What Do Piglet, the Lonely King, and the Prohibition of “Lo Tasur” Have to Do with Each Other? (Column 443)
Some time ago I received an email from a Jew named Daniel Kaner, and this is what he wrote:
A few months ago I listened to your class, where you mentioned in a certain context Piglet’s sign from Winnie-the-Pooh: “The offender will be punished” — with no mention of the offense. Yesterday I saw Piglet’s sign at the Arena Mall in Herzliya:
He was referring to what I said in that class about the dispute between Rambam and Ramban on the commandment of “Lo Tasur” (“Do not deviate”), where I mentioned the sign that hung on Piglet’s house in A. A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh, which says: “The offender will be punished,” without specifying who the offender is or what one must do to be punished. When I asked, Kaner replied that in the sign’s surroundings there was no hint of what offense was at issue — meaning it really is Piglet’s sign (good thing enough time has passed and Milne’s copyright has expired).
Since I enjoyed this so much, I can’t resist writing a post to explain the deep meaning of this marvelous sign. May it be pleasant to the listener.
The Dispute Between Rambam and Ramban Regarding “Lo Tasur”
Halakhah assigns the Sages two kinds of roles: to legislate and to interpret. The interpretive role entails authority to determine interpretation and the derivation of the verses. The product of interpretation is a Torah-level law (de’oraita) determined by the Sages. This role is accompanied by authority — that is, the Sages possess the authority to determine that this is indeed the binding interpretation of the text. The legislative role entails authority to enact ordinances and decrees; the products of legislation are rabbinic laws (derabbanan).
As is well known, Rambam and Ramban disagree on how to understand the commandment “Lo Tasur” and on the source of authority to legislate. Rambam writes in several places that this verse is the source of the Sages’ authority both to interpret and to legislate. For example, in Hil. Mamrim 1:2 he writes:
“Anyone who does not act according to their instruction transgresses a negative commandment, as it is said, ‘Do not deviate from the word that they tell you, right or left.’ We do not administer lashes for this prohibition because it was given as a warning for a matter punishable by execution by the court, for any sage who issues rulings against their words is executed by strangulation, as it is said, ‘And the man who acts presumptuously…’ Whether these are matters learned by tradition (oral law) received person to person, or matters they derived by their own understanding through one of the hermeneutic principles by which the Torah is expounded and it appears to them that the matter is thus, or matters they made as a safeguard for the Torah and according to the needs of the time — namely, decrees, ordinances, and customs — each of these three categories we are commanded to obey; and one who transgresses any of them violates a negative commandment. As it says, ‘According to the Torah that they instruct you’ — these are the ordinances, decrees, and customs which they teach the public in order to strengthen the religion and repair the world; ‘and the judgment that they say’ — these are the matters they will learn from the law by one of the principles by which the Torah is expounded; ‘from every matter that they tell you’ — this is the received tradition passed from person to person.”
Thus, in his view, “Lo Tasur” is the source of the Sages’ authority both to derive and interpret the Torah (where the results are Torah-level laws)[1] and also to enact ordinances or issue decrees and safeguards (where the results are rabbinic laws).
Ramban, in his glosses to the First Root, cites Rambam’s sources where this view is spelled out, and then comments:
“Behold, the master builds a high wall around the words of the Sages, but it is like a broken breach, a leak in a lofty wall that suddenly will collapse; for it is an unsound view in most places in the Talmud. For according to him, one who uses an attached object [on Shabbat], such as leaning on a tree, or moving a needle from sun to shade on Shabbat, or saying to a non-Jew and having him do [work], or even taking an extra-long stride — all of these are transgressions of a positive and a negative commandment from the Torah, and he should be liable to forty lashes, except that he exempted him there (in Judges, Mamrim 1:2) because it is a prohibition that is given as a warning for a matter punishable by death at the hands of the court, for any sage who rebels against their words is executed by strangulation… And according to this view, he would be lashed according to the opinion in the Talmud that ‘a prohibition that is given as a warning for capital punishment is still lashed,’ as mentioned in ‘Mi She’heshikh’ (Shabbat 154b). And according to this view we should be extremely stringent with rabbinic matters, for they are all Torah; there is no distinction among them, and there is nothing in the Torah more severe than a shevut [rabbinic restriction] of theirs, except in matters of karet or capital crimes, not in matters of ordinary prohibitions; for all their words are both a negative and a positive commandment. But our Sages throughout the Talmud say the opposite, for they treat all rabbinic matters leniently…”
He argues that according to Rambam there should be no leniencies in rabbinic laws as compared to Torah laws, for in his view anyone who violates a rabbinic law thereby violates the Torah’s “Lo Tasur.” Thus, for example, doubtful cases of rabbinic law ought to be ruled stringently rather than leniently. Immediately afterward, Ramban demonstrates — with impressive erudition — sources throughout the Talmud showing that the Sages were lenient in rabbinic law more than in Torah law. Finally he proposes a possible explanation of Rambam’s view, and rejects it:
“And perhaps you will stubbornly say, according to the master, that when they said everywhere to be lenient in matters of the Scribes, it was with their waiver and condition, that they conditioned in the decrees and safeguards they made for the Torah, and likewise in their commandments, that we should proceed leniently in them in order to distinguish and separate between what is Torah law and what is their law — even though in all of them we are commanded by the Torah; and that the doubts in their matters were not truly fit to be permitted except because of this condition they made from the outset. But these are not acceptable words, nor sound in principle.”
He suggests that even according to Rambam, although all rabbinic laws are grounded in “Lo Tasur,” there is still room for leniency, since those who established the laws could also have chosen not to establish them; therefore, even if they prohibited something, they could set certain leniencies regarding it — “they said, and they said” (i.e., the mouth that forbade can permit). Yet Ramban claims this explanation is implausible (without explaining why).
