Ki Teitzei (5765)

From the book Mida Tova: Articles on the Hermeneutical Principles by Rabbi Michael Avraham. Translated from Hebrew using gpt-5.4 (reasoning_effort=high, batch API).

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With God’s help.

Midah Tovah — Eve of the holy Sabbath, Parashat Ki-Tetzei, 5766

Questions

1. Two types of textual optimality.
2. Why does the Torah adopt an ambiguous formulation?
3. What should we do in such a case?
4. The relation between intuitive reasoning and logical consideration.
5. Does the mourner sit at the head, or the comforter?
6. Is there a positive commandment to desist on the Sabbath, and what is its source?

“There shall not be a kedeshah among the daughters of Israel, and there shall not be a kadesh among the sons of Israel.”
(Deuteronomy 23:18)

“‘There shall not be a kedeshah among the daughters of Israel’—you are not warned concerning her among the nations; ‘and there shall not be a kadesh’—you are not warned concerning him among the nations. For this could have been derived by reasoning: if with regard to a kedeshah, which is the lesser offense, you are warned in Israel, then with regard to a kadesh, which is the graver offense, all the more so should you be warned in Israel. Or the reverse: if with regard to a kadesh, which is the graver offense, you are not warned among the nations, then with regard to a kedeshah, which is the lesser offense, all the more so should you not be warned among the nations. Why then must Scripture state ‘kadesh’? It needed to be stated, for had it said only ‘kedeshah’ and not ‘kadesh,’ I would have said: if with regard to a kedeshah, which is the lesser offense, you are warned in Israel, then with regard to a kadesh, which is the graver offense, all the more so should you be warned concerning him among the nations. Therefore Scripture says: ‘There shall not be a kedeshah among the daughters of Israel’—you are not warned concerning her among the nations; ‘and there shall not be a kadesh’—you are not warned concerning him among the nations. Another interpretation: ‘There shall not be a kedeshah’—this is a warning concerning an unmarried woman, as it is said: ‘There was no kedeshah in this place.'”
— Sifrei on Deuteronomy, section 260¹

A. Summary of Last Year’s Article

In last year’s article we dealt with the prohibition of kadesh and kedeshah in Israel. From the midrash (rabbinic interpretation) that we cited here, it emerges that the prohibition applies only to an Israelite, and not to members of the other nations. The meaning of the terms kadesh and kedeshah is not clear from the verse, and we noted that various midrashim offer different interpretations of this verse. The legal authorities are likewise divided on this issue. Maimonides, in Sefer ha-Mitzvot, negative commandment 355, and those who follow him—for example, Sefer Ha-Chinukh, commandments 209 and 570—understand the prohibition of kedeshah as a negative prohibition against intercourse with an unmarried woman. Nahmanides, however, in his glosses to Sefer ha-Mitzvot, negative commandment 355, in his glosses to Maimonides’ fifth root (pp. 116-120 in the Frankel edition), and in his commentary on the Torah in our portion and in the portion Aharei Mot, disagrees with Maimonides’ understanding of these prohibitions; his remarks are also cited in Sefer Ha-Chinukh. He holds that the prohibition of kedeshah is a commandment directed to the court to prevent intercourse with a woman with whom betrothal cannot take effect, and likewise to prevent any Israelite from being designated for sexual immorality: a woman designated for ordinary prostitution, and a man designated either for ordinary prostitution or for male homosexual relations. According to Nahmanides, the prohibition is not connected to the act of prostitution itself; rather, it is imposed on the very existence of an ongoing state in which some Israelite is designated for prostitution. According to this, kadesh denotes designation.

Even within Maimonides’ approach, several commentators understood him to mean that the rule of kadesh or kedeshah prohibits only a situation in which someone is designated for prostitution; see Kesef Mishneh to Hilkhot Na’arah Betulah 2:17, Maharit’s novellae to the Rif at the beginning of Kiddushin, and Bi’ur ha-Gra, Even Ha-Ezer 26:8. But that reading is very strained in his wording.

