Summary, Epilogue & Appendix

From the book Two Wagons and a Hot Air Balloon by Rabbi Michael Avraham. Translated from Hebrew using gpt-5.4 (reasoning_effort=high, batch API).

---

Summary and Conclusions: Constructive Postmodernism

We began our journey by pointing to the connection between the empty wagon and the hot-air balloon. The Hazon Ish’s expression about the emptiness of the “secular wagon” was interpreted not as an expression of contempt, but as a description of the analytic stance, which, according to the interpretation proposed here, lies at the foundation of secularity. The claim was that because the analytic is empty, the holder of the analytic position, in its extreme theoretical form, has no content about which he can be certain. This is an emptiness of certainties, or in other words, an emptiness of truth. I mean “truth” here in its classical sense: truth that is objective and binding. Today, because of the dominance of the analytic stance in the modern world, the term “truth” is used in a much broader sense, and can also be interpreted as subjective truth. Today there is also “so-and-so’s truth,” or “someone else’s truth.” Therefore, speaking of an “emptiness of truth” sounds somewhat extreme to modern ears. I mean here an emptiness of truth in its original sense, not the new, counterfeit one.

The analytic stance maintains that there is certainty only in matters observed by the senses, or in matters that can be proved rigorously and precisely. We pointed to the fact, which at first glance appears paradoxical, that precisely this stringent demand for accepting something as true is what created postmodern skepticism and nihilism. Positivism itself, the symbol of the demand for precision and rigor, is what led to the principle underlying postmodernism: that there is no absolute truth and no absolute values.

“The emptiness of the analytic” means that there is nothing in the world that can be “proved” in the strict sense of the word, as the analyst understands it. Everything depends on the certainty granted to first truths, axioms, and the rules of logical inference. For the analyst, assumptions are usually perceived as arbitrary because they cannot be proved. It is self-evident that propositions derived from them cannot be more certain than the axioms on which they are based. Therefore, the analyst concludes, everything is subjective. And as Achilles says in the prologue: “Everyone has his own truth.”

Over against the analytic stance, we set the synthetic stance. The synthetic stance grants certainty also to cognitions and insights that are not the result of sensory observation or analytic examination of certain first premises. We saw that these two positions differ both on the epistemic plane, where the difference was expressed mainly as essentialism on the synthetic side versus conventionalism on the analytic side, and on the logical plane, where it was expressed in the dominance of analytic thought, and to some extent also in the demarcation between the analytic and the synthetic (see Gate Twelve).

The synthetic stance is based on an additional way of arriving at truths, which in Gate Eleven we called “listening reason.” Following the words of Rabbi HaNazir, we there challenged the common distinction between logic and epistemology, and showed that it is artificial and merely functional. In reality, the two are different parts of a single faculty, or mode of operation. We also called this human faculty “faith.”

Faith is the human capacity to discern truths intuitively even when we have no proof for them (the Hebrew word for “faith” is etymologically related to the word for “truth”). This capacity underlies our ability to adopt basic assumptions in every field, not only in the religious-theological one, for axioms cannot be justified or proved in any field. We saw that values are a kind of axiom, and the adoption of a value system, if it is not arbitrary—and anyone who believes in moral responsibility must agree that it is not—takes place by means of that same faculty called faith. This too has a cognitive aspect. A person looks at the world, and also within himself, and understands, or recognizes, what the correct values are—what is good.

According to the synthetic conception, axioms indeed have no proof, but it does not follow from this that they are arbitrary. On the contrary, axioms are principles about which doubt cannot even arise, and therefore we accept them as true even without any proof. In short: axioms do not require proof; it is not merely that we have not found proof for them. We saw that even in mathematics, specifically in geometry, where the natural tendency is to relate to axioms as though they were arbitrary, they are not. The fact that in straight space parallel lines cannot meet—one of the assumptions of Euclidean geometry—is a certain fact, and by no means an arbitrary assumption. We saw that other geometries, which describe parallels as meeting, in fact deal with a different kind of space, namely curved space. Thus even from the phenomenon of different geometries it emerges that for each kind of space there is only one correct geometry, and no more.

In the modern world, faith is treated as something that belongs to subjective realms. Sometimes this is accompanied by the remark that faith cannot possibly have proof. More than that, many claim that if faith did have proof, then it would not be faith but knowledge. One should note that there are actually two claims here: one concerns the religious content of faith, and the other concerns the epistemic and intellectual faculty called faith.

In light of what has been said here, both of these claims are mistaken—and, as stated, assumptions too can be mistaken. It is true that there is no “proof,” in the analytic sense, for religious faith, but it is certain in itself and therefore has no need of proof. Faith, being the condition for every other cognition and understanding, as we saw at length in the “theological” argument, is the most objective layer a human being can have. If it is not such, then no other layer is. Throughout the discussion I tried to show its necessity from several aspects. The correspondence between man and the world, and also the ability to know the world—for anyone who is not a philosophical idealist denying the existence of an external world—depends on belief in God as a coordinating factor, a philosophical God and not necessarily a religious one. This is the only basis available to anyone who believes in our ability to adopt a rational approach to life and to the world.

This way of relating to the specific religious content of faith, that is, its theistic content, leads us to a discussion of the general human faculty we called faith. According to what we have seen, faith is a cognitive faculty through which we arrive at truths, not a subjective experience. Contrary to what is commonly assumed, there is no sharp distinction between it and the faculty of thought. Faith is part of thought, indeed its most fundamental part: the part that provides the first premises on which thought is based.

Over the course of our discussion we saw that many social and ideological phenomena can be mapped onto the analytic-synthetic axis of dispute: left and right, true modernism versus postmodernism, faith versus unbelief. By means of this identification we explained a number of correlations between worldviews that seem strange and unintelligible at first glance. For example, socialism often appears together with support for political compromise with adversaries. Belief in equality is frequently accompanied by opposition to religion, and so on. From this it emerges that the basic difference between the camps is not what they believe, but whether they believe at all. The fundamental difference lies at the deepest and most internal philosophical level: whether there is, or is not, objective truth. All the other differences are more external layers derived from that inner one.

We saw that the classification of the religious person as a “mystic” and of the secular person as “rational” and “enlightened” is highly implausible—perhaps even the opposite of the truth. We also saw that the classification of the secular person and the analyst as tolerant and open, and of the religious type, in the typological sense, as fanatical and coercive, is likewise far from plausible. Here too, the reverse is closer to the truth.

We pointed out that reality is far more complex than the two stereotypical descriptions presented here, and therefore almost no one can be classified with total precision as either an analytic person or a synthetic one. We discussed the problematic nature of such classification, and nevertheless tried to show that there is indeed a certain analytic basis among most holders of secular-liberal positions. We tried to show that such a conception exists in the average secular person and the average left-wing person, even if in practice he often does not act or think in accordance with it. All this notwithstanding the fact that it is indeed hard to believe that there exists a completely pure analyst—that is, a total skeptic.

Despite the difficulty of identifying a pure analyst, we saw that it is very important to distinguish between these two theoretical poles, in order to analyze the tendencies and the relative weight of these approaches in every ideology or social phenomenon under discussion.

Beyond that, there are many who declare themselves to hold an analytic position, and who attack others for not doing so. We pointed out that a consistent analyst ought to admit that he is simply a skeptic, and perhaps in that way we can direct the attention of such people to the synthetic dimensions already present in their own worldview. We called this a “theological” rather than a “philosophical” form of argument. Criticism of faith of the sort “How do you know?”, “Do you have a proof?”, or defining it as baseless mysticism, usually hints at an analytic approach. We tried to show that in other areas, those not touching belief in God, these same people do not tend toward such skeptical and analytic responses.

A central phenomenon that accompanied us throughout the arguments here was what we called Bokononism. We saw that the analyst, or the person who claims to be one, cannot live in a vacuum. He is not in truth an absolute skeptic. Therefore he anchors the lack of values he preaches as a supreme value in itself, thereby fashioning new “religions” or “faiths” for himself. Equality in its various forms, liberty, communism, and democracy were the most prominent examples of this Bokononist phenomenon. It is important to stress again that the claim that a person cannot live as a skeptic is not a psychological claim but a philosophical one. Deep down, every analyst understands that he is not really such a person. He is “enlightened” and analytic when it is convenient for him, and not when it is inconvenient. We saw that a person usually loses his pluralism when his son or daughter uses drugs or attempts suicide, or when someone else does something that disturbs him.

Historically, we saw that the world has moved over a long period from the synthetic direction toward the analytic one. Following Maharal of Prague and, in a very different register, Friedrich Nietzsche, we saw that even during the Enlightenment, that modernist period, the seeds of the postmodern crisis were already hidden within it, emerging from the analytic roots of that modernism. Therefore we described the modernism prevalent in that era as counterfeit modernism.

We also noted that Zionism is passing through the same process of counterfeit modernism, now exposed in the nakedness of post-Zionism.

We saw that these processes occur in parallel both in the wider world and inside the study hall, even though at first glance there seems to be no connection between the phenomena. Precisely that lack of visible connection points to a directed process, which we described as the construction of a developed analytic capacity that will join the synthetic capacity humanity possessed in the past.

