely astonishing. The rishonim assumed that the amoraim had calculated all the details. The acharonim assumed this also about the rishonim and about later authorities too. Not only subtle analyses, where you say that by clear perception one reaches the results directly, but a whole system of calculations and combinations.)
To LTG — greetings,
It is not such a great feat, after you study for decades the books of the rishonim and acharonim, to discover that you have internalized their way and that “with clear perception one reaches the results clearly.” The sages of every generation know that they have “grasped the method” from their predecessors, and they develop the method and apply it to additional cases.
Have you ever heard of someone who came to Torah from zero and knew how to hit upon the reasonings of the ancients? If you know such a person, I would be happy to arrange an introductory meeting with him 🙂
Regards, Dr. Eidel Latkovitz the Doughnut, of the holy community of Laviv the glorious
[If you are arguing against what is written in the post, let the author of the post come and stand by his post (and I’ll peek over his shoulder). My impression on the subject is poor and ungrounded, and I have nothing to say of my own.]
The sign of absorbing the method is the ability to hit upon the words of the rishonim. Therefore the Ketzot HaChoshen says in his introduction that a sage who has internalized the straight path of the rishonim to the point that he can, on his own, arrive at what they said, can also disagree with the rishonim.
Similar to this are the words of R. Chaim of Volozhin in Ruach Chaim on Avot, that “dust yourself in the dust of their feet” is from the language of “struggle”: do not accept things uncritically, but attack them with difficulties. Yet this struggle must be “in the dust of their feet,” out of recognition of the giant greatness of the rishonim, which brings one to serious effort to get to the bottom of their view, and not dismiss them with “bundles of straw.”
Regards, Simcha Fishel HaLevi Plankton
The wonderful point in the Rambam. I don’t know whether you’ll have the strength to read this, but I copied from what I wrote at the time to a friend. At least read the first section, since there it is shown that the Rambam is not just some kid full of himself.
And more: see further wonderful points in the Rambam, in his Commentary on the Mishnah Avot 4:2 and the end of Makkot and the introduction to Perek Chelek (“But this is the wonderful point, I mean the world to come. You will scarcely find in any way that it should enter his heart, or that he should think of this or take this principle, or say to what thing this name applies: whether it is the ultimate good, or one of the earlier opinions is the ultimate. Or that he should distinguish between the ultimate and the cause that leads to the ultimate”).
For him, a wonderful point is not some technical, localized legal distinction but a principled foundation. Certainly, according to the simple understanding, what is apparently here is not understandable, and certainly far from being a wonderful point.
The famous Rambam (Ishut 1:2) that betrothal by money is rabbinic. And see the second root in Sefer HaMitzvot where he explained that the matters of the Torah written in it are roots and worthy of being counted in the 613 commandments, while the expositions of Hazal are branches and are not considered commandments in their own right. And there is a difference—not for practical halakhah—between root and branch. The branch is not what is written explicitly, but rather an exposition. The Rambam hints that in an exposition there is no factual certainty in explaining the intention of the verse, but it is binding so long as it was expounded by the Sanhedrin. Therefore in the second root the Rambam was careful to slip in: “And perhaps you think that I refrain from counting them (the expositions as separate commandments) because they are untrue, and whether the law derived by that hermeneutic principle is true or untrue—that is not the reason. Rather the reason is….” And it is hinted rather thickly in his words that indeed this is not the reason, but that this is in fact his view; this is the situation: the expositions are “untrue” with certainty! (Only that this is not the reason, because even the conjecture and decision of the Sanhedrin is binding.) This addition is unnecessary in the flow of the passage, and is there in order to stress that this is not written explicitly in the Torah and therefore is not a root.
What is not written explicitly in the Torah but added by Hazal is divided into two parts: one, as said, the expositions of Hazal, and the second, Hazal’s interpretation of what is written in the Torah that is not a derashah.
As an example of interpretation by Hazal, see regarding the rule that one witness is believed in testimony about a woman. The Chazon Ish explained (EH 22:3) that “the Torah was given with the understanding that the sages would determine what is called knowledge, to the point of permitting a married woman… and anything that the court has not established is not called testimony except for two witnesses, which the Torah explicitly stated; but when the court sat and agreed on a proof… that it is considered like witnesses, this is accepted….” And from where comes this power if not that this is an interpretation that when the Torah says two witnesses, that is as it were “slang,” an expression for complete clarification, and anything that is complete clarification (because of the presumption that she checks carefully before remarrying) is effective as testimony even if it is not two witnesses. This is an example of interpretation of an expression, which is subject to change (it is a decision of the Sanhedrin, and before they decided so, the halakhic meaning was not so, as the Chazon Ish writes, “and as long as the court has not established it, it is not called testimony except for two witnesses which the Torah explicitly said”), but it is still a root; this is the interpretation of the Torah’s text directly.