Nahmanides, in his commentary on our verse, offers an additional interpretation of the term kadesh, deriving it from the root of holiness: whoever separates himself from prostitution is called holy, and therefore one who joins himself to prostitution is called kadesh.² If prior designation for prostitution is not required in order to violate the prohibition, then this term should apparently be interpreted in accordance with Nahmanides’ suggestion.

We then moved on to explain the course of the midrash quoted above. At the outset, the midrash assumes that one of the prohibitions is superfluous. The prohibition of kadesh in Israel can be derived by an a fortiori argument from kedeshah, and the permission of kedeshah among non-Israelites can be derived all the more so from the permission of kadesh among non-Israelites.

At first glance, the midrash raises a question of redundancy. Because the laws can be derived from one another, there is a superfluous component here. For that reason, the midrash concludes that the purpose of the superfluous component is to teach us a new rule, or to prevent the emergence of an incorrect rule. Yet in the final analysis it is not clear which of the two prohibitions is superfluous. Which of them could have been omitted, were it not for the final resolution? We saw that there are no superfluous words here, but according to our proposal there are superfluous laws. This is content redundancy, not verbal redundancy.

We noted that verbal redundancy points to a lack of optimality in the biblical wording; see the articles on the portions Toledot and Vayetze, 5766. But what is the problem with content redundancy? After all, in this case there are no unnecessary words. We suggested that the problem is that there are several different ways to express the same content, and these are unnecessary “degrees of freedom.” This too constitutes a defect in the optimality of the biblical text.

In the final chapter of the article, we discussed the phenomenon of unnecessary degrees of freedom in several contexts, in reality and in language, and we saw that according to Maimonides there is no problem in the existence of such unnecessary degrees of freedom.

B. Dealing with a Biblical Formulation That Has Multiple Meanings

Introduction

In last year’s article we dealt with two types of redundancy:

1. Verbal redundancy: unnecessary words that impair the optimality of the biblical text.
2. Content redundancy: the introduction of an unnecessary legal rule, even when no word in the biblical text is redundant.

We saw that in the second situation there are several different ways to express the same content, and we suggested that this too constitutes a defect in biblical optimality. In this year’s article we will discuss a similar phenomenon, in which again the multiplicity of interpretations constitutes a defect from which conclusions are drawn.

We are dealing with biblical cases in which the biblical idea could have been written in two different ways:

A. In a formulation that admits no different interpretations, but only interpretation A.
B. In a wording that allows several interpretations, A or B.

In such a case, if the Torah chose the more ambiguous formulation, namely B, that itself rejects the single interpretation A and leads us to interpret it as B.

This consideration too rests on the assumption that multiple interpretations are problematic, that is, non-optimal. Therefore, from the fact that Scripture employed ambiguous language, we infer that it is probably trying to hint something to us through that very ambiguity. This example supports our proposal that multiplicity of meaning is a defect in optimality; therefore, when we encounter such a thing, we must draw conclusions from it.

The Passage in Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 69b

The Gemara in Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 69b, brings the following exposition in the course of the discussion; see also the parallel in Babylonian Talmud, Moed Katan 28b:

Rabbi Abbahu said: From where do we know that the mourner reclines at the head? As it is said: “I chose their way and sat as chief, and dwelt like a king among the troops, as one who comforts mourners.” Does that not imply one who comforts others? Rav Nahman bar Yitzhak said: It is written “yenahem.” Mar Zutra said: From here: “And the revelry of the sprawlers shall depart”—the phrase can be read to mean that the bitter one becomes chief over the sprawlers.

The discussion turns on the question whether the mourner sits at the head, or whether the one who comforts the mourner sits at the head. Rabbi Abbahu determines that the mourner reclines at the head, and Maimonides likewise rules this as law in Hilkhot Avel 13:3; see also Tur and Shulchan Arukh, Yoreh De’ah, beginning of section 376:

The mourner reclines at the head, and the comforters are not permitted to sit except upon the ground, as it is said: “And they sat with him on the ground.” They may not say anything until the mourner first opens his mouth, as it is said: “And none spoke a word to him,” and after that it is written: “Then Job opened his mouth,” and then, “Eliphaz answered.” Once he nods his head, the comforters may no longer sit beside him, so as not to burden him excessively.