In the Western world there is a widespread feeling that every generation is better and wiser than its predecessors, whereas in the Torah world the opposite view prevails. We saw that there is no contradiction between these two conceptions. They are simply two perspectives on the same phenomenon. From the analytic point of view, the movement from synthetic thought to analytic thought is indeed perceived as ascent and progress. But from the synthetic point of view it is a regression. The truth lies in both sides together.

Postmodernism, as we have seen, assumes that there is no objective axis by which one can determine whether the world is progressing or regressing, since there are no objective criteria at all. Part of the root of the problem is the phenomenon described in the previous paragraph, namely, the existence of two contradictory axes. Therefore the position presented there might perhaps be called “constructive postmodernism.” It is impossible to define the world’s progress or decline in a single unequivocal way, because there is regression along one axis and progress along another. Yet unlike the prevalent postmodernism, which rejects the very attempt to classify progress and regression, the synthetic conception posits clear and objective axes by which one can compare and rank positions, values, ideas, and cultural-intellectual capacities. The point is simply that there are usually several such axes. These are not mutually exclusive alternatives, but several concepts of progress, all of them valid and relevant.

According to the constructive postmodernism proposed here, the world progresses along the analytic axis and simultaneously regresses along the synthetic axis. These are two defined axes, and both matter. The main problem arises when one assumes that there must be confrontation and conflict between them. In fact, they complement one another, and it is important to develop both capacities together.

We proposed an interpretation according to which, at the end of the historical-cultural processes of transition from the synthetic to the analytic, there will emerge a synthesis of the developed analytic-scientific-philosophical capacity created in the modern age with the synthetic capacities preserved in the “primitive” parts of human society. In this way, a more complete human being, a more complete world, and a more complete society will come into being.

A significant part of the book’s argumentative framework concerns the importance and meaning of philosophical, meta-ideological analysis of concrete phenomena in our world. Uncovering meta-ideological layers leads to a fuller understanding and to more intelligent and fruitful discussion. I hope that some contribution has been made here to the nature of discussions between different ideological camps, which usually look like useless verbal brawls with no purpose and no future. One of the important conclusions of the discussion here is that in every such debate, the point of departure should be clarification of the basic positions in the analytic-synthetic question. That clarification will determine whether the debate is worth having at all, and on what level and with what tools it should be conducted.

Toward the end of the book, a possible new meaning was proposed for the synthetic a priori. This is an alternative to the analytic emptiness of the Kantian solution. The main claim is that if we recognize the intellect as containing dimensions of cognition and not only of thought, we can legitimate truths of which we become aware by means of the intellect, even though they are synthetic. Within such a conception, the Kantian problem of the synthetic a priori disappears. If we understand that the problem of foreknowledge and freedom of choice does not arise from any empirical, sensory observation, and yet is a real problem, then we can easily accept the existence of similar propositions that are likewise synthetic a priori.

Further characterizations that may come in the future can make the synthetic position clearer and more fruitful, and remove the veil from the analytic illusion—as though every advance and all rationality necessarily depended specifically on analytic thought.

It is very important to note, as we also saw in the book, that there is no other reasonable solution to the problem of the synthetic a priori. No philosophical doctrine offers a reasonable solution to this problem, and Kant’s own solution is absurd on its face, both because it is not really “synthetic” and because it is not really “a priori” (see Gate Seven). Therefore the theistic solution is the only one open to a person who wishes to be rational!

The concluding gate dealt with some of the implications of what was said here for the classical Torah student within the study hall. The directions I tried to sketch were indeed drawn from a characterization and analysis of the approach common in the classical Torah world, but it seems to me that they can also refresh the learners’ understanding of their own assumptions about themselves. I tried to outline directions of study that can enhance the effectiveness of Torah study with respect to sharpening the synthetic, that is, the listening, part of the intellect.

To conclude the summary, it is worth asking ourselves whether, and how, one can “repent”—not in the religious sense, though perhaps in the theistic one—and move from an analytic worldview to a synthetic one. At first sight, since we have seen that this is the deepest level at which ideological differences between groups and societies are tested, it seems clear that this is the most basic form of repentance. It follows that this repentance is the most difficult one, if it is possible at all. Such a change as is proposed here appears, at first glance, utterly implausible. This is a meta-philosophical layer, and therefore it is not at all clear how, if at all, one can touch it. By what means can one persuade an analyst—or enable him to persuade himself—to become a person who believes in objective truths? Any appeal to him will already presuppose such a position. From that perspective, the writing of this book would seem to have no value at all.

And yet, the important fact to note is that a human being is not an axiomatic system. Once again we are compelled to recognize, as I have argued several times already, that deep down none of us is a true analyst. Therefore, just as a person can adopt a value system, so too he can replace it. This fact makes possible even the apparently absurd “repentance” from an analytic worldview to a synthetic worldview. Every person can fill his wagon, even if it appears to him, at first glance, to be empty.

A note to the reader: there can be a state of affairs—perhaps one almost unknown to you—in which a principled and meaningful debate ends in agreement between the sides. A discussion in which each side feels that the other is right, even assists the other’s case, and in fact comes to the discussion in order to listen, reach conclusions, and perhaps even be convinced.

This is one of the important lessons I wanted you, the reader, to draw from the book. In a synthetic world, not every argument is merely shouting-match politics. It is not some ancient decree upon the human race that people must never agree with one another and must never be convinced by one another. The only ones to blame for this state of affairs are we ourselves, who unjustifiably adopt analytic and “democratic” positions that do not allow us to listen to the other, and sometimes perhaps even to be convinced. Every position can indeed be examined, including basic assumptions, and perhaps especially basic assumptions. It is possible to change positions and to decide philosophical questions. Analyticity is not an ancient fate, but our own mistaken choice.

It may be fitting to end this note, and the whole book, with a quotation from the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 24a, which interprets verses from Zechariah 11 as describing these two modes of argument:

Rabbi Oshaya said: What is the meaning of the verse, “And I took for myself two staffs; one I called Pleasantness, and the other I called Binders”? “Pleasantness”—these are the Torah scholars in the Land of Israel, who make one another pleasant in matters of halakha (Jewish law). “Binders”—these are the Torah scholars in Babylonia, who injure one another in matters of halakha.

“And he said to me: These are the two anointed ones who stand … and two olive trees beside it,” Rabbi Isaac said: These are the Torah scholars in the Land of Israel, who are gentle with one another in matters of halakha, like olive oil. “And two olive trees beside it”—these are the Torah scholars in Babylonia, who embitter one another in matters of halakha.

Finished, but not completed.

Epilogue

Achilles: My friend Tortoise, that was an exhausting race. I did not know you could run such distances.

Tortoise: I may run slowly, but certainly for very long distances.

Achilles: The truth is that it was very interesting indeed. In fact, it seems that the whole journey was intended to defend a thesis that is not popular today. The thesis that there is an absolute, objective truth, binding on everyone, already seems very outdated. It seems to me that even before postmodernism and pragmatism, against which you set yourself so forcefully, existentialist philosophy for the most part arose as a revolt against rationalist, dogmatic, all-encompassing philosophies such as the one I encountered here. For example, the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard built his existentialist doctrine as a revolt against Hegel’s rationalist philosophy, which dominated Europe at the time. Hegel preached vast and comprehensive metaphysical principles binding on everyone, and in practice left almost no room for the subjectivity of the individual human being. You too, in the second part of the book, speak of the fact that in a synthetic world there is much less room for the individual. The ideology, or the group, stands at the center.

Tortoise: I think you are quite right. I strongly oppose all those existentialist “philosophies,” most of which are nothing more than expressions of despair over our ability to understand the world around us, or to make progress in any sense. In fact, this is despair of philosophy as such, at least in its classical sense.

On the other hand, perhaps it will interest you to consider the following point. A prominent characteristic of existentialist philosophy is the connection it draws between philosophy and the life of the thinker who articulates it. Kierkegaard, whom you just mentioned, built his philosophy as a description of a three-stage process through which a person is supposed to pass: from the aesthetic to the ethical, and afterward to the religious. It is well known that these were also three stages in his own personal biography.

At the beginning of the third part, I drew a parallel between the history of the entire cultural world and the intellectual biography of each individual. There too, the process had three stages: from childhood to adolescence, and then to maturity.

That linkage has a distinctly existentialist character. I myself passed through those three stages very intensely, and therefore it was easy for me to see them also in the development of the world as a whole. I hope I was not mistaken in linking this process to the normal development of people in general.

In that sense, I too am an existentialist. My anti-existentialist philosophy is a characteristic of my biography; that is, it is itself my existentialism.

In my terms, prevalent existentialism is an incorrect exit from the stage of adolescence, an exit that leaves the person skeptical and despairing of truths as such, as I described in Gate Three. The exit I recommend here is maturation and a return to intuitive principles, some of which accompanied us even in childhood, but this time from a more mature and adult approach. We must understand that there is a way of becoming convinced of truths even without proof, although one certainly should not accept everything dogmatically. We must examine things by observing them—or “listening” to them.

Achilles: You are describing a very interesting process here. In fact, what we have here is a classical philosophy that believes in great truths, yet developed in an existentialist way—that is, through your own biography. According to this, it may be that in Hegel and others as well, dogmatic philosophy developed out of existentialism. Everything is existentialism.