After discussing Rambam’s view, Ramban begins to explain his own:
“It is explicitly stated in ‘Mi Shemeto’ (Berakhot 19b): ‘Great is human dignity, for it overrides a negative commandment in the Torah.’ Rav bar Sheva explained before Rav Kahana: ‘It refers to the negative commandment of Lo Tasur.’ They laughed at him. He said to them: ‘Lo Tasur is also Torah!’ Rav Kahana said to them: ‘A great man has said a word — do not laugh at him. All rabbinic matters they based upon Lo Tasur merely as a support, to strengthen them; but because of human dignity the Rabbis did not decree in that case.’ Here it is explained that this negative commandment of Lo Tasur is like the other negative commandments of the Torah; but their [rabbinic] words they supported upon this negative commandment only as an asmachta, a mere support for reinforcement, and there is no actual Torah warning inherent in that negative commandment with respect to their words…”
That is, “Lo Tasur” is indeed the basis for the Sages’ authority — but not with respect to legislation, i.e., not with regard to rabbinic laws (ordinances, decrees, and safeguards), for in those matters the law is more lenient than Torah law. So for what, then, is “Lo Tasur” said? What remains is interpretation. Ramban now explains this:
“In any case, the master’s generalizations are mistaken. But the clear and untainted truth is this: that we should make known that this negative commandment of Lo Tasur applies only to what they said in interpreting the Torah — such as matters expounded by gezerah shavah, bin’yan av, and the other thirteen hermeneutic principles by which the Torah is expounded, or by the meaning of the wording of the verse itself; and likewise to what they received as halakhah to Moses at Sinai, the Oral Torah. If they see that a thing is prohibited or permitted from the Torah according to the derivation of the verse or its interpretation, or a tradition from Moses our teacher — and he [the judge] sees the opposite — he is obligated to nullify his view and accept what they said.”
In his view, the Sages’ authority to interpret and derive the Torah is grounded in “Lo Tasur.” But their authority to legislate (i.e., to establish rabbinic law) has no source in the Torah. In this he disputes Rambam, who sees “Lo Tasur” as the source also for legislative authority.
The question that now arises is: according to Ramban, why must we obey the Sages? If, in his view, there is no source for their authority to enact and decree rabbinic law, then upon what, after all, does their authority rest?
A Bird’s-Eye View of the Rambam/Ramban Dispute: The Short Blanket
The picture that emerges here is very problematic — seemingly a “short blanket” that cannot cover both head and feet. Rambam maintains that the source of the Sages’ legislative authority (to establish rabbinic law) is “Lo Tasur,” but then one must explain why we find various leniencies in rabbinic law. Ramban, by contrast, precisely because of this, maintains that “Lo Tasur” cannot be the source of their authority to establish rabbinic law — only to interpret and derive the Torah. But in his view it remains unclear what does ground the Sages’ legislative authority.
RA”U, in his Kuntres Divrei Soferim, presses the question even further. According to Ramban, not only can we not base the Sages’ authority on “Lo Tasur,” we cannot base it on any other scriptural source either. For any source we bring from the Torah will convert violations of rabbinic law into violations of Torah law, thereby reviving Ramban’s difficulty with Rambam: why are rabbinic laws treated more leniently than Torah laws? Moreover, he writes there that sevara (reason) cannot serve as a source either, for sevara is de’oraita (as the Talmud often says: “Why do I need a verse? It is a matter of logic!”). (But see my article on sevarot, where I explained that the picture is not so simple.) If so, there cannot be any source — of any kind — for the Sages’ authority to legislate.
Ramban himself, in the passage quoted above, writes that rabbinic laws are supported by “Lo Tasur” only as an asmachta, not as an actual source. But an asmachta does not resolve our difficulty. If that verse is not a genuine source, what, then, is the real source? And if there is none, why obey them at all? An asmachta can accompany a Torah law that has some other solid grounding, or it can serve as a scriptural “support” for a rabbinic law that is based on a valid enactment or decree by a duly empowered court. But the asmachta itself is not a halakhic source.[2]
On the face of it, we have here an insoluble problem: any source we propose will trigger Ramban’s challenge (why leniencies in rabbinic law?), and if there is no source, we face the challenge of why to obey the Sages at all. This is the “short blanket,” and it seems there is no way to cover the whole body — that is, to present a picture that resolves all the difficulties regarding the Sages’ legislative authority. In my book Ruach HaMishpat and in my essay on the First Root in Yishlach Sharashav, I surveyed several approaches proposed by later authorities to address this difficulty, but none seems to heal it fully. There I explained that the only plausible way out is to adopt Rambam’s view together with Ramban’s proposed solution (“they said, and they said”). But we saw that Ramban himself did not adopt this solution (for reasons unknown), so at least on his view the difficulty remains. Moreover, if we find a solution to the short blanket — that is, a picture that resolves both difficulties even according to Ramban — then there will be no impediment to claiming that Rambam agrees with it as well (i.e., that there is no real dispute between them; perhaps it is only a misunderstanding, and in substance Ramban holds exactly as Rambam does).
The Acharonim’s Distinction in Rambam
In the first passage from Ramban that I quoted, he proves that according to Rambam, one who violates a rabbinic prohibition thereby violates a Torah-level negative commandment, since Rambam in Hil. Mamrim 1:2 explains why we do not administer lashes for “Lo Tasur”:
“Anyone who does not act according to their instruction transgresses a negative commandment, as it is said, ‘Do not deviate from the word that they tell you, right or left.’ We do not administer lashes for this prohibition because it was given as a warning for a matter punishable by execution by the court, for any sage who issues rulings against their words is executed by strangulation, as it is said, ‘And the man who acts presumptuously…,’ whether these are matters learned by tradition and are the Oral Torah, or matters derived by their understanding through one of the hermeneutic principles and it appears to them that the matter is thus, or matters made as a safeguard for the Torah and as the hour requires — that is, decrees, ordinances, and customs — each of these three categories we are commanded to obey; and one who transgresses any of them violates a negative commandment. ‘According to the Torah that they instruct you’ — these are the ordinances, decrees, and customs which they will teach the public to strengthen the religion and repair the world; ‘and the judgment that they say’ — these are the matters they will learn from the law by one of the principles by which the Torah is expounded; ‘from every matter that they tell you’ — this is the received tradition passed from person to person.”
He attributes the exemption from lashes to the rule that this is a prohibition “linked to a warning for capital punishment.”[3] It follows that, were it not for this, one would indeed receive lashes for “Lo Tasur,” even in cases where the person violated a rabbinic ordinance or decree. Ramban proves from here that in Rambam’s view, anyone who violates this prohibition (even by violating a rabbinic enactment) transgresses a Torah-level prohibition, and if not for the rule of “a prohibition linked to a warning for capital punishment,” he would even be liable to lashes.
This is a very novel claim and hard to square with the Talmudic sugyot. Simply put, the Talmud indicates that one who violates a rabbinic prohibition is not lashed for the very reason that it is rabbinic — irrespective of the rule about prohibitions linked to capital punishment.
Therefore several acharonim (see references in the Sefer HaMafte’ach in the Frankel edition ad loc.) have written that even Rambam does not mean to claim that anyone who eats poultry cooked in milk thereby violates a Torah-level prohibition. Rather, they maintain, only one who does so because he categorically rejects the Sages’ authority violates “Lo Tasur” on a Torah level. But if he does so because his appetite overcame him, then he has violated only a rabbinic prohibition. According to this approach, the “Lo Tasur” prohibition forbids principled rebellion against the Sages’ authority, but does not impose a Torah prohibition on every rabbinic infraction. On this reading, Rambam’s statement that one would have received lashes (were it not for the “linked to capital punishment” rule) applies only to such principled rebellion. An ordinary rabbinic violation would not be subject to lashes at all, since there is no Torah prohibition involved. This, of course, greatly narrows the dispute between Rambam and Ramban.
