The Attitude toward Contradictions: 2. A Critique of Rabbi Inbal’s Article (Column 550)

In the previous column I presented the broader picture regarding our attitude toward contradictions. The motivation for that discussion was Rabbi Yehoshua Inbal’s article dealing with the Sages’ unique approach to contradictions. In this column I offer a critique of his article, using the framework I sketched in the previous column.

Framework of the Discussion

The article is rather long, and I assume that anyone who read what I wrote last time can already anticipate my main comments. Here I will note only his principal points, with the prior discussion as background.

Rabbi Inbal opens by stating that in logic a contradiction is a statement that cannot be true under any circumstances (see the beginning of the previous column). He then explains that his goal is to show that the Sages related to contradictions differently. A contradiction is indeed viewed by them as a problem, but there is no necessity that a contradiction cannot be true.

Before turning to his arguments and examples, I must be clear at the outset: a priori, in his basic claim he cannot be right. I distinguished between three kinds of contradictions: analytic-logical, scientific-factual, and synthetic (a priori). When it comes to the latter two, they certainly can be true (at least in some other imagined world, in the modal sense I presented there) — but that is not novel. It is true not only in halakha and among the Sages but in general. There is therefore no basis to speak of a uniquely rabbinic conception here. And if we are speaking of a logical contradiction (the first kind), we already saw that even the Holy One “is subject” to logic; all the more so the Sages. I explained there that this is a claim about us, not about God. The upshot is that Rabbi Inbal’s assertion that the Sages are willing to accept a contradiction as true is not false but meaningless (precisely like the claim “God can create a round triangle”). His words are essentially another formulation of the doctrine of the “unity of opposites” discussed there.

This is exactly why the distinction among these kinds of contradictions matters. My contention is that once we are aware of it, the discussion is emptied of content. Later on, Rabbi Inbal uses the parable of a pyramid with different sides that appear contradictory, while only the apex represents absolute truth; as human beings we do not always reach the top and therefore remain with a contradiction. It would seem, then, that he too agrees there are no real contradictions, only our failure to grasp the truth. Perhaps his intent is to deal with the latter two kinds of “contradictions.” His phrasing is not always sharp on this point:

The question whether Moses our teacher dealt with a solid and defined wisdom of clear and conclusive concepts, with the contradictions reflecting limitations of the text and of later generations, or whether the Torah of Moses itself was also a reflection of reality — an encounter with a conflicted and confusing reality — and part of its primordial wisdom is the human stance before the contradictoriness that appears in our concepts and in our perception of the human being, his values, his spirituality, etc., is a question that contains within it our attitude toward the Torah.

It is unclear whether he means actual contradictions or things that only appear contradictory. From his preface about the Maimonidean/Aristotelian assumption, which he intends to go beyond, it seems that he does mean actual contradictions. Moreover, if he is not speaking of logical contradictions, then there is nothing novel in his claim, since all agree that we will not always understand everything. The only point on which his view might be innovative is if he shows that the Sages were prepared to accept genuine contradictions. Accordingly, from here on I will assume he is proposing to deal with genuine contradictions (i.e., those without a solution, not merely things we have not yet succeeded in resolving).

But here, as I wrote, no other approach is possible. Furthermore, even if his intent is to what appears to us to be a logical contradiction but is not truly such (at the pyramid’s apex), the point again becomes meaningless. What is for me a logical contradiction (not of the latter two kinds) is meaningless for me unless shown not to be a contradiction. Thus, even if it only appears to me as a contradiction, everything I wrote above still applies. If I say that I believe both X and Y, and in my view X contradicts Y, then even if there is no real contradiction between them, for me it is as if I believe both X and not-X simultaneously — and that is senseless. Recall that we saw in the previous column that the problem with contradiction lies also with the person who believes it, not only with the contradiction itself.

This is the place to note quantum theory, which seemingly contains contradictions. In a response to a comment by Mordechai I explained why this is impossible, even if the contradictions are only from our perspective (i.e., we have not understood reality). If, from our perspective, a contradiction exists, we can derive any conclusion from it, which empties our quantum theory of content. It does not matter that the contradiction is “only from our perspective,” because the scientific theory we hold loses meaning. From it I can derive any result, including its negation. The same holds for faith or the halakhic system. If either contains a logical contradiction from our vantage point, even if due only to our own limited understanding, that too empties it of content. As I explained earlier, one cannot derive conclusions from such a system; any conclusion we derive could equally be inverted.