Tortoise: One can perhaps see it that way, but one can also draw the opposite conclusion: everything is dogmatic truth. Even what appears to be existentialist subjectivity makes claims about reality, and perhaps also tries to reach layers that are relevant to everyone. In that sense, existentialism too is a grand and dogmatic philosophy. That is precisely the Bokononism that characterizes analyticity.

Achilles: I am now thinking about another interesting phenomenon. Kierkegaard’s three stages, at least as I understand them, and the three stages that you describe, parallel one another in many respects.

In the aesthetic, romantic stage, a person lives naturally, like a child. There is a certain dogmatism here, expressed precisely in ignoring the problems of life. In the ethical stage, a person takes upon himself the rational-moral burden and forces his life, which tends toward the natural, in a moral and value-laden direction committed to values. Here there is a feeling that rationalism will solve the problems, both on the moral plane and on the intellectual one. In the final stage, the religious stage, the person rises beyond rational principles, and sometimes even beyond ethical ones. Abraham our forefather, at the Binding of Isaac, which is described in Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, acted against every principle of rational and moral thought—or at least so it appears from the standpoint of a person in the ethical stage. This is what Kierkegaard calls “life in paradox,” or “renunciation,” which are essential components in the life of the “knight of faith,” that is, a person in the religious stage. One can relate to this as transcendence beyond the rational, as Kierkegaard understood it, but one can also understand it as a transcendence of reason itself beyond what analyticity understands as rational. It is an expansion of the very concept of rationality. This is apparently how Rabbi Kook understood it in his interpretation of the Binding of Isaac.

From an inner point of view, the religious person is not subject to the adolescent’s analytic rules, and understands that there are non-analytic ways of grounding values and beliefs. These are not lives in paradox, as they may appear from outside, but lives according to rules that are not analytic—if it is even correct to call them “rules,” although after Wittgenstein they can indeed be interpreted as such.

The point I wanted to indicate is that, surprisingly, despite your opposition to existentialism as an expression of despair over great ideas and objective truths, the three stages in Kierkegaard’s existentialist doctrine parallel to a great extent the three stages in your own doctrine.

Tortoise: And where do you stand on this matter, Achilles?

Achilles: I am still occupied with the question that concluded the summary chapter and the whole book: can one “repent” from an analytic, ethical state to a synthetic, religious one? Perhaps even about this very question I must not think only in the analytic ways to which I have become so accustomed…

Appendix

The Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life

Introduction

In this appendix I intend to present a critique of Yuval Steinitz’s Tree of Knowledge. Usually authors of books do not engage in a systematic critique of their predecessors unless those predecessors have already earned a place of honor in the philosophical canon. And all the more so must I apologize for entering, to some extent, into the relation between Steinitz’s philosophy and his political worldview, something that usually has more than a trace of bad taste. Such an approach is ordinarily adopted when there are no better reasons available for attacking an opponent’s positions themselves, and one therefore chooses the demagogic route of attacking the person rather than the matter at hand.

The reason for taking such an approach lies in the fact that Steinitz is precisely a clear example of the connection to which this book points between political and social right-wing positions and synthetic philosophy. Moreover, his books also serve as an illustration of the failures to which one can arrive when one is not aware of the synthetic foundations present within “right-wing” conceptions.

Steinitz, in this book as in his other books, senses that philosophy as it is presented by the analysts, who are, as stated, the dominant current today, is empty in the sense defined in Gate One. It claims nothing, and therefore assigns itself only a secondary role in the development of human thought and culture.

Steinitz’s synthetic approach also finds expression in his political worldview, in the fact that he is among the very few people engaged in philosophy—and perhaps in the Israeli academic world of the early twenty-first century in general, especially in the social sciences and the humanities—who support the political right. At the same time, he is also one of the only philosophers, and certainly one of the only analytic philosophers, who tries to argue for a metaphysics with objective significance.

In both of these respects, I identify very strongly with Steinitz’s positions. My criticism of his words arises precisely from that identification, in the spirit of rebuking the one one loves. I will try here to point to some of his errors and to a possible source of them. A considerable part of these errors stems from the fact that although he is aware that the world of analytic philosophy is empty and claims nothing, he does not see in this an essential problem of analytic thought. Throughout his book he tries by analytic means to prove that synthetic a priori claims can be made—or, in his own words, “to create an a priori metaphysics.”

Steinitz also uses expressions such as “to renew rationalism.” But in fact Steinitz is not only an advocate of the a priori; he is also analytic. He is unwilling to give up the analytic method in order to create the rationalist metaphysics whose existence he asserts. It seems that his philosophical education imprisons him within the view that the analytic approach is the highest expression of rationality, and perhaps the only one. In this sense, Steinitz, as we also saw in Kant, whose approach Steinitz seeks to continue and renew, still belongs to the analytic wing on the map sketched in this book. To a certain degree, Steinitz is trying to do the impossible: to show that the analytic is not empty. But that is of course a mistake. The correct way to contend with the emptiness of analytic philosophy is to offer a synthetic alternative, as has been done here.

To create a genuine rationalist metaphysics, one must incorporate synthetic considerations—in other words, one must return to non-analytic philosophy. His main mistake lies in identifying rationalism with analytic methods of philosophizing. As for apriority, the matter depends on how it is defined. As we have seen, if we accept that “a priori” means only “logical,” we will not be able to extract anything metaphysical, or anything else, a priori. But if we accept the definitions proposed in this book for synthetic, listening thought—which can also be defined as a posteriori, since it is based on cognition, though not only sensory cognition—only then can we move forward and acquire new knowledge even without sensory observation. As we saw, this is the only way to create and acquire comprehensive truths that are synthetic.

On this point, Steinitz’s analytic colleagues whom he criticizes are in fact correct when they say that the analytic is empty. The claim made by the more extreme among them—that everything not analytic is mere metaphysical speculation, and no truer than its opposite—is of course mistaken. My conclusion from reading Steinitz’s book is that if he, and others like him, were to address the dilemma as I present it here, they might choose the more correct direction for them and abandon their exclusive attachment to analytic philosophizing. With an approach like the one proposed here, one can create a genuine metaphysics, something that in my opinion Steinitz did not succeed in doing through his analytic approach.

The criticism I will present in this appendix will be a very good demonstration of the implications of the synthetic approach, and of the benefit it can bring to those who identify with it. That identification is sometimes unconscious, as I detect in Steinitz’s books, and my intention in this book is to bring it to the center of discussion and above the threshold of awareness.

Let us also note that in Chapter One of Gate Two we saw a similar attempt by Leibniz, who in our terminology was also a synthetic thinker, and who also tried to ground a metaphysical principle in an analytic form. This did not succeed for exactly the same reasons, as we noted there. Thinkers of this kind sense that certain claims are true—a synthetic experience by any standard—but despite these intuitions they are unwilling to accept them without a proper analytic proof. As a result, they sometimes “force” thought in order to find such a proof, and then they fail in one of two ways: either by begging the question, or, when they do not beg the question, by bringing a proof that is in fact invalid. An attempt to prove synthetic principles analytically, as we saw in Leibniz, cannot yield any other result.

I would like to note here, and not merely out of politeness, that Steinitz’s books are original, interesting, and important. They contain many important and interesting points, and my purpose here is only to point to a way of sharpening them and understanding their significance more deeply. My main disagreement with him is on the plane of the proofs he offers, not on the plane of his conclusions.

At first I thought to offer here a detailed critique of Steinitz’s entire book Tree of Knowledge, which is composed of three parts that are not necessarily connected to one another except in the method of discussion and in the synthetic character of their conclusions. Throughout the book one can see aspects of the failure to which I pointed above. In the end, for the sake of brevity, we will confine ourselves to a point that recurs in all parts of the book and represents the principal problem very well and very fully. Here we will focus on the distinction between the logical and the physical-metaphysical. In many respects this is in fact a distinction between the analytic and the synthetic. Beyond the fact that this issue is a good example of the perspective I wish to raise here, the distinction between the logical and the physical is in itself of great interest.

In describing my critique of Steinitz, I used the metaphor of the “Tree of Life” against the title of his book, Tree of Knowledge. The reason is that the listening approach is more involved and alive, and does not separate subject from object in the lifeless way characteristic of the analytic-scientific approach, as it is expressed in Tree of Knowledge. The explanation for this already belongs to another work, which may perhaps yet come in the future.

A Critique of Tree of Knowledge

Necessity and Entity

One point that recurs again and again in Steinitz’s book is a confusion between the logical plane and the physical-natural plane of the discussion. In the introduction to the first part, where Steinitz discusses the ontological proof for the existence of a “necessary being,” he determines that if the existence of all beings is contingent—that is, not necessary—then they have no reason, and therefore no explanation can be found for them. In such a state, he claims, metaphysics loses all meaning. This is one of the arguments he offers in favor of the existence of a necessary being.

One should note that there can certainly be a situation in which the existence of certain entities has an explanation in terms of a physical cause, and not in terms of logical reasons. That is, although there is no logical necessity that these entities exist, there can certainly be a causal explanation for their existence. Of course one can ask about the cause of that cause, and so on, but that is true on both the logical and the physical planes. Therefore even if Steinitz were to succeed in proposing a logical necessity for the existence of some being, that could only mean that it is logically necessary out of itself. Why can one not proceed in exactly the same way and claim that this being is not logically necessary, but that there is a physical necessity for its existence, one located outside it?