The Difficulty with This Distinction
This distinction makes sense as an understanding of “Lo Tasur.” But on further reflection one sees that it revives the very difficulty it sought to solve. If the verse “Lo Tasur” does not address ordinary violations, then whence the prohibition to do them? What is the basis for forbidding eating poultry with milk? Suppose I accept the Sages’ authority in principle, but I am tempted to eat poultry with milk because I very much desire it. These later authorities explain that even if I do so, I have not violated “Lo Tasur,” since I did not rebel in principle. If so, the obligation to refrain is not grounded in “Lo Tasur” (otherwise such an act would be a violation of “Lo Tasur”). Why, then, is eating poultry with milk forbidden?
Now Rambam ends up in exactly the same position as Ramban; it turns out that neither has explained the source of the duty to obey the Sages. I now wish to argue that Rambam must be joined to Ramban’s claim cited above: that the duty to obey rabbinic laws is grounded in “Lo Tasur” as an asmachta. We are left to explain how asmachta can change the picture, despite my earlier claim that an asmachta cannot serve as a true source.
Winnie-the-Pooh, The Little Prince, and “Lo Tasur”
Let us return to the distinction the later authorities make in Rambam, and look at the prohibition of poultry with milk. According to them, if I ate poultry with milk because I do not recognize the Sages’ authority, I violated “Lo Tasur.” But if I ate it only because my desire overcame me, I did not violate “Lo Tasur.” To resolve the problem — why obey at all? — I will add another, logical difficulty: We have seen that the command of “Lo Tasur” does not actually obligate me to obey the Sages; it only obligates me to recognize their authority in principle. I can do whatever I like, violate any rabbinic law I choose, so long as I recognize their authority in principle. But what is the meaning of recognizing an authority that tells me nothing? What is the meaning of recognizing the authority of some body without any obligation to obey any of its directives? Am I to pay lip service, reciting that I recognize the Sages’ authority and am entirely submissive to their orders, while at the same time allowing myself to violate them at will? This is a very strange demand, and certainly does not express obedience to the Sages’ authority. An empty authority is no authority. There is no such thing as authority that commands me without any duty on my part to obey those commands.
I now return to the sign mentioned at the beginning of the column. On Piglet’s cottage there is a sign, “The offender will be punished,” without specifying who the offender is or for what he is punished. Does that sign have any content? The managers of the Arena Mall in Herzliya apparently thought so, but I am curious to hear their explanation. Unless we define and clarify the offenses in question, the sign about punishing offenders is meaningless. Likewise, unless it is specified what I am to do and which commands I must obey, a command concerning the Sages’ authority is meaningless. Likewise, unless I actually obey their commands, my “commitment” to them is meaningless.
In this connection I am reminded of another children’s story, The Little Prince by Saint-Exupéry. Chapter Ten tells of the star on which the prince met the lonely king. I bring the entire chapter here, for it beautifully illustrates the problem we are dealing with (the text is taken from Project Ben-Yehuda, in Aryeh Lerner’s translation):
| Chapter Ten: The Planet of the Lonely King
The little prince reached the region of the asteroids “326,” “327,” “328,” “329,” and “330.” He began to visit them, in order to broaden his horizons and find something new to occupy his mind. On the first of these tiny stars there lived an old king. He was dressed in purple and ermine and sat upon a simple yet splendid throne. “Ha!” cried the king when he saw the little prince. “Here is a subject!” “How did the king recognize me if he had never seen me before?” wondered the little prince. He did not yet know that the world is very simple for kings, who see all men as subjects subject to them. “Come closer so that I may see you better!” said the king — who was delighted, since at last he had someone over whom to reign. The little prince glanced around for a place to sit and rest from the fatigue of the journey. But the king’s magnificent robe covered the whole planet and left no room. So he remained standing, and yawned from tiredness. “It is not proper to yawn in the presence of a king,” said His Majesty. “I forbid you to do so!” “I cannot help it,” replied the little prince, embarrassed. “I have traveled a long way and have not slept…” “In that case,” said the king, “I order you to yawn. For many years I have not seen anyone yawn, and yawns interest me greatly. Yawn again — that is an order!” “Your order frightens me… I can no longer…” murmured the little prince, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Well then,” said the king, “I order you to yawn sometimes and sometimes to…” The king stammered a bit, and his face showed irritation, for he demanded respect and could not bear to be disobeyed. Yet, since he was kind-hearted and considerate, he always tried to issue only commands that could reasonably be obeyed. “If I were to command one of my generals,” he liked to say, “to fly from flower to flower like a butterfly, or to compose a tragedy, or to turn into a seabird — and if the general did not carry out my order — whose fault would it be: the general’s or mine?” “If you please — Your Majesty,” said the little prince politely, “may I sit down?” “I order you to sit at once!” said the king, gathering a fold of his splendid robe with royal pride. The little prince marveled and said to himself: This planet is very, very small — over what, then, can this king reign? “Your Majesty,” said the little prince, “forgive me if I ask a question…” “I order you to ask!” the king hastened to reply. “Tell me, O king — over what do you rule?” “Over everything!” answered the king quite simply. “Over everything?” With a light gesture the king indicated his planet, the other planets, and all the stars and constellations. “Over all that?” marveled the little prince. “Yes — over all that!” replied the king. For he was not merely a local monarch but a universal sovereign. “And do the stars obey you?” “Certainly!” said the king. “They obey at once. I tolerate no insubordination!” The little prince was amazed at such authority. If he had possessed authority like that, he could have seen the sunset not merely forty-four times a day, but seventy-two, or a hundred, or even two hundred — and all without moving his chair! He was saddened as he remembered his small, abandoned planet. Then he ventured to ask the king for a favor: “I should like to see a sunset… If it please Your Majesty — command the sun to set…” “If I were to command a general,” said the king, “to flit from flower to flower like a butterfly, or to write a melancholy drama, or to turn into a seabird — and if that general did not carry out the order — whose fault would it be: the general’s or mine?” “Yours!” replied the little prince firmly. “Right!” cried the king. “One must demand from each only what he can perform. Authority is grounded in reason. If you command your people to throw themselves into the sea, they will rise up in rebellion. I am entitled to obedience because my orders are reasonable.” “And my sunset?” reminded the little prince, who, having asked a question, never let it go. “You shall have your sunset — I will demand it with all my authority. But, according to the wisdom of my administration, I prefer to wait until the conditions are favorable.” “When will that be?” asked the little