In principle, then, I could end my discussion of Rabbi Inbal’s claims here: “the rest is commentary — go learn.” But I cannot leave matters entirely at that; I should show how to apply what we saw to the examples and arguments he brings. That is what I now do.

“Two Verses that Contradict One Another”

At the outset, and not by chance, Rabbi Inbal turns to the rule of “two verses that contradict each other,” and he writes:

There are many contradictions in the Torah, as is known — explicit verses stating one thing in one place and the opposite elsewhere. The Sages established a rule among the hermeneutic principles by which the Torah is expounded: “When two verses contradict one another, a third verse comes and decides between them.” The very establishment of the rule shows that this is a phenomenon internal to the Torah, not an exceptional accident caused by limitations of the text or of the reader. Moreover, the type of solution the Sages set (or received at Sinai, for those who hold that all the principles are Sinaitic) is not the solution we would adopt by logical thinking, nor is it among Rambam’s seven causes of contradictions. If the contradiction results from a limitation, we would try to overcome the limitation — to harmonize the sources by logical means, construe each text differently, distinguish cases, or interpret verses otherwise. But the Sages do not offer that option; they await a third verse to decide. The contradiction remains, and the operative ruling appears in the third verse; this verse “decides” what to do by its authority as the deciding text, but it does not erase the contradiction. It does not say what we would expect: that the contradiction is only apparent and that one who understands the matter’s depth will see no contradiction, and so forth.

In light of what I wrote above, this is of course impossible. If the two verses truly contradict each other, our system has been emptied of content. One cannot leave the contradiction standing and carry on as before. I note in passing that in a lament essay I wrote after the terror attack at “Mercaz HaRav” (the source is my piece in Middah Tovah), I addressed a dispute between the schools of Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva regarding this rule. I will touch on it here only briefly, as relevant to our point.

Indeed, according to Rabbi Akiva’s school, one does not reconcile the contradiction but decides via the third verse. That leaves the contradiction in place: even if we have an operative ruling, how are we to understand the two contradictory verses themselves? Note that the contradictions are not always between legal (halakhic) verses; sometimes they are factual — e.g., whether the Shekhinah descended below or not. If a third verse tells us that it did descend, how are we to understand the verse saying it did not?

In fact, the school of Rabbi Yishmael understood the rule differently. From their usage it emerges that the third verse reconciles the contradiction rather than merely deciding between them. So too the Raavad writes in his commentary on the baraita of the hermeneutic principles at the beginning of the Sifra:

From this deciding — that the third verse decides and corrects two verses that contradict one another — our Sages learned elsewhere (regarding two contradictory verses where no third comes to decide), as we learned in Sotah, “One verse says two thousand cubits [as the Sabbath limit] and another says one thousand cubits. How so? One thousand is the Sabbath boundary.” Behold, they decided between them on their own, according to their proofs (as was learned by a fortiori inference, etc.). And that which it teaches, ‘until a third verse comes and decides between them,’ so too [in the case of] two contradicting verses you are not permitted to dismiss them and treat them as corrupt; rather you must continually return to resolve them as best you can, until a third verse comes and decides between them, and then you act according to the decision that appears [from it].

In other words, there is a decision that reconciles the contradiction and explains both verses.

True, according to Rabbi Akiva’s school it would seem we only decide the practical outcome, yet remain with the contradiction. But that cannot be, for if we are left with a contradiction we could derive any conclusion from the system. Beyond that, if the contradiction is factual, there is nothing “practical” to decide; the question is what actually happened.