If we assume that there cannot be an internal physical necessity for the existence of any object—for if it is internal and necessary, then it is really logical and not physical necessity—we once again fail on the conceptual level. The claim that logical necessity constitutes a physical cause for the existence of something is absurd by virtue of the very relation between logic and physics. A causal explanation for the existence of something can exist only on the physical plane. Logical necessity explains nothing.

Here we are making an even stronger claim. Even if a logically necessary explanation were found for the existence of some being, this would still not explain the concrete existence of that being. It would only be a logical indication that there must also be some parallel physical explanation, which we would still need to find. On the one hand, a logical explanation is not enough in order to understand the cause of the existence of any entity. On the other hand, if we say that this object’s existence has no physical explanation, then once again we have not found any necessity for its existence. In that case, the metaphysics presented by the logical explanation remains as meaningless as it was before.

One can broaden the distinction proposed here and say the following. Steinitz presents the possible ontological modes of reference as three:
1. Entity X does not exist.
2. Entity X exists contingently.
3. Entity X exists necessarily.

But the distinction between the last two possibilities does not belong to the field of ontology. A necessary being and a contingent being exist in the world in exactly the same ontological sense. The difference between them is not on the ontological plane, but on the broader metaphysical plane, which in philosophical terminology is sometimes also called ontology. In other words, they differ from one another in the causes of their existence, not in the nature of bare existence itself. When one sees a necessary being—has anyone ever seen such a thing?—one sees something that exists in the same sense as an entity whose existence is contingent. To determine necessity of existence requires philosophical discussion, whereas to determine being, or existence itself, even in the case of a “necessary being,” requires observation or a consideration of an empirical character.

Thus the term “necessary being,” in Steinitz’s sense, confuses two different levels of discussion. Only if we understand the “necessary” in a physical sense can the term “necessary being” be defined coherently. This is the same confusion that lies at the foundation of the ontological proof, as we saw in Gate Two. See also note 28, where I distinguished between these two kinds of necessity.

The Logical and the Physical

The confusion between the logical and the physical throughout Tree of Knowledge is not accidental. The book’s central claim is that one can infer, from a priori analytic considerations, which are logical in essence, to the condition and nature of the world itself, which is of course a reference on the physical plane. This is precisely the “revival of rationalism” that Steinitz advocates.

In Chapter Two of the first part of his book, Steinitz argues against the defenders of the analytic position that they themselves use negative ontological proofs. That is, they infer from the fact that a certain concept contains an internal contradiction that it does not exist in the world itself. Steinitz points out, quite rightly, that proof by way of negation of this sort is also an inference from the logical to the ontological. From this Steinitz concludes that there is no basis for their criticism of the positive ontological proof for the existence of a necessary being—a criticism that is itself usually based on the argument that one must not confuse the logical plane with the ontological-physical one.

But even if there is indeed a flaw in their argument, that is no reason to turn this argument into a valid one. What Steinitz does is point to links between the logical and the physical that are found among analytic thinkers, and on that basis he adopts for himself an approach that recognizes the legitimacy of such links. Steinitz too does not offer any explanation as to why we are in fact permitted to connect what takes place in the human mind with what happens in the world. He simply does so, and justifies this absurdity by saying that everyone does it.

The problem with linking the logical to the physical is nothing other than the problem of the synthetic a priori, or the basic problem of epistemology: how do we know that the world is indeed subject to the laws of logic, and that we may discuss it in those terms? The Kantian escape from this problem, which in fact denies the relevant existence of a world in itself and therefore leaves us only with the world of phenomena, apparently constitutes a solution to this problem, and this is probably the position underlying Steinitz’s claims. But as we have seen, this is a trivial solution that advances us in no way. Kant, as we saw, still remains an analyst.

Within such a picture, the conclusion is that synthetic a priori claims—or the mixing of the logical and the physical—are absurd and unjustified. Therefore, arguments that merely point out that everyone fails in this way do not justify ignoring the problem. The problem with such confusion has nothing to do with whether those who hold analytic positions accept it or do not accept it. There is a highly problematic position here, and as long as we have not found a real justification for it, we cannot adopt it.

Therefore, Steinitz should have decided whether he is willing to move beyond Kant—in which case he must abandon the analytic worldview—or whether he remains inside the bubble Kant created in order to escape the basic problem of epistemology, namely, how the direct relation between the human being and the world is formed. If the latter is the case, then there is no need for his arguments at all. Kant already did this before him, albeit wrongly, as we saw in the third part of the book.

A solution to the problem of the correspondence between intellect and world can be found in one of two possibilities:
1. The analytic possibility, which restricts all philosophical discussions to discussions about language and not about the world.
2. The Kantian possibility, which cancels the independent existence of the world in itself as a legitimate object of philosophical discussion.

It is worth reading the opening of Steinitz’s book Metaphysics Must Always Be, where he describes this problem and chooses the Kantian solution. In the present book he already advances beyond discussions of phenomena, and he seems to adopt a fully realist approach. He tries to argue, implicitly, that one can discuss the world itself intellectually as well—that is, genuine synthetic a priori claims, like those proposed in this book, and not counterfeit Kantian ones. But this, as stated, requires argument and elaboration. It is not enough merely to point to the fact that others—even one’s opponents—do the same.

I refer the reader to the discussion in Gate Seven of our book, where we saw that the only justification for the assumption of a correspondence between the intellect and human thought on the one hand, and our ability as human beings to reach conclusions about the structure of the world on the other, is the existence of a coordinating entity—that is, God (see there also note 21). We saw that this is a God who creates the world and acts within it, and who coordinates between creatures and different parts that operate within it. In other words, this is almost “the religious God,” and not merely “a necessary being,” as Steinitz proposes, following many other metaphysicians.¹ This correspondence is what underlies the synthetic approach described up to this point.²

Steinitz could have pointed, by means of a “theological” argument, to the fact that all of us assume such a correspondence, and thereby refuted the positions of analysts who claim that they do not fail in this way. After that there should have come a “philosophical” consideration—that is, not a “theological” one—pointing to a possible justification for thinking of this kind. Without the second stage, the first stage has no significance. In our book too we proved, in a “theological” way, the fact that everyone believes in a correspondence between man and world, but we then continued and offered a “philosophical” explanatory infrastructure for it: the existence of a coordinating factor that implanted in us a synthetic, listening part of the intellect.

The move from conclusions of our thinking to conclusions about the nature of the world is plainly a synthetic act of thought, and every analyst must justify it when he uses it. It is not enough to point to the fact, correct in itself, that everyone does it. A synthetic position holds that one can indeed rely on intellectual considerations in order to learn about the world, but that position rests on a basic synthetic approach. An analyst cannot do so without adequate justification. On the other hand, it is quite clear that there can be no reasonable analytic justification for such a position.

There were defenders of the analytic position who, when I presented these claims to them, tried to ground their rationalism and their epistemology on an axiom: “It is one of my basic assumptions that I can rely on my senses and my thought.” A basic assumption does not require evidence, and thus, apparently, every problem is solved.

This is a classic analytic solution to various problems, like many others we saw in Gate Seven. But those very analysts would also agree that not every claim can be used as a basic assumption. For any claim to be treated as an axiom, it must possess some basic plausibility. And certainly if a claim appears at first sight highly doubtful and raises serious difficulties, one cannot solve those difficulties simply by treating it as an axiom.

A priori, it is hard to see any plausibility at all in the assumption that a system of astonishing complexity, produced by a random process, is reliable and fitted to the world. This is like the traveler to Scotland on Taylor’s train, who sees the stones spelling “Welcome to Scotland,” decides that they were formed by chance, and nevertheless begins preparing to get off the train—in other words, decides that he really has reached Scotland. Can he say, “For me this is an axiom,” and thereby solve the essential problem in his position?

Beyond that, even if this is indeed a basic assumption, it is worth examining what it says from the theological direction. We now need to reverse the direction of discussion, from the philosophical to the theological, and ask what lies at the basis of that basic assumption. Let us assume that there truly is a correspondence between our thinking and the world. This is a fundamental postulate. The question is: why is there such a correspondence at all? Does it not point implicitly to an assumption about the existence of a coordinating factor? For a more detailed explanation, see notes 21 and 25.

Synthetic propositions are the basis of all philosophical and scientific progress, but they must be synthetic propositions in the full sense of the term. According to the synthetic approach, one can arrive at them by means of cognition rather than thought, and in that sense they are not entirely a priori. It is true that, following Wittgenstein and Chomsky in Gate Eleven, we saw that every person must have some a priori basis enabling him to recognize such truths. By contrast, as we saw there, in Kant’s method the synthetic a priori propositions are in fact analytic, and therefore a posteriori.

The Root of the Problem

Steinitz wants to have his cake and eat it too: both to continue holding fast to analyticity and also to make synthetic claims. There is no escape from recognizing that the analytic is indeed empty. He ought to continue examining himself until he recognizes that he no longer truly holds an analytic position. In that case, already in the discussion of the possible explanations for the correspondence between man and world, as it appears at the beginning of his book Metaphysics Must Always Be, he would need to add the possibility that he rejects automatically—as did Kant and Hume in their analyses, and as we also saw in Bergmann—namely, the existence of a coordinating factor.