prince. The king consulted a thick volume — a timetable — and said: “It will be… very soon… this evening, at around 7:40. Then you will see with your own eyes how they obey me!” The little prince yawned again. He regretted the sunset he had missed, and was beginning to grow somewhat bored. “What have I to do here?” he said to himself. “I shall continue on my way!” “Do not leave!” said the king, who swelled with pride at having a subject. “Do not leave — I will appoint you minister!” “Minister of what?” “Minister of… justice!” “But there is no one here to judge!” “That is not known to me,” said the king. “I have not yet surveyed my realm. I am very old. There is no room for a carriage, and I am not strong enough to walk…” “I have looked carefully,” cried the little prince, casting a glance to the other side of the planet, “and there is no one there either…” “In that case,” said the king, “you shall judge yourself — and that is the hardest thing of all. It is harder to judge yourself than to judge others. If you succeed in judging yourself well, it will prove that you are truly wise.” “That is true,” said the little prince. “But I can do that anywhere; I do not need to live on this planet specifically…” “Hmm… hmm…” said the king. “I believe that somewhere on my planet there is an old rat. I hear him at night. You can judge that rat. From time to time you can condemn him to death, and thus his life will depend on your justice. But each time you must grant him a pardon — we must be economical with him, for he is the only rat we have.” “I do not like to condemn to death,” said the little prince, “and I think I must continue on my way.” “No!” said the king. The little prince had made ready to depart, but he did not wish to sadden the old king. He turned back and said: “If Your Majesty truly wishes to be exactly obeyed, he could give me a reasonable order — for example, to depart from here within one minute. I think the conditions are favorable…” The king made no reply. The little prince hesitated for a moment; then he sighed, bade the king farewell, and set out on his journey. “You shall be my ambassador!” the king called after him with all the dignity of a monarch. “How strange are the ways of grown-ups,” thought the little prince as he went on his way. |
Here, too, the same insight emerges as from Piglet’s sign: there is no meaning to abstract authority without a concrete duty to obey the commands of the authority-holder.
The Meaning of Asmachta
We can now return to explaining Rambam’s and Ramban’s views, and see how we can “lengthen our short blanket.” When the Torah commands us, “Lo Tasur,” it truly intends only to prohibit rebellion against the Sages’ authority. But there is no meaning to the Sages’ authority and to a prohibition on rebelling against it if there is no duty to obey the Sages’ commands. It cannot be that I do not rebel against their authority, yet allow myself to violate all their directives. From here it follows that the very existence of this verse implicitly presupposes a duty to obey the Sages’ orders. Without that, the command “Lo Tasur” would lose its meaning. Note well: this does not mean that anyone who violates a rabbinic directive thereby transgresses the Torah’s “Lo Tasur.” Not at all. The verse forbids only principled non-compliance (rebellion, i.e., committing an offense out of denial of their authority), but at the same time it indirectly reveals that there must be some sort of duty to obey their specific directives. Were it not so, their abstract authority would be meaningless.
The conclusion is that “Lo Tasur” does not command us, for example, not to eat poultry with milk; rather, it forbids eating poultry with milk out of principled rebellion against the Sages who prohibited it. Yet from that command we infer indirectly that eating poultry with milk is prohibited, and consequently we learn that there is a prohibition even when one eats poultry with milk “merely” out of desire. One who eats poultry with milk has not violated “Lo Tasur,” for the verse does not command that; but the verse does implicitly presuppose that such eating is forbidden. That prohibition is what we call a rabbinic prohibition, and indeed it is lighter.
Lengthening the Blanket
In this way, the verse “Lo Tasur” truly serves as an asmachta that teaches the duty to obey the Sages’ commands. But unlike ordinary asmachtot, here there is no need for a separate source parallel to the asmachta. This is a special kind of asmachta, for the verse “Lo Tasur” indirectly reveals that such a duty exists, even though it does not explicitly command it.
To sharpen the point, in the books cited above I contrasted “Lo Tasur” with the prohibition “Lo Yachel Devaro” (“He shall not profane his word”) concerning vows. If a person vows not to eat bread, then, should he eat bread, he has violated the Torah’s “Lo Yachel.” The general command “Lo Yachel Devaro” is a general statement that becomes specified and applies separately to each particular vow. I called that relationship “specification.” By contrast, the relationship between “Lo Tasur” and a particular rabbinic command is not one of specification but of asmachta (what I there called “branching”). The difference is that “Lo Yachel Devaro” does not speak only of eating out of principled denial of the validity of vows, but simply forbids violating vows. But “Lo Tasur” speaks of subordination to an authority, and subordination by its nature addresses only the general duty to obey. As we have seen, however, from that there branch off prohibitions for one who violates specific rabbinic directives such as poultry with milk, and the like.
Now all the difficulties are resolved: we have a source for the duty to obey every rabbinic directive — yet this is not a Torah prohibition, so doubts are ruled leniently and there are no lashes (unless one violates out of principled denial of the Sages’ authority). We also understand why “Lo Tasur” functions as an asmachta, and nevertheless suffices as a grounding for rabbinic prohibitions.
Moreover, since this is the only way I can see to lengthen the short blanket — that is, to answer all the problems in the sugya without leaving any uncovered — it is reasonable that both Rambam and Ramban agree. If I am correct, then their dispute is only apparent. It seems that Ramban simply did not understand that Rambam, too, means that “Lo Tasur” is only an asmachta from which rabbinic prohibitions branch, and not a standard Torah source from which they are specified.
[1] Admittedly, Rambam’s view in the Second Root is that the product of a derivation is rabbinic law, in contrast to the view of virtually all other early authorities — especially Ramban (in his glosses to the Second Root). I will not enter that here.
[2] This remains true even if we adopt Ritva’s view (his Hiddushim to Rosh HaShanah 16a) about asmachtot, that an asmachta is not merely a mnemonic device but an expansion of the written law according to its spirit. Even so, if the result is not the law actually written in the verse, its force is only because the Sages extended the verse by way of asmachta — and the question “why obey them?” remains.
[3] Incidentally, this is not the common meaning of that term. Usually it means that if witnesses saw someone about to commit a sin punishable by death, and they warned him for lashes, he is not lashed because the penalty for that prohibition is death and not lashes. Here Rambam uses “a prohibition linked to a warning for capital punishment” differently: a prohibition for which there exists some situation incurring capital punishment never incurs lashes in any other situation. Thus with “Lo Tasur,” since the rebellious elder (a zaken mamre) who violates it is liable to death, the ordinary person who violates it is not lashed.