The source Rabbi Abbahu brings from the verse in the book of Job is apparently disputed, since Mar Zutra brings a different source from the book of Amos.

Let us note that in this law Maimonides brings a source for each of the details. The exception is our law—that the mourner sits at the head. For some reason, Maimonides cites neither of the two sources offered in our passage. Radbaz, ad loc., points to the source from the book of Job.

The Source from the Book of Job

Rabbi Abbahu brings a source for the rule that the mourner reclines at the head from the following verse in Job 29:25:

“I chose their way and sat as chief; I dwelt like a king among the troops, as one who comforts mourners.”

The verse compares the king who sits at the head among the troops to a mourner who is being comforted. From here it follows that the comforted mourner also sits at the head.

The Gemara immediately raises the obvious difficulty: the verse speaks about the comforter, not the one being comforted. If so, the verse would imply that it is specifically the comforter who sits at the head. It may be that this is why Mar Zutra proposes a different source for this rule. In any case, Rav Nahman bar Yitzhak answers with a very cryptic statement: “It is written ‘yenahem.'” What does that answer mean? What has changed from the earlier understanding? After all, it is obvious that the verse says “yenahem,” and precisely for that reason the Gemara rejected Rabbi Abbahu’s derivation. Let us now look at the medieval commentators in explaining this exposition.

The Approaches of Rashi and Tosafot

Rashi explains the passage in Ketubot as follows:

“‘It is written yenahem’—you cannot place a patah under any letter unless an aleph or heh is adjacent to it, or unless, by virtue of the vowel beneath it, it comes in place of a letter, as though it were written with an additional letter. Since no aleph is written here, you are forced, on the basis of the written tradition, to read it in a way that refers to the comforted person himself, that is, like a mourner who is being comforted.”

Rashi explains that it is impossible to vocalize a letter with a patah unless there is an adjacent aleph or heh, or unless the patah hints at the absence of another letter. The Shitah Mekubbetzet on the passage brings several possibilities for understanding these cryptic remarks of Rashi—for we do in fact find many patah vowels in Scripture that are not adjacent to aleph or heh—but this is not the place.³

Tosafot there claim that Rashi’s interpretation is forced, and explain differently:

“Rav Nahman said: It is written ‘yenahem.’ Even though we read it that way, we still expound it so, because had Scripture written ‘menahem,’ there would have been no room for error. Instead it wrote ‘yenahem,’ which can be read in another way. Even though we do not actually read it so, it can still be expounded that the one being comforted is seated at the head so as to comfort him. The explanation of the commentary is forced.”

Tosafot say that if the verse really intended to speak about the comforters, then it could have written “menahem” instead of “yenahem,” and no misunderstanding would have arisen.⁴ From the fact that the verse used the form “yenahem,” which can be taken in two senses, it follows that the intention is not the comforters but the one being comforted.

How can the word “yenahem” be interpreted as referring to the mourner himself? Why does this word admit two interpretations? Apparently Tosafot understood that the word can also be read with a hiriq, or as a passive form with a shuruk, so that it refers to the mourner himself. This is also how Rivash and the Rosh, as cited in the Shitah Mekubbetzet there, explain it.

The Difficulty in the Approach of Tosafot

It is not clear how the verse can be read according to this proposal. After all, “mourners” is in the plural, so how can one say “he will be comforted” or “he was comforted” with respect to multiple mourners? It seems that Tosafot relate only to the word taken in isolation, apart from the verse as a whole. But can such an interpretation really be proposed as an alternative to the plain meaning?

From the language of Tosafot it appears that they too understood this cannot be a plain reading of the verse. Therefore they say that one could expound the verse as referring to the mourner and not to the comforters, contrary to its accepted reading. In other words, this is a homiletical interpretation, not the plain sense.