If so, both of them (derashah and non-necessary interpretation of a word) are not necessarily true; both are Torah-level binding so long as that is the view of the Sanhedrin. But interpretation of an expression is a root (for Hazal’s interpretation, that is what is written explicitly in the Torah), while derashah is a branch.
Therefore, betrothal by money is rabbinic, from rabbinic exposition. Its force is Torah-level; an analogy is expounded (kicha-kicha) for the verse “when a man takes,” but that is only an exposition. It is a branch and not a root. It is an exposition and not the text itself.
As said, interpretations are not branches, and a good example of this in the Rambam’s words is betrothal by document, which is not rabbinic (Ishut there), although it is learned by analogy, like betrothal by money. This is because for the Rambam there is an interpretive necessity from another place in the Torah (that there is in the Torah a young betrothed virgin, so there must be a mode of betrothal besides intercourse; the Rambam says this in his letter to Ovadiah the convert), and this is latent in the word “take.” This is interpretation, not exposition. (True, the analogy is needed, but the analogy only explains what is written in the Torah.)
Another example is the prohibition of eating meat and milk, which for the Rambam is inferred from “do not cook” (and there is no need to say “do not eat,” as he wrote in 9:2 of Forbidden Foods). At first glance this is difficult, since punishments are not derived from logical inference. But see Sanhedrin 76b, where they said: From where do we know his daughter? And Abaye said: a fortiori—if for his daughter’s daughter he is punished, all the more so for his daughter. They asked: But do we punish from logical inference? And they answered: it is merely a revelation of the matter. Rashi explains: this is not punishment from logical inference, for his daughter’s daughter comes from his daughter, and what is punishment from logical inference would be like the nakedness of your sister, etc. True, Rava there disagrees, but the Rambam (Forbidden Intercourse 2:6) wrote like Abaye: “And even though it is not said in the Torah, ‘The nakedness of your daughter you shall not uncover,’ since it forbade the daughter of his daughter, it was silent regarding the daughter, and her prohibition is from the Torah and not rabbinic.” It appears that for the Rambam this is not a logical inference but included explicitly in the verse; it is the interpretation of the text (not a derashah) as it appeared to Hazal, and therefore the prohibition of eating is counted as a separate prohibition in addition to cooking. The prohibition of benefit from meat and milk is not counted, since it is built on an exposition: because in carcass the text revealed permission of benefit, this implies that in other prohibitions benefit is forbidden, and the word “eating” includes also benefit until the text reveals otherwise (in Sefer HaMitzvot, and this comes from the gemara in several places, for example in Pesachim 23b). This is not necessary in the verse but rather an exposition. It is not the plain meaning of the text but derashah (unlike betrothal by document, where one must say that there is taking in the case of a virgin).
Now too it will be understood why the Rambam calls his words there in Sefer HaMitzvot “a great root, one whose like was not mentioned before me.” He means the wonderful point of roots, branches, what counts as Torah and truth and what does not.
And now to explain the Rambam’s words in Keritot:
When we discuss whether one prohibition can take effect upon another, we are discussing the plane of interpreting the roots—whether the Torah meant to add a second prohibition. And this is discussed only on the plane of the roots, on the plane of the Torah as such. The fact that Hazal also interpreted it regarding eating does not affect the relations of the verses to one another.
I wanted to comment regarding the explanation you proposed for R. Shimon Shkop’s words:
Quote: “The explanation he offers is novel. What Hazal say—that the rabbi must appear to you like an angel—is not some mystical or spiritual matter. It is a condition for your being able to learn from him. If you reject out of hand anything that does not seem right to you, you will be unable to learn anything from your teacher. What seems right to you, you will accept—but that you already knew before. And what does not seem right to you, you will not accept. If so, you will remain with the collection of insights you had, without adding anything you learned from your teacher.”
It seems to me that there he did mean precisely a mystical and spiritual matter. That is, learning Torah from his mouth requires a person who is on the level of an angel, and therefore one can accept his words because of trust in him, not because of the logic of what he says.
How do you see that in his words? On the contrary, he brought it as the basis for his claim that he expects the reader to place trust in him, and this is trust that he is not speaking nonsense—in other words, that he is a wise person. There is nothing mystical here.