We are therefore compelled to say that even for Rabbi Akiva this is not a genuine logical contradiction. In the terms of the previous column, this is a conflict or “two laws” (shnei dinim) — a situation that is not a contradiction but a practical or interpretive conflict. In such a case we saw that we must seek a decision, yet we can “leave the contradiction” only because it is not a logical contradiction (if it is a contradiction at all). Even in the example I gave — whether the Shekhinah descended below ten handbreadths — we cannot assume that it both descended and did not descend and then declare that to be the absolute truth. Rather, the intent must be that there are two different perspectives (“two laws”): from one vantage it descended, from another it did not. There is no problem offering several proposals along these lines, and there is no basis to claim that we are dealing with a genuine logical contradiction. The question of what we are to feel or experience is a question of conflict, not contradiction — and on that a third verse can decide. It is a practical question requiring a ruling, but it does not per se imply a logical contradiction.

Casuistry

Later, Rabbi Inbal discusses the difference between the Chazon Ish and R. Shimon Shkop regarding halakha (he treats this at length in a monumental comparative article on the two). R. Shimon sought a comprehensive theoretical structure that would explain all particulars coherently, while the Chazon Ish focused on the local sugya and did not strive to reconcile everything under general concepts. But as Rabbi Inbal rightly notes, the latter too reconciled a sugya with parallel sugyot; he too was unwilling to live with contradiction. Thus this methodological difference has nothing to do with the question of contradictions. These are two methods for handling normative systems: casuistry (deriving from rulings on specific cases and analogizing to others) versus positivism (deriving from rules and viewing cases as their instantiations). Such debates exist in secular law as well: English law leans more casuistic; German law, more positivist.

I have explained a number of times (see e.g. column 431) that this is a natural process in halakha: reliance on general rules increases over time. It begins with rulings on particulars, and later commentators extract rules and build a theoretical edifice from which the particulars follow deductively. In general, Talmudic thinking tends toward casuistry (see column 482). But what has any of this to do with attitudes toward contradictions?!

Flexible Definitions

Rabbi Inbal then brings examples of flexible definitions. There is hardly any legal system that does not require flexible definitions, since law — unlike logic and mathematics — cannot be fully formalized. Ramban already wrote in his introduction to Milchamot that “the wisdom of our Torah is not like astronomy or arithmetic, whose proofs are cut and dried,” and this holds of all legal systems in varying measure. This does indeed relate to casuistry versus positivism, but again I fail to see how it relates to contradictions.

His examples concern cases in which we have a general definition yet do not panic over exceptions. A prominent example (see column 431) is “fruits in the public domain are declared ownerless,” such that although fruits in the public domain belong to their owner, due to his negligence in leaving them there they are deemed hefker (ownerless) and he is considered “not lacking.” I explained there that the fruits do belong to him in terms of property (otherwise why discuss payment at all, and in particular compensation for benefit, which is certainly paid to him), and yet he is deemed “not lacking.” Similarly he cites ye’ush (owner’s abandonment), which does not remove the object from the owner’s domain yet does enable others to acquire it (this is, of course, only the view of the Nesivos, not universally accepted). None of this is unique to halakha.

“Two Laws”

He adds another example: a convulsing animal (mefarcases) is neither prohibited as a limb from a living animal nor as carrion: “It has left the category of living but not yet entered the category of dead.” Such examples abound in all legal systems, for this is not a contradiction at all — not even of the softer kinds. The claim is that there is an intermediate state between alive and dead, so its laws can be partly like the living and partly like the dead. Various legal systems employ even more far-reaching fictions. I have already cited (see columns 95 and 530) a well-known Roman-law fiction: a person who dies outside Roman dominion does not bequeath to his relatives. A problem arose regarding soldiers captured and dying in captivity; the legislators wished to allow inheritance and thus defined the moment of capture as the moment of death. Did they also recite kaddish then? Presumably not. He is “alive” for kaddish and “dead” for inheritance. Moreover, he is considered dead as of capture — but only if he ultimately died. If he returned, it retroactively emerges he had not died (more precisely: if he did not return, it retroactively emerges he had). Behold: legal “acrobatics” in Roman law. Nothing is new under the sun.

A similar analysis applies to the yeshiva-style conceptualizations he cites later, e.g., “kelutah is as if placed,” “hearing is like answering,” and so on. These too are “two laws,” not the embracing of contradictions. We must understand that none of these is a contradiction — not even of the two softer kinds. They are “two-law” situations (the captive is in a category of both alive and dead — like Schrödinger’s cat), and they appear in every legal system. There is nothing unique to halakha here.