Discussion
For a prohibition to come into being, there has to be a command. Here there is no command, but there is a revelation that there is a prohibition. Therefore this is not a biblical prohibition, but it is clearly forbidden. For example, there are verses about moral conduct and going beyond the letter of the law (“And you shall do what is right and good,” “You shall be holy”) that are not commands but revelations.
In grammar too, they distinguish between an imperative sentence and a declarative sentence. The sentence: “The Holy One, blessed be He, would want you to keep Shabbat,” is not a command but a revelation. The verse: “Keep Shabbat!” is a command.
Thank you. And what gives the prohibition force, if not the command? Is it basically like our obligation to morality, which binds us even without being commanded about it?
A. If we learn *from the verse itself* that there is an obligation to obey the words of the sages, then how is this different from a hermeneutical rule through which biblical obligations are derived (and only with regard to punishment, in some of those rules, “one does not derive punishments from logical inference”), without there being a direct verse for that commandment—for example, the commandment of rejoicing on Passover, which is learned by analogy from rejoicing on Shavuot? Is identifying an implicit assumption weaker than a hekesh? I am astonished.
B. Does this mechanism of branching exist elsewhere in the Torah as well, or only with regard to the authority of the sages? And if it does not exist, is there some idea as to why in the rest of the Torah the Holy One, blessed be He, did not use this mechanism to reveal His will.
[Though in truth, from the outset my mind does not grasp at all the distinctions between will and command—whether from the side of the Holy One, blessed be He, who wills, or from the side of the human being who obeys; and even dividing between different intensities of will does not bring me relief. But on this you have already “written for me excellent things in counsels and knowledge,” so let us seal it with the signet ring and answer no more.]
Similar. There it is written explicitly, but not in the form of a command. And here it is not written explicitly, but is learned implicitly.
A. It really is no different. That is why Maimonides writes in the second root principle that derashot have the status of rabbinic law.
B. There are other such places. See my article on sevara and the will of God: https://mikyab.net/%D7%9B%D7%AA%D7%91%D7%99%D7%9D/%D7%9E%D7%90%D7%9E%D7%A8%D7%99%D7%9D/%D7%9E%D7%A6%D7%95%D7%95%D7%94-%D7%A1%D7%91%D7%A8%D7%90-%D7%95%D7%A8%D7%A6%D7%95%D7%9F-%D7%94-%D7%A2%D7%99%D7%95%D7%9F-%D7%91%D7%A9%D7%99%D7%A2%D7%95%D7%A8-%D7%95%D7%90%D7%95%D7%A4%D7%9F-%D7%94
A. According to Maimonides, in a case of doubt regarding a derashah do we rule leniently? For example, if one is unsure whether he fulfilled the commandment of rejoicing on Passover, if it is learned by analogy. That is, here according to Maimonides the sages did not command and forbid in a case of doubt, as they did by rabbinic enactment for every biblical doubt.
1) If the prohibition of poultry with milk is learned indirectly from “Do not deviate,” why should it not be a biblical prohibition? (At least according to Nachmanides, who also holds that the sages’ derashot count as biblical prohibitions.)
Put differently: I did not really understand the chronology, according to your claim, of rabbinic prohibitions. “Do not deviate” comes and teaches us (indirectly) that there is a prohibition against eating poultry with milk—but how can it teach us that, if at the giving of the Torah the sages had not yet innovated this halakhah?
I understood that “Do not deviate” forbids a principled rebellion against the general authority of the sages; that is perfectly fine. But how does it forbid a specific rabbinic prohibition?
2) Not necessarily connected to the column, but why are lashes not administered for “Do not deviate” on the grounds that it is a general prohibition?
With God’s help, 11 Shevat 5782 (the 110th birthday of Barbara Tuchman, of blessed memory)
Quite apart from the discussion of “Do not deviate,” it seems on the face of it that the sign warns that since there are security cameras on the premises—any offender of whatever kind can expect to be punished, since there is “an eye that sees” here. And indeed, there have been many cases in which criminals were caught and innocent people exonerated because of security-camera footage.
Regards, Hasdai Bezalel Duvdevani Kirshen-Kwass
I don’t think so. Nachmanides understood that it does. But one can distinguish between a derashah and this asmakhta. A derashah indirectly generates a command, whereas here there is only a revelation that there is a prohibition, and not really a command. I’m sorry, but I have to return to this distinction between will and command.
1. See the thread above us here (regarding derashot). “Do not deviate” teaches that there is a prohibition against violating what the sages establish. And of course, that only applies once they establish it; not everything already existed at Sinai.
I explained in the column how it forbids.
2. I brought the view that according to Maimonides this is a prohibition linked to the warning for a court-imposed death penalty.
In Middah Tovah, Parashat Vayishlach, the rabbi showed that the verse about the sciatic nerve does not constitute a command prohibiting the sciatic nerve, but rather an indication of the existence of the prohibition; and similarly regarding a woman’s head covering.
And there he brought in the name of Rav Ovadiah that in every halakhic commandment or prohibition there are two different dimensions: obedience/rebellion and repair/corruption.
Someone who commits a transgression or performs a mitzvah thereby does two things. When the Torah informs us that a certain act is harmful, then clearly it expects us not to do it. However, if there is no command here, one who transgresses does not rebel against a command of the Torah; there is only the dimension of damage.
But why, and from where, that this merely reveals whereas that generates? A priori it would seem that a hermeneutical measure that generates should have less force than one that exposes (identifying an implicit assumption), no?
I heard in a first-year class on sevara from Rabbi Rimon an idea that, similar to the positive commandment “you shall rest” in the laws of Shabbat—from which, according to Maimonides, rabbinic prohibitions on Shabbat are also derived (the shvutin; and one may discuss how they differ from any other rabbinic prohibition)—so too, by violating one or two rabbinic prohibitions one does not transgress “Do not deviate.” But when one violates a critical mass (wholesale) of rabbinic prohibitions, showing contempt for the sages in general, then one does transgress it. It is a qualitative criterion from which quantity follows. He also said that with the shvutin, when one violates one or two, that still is not a nullification of the positive commandment of “you shall rest,” but when one violates a critical mass, then one nullifies the positive commandment of resting. This is similar to a case where a person sins wantonly and thereby also violates desecration of God’s name (according to Maimonides). Usually transgressing such sins begins out of surrender to the impulse (for appetite), but after some time it is as if the leash has been let out for the sinner, and from his perspective that prohibition is as if it does not exist. From that moment on (a critical mass of sins—“once a person has committed a sin and repeated it,” etc.) he is also violating desecration of God’s name. (Not necessarily that in that state he becomes an apostate out of appetite with respect to that sin, but I do not know when that would happen, and perhaps indeed there is no difference.)