Steinitz himself senses this problem, and sometimes even notes it and discusses it. In the third part, quite a substantial portion of the discussion is devoted to the relation between logic and the world. But he offers no real synthetic solution there. In the end there is always a kind of Kantian escape to the claim that “there is no escape”: there is no alternative but to engage in such moves of thought, which are in fact synthetic. After all, “everyone does it.” But what everyone does does not constitute a sufficient philosophical basis for solving problems. By the same token, lack of choice is not a foundation either. The skeptical way out always exists, and even if you do not choose it, you must explain why.

Philosophy and Politics

Throughout Tree of Knowledge there is in fact a striving toward synthetic philosophy, together with a desperate clinging to analytic methods. As noted above, this fits very well with Steinitz’s political views, which incline to the right. As we saw in Gates Three and Five, the political right implicitly assumes a synthetic position on the philosophical level. Steinitz’s unwillingness to recognize that he is not in fact an analytic philosopher in the full sense of the term—for even a synthetic thinker uses analytic methods; he simply does not regard them as exclusive—is what leads to several philosophical inaccuracies in his arguments.

Causality and the “Problem of Initiation”

From here on we will focus on illustrating these points from the second part of the book, which deals with causality. The concept of causality accompanied us through a considerable portion of our own book, and this is therefore also an opportunity to clarify it somewhat from another angle.

Let us begin with a concise description of Steinitz’s argument about the nature of causality, as it appears in the fourth chapter of his book. The structure of the argument is as follows:

1. The minimal logical content of the concept of cause is that cause A, which may be a complicated conjunction of different circumstances and events, is a sufficient condition for the occurrence of effect B. It is clear that if A exists and yet B might fail to occur, then A cannot be said to be the cause of B.

2. At the next stage, Steinitz discusses the question whether the cause must, or can, in addition to being a sufficient condition for its effect, also be a necessary condition for it. This question is disputed among different philosophers.

3. The symmetric interpretation of the concept of cause says that the cause is not only a sufficient condition for its effect, but also a necessary one. In other words: A, and only A, is the cause of B. B cannot have any other cause.

4. One should note the logical fact that if A is a necessary and sufficient condition for B, then B is also a necessary and sufficient condition for A. Therefore this interpretation is called “symmetric.” Any reader who does not immediately see this can notice it by observing that it cannot be the case that B exists while A does not. For if A does not exist, then there would have to be another cause for B, which contradicts the assumption that A is its only cause.³ We thus learn that according to the symmetric interpretation, just as it is true to say that if A exists, then B also exists, it is also true to say that if B exists, then A also exists. This is the sense of the symmetry between A and B. Thus, just as A is the sole cause of B, so B is, to the same extent, the sole cause of A.

5. Steinitz now raises several claims against the symmetric interpretation. If such full symmetry indeed exists, then what exactly is the difference between cause and effect? Why is A called the cause and B the effect? And in particular, why does A explain B, whereas B does not explain A?

Already here one should comment that this does not appear to be a particularly strong difficulty, since it is clear that the concept of cause includes dimensions beyond the logical one. A being the cause of B is not exhausted by its being, on the logical plane, a sufficient or necessary condition for B. That is only part of the content of the concept “cause.” Beyond being a condition, the cause is also a positive factor, on the physical plane, in bringing about the effect, and certainly there is also the temporal precedence of cause over effect. Therefore I do not wish to go further into this discussion. One should note again that we have here a confusion between the logical and the physical plane, since the concept “cause” is being interpreted as though it had logical content but no physical dimensions.⁴

6. The main claim is that if A is a necessary and sufficient condition for B, then B has no other necessary and sufficient condition. The same is true with regard to A, since from the symmetry one may infer that it too has no other necessary and sufficient condition apart from B. It follows that A has no cause at all, or alternatively that its cause is B.

Here arises what Steinitz calls the “paradox of initiation.” According to the symmetric interpretation, if A is the cause of B, then the causal chain can neither begin nor continue. A cannot have a prior cause, since B can be its only cause; and similarly B cannot have another effect, because if it did, that effect too would be another cause of B, contrary to the assumption of the symmetry of the concept of cause.

It therefore follows, apparently, that every causal chain has a length of two stages: A, followed by B. In fact, the possibility that B is also the cause of A is not relevant, because the temporal precedence characteristic of the relation between cause and effect is not satisfied here. We may therefore say that A appears without a cause.

7. Therefore Steinitz concludes that only the asymmetric interpretation of the concept of cause is correct: every cause is a sufficient, but not a necessary, condition for its effect. Such a conception is necessary, because every other understanding would entail a state of affairs in which the causal chain could not begin.

That is a summary of Steinitz’s argument concerning causality.

The Absurdity of the Conclusion: Analytic and Synthetic Approaches

Before we address the argument itself, it is worth noticing the absurdity visible on the face of the conclusion. One might assume that there is no other way to burn a wooden plank except by putting it into a fire. There is no principled problem in that. Even if it is not true in this case, it is certainly possible that another concrete event may have only one physical cause. So let us assume for the sake of discussion that putting the plank into the fire is the only way to burn it. Must it follow from this that the act of putting the plank into the fire has no prior cause, such as the decision of the person holding the plank, or the movement of his hands? In the same way one may ask why this burning cannot also be the cause of the emission of carbon dioxide, and not only of the burning of the wood.

It is important to notice that there is an obvious absurdity here. One may perhaps present the argument about the impossibility of “initiation” as a paradox, but to draw conclusions from it about the nature of causality is an intellectual scandal. Here we encounter a distinctly analytic characteristic: holders of the analytic position tend to draw conclusions from logical paradoxes, because for them the only form of clarification that exists is logical clarification. Intuition carries no weight, and therefore even if the conclusion contradicts intuition, that counts for little. Logical consideration has exclusive status.

Those who hold a synthetic position also use analytic thinking. But when they encounter a paradox, it is classified for them as a problem that requires attention, not as an immediate reason to reject the claim under discussion. The reason is that intuition, which also has significant weight, contradicts the conclusion. In such a case, one must try to find a solution.

In another formulation, one may say this: only among holders of synthetic positions do genuine paradoxes arise, because only for them can there be a situation in which intuition says one thing while analytic consideration points in the opposite direction. By contrast, among holders of the analytic position, logical-analytic consideration is exclusive, and intuition has no place at all—it is merely a feeling grounded in psychological delusions, and nothing more. Therefore the analytic thinker does not see a paradox here at all. This is simply a logically necessary conclusion about the nature of causality.

Up to this point we have been dealing with the difference between the two positions in their a priori response to paradoxical situations. But it is clear that even holders of a synthetic position cannot remain with a built-in paradox in their system and worldview. Therefore merely pointing out the difference between the approaches does not solve the problem that Steinitz presented. Holders of the synthetic position, who remain loyal to their intuition, are also obliged to address the argument itself and understand why there is in fact no paradox here. If it should turn out that there is no reasonable answer, then logic will usually prevail over intuition.

As stated, the root of the matter lies in Steinitz’s repeated confusion between the logical plane and the physical plane. He himself addresses the possibility of separating those planes—in the section of that chapter called “abolishing the division into levels”—and rejects it. In what follows we will see that it is necessary to separate them, and it will therefore become clear why his counterarguments are null.

Logical Determinism

In order to distinguish more clearly between these two planes, let us briefly discuss the argument of “logical determinism,” and begin with an example. Let us suppose that someone says on Sunday: “On Tuesday Reuven Cohen will win the lottery.” Of course, at present we have no way of knowing whether this sentence is true or not, but on the other hand it is clear that this sentence is either true or false.⁵ If Cohen indeed wins the lottery, then it will become clear that this sentence was true. And in that case it is clear that it was already true on Sunday, even though at that point we did not yet know its truth value. In other words, the truth value of a sentence is not affected by the time at which we relate to it. Only our knowledge about the truth value of the sentence is affected by the axis of time. The truth value of a sentence is a determination on the logical plane, not the physical one, and therefore it does not depend on time. Our knowledge of that truth value is a physical, or physiological, event, and therefore it does depend on the axis of time.

The logical determinist claims that if the sentence “Reuven will win the lottery on Tuesday” is already true on Sunday, though we do not yet know this, then Reuven’s winning the lottery on Tuesday is necessary, that is, determined. The explanation is that if this were not so, it would turn out that a true sentence states something false. We are assuming here an assumption that appears self-evident, namely, that the truth values of sentences, and of logic in general, are not dependent on time.

From this argument it follows that every event that occurs is necessary and could not have occurred otherwise. Even if we do not know with certainty what the future will bring, it will occur with certainty. The uncertainty is not in the world, or in the event itself, but only in our knowledge of it. The truth value of everything is already fixed and standing, and therefore the character of the occurrence is likewise fixed in advance. This is the conclusion of the logical determinist.⁶

The Explanation of the Problem of Logical Determinism, and Its Relation to the “Problem of Initiation”

Steinitz’s argument concerning the nature of the concept of cause has a similar structure, and it seems in fact to assume implicitly the argument of the logical determinist itself. The existence of the cause is what compels the production of the effect. Therefore here too we encounter the same argument, which Steinitz calls the “paradox of non-initiation.” We shall see that here too the error lies in the repeated confusion between the logical plane and the physical one.