Ontic Combinations

So too with “half slave and half free.” Rabbi Inbal sees this as an impossibility, for one who is a slave is not free and vice versa. But this is puzzling: the case is one of joint ownership by Reuven and Shimon of a slave, and Reuven emancipates his share. We now have a slave who is half-emancipated. What is the logical problem? Where is the contradiction? True, different laws apply to his two halves, and a conflict arises — but not a contradiction. The conflict concerns only what to do in practice; there is no contradiction at all (not even a soft one). If he were entirely a slave and entirely free at once, then perhaps we could speak of contradiction.

Indeed, in my essay “What Is a ‘Chalut’?” I addressed a case of this sort that seems a frontal logical contradiction of the first kind: according to some halakhic conceptions, a woman can be both a married woman and a divorcée simultaneously. Note well: not half married and half divorced (which is not contradictory, as above) but entirely married and entirely divorced at once.

I showed there why this is not a contradiction. My claim was that chaluyot (legal effects/statuses) are entities, not “states.” To say that the chalut of eshet ish (married woman) rests upon her is to speak about her metaphysical (or meta-legal) condition; to call her a “married woman” refers to the laws that apply to her, which are derivatives of that metaphysical condition. The first claim concerns the woman’s own status; the second concerns the implications/derivatives of that status. Hence, while one cannot say that a woman is both a married woman and a divorcée (that would be a logical contradiction), there is no contradiction in saying that both the chalut of a married woman and the chalut of a divorcée rest upon her. A dish can contain both salt and sugar (two entities with opposing properties), yet it cannot be wholly salty and wholly sweet at once (those are the opposing properties themselves — derivatives of the salt and sugar).

I explained there that such situations are indeed unique to halakha, but not because of any special tolerance for contradictions — for halakha, like any system, cannot accept contradictions. The uniqueness lies in viewing halakhic norms as products of ontic (metaphysical) states rather than “floating” norms. Other legal systems tend to view norms as legal principles not derived from an ontic state; within them, such “contradictions” would truly be impossible. I elaborated on this in my essay comparing property law in halakha and other systems: “Property Law in Halakha and in Secular Law.”

One more example from Rabbi Inbal’s article will clarify this:

The law is that a doubtful impurity (safek tum’ah) in the public domain is permitted — it does not have the status of impurity, and one who encounters it remains pure. Nevertheless, some authorities (see Zekher Yitzchak §17 and Merchashesh II) hold that a priest (kohen) is forbidden to walk in a public domain where there is doubtful impurity, because he is forbidden to become impure. Even though it is clear he does not in fact become impure and we deem him pure, he still violates the prohibition of priestly defilement.

You can now readily see that this has no connection to contradictions. Impurity is a metaphysical state, not merely a set of laws; therefore a kohen is forbidden to become impure metaphysically even if, legally, the laws of impurity will not attach to him. If impurity were merely “floating” legal norms and not a reality from which the norms emerge, then indeed a contradiction would arise.

In all these cases Rabbi Inbal adopts language akin to “the unity of opposites,” treating this as a different attitude toward contradictions. In his phrasing, halakha does not “get excited” about contradictions. But it is the same thing: as I have explained, there is no problem accounting for and resolving the alleged contradiction in all these cases. This is not “living with contradiction” but embracing two sides that do not contradict. True, one must do the analytical work to show why they do not contradict; it is sometimes easier to proclaim “unity of opposites” and avoid that work (I cited Rudolf Otto’s quip that “the unity of opposites is the refuge of the lazy”). But there is no real substitute for analysis.

The same applies to his other examples: none is a contradiction. The type I am addressing in this section is indeed unique to halakha (unlike “two laws,” which is not). The coexistence of the chalut of married woman and that of divorcée is an ontic combination which, as explained, is not a contradiction. In these cases we truly encounter a unique halakhic perspective — but not because halakha treats contradictions differently. Rather, because halakha views its norms as products of ontic states, in contrast to other legal systems. Genuine contradictions cannot exist in halakha, as in any other system.