1. I’ll look into it further.
2. That itself is my point: why do we need to reach for that consideration, when there is something simpler and easier to apply—“a general prohibition”?
This is not a distinction between generating and exposing. That distinction is between two types of derashot, and it depends on whether the law already existed beforehand. In that sense, this interpretation of “Do not deviate” is generating, not exposing.
The derashah on “The Lord your God you shall fear” to include Torah scholars teaches that expanding the verse obligates fear of Torah scholars as well. There is a command here that is disclosed through the derashah. But the interpretation of “Do not deviate” does not reveal that the verse forbids poultry with milk; rather, it reveals that there is an additional category of prohibitions concerning what the sages command. Who forbids it? The will of the Holy One, blessed be He, but not the Torah (that is, not a command).
But this is not a general prohibition. This prohibition forbids only one thing: disobeying the sages. What do the sages say? Whatever they decide to say. We are not dealing here with many different prohibitions. Even the prohibition of vows, which is specified into all kinds of vows, is not a general prohibition.
With respect, this is nonsense. Nowhere is there permission to commit “a few” sins; when Hazal prohibited muktzeh, they meant it. The mass makes no difference at all, and I am not even speaking of “if so, your rulings are handed over to subjective measures”—what is this mass, and how would we measure it?
Maimonides is simply repeating here his position in many places: that the Torah gave power into the hands of the sages to define the Torah’s vague prohibitions, but they remain rabbinic law—just rabbinic law whose basis is in the Torah, what Maimonides calls “divrei sofrim” or “divrei kabbalah” (seclusion, betrothal with money, Hol HaMoed, and many others). For elaboration see Maimonides, Sefer HaMitzvot, second root principle, and Nachmanides and the commentators there.
Wonderful. But perhaps one can reconcile Maimonides by saying that in the command “Do not deviate,” the intent is that the Torah gave power to the sages to decide when the prohibition counts as transgressing a biblical law and when not. For the sages have the power to uproot a matter, at least by passive nonperformance. It seems to me there is a Mishneh LaMelekh to that effect.
What about the analytic-synthetic axis after the interpretation of the verse itself? “Do not deviate” is *interpreted* as principled authority. Now the new hermeneutical measure arrives—“identifying implicit assumptions”—and reveals to us, seemingly in a completely analytic way, even if by a theological route, that there is a binding will to obey the sages always. This is a generating derashah in the sense that the law truly became known to us only through the derashah, but this is analytic generation (an exposing derashah). When an obligation is learned by analogy (or by inclusion from the word “et”), that is synthetic generation (an ordinary generating derashah). And a mere asmakhta (a supporting derashah) is another category in which the analytic-synthetic axis is irrelevant. Is that correct?
The fact that they have the power to uproot by passive nonperformance does not mean they have the power to establish a biblical prohibition. There is a mechanism of “Scripture entrusted it to the sages,” but that was stated only in specific places.
The question is what it reveals. If it reveals that there is an obligation of a different kind, then there is no necessity that it be a biblical obligation. A verse can analytically reveal the existence of a rabbinic obligation. Just as a verse can reveal some fact to us (from the fact that there is an obligation to fear the Holy One, blessed be He, it follows that there is a Holy One, blessed be He). Even if the inference is analytic, there is no necessity for identity between the nature of the revealer and the nature of what is revealed.
Do we know that here it is an obligation of a different kind because of the nature of the inference (an analytic inference that exposes a hidden assumption, called branching, always produces obligations of a different kind), or could there be such an analytic inference that produces a regular biblical obligation?
When the nature of the inference is interpretive derashah or one of the hermeneutical rules, like “et” as an inclusion (if that is biblical) and like analogy, then the nature of the inference seemingly dictates that it will be a regular biblical obligation.
There is no permission, but one does not transgress “Do not deviate.”
The extension from the original prohibition of “Do not deviate” is rabbinic. (The commandment to obey the sages is rabbinic.)
An obligation that was strengthened because all Israel accepted it.
And regarding how one measures it: there is no algorithm for that; it is entrusted to a person’s heart and judgment (and “the Lord sees the heart”). A court, too, could decide when a person had already shown contempt and when not—just as they decide when to execute someone who violates rabbinic law. It is like the heap paradox. At some point a collection of clothes becomes a heap, even though there is no defined measure for the quantity of clothes, and it is left to the observer’s judgment. From a certain quantity onward (which one cannot pinpoint), everyone will say that there is a heap of clothes here. The same happens in courts: only after a certain critical mass of evidence (which also depends on its strength) do they decide that there is no reasonable doubt that a particular person is no longer innocent.
A very interesting idea.
The problem that arises in Nachmanides’ view is meta-halakhic (what is the source of the sages’ authority to legislate), whereas it sounds a bit like you are focusing on Nachmanides’ words against Maimonides only on the halakhic problem (why we are lenient in cases of rabbinic doubt). Why do you not emphasize that Nachmanides is saying something bigger—that apparently if we adopt Maimonides’ position, this leads to a larger/more important meta-halakhic problem, namely that once again there is no distinction between biblical and rabbinic law?
I think in principle yes. Perhaps there is a case where indirect branching would produce the same type of command, but I cannot think of an example right now.
I did not understand the question. That is what Nachmanides objects to. The difference regarding leniency and stringency in doubtful cases is only an example.
Perhaps when one learns from a verse the opposite of what it says, that is branching (we discover that the verse presupposed something specific) that produces an obligation of the regular type?
That seems clear to me. But on the face of it, that is branching like ordinary midrash (because midrash too is branching), and then there is no novelty in it.
Why is that branching like ordinary midrash (an expansion of the verse in some way, whatever somehow follows from it)? Seemingly there is no way at all to say that the opposite is an expansion of the verse or follows from it. One can only say that we understand that the verse implicitly presupposed another obligation.
It is not an expansion, but it is an inference similar in character to inferences of expansion. A kind of midrash. Not all hermeneutical rules are expansions. For example, among the rules of general and particular there are also rules of restriction. “Two verses that contradict each other” is not an expansion.
Okay, so let us remove “expansion” from the equation. Why, in reverse learning, is this not a mechanism of locating hidden assumptions without a command?
It seems that the Daun, who stated without explaining what the offense was for which the offender would be punished, held that reason obligates that a certain thing is forbidden, and everyone should understand on his own that the thing is unfit to be done. Therefore there is no need for a command to establish that this is an offense, for a “black flag” hovers over it. So, for example, with the “seven Noahide commandments”: even one who does not recognize the command of Moses should observe them “through rational judgment.”