R. Shimon Shkop’s words are explicit as Rabbi Oren wrote. To learn Torah “from his mouth,” that is, without the possibility of applying criticism, is only if he resembles an angel. Therefore, for a child who receives things without criticism, one must appoint him a rabbi who resembles an angel (and this requires consideration in light of common practice). But an adult, in a situation where he applies criticism, can learn from anyone, and there the matter of an angel is not said—just as Rabbi Meir learned from Acher.
With God’s help, Zot Hanukkah 5782
To Oren — greetings,
The definition of “a rabbi resembling an angel” is not a mystical matter, for the gemara (Moed Katan 17a) says: “If the rabbi resembles an angel of the Lord of Hosts, let them seek Torah from his mouth; and if he does not resemble…” Thus a person can distinguish whether the rabbi resembles an angel or not.
There the gemara learned from this that one should not learn from a Torah scholar of bad reputation, and so too the Rambam wrote in the laws of Torah study that one should not learn from a rabbi who follows a bad path, because of this verse that the rabbi must resemble an angel. That is to say: “resembles an angel” means one who walks in a good path, as described in Malachi 2: “…and I gave them to him for fear, and he feared Me, and before My name he was humbled. The law of truth was in his mouth, and unrighteousness was not found on his lips; he walked with Me in peace and uprightness, and turned many away from iniquity.” Of such a person it is said: “For the priest’s lips should guard knowledge, and they should seek Torah from his mouth, for he is an angel of the Lord of Hosts.”
That is to say: one who is God-fearing, seeks truth, pursues peace, guards his mouth from wrongdoing, and turns the many away from sin—he is the “one who resembles an angel” from whose mouth Torah should be sought.
And so writes Rabbi Meir David Barel (“A Rabbi Who Resembles an Angel,” on the Kerem BeYavneh Yeshiva website):
According to the Rambam’s words that an angel is “a separate intellect”: “It implies that in order to attain the qualities of an angel, one must be in a state where the soul is not biased by the body, that is, like the state of the soul in the world to come, without jealousy, without hatred, and without competition… Therefore it is fitting that before the student comes to draw nourishment of Torah from his rabbi’s mouth, he should examine his deeds and ways, and hear that he has acquired a reputation as a man of good character in all his ways, and as a man who flees controversy and increases peace, and flees bribery and judges all things on the scales of intellect. And if he finds him thus—let him cleave to him, draw near to him, and learn from his qualities…”
And Rabbi Amit Kula (on the Moreshet site) brings that from the context of the sugya in Moed Katan, it seems intended to exclude an explicit transgressor. But he brings the Hasidic explanation that just as an angel is not seen, so too the rabbi must be pure, and concludes: “However, it is clear that the Hasidic demand is to learn from one in whom no weaknesses are seen, neither in matters between man and God nor between man and his fellow, and who all his days is given over to a longing for elevation, to increased wisdom and knowledge, love, and good character traits.”
Regards, Eliam Fishel Workheimer
To Motti — greetings,
Entering to learn from a rabbi who resembles an angel should be accompanied by alertness and willingness to ask and critique, as R. Chaim of Volozhin said: “Dust yourself in the dust of their feet” is from the language of “struggle”—to argue and raise difficulties. But this argument must be out of recognition of the greatness of the rabbi, that one must make an effort to get to the bottom of his view, and not dismiss his words at first glance.
As for one who is not God-fearing and of good character, it is better not to come near him at all, even if the student is critical—for the rabbi may influence him in certain ways also unconsciously, without the student noticing; he may imitate bad behavior patterns or absorb dubious ideas.
Regards, A.P.R.
When I say mystical, I mean it in the sense that the rabbi defined in his recent lectures on mysticism: a phenomenon that cannot be accepted except on the basis of trust in the transmitter. The same applies when speaking of “Torah from the mouth” according to R. Shimon Shkop. R. Shimon Shkop says that one should learn from him, but not in the category of “Torah from the mouth”; rather in another category called “Torah from intellect,” in R. Shimon Shkop’s terminology—that is, one should examine the matters critically.
But that is exactly what R. Shimon does not say. He says that I must have trust in the wisdom of the rabbi. On what is that trust based? Simply on my familiarity with his Torah. Or the familiarity of many others. It is still something accessible to anyone who wants to check it, and therefore it is not mysticism.
To A.P.R. — greetings,
Meaning, unless the student is the holy tanna Rabbi Meir, of blessed righteous memory, who “found a pomegranate, ate its inside, and threw away its peel,” and learned from Acher, who was not God-fearing at all.