“Seventy Faces to the Torah”

Rabbi Inbal cites rabbinic sayings that seem to reflect such “pluralism,” uttered in a calm tone: “Seventy faces to the Torah,” the claim that there are “one hundred and fifty reasons” to declare the creeping thing pure, “these and those are the words of the living God” (and the general attitude toward disputes), etc.

Again, this category contains no hint of contradiction, nor is it unique to halakha. In any ethical, legal, halakhic, or economic issue there are diverse considerations that can lead to different conclusions. In the previous column I offered the chocolate example: on the one hand, it is unhealthy and should not be eaten; on the other hand, it is delicious and should be eaten. Is this a contradiction? Not at all. This creates a practical conflict, but no contradiction. Even in Newtonian mechanics multiple forces can act on a body in different directions; the result (the body’s acceleration magnitude and direction) is the vector sum of those forces (see my essay on okimtot for details). How do these sayings differ from the chocolate or mechanics examples? Is it novel that an issue has multiple sides and the ruling is complex, requiring us to weigh them? I doubt it.

Do legal systems not recognize divergent opinions and the possibility of multiple valid considerations? Decisions do not always aim to prove that one view is true and the rest false; rather, they aim to arrive at practice. This exists in halakha and in every legal system. There is no contradiction here, nor anything unique to halakha. If anything, because halakha has an ontic basis to its norms, one might have thought that it would eschew the pluralism we find elsewhere — and the sayings come to teach that, nonetheless, even in halakha there can be “one hundred and fifty reasons” this way and that. In other legal or ethical systems, this is not novel.

What Has This to Do with Postmodernism?

Rabbi Inbal likens this to postmodernism, which he claims is only now arriving at such an insight. But this is mistaken. Postmodernism lives in contradictions, since it does not believe in truth at all. It does not speak of different sides of the truth and “one hundred and fifty reasons” this way and that, but of a thing and its opposite both being true (or both not true) at once (I discussed this in my lecture, “Is Religious Postmodernism Possible?”). That is nonsense — and you will certainly not find it in halakha (see my essay “Is Halakha Pluralistic?”). Rabbi Inbal himself proceeds along these lines when he writes:

In today’s postmodern world, after many generations of relentless attempts to formulate philosophy or mathematics as consistent logical foundations yielding rigid truth, an atmosphere of despair has arisen that honors all opinions, with varying degrees of recognition that the attempt to reach truth may fail. But this is not the Sages’ starting point. On the contrary, they viewed their mode of thought and cognition as a path to truth, as an ability to recognize a part of the great truth that comprises the whole world in its spiritual and material aspects. Nevertheless, the study hall made room for all the sages’ views simultaneously. “These and those are the words of the living God” is said even regarding a historical dispute (Gittin 6b).

If so, I fail to see what is unique about the beit midrash in his account. It indeed differs from postmodernism — I happily agree (if only because postmodernism is nonsense) — but it is entirely similar to pre-postmodern approaches. And again, the crucial point is that halakha is characterized by not accepting logical contradictions — not by containing them. In this it resembles every other intellectual system.

Immediately after the above passage, he adds:

When the Sages encounter contradictions, they behave according to the rule that waits for a third verse to decide — that is, they recognize the truth of both sides and seek a third dimension to instruct what to do. The third does not solve the contradiction; it only rules the halakha.

But that is simply not so. On the contrary: the Sages always reconcile; they never leave a contradiction standing. Exactly as we saw regarding the rule of “two verses that contradict.” And when the Talmud does not reconcile, all the commentators assume a reconciliation exists which the Talmud did not spell out; they themselves supply it. I have never seen a Talmudic commentator meet a contradiction and say: “Excellent — two verses! Let us now look for a third source to decide.” What he does (as we saw with the Raavad) is seek a reconciliation; otherwise he remains with a difficulty. He assumes a reconciliation must exist; his failure to find it is his own weakness. Almost all our learned effort is analysis aimed at harmonizing sources and building theoretical structures. I struggle to understand how Rabbi Inbal describes the matter in the exact opposite way.