The error of the logical determinist lies in the fact that although the future event is indeed necessary on the logical plane, this in no way points to necessity on the physical plane. The fact that the sentence is already true today means only this: if the event does occur in the future, then it was already true in the past; and if it does not occur in the future, then it was already false in the past. The logical plane, as in the determination of truth values, is indeed indifferent to concepts of time, but this works in both directions: the logical truth value also does not influence—more precisely, does not determine—the future physical occurrence.

The physical plane, in which time is a central component, is indifferent to the truth values found on the logical plane in both directions: it does not affect them, nor is it determined by them. On the physical plane, what will occur is whatever the present physical situation causally brings about, independently of any truth value. Logical necessity and physical necessity are two phenomena with no connection whatsoever between them. They deal with completely different planes of thought and reality.

If there is any connection at all between the logical plane and the physical one, then its direction is the reverse. Although the logical plane is already fixed and standing from eternity, it is precisely physics that determines its content. There is here an influence from the future to the past, but this is not a physical influence, and therefore there is no obstacle to its occurring.

A similar relation exists also between the two concepts of necessity, the logical and the physical. If it is indeed known today that Reuven will win the lottery, then it is logically necessary that he win. Yet despite this, there is no physical necessity here. Contrary to the superficial conception that logic is hierarchically prior, and therefore imposes itself on physics, it is still clear to all of us that there is no state or set of circumstances in the physical world that forces the roulette wheel to stop precisely on Reuven’s slot. It is also clear that in the argument of the logical determinist there is not, and cannot be, any proof for the existence of such circumstances. Logic says nothing about physics or about the real world as such. This is another aspect of the argument at the beginning of the appendix concerning the absence of any relation between physical necessity and logical necessity with respect to the existence of some object.

Thus the answer to the logical determinist can be formulated in two ways:

1. Logical necessity is not connected to the concept of time. This does not mean that the truth value of a sentence exists at every time, including before the events described in it occur, but rather that temporal predicates cannot be applied to logical necessity. It is not correct to say, “It is true today that Cohen will win the lottery the day after tomorrow,” because the temporal predicate “today” is irrelevant here: truth is not “today,” nor is it “not today.” It is not connected to the axis of time. A sentence that deals with truth at some time resembles a sentence stating that “virtue—compassion, courage, and so on—is triangular, or red.” Here too, the sentence is neither true nor false, but meaningless. That predicate cannot be attached to that kind of subject.

2. Truth values can also be formulated in relation to the axis of time. A sentence that includes the expression “true today”—not in the sense of “true as of today,” of course—is certainly a meaningful sentence. The problem in the logical determinist’s argument is different: on the logical plane, unlike the physical one, “backward action” in time is indeed possible. That is, the logical reason can precede the physical effect. In the case where Reuven wins the lottery on Tuesday, it will retroactively become clear that the sentence asserting this was true at every time in the past as well. But before this occurred, the sentence had no truth value at all, at least on our human plane.⁷ On the physical plane we take it for granted that the cause must precede its effect in time. On the logical plane this is not so, and the concept of “cause” that we use on that plane does not have the same characteristics as the concept of physical cause.

In the next note we shall see a similar mechanism, as it appears in the halakhic world.

Note 30: From Now Onward, Retroactively

From the school of Rabbi Shimon Shkop we learned the halakhic mechanism of “from now onward, retroactively,” which is similar in character to the mechanism described here in the main discussion. This term denotes retroactive logical reference on the axis of time.⁸

Let us take as an example conditional stipulations in halakha. A man who betroths a woman can do so conditionally. If a man who betroths a woman says that he does so on condition that she give him two hundred shekels, then the woman will be betrothed to him if she indeed gives him the money. If she does not give it, then there is no betrothal here. Rabbi Shimon explains that throughout the time that passes from the moment of the stipulation until the fulfillment or non-fulfillment of the condition, the woman is not fully betrothed to him; the betrothal is only tenuous. For various halakhic reasons it emerges that when the condition is fulfilled, the betrothal is created retroactively. That is, it is treated as though it took effect from the moment the statement was made.

Rabbi Shimon’s term “from now onward, retroactively” comes to exclude the common understanding in the yeshiva world that a condition operates completely retroactively. According to that common understanding, the condition merely clarifies a reality that was already true earlier, something akin to logical determinism. In yeshiva terminology, such a state is called “it is revealed before Heaven,” meaning that in Heaven the Holy One, blessed be He, already knows the truth, and only to us, with our human limitations, is it revealed only after the condition is fulfilled. In other words, the truth already exists from eternity, and only limited human knowledge succeeds in recognizing the reality—that is, the truth value of the sentence “this woman is betrothed to this man”—only at the moment the condition is or is not fulfilled.

In fact, the common approach identifies the logical with the physical. The fact that the truth value of the sentence exists already at the time of the statement is a logical fact. This does not mean that the information itself also exists at that time. The reality of the betrothal’s taking effect does not yet exist, and one should not confuse it with the logical value of the sentence about the betrothal.

Thus Rabbi Shimon holds that we must distinguish between the logical, which indeed was always true, and the physical—the halakhic reality, and in our example, the taking effect of the betrothal—which comes into being only after the condition is fulfilled, and is not merely discovered by us at that point. According to Rabbi Shimon, on the physical plane “it is not revealed even before Heaven”—that is, even God does not know the state of affairs before it occurs.⁹ Only after the condition is fulfilled are the betrothal caused, and therefore only then do they take effect. This is not retroactive clarification of existing information, but retroactive causation along the axis of time. Reality itself occurs retroactively, and not merely our knowledge of it. See above, note 28 and the surrounding discussion, concerning the question whether information about the future exists in the present, and concerning the question of divine knowledge of it.

Such a conception has many halakhic implications. Here we will bring a few of them, only in order to sharpen the distinction proposed:

1. The view of the later anonymous Talmudic sages is that if a man made a divorce conditional on the woman’s not drinking wine for the rest of her life, then if she drank, the divorce is of course nullified. But if she drank after the death of the husband who divorced her, the divorce nevertheless remains in force. In such a case, once he has died, she is considered divorced and not a widow. Therefore, for example, she is forbidden to marry a priest, as any divorced woman is.

If the condition merely reveals something that was always true, then this is very hard to understand. Why can it not be revealed retroactively, after the death of the divorcing husband, that she was never divorced at all? According to Rabbi Shimon, fulfillment of the condition creates the divorce; it does not reveal a truth that already existed. According to this, it is clear that one cannot create a divorce after there is no longer a divorcing husband. On the other hand, it is also clear that if the divorce is created at the time the condition is fulfilled, it is nevertheless created and takes effect retroactively. Therefore, in our example, according to Rabbi Shimon, the woman is a widow. We see here a case of “from now onward, retroactively,” meaning a cause that exists at a time later than the time of its effect.

2. The Rashba wrote in a responsum (section 407) that one who betroths a woman “from now and after thirty,” meaning that the betrothal will take effect beginning thirty days from now, cannot divorce her before the thirty days have passed. Here too we see that this is not mere clarification, but the creation of legal effect from now onward, retroactively. Before the legal effect has been created, the woman is not a married woman at all, and therefore she also cannot be divorced. True, after time passes, when the thirty days are over, the woman will be considered married retroactively, from the beginning of the period; but this happens from the future to the past, that is, retroactively.

3. The Rosh, in his novellae to tractate Nedarim, raises the following difficulty. In halakha, vows can be annulled, and if a sage annuls them they are nullified retroactively. Accordingly, an object that was forbidden to me because of a vow—if the vow is annulled, it turns out that it was never forbidden at all. The Rosh therefore asks why the Talmud treats prohibitions generated by vows as “something that can become permitted,” that is, as a prohibition that may later become permitted. For when the vow is annulled, it turns out that it was never forbidden; and alternatively, if it is not annulled, then it will remain forbidden forever. In no case do we have here a vow that applies for a fixed period of time.¹⁰

Rabbi Shimon explains that here too this is a case of “from now onward, retroactively.” The vow was genuinely forbidden up to that point, and the sage cancels the legal force of the prohibition from now onward, retroactively—not merely revealing that it never existed. Although this happens only after the vow is annulled by the sage, it happens retroactively.

In the writings of Rabbi Shimon and his students there are additional examples of this principle of “from now onward, retroactively,” concerning, among other things, the fine imposed on an ox that gored while still deemed harmless, and concerning conditions in divorce, betrothal, and monetary law. Here our purpose was only to illustrate and sharpen the meaning of what was said in the body of the text.

It is interesting to note that physicists customarily call the assumption that the cause temporally precedes the effect “the assumption of causality.” This terminology points to a conception according to which temporal precedence is physical causality itself. In science we are satisfied with David Hume’s definition of the concept of cause, mentioned in Gate One, because there we are not interested in explanations but only in descriptions. As a description of the physical appearance of the concept of cause, temporal precedence is sufficient. For this reason, Hume’s use of the concept of cause has become entrenched in science. There is no claim here about the meaning of the concept “cause,” but only about the circumstances under which one may use it. In this case science behaves analytically. But this is, of course, entirely justified, because that is the field of science: description and not explanation. Yet precisely for that reason it is important to remember that science, and certainly analytic thought, do not exhaust the meaning of concepts. Scientific characterizations constitute only a necessary, not a sufficient, condition for their meaning. The temporal aspect of the concept of cause is indeed a necessary part of the concept “cause,” but it does not exhaust its full content and meaning.