I was referring to your interpretation of this specific passage of R. Shimon about “the angel of the Lord of Hosts.” It may be that he says what you said here, but it does not appear in this specific passage.
From the context it seems that this was said only about a child (who receives the sage’s words without criticism). But the readers of his book are not in that category.
With God’s help, Zot Hanukkah 5782
According to the plain sense of the sugya, the requirement that the rabbi resemble an angel means that the rabbi be proper in his deeds, God-fearing, and of good character, and this is a threshold condition for beginning to study with him. In this the gemara distinguished between a child and an adult, who can act like Rabbi Meir, “he ate the inside and threw away the peel.”
An additional aspect of “resembles an angel,” beyond the rabbi’s being proper in deeds and character, is the recognition of the greatness of his wisdom, which according to R. Shimon Shkop is what causes the student to strive to get to the bottom of his teacher’s reasoning. The first aspect—the rabbi’s being proper—is out of concern lest one be negatively influenced by him. The second aspect—recognition of the greatness of the rabbi’s wisdom—is a condition for effective learning.
Later in his words, R. Shimon suggests a third aspect. There is a rabbi who is like an angel on such a level that one can “seek Torah from his mouth” (and not only from his intellect), a rabbi before whom one can and should nullify oneself and accept his words even when they are not understood by the student. Therefore R. Shimon says that one may critique and disagree with the words of the later authorities, for they are not on this exalted level. It appears that regarding the rishonim, R. Shimon holds that we have no license to disagree, for “the earlier ones are like angels.”
Regards, Simcha Bunim Dreidel-Dinovsky
I heard that Rabbi Fisher, of blessed memory, said about this introduction that R. Shimon was influenced by the communists. 🙂 And it’s a fitting line.
To Eran — greetings,
On the contrary, R. Shimon Shkop sanctifies private property, in determining that the possessor’s right to his property overrides the religious doubt that perhaps he holds stolen goods. This is the exact opposite of the communists’ claim, who denied the right of property owners to their possessions on the grounds that they acquired them through injustice and exploitation of laborers.
Regards, Shraga Kopil Feitlovsky
The claim is with respect to what he wrote—that Rami bar Chama required service in order that his words be understood.
To Eran — greetings,
The need to appreciate the stature of the sage as a condition for learning from him is also contrary to the extreme egalitarian outlook championed by the communists, according to whom “all faces are equal,” and there is no difference between a simple laborer and a professor.
If one is to find a parallel to R. Shimon’s words, it is דווקא in the old medieval system in which a craftsman had to be an apprentice for several years under the “master” before he would be permitted to become an independent “master” himself (hence the academic title “master”…).
In any case, it is not R. Shimon’s invention. Hazal already said that Joshua merited to become the successor of Moses our teacher because he was “the arranger of the benches” in his study hall, and Elisha merited to become Elijah’s successor because he “poured water on his hands”—for “greater is serving than learning.”
Regards, Shraga Kopil HaLevi Feitlovsky
With God’s help, 10 Tevet 5782
Indeed, alongside his valuing a person’s material property and revering the rabbi’s intellectual property, R. Shimon Shkop also values a person’s dedicating his life and powers for the benefit of the public, and sees in this the fulfillment of the commandment “You shall be holy,” in the aspect of consecration for the many.
See the article by Rabbi Shmuel Reiner and Imrei Paz, “A Pioneer by Force of Reason” (about the educator R. Moshe Tzvi Efrati, a student of R. Shimon Shkop, on the “Mussaf Shabbat – Makor Rishon” site).
Regards, Shakap HaLevi
“I also explained there the attitude toward the authority of the rishonim that follows from this picture, and I tied it to their closeness to the source.”
This may explain the Rambam’s words in the introduction to the Mishneh Torah, when he explains the source of the Talmud’s authority. He mentions there three principal data points: (a) the agreement of all Israel, (b) that the sages were all the sages of Israel or most of them, (c) “and they were the ones who heard the tradition concerning the principles of the whole Torah, each man from the mouth of another, up to Moses.”
It seems that the third point emphasizes the virtue of closeness to the source [which is supposed to contribute to more “correct” intuitions from the standpoint of continuity].
By contrast, he writes there about his own time, in which the continuity had been broken and study was only from books: “Rather, individuals gather… and engage in Torah, and understand all the compositions of the sages, and know from them what the path of judgment is.”
The Talmud is a great hobby for someone who likes it (like me). But it’s important not to take this amusement too seriously. Someone blessed with a good mind would do better to invest his energies in studying more serious things that bring real blessing to the world. And someone who suffers from learning Talmud shouldn’t force himself into this strange occupation.