The Logical Problem Underlying This Consideration

We should note that the expression “yenahem” can be understood in two directions. We choose specifically the less plausible, homiletical direction: that it refers to the mourner. Why choose specifically that direction? In the medieval commentators we find two types of reasons for this: those of Rivash and Tosafot, and those of the Rosh.

The Approach of Rivash and Tosafot: The Logical Consideration

The words of Rivash roughly correspond to the language of Tosafot that we cited. The consideration is as follows: the author of the text has two ways to write the verse—using “menahem” or using “yenahem.” The wording “menahem” can be understood only as referring to the comforters, that is, interpretation A in the terminology of the introduction to this chapter. By contrast, the wording “yenahem” admits two interpretations: A, referring to the comforters, and B, referring to the mourner. Therefore, if Scripture really intended the comforter, it would have been preferable to write “menahem.” From the fact that it did not use “menahem,” it follows that its intention is not the comforter but the comforted one. Therefore we interpret the wording “yenahem,” which in itself admits both senses, specifically in the less simple, homiletical direction: as referring to the mourner, namely interpretation B.

In Kelalei ha-Gemara ha-Nosafim, by Rabbi Yosef Karo, section 667, this principle is formulated as a general interpretive rule on the basis of the language of Tosafot cited above:

“From here we learn that whenever it was possible to write a formulation that has only one interpretation, but instead a formulation was written that has two interpretations, we must say the opposite of the interpretation conveyed by the formulation that has only one interpretation.”

“I heard this rule from my teacher, the great Rabbi Ya’akov Berav of blessed memory, in several places. He would say that if the Gemara had wanted the other interpretation, it would have adopted a wording that had only one interpretation.”

“Along these lines I explain what Rashi wrote on the portion Va’era (Exodus 6:3): ‘It does not say: “I did not make known”; rather, it says: “I was not known.”‘”

Moreover, this principle is a simple interpretive line of reasoning, not a specifically midrashic principle, and therefore he applies it to talmudic and other texts, and not only to Scripture. Of course, the scope of the rule’s application depends on how much confidence we have in the author of the text—how precise he was in his wording. Put differently: how optimally the text is written, taking into account all the available formulations and omitting none of them. The assumption is that the biblical text is perfectly precise,⁵ and therefore the use of this rule is natural. Precisely against this background, the words of the Rosh, to which we now turn, are even more puzzling.⁶

The Approach of the Rosh: The Substantive Consideration

Now, from the wording of the Rosh, as cited in the Shitah Mekubbetzet, we can learn several additional things. The Rosh writes as follows:

“‘It is written yenahem.’ Even though we read it with a sheva, we expound it because it ought to have written ‘menahem,’ so that one would not come to err and read it with a hiriq. Since it wrote a formulation that can mean this and can mean that, it follows that it intends to say that the mourner sits at the head. For it is reasonable to say so, since the comforters seat the mourner at the head in order to comfort him and alleviate his pain.”

First, it is clear from the words of the Rosh that he is speaking about reading the initial letter with a hiriq instead of a sheva. Second, the consideration is not based only on the interpretive logic described above, but also on a substantive rationale in the laws of mourning. This rationale says that placing the mourner at the head is itself what comforts him. If the comforters were the ones sitting at the head, that would provide him with no consolation. Therefore it is more plausible to read the verse as teaching that it is the mourner who sits at the head.

According to the Rosh, is the basis of the exposition this substantive reasoning, or is there also a formal interpretive, or logical, consideration, as emerges from the language of Tosafot and Rivash cited above?

From the wording of the Rosh it appears that both elements operate in the expositor’s reasoning: both the logical consideration arising from the optimality of the text, and the substantive consideration arising from the laws of mourning.

Why, According to the Rosh, Is a Combination Required?

The scheme we proposed above for Tosafot and Rivash takes as its point of departure two equally plausible interpretations between which we must choose. Their consideration says that we should choose the interpretation that differs from the single interpretation conveyed by the second alternative. But in our case, the alternative proposal—that the verse speaks about the mourner, namely B—does not fit the plain sense of Scripture. Even when the verse says “yenahem,” it is still not likely to interpret it as referring to the mourner, since the preceding word is plural, “mourners,” and the verse does not read smoothly in that way. The traditional reading of the verse also runs against this interpretation.