Implications for the Concept of Time

If one wishes to use the second formulation we gave above, one must note that the concept of time has also undergone certain changes here. According to this description, several layers are actually hidden within every point in time: one, as it is now, and another, as it appears after future events. On Sunday the woman is not divorced. After time passes, and we arrive at Tuesday, on which the condition is fulfilled, our relation even to Sunday changes. From the later perspective, the woman was already divorced even on Sunday. If so, what is the real Sunday? There is an underlying time axis on which several additional time axes are laid. On one time axis, the real one, the woman was not divorced on Sunday, whereas on a second axis, the halakhic-legal one, she was already divorced then. It is as though there are two different Sundays at the same point in time.

What we are describing here is a reality of several parallel time axes. Time ceases to be univocal. To say, “The sentence ‘Reuven will win the lottery on Tuesday’ is true on Sunday,” is not correct before the event takes place, but it is correct after the event, that is, from Tuesday onward. From that time on, the sentence is also true retroactively on Sunday. In the next note we shall see a similar phenomenon of parallel time axes in our thinking and our way of relating to things.

Note 31: Parallel Time Axes

Many of us feel that although time and space share several characteristics—especially in light of Einstein’s theory of relativity, where they are presented as having almost identical character—time nevertheless differs from space in that it “flows.” We feel that time passes over us, or we over it, whereas space is static. This was in fact one of Henri Bergson’s central claims against the conception arising from Einstein’s theory of relativity, according to which time is frozen and static like space.¹¹

A simple argument against this feeling is the following: “A changes” means that A is in one state at one time and in another state at another time. In particular, to say “A moves,” that is, its location changes, means that A is in one place at one time and in another place at another time. But to make time itself the subject A of one of these sentences is meaningless, because time is not in some state at some time. Therefore, apparently, one cannot meaningfully claim that time “flows.”

The obvious way to rescue the intuition that senses the flow of time is to assume the existence of two different time axes. One of them is static, and the other flows over it. That is, in order to ground the feeling that time flows, we must assume the existence of another axis of time along which the first time passes.¹² The feeling that time flows implicitly contains a conception—one that also arises from a synthetic, listening epistemology—that there are two time axes: one time flows over the surface of another.

We see, then, that anyone who trusts his feelings about the flow of time must arrive at the conclusion that there exist at least two parallel time axes. In fact, in physics and psychology several different time axes are defined, though this is not the place to discuss them.¹³ In our discussion here we arrived at the need for an additional time axis from a wholly different direction: anyone who believes that the logical determinist is mistaken, or anyone who accepts Rabbi Shimon’s halakhic definitions presented in the previous note, must also assume the existence of parallel time axes. In this note our purpose was to show that this assumption is not absurd, and that it has support in ordinary human intuitions, beyond the abstract determinations of halakha.¹⁴

In halakha too we see two kinds of time, with different characteristics.¹⁵ There is time composed of discrete points, that is, parts that cannot be divided further, and there is time that is altogether one single unit.

On Sabbaths and festivals there is a rule called “since it was set aside during twilight, it is set aside for the whole day.” That is, an object that was set aside and therefore forbidden to move at the onset of Sabbath or a festival remains forbidden for the entire day. There is here a conception according to which the whole Sabbath is one unit of time that cannot be broken down into parts.¹⁶ In other contexts one sees that halakhic time is continuous time not composed of parts. It seems that many of the problems and contradictions concerning the nature of time can be solved if one distinguishes between the character of time on Sabbaths and festivals, and the time of weekdays.¹⁷ On Sabbaths and festivals, time is a single unit; on weekdays it is composed of parts.

If that is so, then here too we see two time axes, one defined on the basis of the other, just as we saw in this note and in the main text.¹⁸

Back to the “Paradox of Initiation”

Everything said above against logical determinism is nothing more than an attempt to describe explicitly something that everyone feels in his intuition, that is, by means of his synthetic capacity. As stated, everyone understands that the truth of a sentence does not entail its necessity on the physical plane. The fact that the sentence “tomorrow there will be a sea battle” is true does not in any way cause, in the causal sense, the event to occur. It merely corresponds to the fact of the occurrence: if the event does not occur, the sentence was not true.

Only the refusal to relate to the plane of synthetic understanding, and the sticking to the visual-analytic plane, leads to acceptance of the strange theses of logical determinism, which are very far from common sense. In the analytic picture, the logical plane is everything, and logical compulsion stands above physical reality.

In exactly the same way we must approach Steinitz’s “paradox of initiation.” The fact that a certain event is, on the logical plane, a necessary and sufficient condition for another event has nothing to do with its being a cause on the physical plane. Hume’s concept of cause does indeed help us get closer to such a definition, because it empties the cause of its productive content and leaves only its logical components—a sufficient condition, and perhaps a necessary one—and its temporal components. Here it is very easy to be drawn into the mistaken identification of a logically sufficient condition with the concept of cause.¹⁹ Such an identification underlies logical determinism, and it also underlies Steinitz’s paradox of initiation.

In the earlier gates we emphasized that the concept of cause includes explanatory force, which the cause has with respect to the effect, a force that derives from a positive mechanism of producing the effect and that the concept of cause represents. These components of the concept of cause are not logical, and therefore logical analysis cannot yield clear conclusions about them. Whoever tries to exhaust the concept of cause on the logical plane—that is, whoever treats it as a kind of logical condition, perhaps with the added feature of temporal precedence²⁰—omits the most essential part of its content. The concept of cause belongs primarily to the language of the physical world. In the logical world there is analytic implication, not causal production. Physical necessity, unlike logical necessity, is a synthetic, or a posteriori, implication.

Moreover, when proposition A follows logically from proposition B, we saw that it is in fact already contained within it. When I infer that Socrates is mortal from the proposition that all human beings are mortal, there is no causal production here, but only logical implication. In fact, this is merely an unpacking of the general proposition, within which the particular conclusion about Socrates is already present. Causal production belongs only between two distinct events whose connection is determined by the laws of physics, and not by the laws of logic. The effect is not “contained within” the cause, but is created from it or caused by it. Therefore “cause” is a term belonging to the language of physics, not to that of logic.

In order to describe this post-Humean—and in truth also pre-Humean—plane of the concept of cause, one needs a “physical logic” that includes quasi-logical relations integrated with temporal relations.²¹ To say that A is the cause of B means that the appearance of A is a sufficient, and sometimes also a necessary, condition in the physical sense for the appearance of B immediately afterward. This relation can no longer be inverted as it can on the logical plane. Here one cannot infer that B is also the cause of A, because such an inversion violates the temporal relation. The terminology of “physical necessity” in the definition of cause ensures that although A is a necessary and sufficient condition, in the physical sense, for B, B is not the only condition for the appearance of A. There can be other causes—indeed, there usually will be—for A itself.²²

One could try to develop a logic of causality along these lines, but I do not wish to do so here. The conclusion of the discussion is clear: the logic of causality is not ordinary logic. These are two parallel planes of discussion: cause belongs to the physical-synthetic-a posteriori plane, whereas logic belongs to the analytic-a priori plane.²³

In the next note we shall see a halakhic illustration of the difference between these two dimensions of relation, which appear as two different kinds of connection: the causal and the logical.

Note 32: Beginning in Negligence and Ending in Unavoidable Circumstance—Two Kinds of Connection

During the course of the book we already saw halakha’s treatment of a person who acts under coercion, or under circumstances beyond his control.²⁴ The Torah generally exempts him from responsibility for such actions.²⁵

In several places in the Talmud there is discussion of a situation in which a person enters a state of unavoidable circumstance through prior negligence.²⁶ An example appears in Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia 42a, where there is a discussion of a watchman who received money as a deposit, hid it in a hut in the forest, and the money was stolen. The Talmud says that although keeping it in the forest is good protection against thieves, who do not come looking in such places, with respect to fire it constitutes negligence in guarding. That place is flammable, and the deposit could have burned. In the end, however, the object did not burn; it was stolen. At first sight this seems to be a complete case of unavoidable circumstance, for the watchman acted properly with respect to theft. The Talmud makes the law depend on the dispute concerning “its beginning was through negligence and its end through unavoidable circumstance.” That is, there is indeed one opinion that exempts the watchman in such a case, but there is also an opinion that obligates him. Since with respect to fire the watchman was negligent, he did not guard properly, and therefore he is liable even for the theft, with respect to which he was not negligent at all. The practical halakhic ruling is that in a case of “its beginning was through negligence and its end through unavoidable circumstance,” he is indeed liable.

Tosafot there write that this is the halakha only if, without the negligence, the unavoidable circumstance would not have occurred. But when there is no connection at all between the negligence and the unavoidable circumstance, the watchman, like anyone else, is exempt.