Regards, Otiphron Nafshetim HaLevi
1. The explanation of Maimonides’ words is very nice, but one cannot say unequivocally that Nachmanides also agrees with Maimonides that the derivation from “Do not deviate” is implicit.
Nachmanides holds that there is no transgression of “Do not deviate” at all in rabbinic laws, even if one intends to rebel in the most extreme way, even if he is a rebellious elder. One cannot say there is no dispute, because he explicitly writes this practical difference between himself and Maimonides. He states it explicitly later in his words.
His entire interpretation of “Do not deviate” is only in the Torah’s own interpretation, as he explained the reason for the matter—that the Torah should not become like two Torahs, etc. Therefore even if there is an asmakhta from “Do not deviate,” in Nachmanides’ view it is in the style of asmakhtot that take verses out of context, and certainly not as the rabbi explained in Maimonides’ words.
2. If so, why should one obey the decrees of Hazal according to Nachmanides? As I understand his words, it follows that it is because the content of the sages’ own words is itself part of what we were obligated to at Mount Sinai, and it is hinted at and branches from the Torah in some way, as he says: “the Torah will command, explain, inform, and hint.” And I saw cited in the name of Rabbi Shimon Shkop that it is a matter of reason that one must obey them.
Another type of obligation is taught to us by “the solitary king,” who authorizes his “minister of justice” both to judge and to pardon. The right of pardon given to the minister teaches that he is the source of the subordinate legislation that he enacts. He is the one who commanded, and he is the one who can waive it.
And this is not self-evident. In our country, for example, ministers and other governmental authorities have the authority to enact “secondary legislation,” but one who violates their regulations is tried as an offender in the state’s courts, and the minister who enacted the regulation has no authority to halt a criminal proceeding or pardon the violator of his regulation, because the “secondary regulation” has become part of state law.
By contrast, “the world’s solitary King” entrusted to the leaders of the nations, in commanding them the mitzvah of “laws,” the authority to be a “source of law” and not merely the king’s representatives, because “the law of the kingdom” serves a different need than Torah law. Torah laws are “royal decrees” of the Creator of the world, whose will is fixed and enduring.
By contrast, “the law of the kingdom” is meant to order social life so as to bring maximum convenience and welfare to human society, and therefore it must possess flexibility. Hence the “minister of justice” is authorized to punish severely one who disrupts social order, but he is also authorized to waive punishment for him because that is vital for society.
If among the nations the authority for subordinate legislation is given to kings, in Israel this authority is given, by reason, to the teachers of Torah and its authorized interpreters. They know better than anyone else the wisdom of the Giver of the Torah and His will, and therefore they are fit to enact autonomous “bylaws.”
Regards, Hanoch Henekh Feinshmaker-Palti
I do not recall at the moment that he writes there is no transgression of “Do not deviate” when one rebels essentially against the authority of the sages. He does indeed write that there is no rebellious elder regarding rabbinic laws, but that could be due to the laws of the rebellious elder. Granted, I am not sure he thought at all about the distinction between essential rebellion and an ordinary rabbinic prohibition, but from the fact that “Do not deviate” is an asmakhta for rabbinic laws, one can derive this according to my approach.
The problem is that it is hard to find another basis for obligation to rabbinic law, because even if it is sevara, sevara is biblical (as the Kovetz Shiurim notes in the Kuntres).
Perhaps one can say that if the Torah prohibited deviating from their words in what they interpreted in the Torah, it follows from this that one must also listen to them in their decrees.
(Though here it is not really implicit, and one could distinguish between interpretation and decrees.)
With God’s help, eve of the holy Sabbath, “There He made for them a statute and an ordinance,” 5782
Nachmanides explains that the commandment “You shall be holy” obligates a person to expand the Torah’s commandments, whether by “making a fence around the Torah” and abstaining “from excesses and ugliness,” or by acting “beyond the line of the law,” as in the Torah’s commandment “And you shall do what is right and good.”
Along these lines, one may say that just as the individual is commanded to impose on himself fences and extensions in order to fulfill the commandment “You shall be holy,” so too the leadership of the public is charged with imposing fences and extensions on the public so that it may be worthy of the name “a holy nation.”
Nachmanides also explains what was said about Moses, “There He made for them a statute and an ordinance,” as “subordinate legislation” whose purpose is to bring the people to proper conduct: “to endure hunger and thirst and call out to the Lord, not by way of complaint, and ordinances by which they shall live, to love each man his fellow and conduct themselves by the counsel of the elders, and to walk modestly in their tents… and to maintain peace with those entering the camp, and words of moral rebuke, so that they should not be like plundering camps that commit every abomination and are not ashamed.”
And similarly what is said about Joshua, “And he established for them a statute and an ordinance in Shechem,” Nachmanides explains: “These are not the statutes and ordinances of the Torah, but modes of conduct and civic ordering, such as ‘the conditions Joshua stipulated’ and the like.”
One may perhaps say that the “de-oraita” is the act of the sovereign legislator, whereas the “de-rabbanan” are the act of the pedagogic educator, guiding his students in upright instruction that will bring them to the desired goal—to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”
Regards, Hanoch Henekh Feinshmaker-Palti
In the end it comes out that only deliberate defiance directed at the words of the sages is forbidden. If so, a person who stumbled and violated a rabbinic prohibition out of appetite did not violate any prohibition at all and does not need to repent. Correct?
Thank you!
Here is the direction of Rabbi Yehuda Leon Ashkenazi, of blessed memory (Manitou):
From the Manitou archive:
https://manitou.org.il/arcive/sfarim/sodivri1/1555-soivri1nispach
Appendix A: The Torah of the Father and the Torah of the Rabbi
It says in the Talmud:
“What blessing does he recite? He recites: ‘Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah lamp.’ And where did He command us? Rav Avya said: from ‘Do not deviate’ (Deuteronomy 17:11). Rav Nehemiah said: ‘Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders and they will say to you’ (Deuteronomy 32:7).”
Seemingly, the verse brought by Rav Avya should have sufficed for us, as it constitutes the agreed-upon foundation for faith in the sages. So what novelty is there in bringing the additional verse according to Rav Nehemiah?
Rabbi Hutner explains that what is unique about Hanukkah is that the Greeks wanted to sever the people of Israel from the Torah, and not only the Torah from the people of Israel.[2] The relation between the people of Israel and the Torah is not only that of a people that carefully keeps the laws of the Torah, but of a people that contains the Torah within itself; a people that is itself the Torah. This is emphasized in the prayer “For the Miracles” recited on Hanukkah: “to make them forget Your Torah.”[3] And this is the intent of the midrash: “Write on the horn of an ox that you have no share in the God of Israel.”[4]
The Greeks did not object to there being a religion in Israel like other religions. But Israel’s bond to the Torah is unlike that of other religions: it comes from the ‘father’ and not from the ‘rabbi.’ The Torah of the father is the Torah hidden in the souls of the children by virtue of the father.