Examples

Rabbi Inbal anchors his claim in the following examples:

“Is it not [a dispute of] Tannaim? One master holds that ‘within the time frame’ is like ‘after the time,’ and the other that ‘within the time frame’ is like ‘before the time.’ No: all agree that ‘within the time frame’ is like ‘before the time,’ and both [sources] speak of a girl; the first is Rabbi, the second R. Shimon b. Elazar. And if you wish, say both speak of a boy; the first is R. Shimon b. Elazar, the second is Rabbi. And if you wish, say both are Rabbi: this one [concerns] a boy; that one, a girl. And if you wish, say both are R. Shimon b. Elazar: this one [concerns] a boy; that one, a girl” (Niddah 46).

“One baraita teaches: Over the light of a synagogue or study hall one recites a blessing; and another teaches: One does not bless! — No difficulty: this [is] where an important person is present; that [is] where there is no important person. And if you wish, say both [are cases] where an important person is present — no difficulty: this [is] where there is a sexton; that [is] where there is no sexton. And if you wish, say both [are cases] where there is a sexton — no difficulty: this [is] where there is moonlight; that [is] where there is no moonlight” (Berakhot 53).

“If you wish, say: [the expression] ‘go’ — and [the case is] where he fell ill. And if you wish, say: ‘You go’ — and illness is different. And if you wish, say: [It follows] R. Shimon b. Gamliel — and illness is different” (Gittin 59).

“Here, [the case is] where he had superior-quality land and sold it. And if you wish, say both [baraitot concern cases] where he had superior-quality land and sold it — no difficulty: here, where his middle-quality equals others’ superior-quality; and here, where his middle-quality does not equal others’ superior-quality. And if you wish, say both [concern cases] where his middle-quality equals others’ middle-quality, and here they dispute: one holds we assess according to his [own land]; the other, according to the world’s [standard]. Ravina said: They dispute regarding inferior-quality land” (Bava Kamma 8).

The Sages propose a range of possible solutions without trying to anchor them in the text, determine which is primary, or even rule between them. Instead of our natural tendency — to unify the texts and determine whether there is a contradiction, its cause, and its dependence — the Sages come with a prior approach that there are many and diverse possibilities and add yet more.

All these examples prove precisely the opposite. There must always be a reconciliation; one never remains with a contradiction. Even if we need a forced reading, split sources, or invoke okimtot — all is fair so long as we do not leave a contradiction. The same is true of the examples he brings later from Rabbi’s methodology.

It is true that in most sugyot the Talmud does not render a halakhic ruling and leaves opinions in opposition. I have discussed this in several places; it has nothing to do with attitudes toward contradictions. It stems from the Talmud’s purpose: not a code of law but a record of dialectic. Hence its casuistic character and its lack of decisions (see column 482, and many others).

Introduction to the Philosophical-Scientific Explanations

Toward the end, Rabbi Inbal offers a philosophical account of “contradictions.” That reality has multiple aspects I already addressed above; it has nothing to do with contradictoriness. He also notes that human beings hold different views and perceive situations differently. As a factual matter, this is trivial; who disputes it? The blessing “Wise of Secrets” does not reveal that opinions differ — that is obvious — but celebrates the blessing inherent in diversity of minds. That is a normative statement, not a philosophical one. Whether all opinions are correct, and in what sense, is a very different question which he does not address. As I noted, complexity of truth is not the same as multiplicity of truths. In my essay “Is Halakha Pluralistic?” I argued that truth is the sum of all the sides — but not that there are multiple “truths.”

He then claims that rigid thinking will not capture reality; it will shatter against its complexity. I entirely agree (see the above columns on the Talmud’s structure) — but that is complexity, not contradiction. Full truth is the sum of all one hundred and fifty reasons for and against which are each true. But as I explained, complexity is not our innovation and does not distinguish us. The assumption that reality can be explained by rigid rules is childish — perhaps even in the natural sciences (physics and chemistry), certainly regarding the more complex dimensions (human beings, social sciences). This does not imply there is no truth or that contradictions are necessary; it only implies that it is hard to capture truth in rigid rules. For this reason a rather dubious field of “qualitative research” has developed in the social sciences (see column 60, and more).