It is important to note that if one of the interpretations of formulation B—namely interpretation B—is problematic, this affects two different stages of the exposition:

1. At the first stage. When we notice that the word “yenahem” can bear two interpretations, this raises the question of why such an ambiguous formulation was used. But if interpretation B is problematic, then formulation B does not in fact present us with two reasonable interpretations. If so, the very basis that calls for an interpretive consideration is absent.
2. At the final stage. After we notice that there was an available way to formulate the verse that would have allowed only one interpretation—namely, about the comforters—and the author did not choose it, we infer that the real meaning is probably the opposite of that interpretation, that is, not about the comforters but about the mourner. But if the word “yenahem” cannot plausibly be read as referring to the mourner, this not only uproots the logical basis of the interpretive consideration at stage 1, but also undermines the plausibility of the proposed resolution at the final stage.

Accordingly, on the view of Tosafot and Rivash, the point of departure of the exposition is problematic. Since formulation B also has only one plausible interpretation, namely A, it follows that both proposed formulations, A and B, are univocal. Each has only one plain-sense interpretation. If so, there is no difficulty at all as to why Scripture chose this formulation rather than the other. Beyond that, even if there were a difficulty, the proposed solution would not be acceptable: why choose specifically the implausible interpretation out of the two?

We saw above that Tosafot noticed the second difficulty, namely that their proposal does not yield an acceptable interpretation of the biblical text. Therefore Tosafot explain that what is involved here is a homiletical interpretation, not the plain sense of the verse. But this does not solve difficulty 1: what was the original difficulty that created the need for that homiletical interpretation? After all, the fundamental difficulty is the fact that Scripture adopts a non-univocal formulation, which invites the homiletical conclusion. But in light of our remarks here, it is not correct to say that Scripture employed a multivalent formulation. On this point Tosafot offer no answer.

It is precisely here that the substantive component found in the Rosh enters the picture. The explanation of why a homiletical interpretation is needed here is that the plain reading of the verse—interpretation A, about the comforters—does not fit its content. True, the plain sense of the verse speaks about the comforters and not about the mourner. But it makes no sense to seat the comforters at the head when the goal is to comfort the mourner. In such a case, it is specifically he who should be seated at the head. On the other hand, this interpretation, namely B, does not fit the plain wording of the verse, and therefore a homiletical reading is required.

Now the opposite question arises: if so, what room is left for the logical consideration described above? Why is the Rosh’s substantive reasoning not sufficient on its own to justify reading the verse against its plain sense? Especially given the fact that the logical difficulty of multivalence does not really exist. Why not base the exposition solely on the Rosh’s reasoning?

At this point we are left with a difficulty both according to Tosafot and Rivash and according to the Rosh. With Tosafot and Rivash, the difficulty is: what was the logical problem that generated the need for a homiletical interpretation? With the Rosh, the difficulty is: why is there any need for such a logical problem at all, if there is a substantive rationale that provides a sufficient basis for the homiletical interpretation even without it?

Explaining the Approach of Tosafot and Rivash

Let us return to the two planes we presented above. If the homiletical solution proposed by Tosafot indeed constitutes a possible reading of the verse, at least on the plane of homiletical interpretation—for that is how we solved the second difficulty—then it can also serve as the basis for the entire homiletical consideration. The novelty is that according to Tosafot, when we have two equivalent biblical formulations, one of which allows only a single interpretation and the other of which allows one plain-sense interpretation plus a different homiletical interpretation, Scripture will still prefer the formulation that admits only one interpretation. The homiletical plane enters the logical consideration together with the plain-sense interpretation. Even when there is only a homiletical interpretation for a biblical wording, we nevertheless treat this as a situation in which that wording has two possible interpretations, and therefore as a non-optimal situation, or at least one requiring explanation. The explanation is that precisely for this reason the wording was chosen: to teach us that Scripture intends specifically the non-plain meaning.