We pray to the ‘God of our fathers’ and not to the ‘God of the father,’ nor even to the ‘God of Moses our teacher.’ Therefore the Gemara requires an additional special explanation beyond ‘Do not deviate’ in order to feel what is unique about Hanukkah, namely the connection to ‘Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders and they will say to you’—that is, to the fathers, who are the foundation and basis of the people, and to the Torah that the Greeks tried to uproot.
And in the transcript of the lecture on which the article is based:
“Rabbi Yehuda said: What blessing does he recite? He recites, ‘Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah lamp. And where did He command us?’” It is very interesting to see that when the Gemara asks about the root of rabbinic commandments, it asks specifically in the context of Hanukkah. There are many rabbinic commandments, but the question ‘Where did He command us?’ is specifically here. “Rav Avya said: from ‘Do not deviate’ (from the verse ‘Do not deviate from all that they tell you, right or left’).” About whom is this speaking? Judges. We immediately see that the source or authority for the continuation of Torah study is the judges, and here we meet our subject: the Torah of the father, the Torah of the rabbi. “Rav Nehemiah said: ‘Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders and they will say to you.’”
You can see the difference: in one source, the authority is the judge. In the second source, the authority is the memory of the nation.
…
Therefore one can understand the words of Hazal: “The words of the scribes are more beloved than the words of the Torah.”
The Oral Torah is based on the nation’s tradition—this is a family tradition that exists *by virtue of the fathers*.
Rabbi Sherki on the essence of the Oral Torah
http://ravsherki.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=1545:15451545-1545&Itemid=100513
And of course, our very agreement as to what the Written Torah is is based on the tradition of the nation, and the distinction between de-oraita and de-rabbanan rests on the words of the sages (who also determined which books entered the Bible).
He certainly did transgress—a rabbinic prohibition.
The tradition of the fathers preceded the revelation at Sinai.
In paragraph 4, line 1:
And similarly what is said in Joshua, “And he established for them a statute…”
[We also find in David “establishing a statute and an ordinance” in the sense of a social enactment, namely the ordinance that “as his share is who goes down to battle, so shall his share be who stays by the baggage; they shall share alike,” about which it is said: “And it was from that day onward, and he made it a statute and an ordinance for Israel to this day” (I Samuel 30:24–25).
Regards, Hafash Palti
In my humble opinion, in this matter there is a clear “consistent with their own method.”
Nachmanides, who holds (to the best of my knowledge) that “in a biblical doubt one must be stringent by biblical law,” holds that if one transgresses (according to Maimonides) “Do not deviate,” then its doubtful case would also be a biblical doubt requiring stringency, and it is not logical to distinguish.
But according to Maimonides, who holds that “in a biblical doubt one must be stringent” is itself rabbinic, there is certainly room to distinguish in rabbinic laws, so that their doubtful cases will be treated leniently, because here there are two rabbinic layers. (And if Nachmanides had held that stringency in biblical doubts is rabbinic, he certainly would have agreed to this distinction.)
Is that not so?
The connection is tenuous. The logic of “they said it and they said it” can also be stated even if stringency in biblical doubts is biblical. And according to Nachmanides this is not two rabbinic layers, for he understands that according to Maimonides this is ordinary biblical law.
Regarding Maimonides: he explains that one does not receive lashes for this prohibition because it was given as the warning for a court-imposed death penalty—but it serves as the warning for a court-imposed death penalty only in a matter for which one is liable to karet or in tefillin (as stated in the laws of the rebellious elder), meaning an attack on the authority to interpret (and even then, not in every case).
Is that enough to exempt from lashes also in rabbinic prohibitions (authority to legislate)?
Of course. It is the same prohibition. By the way, according to Maimonides there is also a rebellious elder regarding rabbinic prohibitions.
Actually the answer was embedded in the body of the question—after all, it cannot be that “Do not deviate” forbids nothing, so in any case it certainly comes to grant authority to the sages.
What puzzles me here is that Maimonides explicitly says that one who violates their words transgresses a “negative commandment.”
I thought of a different direction in all this. Perhaps the prohibition against violating the words of the sages travels along a certain “route.” First of all one violates their words, and only afterward one violates “Do not deviate.” But insofar as we rule leniently in a case of doubt, and define that their words were not said in a case of doubt, we would never reach the point of the biblical prohibition at all. That is, stringency is required in a case of doubt about the Torah’s own command, but here there is a bypass mechanism: to assume that in a case of doubt their decree was not said.
(Of course one would need to get into the pilpul here of what constitutes a doubt and why we rule leniently in it.)
“And whoever transgresses the words of the sages is liable to death,” which appears in various formulations in the Talmud—where does that come from? After all, this is not speaking only about a rebellious elder, but about any person, even if he does it privately, for himself.
That is not a halakhic statement.
This is a different formulation of “they said it and they said it,” like Nachmanides’ suggestion in Maimonides.
Since I am a fan of Winnie-the-Pooh, I feel compelled to note that in English the sign says “trespassers will,” and that is because it was broken. Piglet thinks that is his grandfather’s name. The translation of “the offender will be punished” seems really bad to me, and I saw in another translation that they translated it as “No entry,” and perhaps that translation also fits your Torah better, because I do not see any problem with a sign saying “the offender will be punished”—such a sign simply presupposes that what counts as an offense is already known.
A question that does not arise from what you wrote (and on the contrary, to some extent your words could answer it).
According to Nachmanides, why is it that when I am engaged in a rabbinic commandment and a biblical commandment comes to hand, I have the status of one who is engaged in a commandment?
In other words, why is there not here the rule of “the words of the teacher versus the words of the student”?
First of all, who says that one engaged in a rabbinic commandment is considered engaged in a commandment? But if you assume that he is, then my words can provide an explanation. According to my proposal, one who engages in this fulfills a command/will of the Holy One, blessed be He, only that its force is lower.
I still have not read the column, but “the offender will be punished” is not Piglet’s sign, at least not in the original language or in the translation by Yisraelit and Shapira.
The original is “Trespassers W”, which indeed has an offense in it but no punishment.
You explain that the verse of “Do not deviate” indirectly reveals that there is an obligation not to eat poultry with milk. But the question comes back again: if the verse does not command me–then who does? What does it mean that it only reveals indirectly, or presupposes, that there is such an obligation, if it does not command me to do so?