Rabbi Inbal himself compares the halakhic approach (as he sees it) with science:

In this the mode of thinking aligns with modern science. Science grasps the microscopic reality with very clear and precise tools, yet it knows it cannot bridge the gap to the macroscopic reality. To translate information from the quantum realm to Newtonian physics we use the correspondence principle. But we have no continuous explanation from particle to manifest matter. Likewise regarding the gap between manifest matter and the cosmological domain: there too we have precise, measurable information, yet its rules do not match Newtonian physics; we must add to the equation dark matter, dark energy, and other notions belonging only to the cosmological realm. A particle falls, a ball falls, and a star falls — each follows different rules. There are three different physics with different rules, viewed in science as three breaches through which the human mind has penetrated true reality, yet failed to create continuity between them. This does not contradict the stability and truth of the three.

I do not see how this squares with the claim that halakha has a unique approach to contradictions. Here he himself says science shares this; so what is unique to halakha?[1]

Faith

As for contradictions in faith, I touched on this previously. Even there, they are always of the second or third kind — never logical contradictions. He does not offer many examples; “they saw the sounds” at Sinai, for instance, is not a contradiction at all but at most a physical impossibility (a third-type contradiction). It is no different from the splitting of the sea or any miracle. Departure from nature is not an embrace of contradiction and is not unique to halakha — certainly not to Jewish faith.

Morality

He mainly treats contradictions between halakha and morality and sees in this another kind of “living with contradiction.” In column 541 I explained that this is not so. Again, this is complexity, not contradiction. I showed there that conflicts among moral values are not contradictions but conflicts; the same holds for conflicts between halakha and morality. Thus, when halakha tells a priest’s wife who was raped to separate from her husband (see also column 542), that is an immoral directive that is nonetheless halakhically required (advancing a halakhic value at the expense of the moral one). The rhetoric about “living with contradiction” (“unity of opposites”) stems from an inability or unwillingness to analyze and resolve; with a bit of effort, everything can be reconciled and there is no need to speak of living in contradiction.

His other examples — such as attitudes toward sexuality — do not deal with contradictions at all, but with charting a middle path. The attitude is neither total rejection nor total endorsement; it harnesses sexual desire to positive ends. What has that to do with contradiction? There is no contradiction here, not even in the softer senses. It is a gray model rather than black-and-white. The claim that reality is not dichotomous and that there are third states (as if the “law of the excluded middle” does not apply) merely reflects that one state is not the negation of the other.

Conclusion

On a broad view, it seems that nothing uniquely halakhic has been shown, apart from viewing halakhic norms as ontic composites (which is indeed unique to halakha). But Rabbi Inbal did not discuss that; he located halakha’s uniqueness in its attitude toward contradictions — which is not so. Everything else is complexity, which is not contradiction and is not unique to halakha or Torah.

The contradictions he addresses are at most of the second and third kinds — if they are contradictions at all — and certainly not logical contradictions. As we saw, contradictions of those two kinds do not require “resolution” because they are not really contradictions. They do require explanation, and such explanations are generally available. Talk of the “unity of opposites” is no substitute for offering an explanation and is therefore unhelpful. By contrast, in genuine logical contradictions no explanation or reconciliation is possible — but here too the “unity of opposites” offers no help. In such cases one must honestly concede that one side of the contradiction is false. In short: living in contradiction is not an option; it is, in fact, an oxymoron.

We saw that this conclusion holds even where the contradiction stems only from our intellectual limitations and not from reality itself. Still, if according to my own lights it is a contradiction, I cannot accept both sides. As noted, the problem lies not only in contradictions per se but no less in “living with contradiction.”

[1] Incidentally, the description here is not precise. Science certainly strives for a comprehensive account and makes progress toward it. For example, the relation between Newtonian mechanics and quantum theory is not a principle we assume (“the correspondence principle”) but a result that has been proven; the gap there does not truly exist. Even in areas where a gap remains (e.g., between quantum theory and relativity, or between thermodynamics and microscopic physics), it is incorrect to draw conclusions from a current, intermediate state of partial knowledge. Being en route does not determine what model we seek. Gaps in scientific knowledge are not necessarily substantive (this is precisely the argument against the “God of the gaps” approach).