Explaining the Approach of the Rosh

What is the explanation of the Rosh’s approach? Why is substantive reasoning alone not enough? It seems that the answer is this: if we were to rely on the reasoning alone, and interpret the word “yenahem” as referring to the mourner, the difficulty would still remain: why does the Torah choose such a cumbersome and imprecise formulation? Why did the Torah not write explicitly what it wished to say? Moreover, we would still have to ask why the Torah forces us to interpret the given wording of the verse—formulation B—in a way that departs from its plain sense, and to choose specifically the less plausible option, namely B.

The logical consideration comes to answer this. Since there are only two available ways to formulate the verse, and the other option—A—would have led us to the wrong meaning, the Torah chose formulation B despite its ambiguity. It had no other choice. The logical consideration is not the true basis of the exposition. The substantive reasoning is the fundamental basis, and the purpose of the logical consideration is only to answer a secondary difficulty.

Of course, we must now ask ourselves why no simple wording was available that would have conveyed the message explicitly. For example: why could it not have written “mourner,” rather than “yenahem” or “menahem”? This difficulty exists in any case, and it does not arise only in light of our discussion here. Apparently the verb from the root “to comfort” had to appear in the verse for other reasons, but this is not the place.⁷

Explaining a Puzzling Passage in Shabbat 114b in Light of Our Discussion

The Gemara in Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 114b, discusses the prohibition of trimming vegetables on Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath. The assumption is that on an ordinary Sabbath this is forbidden, while on an ordinary Yom Kippur it is permitted. As for Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath, the Amoraim there disagree.

The course of the Gemara there is difficult, and we will not enter into all its details here. Rav Huna holds that trimming vegetables on Yom Kippur that falls on the Sabbath is forbidden, whereas Rabbi Yohanan holds it is permitted. Rav Huna’s reasoning is that the word “shabbaton,” written concerning the Sabbath, cannot be interpreted as introducing a positive commandment to desist from labor, since there is already a source for that from the verse “you shall do no labor.” Therefore it is clear that the word “shabbaton” introduces a prohibition of shevut, that is, it forbids actions that are not full-fledged categories of labor.⁸ Rabbi Yohanan disagrees and holds that the word “shabbaton” indeed comes to prohibit labor by means of a positive commandment in addition to the negative commandment, and therefore one cannot derive from it a prohibition of trimming vegetables.⁹

The difficulty is obvious: why does Rav Huna reject the possibility that the word “shabbaton” teaches a positive commandment to desist from labor merely because there is already a negative commandment from “you shall do no labor”? Is there any impediment to there being a negative and a positive commandment on the same subject? In the sixth root, Maimonides discusses this at length and seeks to prove that there is no such impediment; compare his remarks in the ninth root.¹⁰ Rashi, apparently because of this difficulty, proposes a completely different direction in reading the Gemara, and we shall not go into it here. Most commentators, however, do not read the Gemara as he does, but rather as we have proposed here.¹¹

In light of what we have said here, this may perhaps be understood. Once the Torah has already established a negative prohibition of labor on the Sabbath, the word “shabbaton” comes to add something further. Two possibilities then stand before us for interpreting that addition:

1. It adds a positive commandment concerning activities of shevut.
2. It adds a positive commandment concerning labor itself, in addition to the negative prohibition already written.

In other words, the formulation “a Sabbath of rest” is ambiguous, and therefore open to two different interpretations. If the Torah had wanted to prohibit labor by means of a positive commandment in addition to the negative commandment, it should have used a clearer and more unambiguous formulation, as it does in “remember” and “observe,” if one takes those as the sources for the positive commandment regarding labor on the Sabbath. Therefore the ambiguity itself constitutes evidence that the Torah means shevut and not a positive commandment regarding labor.

In this case, the interpretation of shevut seems perhaps to be the more plausible of the two, since that is the meaning of “shabbaton” more than a prohibition of labor. Especially because this interpretation is preferable in that it does not create a duplication in the prohibitions of labor, since there is already a negative prohibition of labor. If so, then here, even according to the Rosh, there would be no need for the substantive reasoning that supports the logical consideration.

Footnotes