Such a case appears in Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia 36b, when the watchman was negligent with an animal under his responsibility and did not lock it properly in the barn. It went out to the meadow and died a natural death—not because it stumbled over something or was harmed on the way, but simply died. The Talmud there calls this “the Angel of Death.” The assumption is that the animal would have died even had it remained in the barn. In such a case the halakha rules that the watchman is exempt from paying the depositor, because in any event, even had it remained in the barn, it would have died. In the language of the Talmud: “What difference does it make to the Angel of Death whether it is here or there?”²⁷

It is worth noting that in a more extreme case—for example, if the animal had indeed stumbled over an obstacle in the meadow and died because of that—all would agree that the watchman is liable. This is a case in which there is a causal connection between the negligence and the unavoidable circumstance. The negligence caused it. In fact, this is not a case of unavoidable circumstance at all, and therefore it is not defined as “its beginning was through negligence and its end through unavoidable circumstance,” for the purpose of guarding is precisely to protect the animal from such occurrences. A case like this would not be classified as “its beginning was through negligence and its end through unavoidable circumstance,” but as outright negligence. An even more extreme case would be where the animal was stolen after the watchman failed to lock the door properly. That is certainly a case of outright negligence, and everyone would agree that he is liable.

We must now examine the difference between such a case of complete negligence, in which all agree that the watchman is liable, and a case of “its beginning was through negligence and its end through unavoidable circumstance,” where there is some connection between the negligence and the unavoidable circumstance, and where the Amoraim disputed the matter, even though in practice the negligent party is liable there as well.

There are formulations that define the difference in the following way: a case of “its beginning was through negligence and its end through unavoidable circumstance” is a case in which there is a negative connection between the negligence and the unavoidable circumstance. In the case of the watchman who hid the money in the hut, one cannot say that hiding it in the hut caused the theft, since that hiding place is excellent protection against theft. All one can say is something negative: had he not been negligent and hidden the money in the hut, it would not have been stolen. In a case of a positive connection between the negligence and the unavoidable circumstance, such as the last examples, where he failed to lock properly and the animal was stolen or injured outside, we say that the negligent person’s act caused the result, and not merely enabled it, as in the negative case. This is a positive connection between the negligence and the unavoidable circumstance, and it is defined as outright negligence. Here everyone agrees that the watchman is liable.

What is really the difference between a negative connection and a positive one? It is clear that on the purely logical plane there is a major difference between the statement “if X, then Y” and the statement “if not X, then not Y.” The first says that X is a sufficient condition for Y, whereas the second says that X is a necessary condition for Y. On the other hand, it emerges clearly from the talmudic discussion that halakhic liability does not derive from the mere existence of a sufficient connection at the logical level between the negligence and the unavoidable circumstance. The straightforward understanding seems to be that the halakhic liability derives from a physical connection between the events, that is, a causal connection, whereas the case of “its beginning was through negligence and its end through unavoidable circumstance” is a case of connection only at the logical level.

One can perhaps say even more. If there is indeed a relation of sufficient condition between X and Y, then it is clear that this relation does not exist only on the logical level. Such a relation is derived from the existence of a causal, productive relation between the events. If every time X occurs Y follows after it, then clearly there is a physical, and not merely logical, connection between them. Failing to lock the door is considered, from the halakhic point of view, a causing reason for the theft, and not merely a logical condition for the theft—especially since on the logical plane it would seem to be a necessary condition rather than a sufficient one.

When the actions, or negligence, of the watchman physically—or more accurately, halakhically—cause the result, everyone agrees that he is liable to pay. When they merely enable it, so that there is only a logical and not a causal relation, the Amoraim disputed the matter. And when there is not even a logical relation between them, everyone agrees that he is exempt, except for Abaye according to the view of the Rif, as cited in the note above.

We see here the difference between temporal-logical succession, which is the essence of the Humean relation of causality, and production, which is the essence of the real causal relation. Hume’s failure to distinguish between these two planes derives from the fact that he too did not distinguish between the logical and the physical plane of the concept of cause. We saw that he certainly recognized that such a plane exists in our use of the concept “cause,” for otherwise he would not have had any occasion at all to present his critique of it. He would simply not have understood anything else in the concept of cause, and therefore would never have imagined that anyone saw it otherwise.²⁸ Hume merely claimed that this was a fiction, and that reality contains no physical-productive aspect of the causal relation, since such an aspect cannot be discerned by the senses. An analyst is unwilling to allow an alternative, non-sensory, synthetic route to the cognition of concepts. As we have seen, this confusion between the two concepts of cause, the logical and the physical-productive, is what also underlies Steinitz’s error in his paradox of initiation.

The Relation to Paradoxes

As was already noted above, had someone pointed to the problematic nature of the concept of cause—the “problem of initiation,” in Steinitz’s terminology—as a paradox, this would have been reasonable and even desirable. A paradox is always a situation in which one can apparently prove logically the existence of a state of affairs that is manifestly, that is, intuitively, not true or not possible. The proper response to a paradox is that one must simply find where the mistake lies in the proof, or where the definition is mistaken. Here common sense helps us build analytic reason. We test our methods of proof against common sense, and that is the proper relation that ought to exist between these two parts of the intellect.

The holder of the analytic position sees the matter in the opposite way: common sense is entirely subordinate to analytic reason. For that reason the analyst relates differently to paradoxes. He draws conclusions from them, even if they do not fit common sense. In other words, he acts in exactly the reverse way: he directs and shapes common sense according to analytic conclusions. He has no trust in the instrument called common sense as such—and from his own point of view, with good reason. He has no proof that its conclusions are indeed correct. To rely on common sense, one must give credit to the one who created it and to the one who is responsible for the correspondence between it and the world. Throughout the entire discussion we saw that one who does not give such credit, or who does not believe that there is anyone to whom such credit can be given, usually adopts an analytic position.

We also saw that the credit the analyst gives to analytic reason requires exactly the same assumption of correspondence, since logic too is a human faculty, or a human form of thought. This fact usually escapes the analyst’s attention. As we saw, this state of affairs leaves him with the choice either to be a complete skeptic, or to admit that he is in fact a synthetic thinker. Steinitz points to this difficulty when he argues that the analysts, too, accept a priori proofs about the world by way of negation. Proofs by way of negation, whose conclusions concern the world itself, are nothing other than synthetic a priori arguments.

In terms of this axis of classification, Steinitz is a strange bird. On the one hand, he is willing to accept the correspondence between intellect and world, and to rely on common sense. But on the other hand, he is unwilling to draw the synthetic conclusions this requires, and therefore he consistently draws conclusions from paradoxes—from the logical to the real and physical.

It seems that in his case there is an analytic admission of the existence of a correspondence between intellect and world. Not because common sense says so, for then one would have to admit its superiority over analytic reason. Such an analytic admission leads to absurdity. Whoever believes in it becomes a kind of “religious” believer in that correspondence. Even when there is no correspondence, he insists that there is. The only alternative to this, apart from the synthetic position, is the Kantian approach, which assumes that there is no “world” with which correspondence must be achieved.

One who arrives at the conclusion that there is a correspondence between intellect and world because his common sense tells him so, in light of all the foregoing assumptions, can also decide critically when such a correspondence exists and when it does not. This is a matter of discernment—an intellectual discernment, not an emotional feeling—and not of a sweeping principled decree. Sometimes, even if we do not find a solution to a paradox, we still will not be prepared to recognize its correctness and to surrender the basic assumptions of common sense. In this respect, the true synthetic thinker holds a more moderate position than pseudo-syntheticity, which is in fact analyticity. It is true that the genuine synthetic thinker is also willing to change positions of common sense because of paradoxes, but this is not a sweeping principle. Only if common sense itself, as the supreme and final decisor, determines that here one must change the basic intuitions in the face of the paradox or the analytic problem—only then will they be changed.²⁹

One who seeks justifications and proofs for the relation between intellect and world, if he finds such justifications at all, will not be able to deny them and will have to adopt them in a sweeping way. The synthetic picture assumes correspondence as self-evident, and when the opposite becomes clear to someone, he has no problem concluding that in this particular case there was no correspondence between his intellect and the world. Sometimes he will also decide to “correct” his common sense and adapt it to the world.

Let us return now to the earlier discussion of the essence of causes. Clearly, the determination that a cause can also be a necessary condition for its effect, contrary to Steinitz’s position, does not rest on proof at the logical-analytic level either. The understanding that every state of affairs can have only one cause is not found on the logical level of the concept of cause. It is a theological-metaphysical claim. At that level, I indeed believe that every result has only one cause, and vice versa.³⁰ In this appendix we wished to examine only the logical component of this determination, and to separate it from the physical and metaphysical components. Our conclusion is that from the logical point of view the question remains open. There may be causes that are also necessary for their effects, and there may be other causes that are not.

To summarize our point here: anyone who gives credit to common sense, and does not force himself to sever himself from it because of strange formal considerations, may indeed sometimes be compelled to arrive at other formal considerations in order to justify that stance, if he needs such justifications at all. But that is the price of genuine rationality.

Summary: Confusing Cognition and Thought, or Confusing the Logical and the Physical

The central problem in Steinitz’s arguments, as we saw throughout the appendix, is the repeated confusion between the logical plane and the physical plane.

It is important to see that the appearance of this problem in Steinitz is not accidental. The main problem in the analytic position is the move from thought, which occurs within the person, to the external world. In other words, this is the problem we called “the basic problem of epistemology”: how it is possible rationally to relate to, or to arrive at, synthetic a priori propositions. Therefore it is not surprising that the problems in analytic thought usually emerge precisely at this point.

Over the course of the book we proposed a way of solving this difficulty by abolishing the sharp distinction between cognition and thought. Such a principle can certainly be accepted, because it fits very well with the intuitive feeling of most human beings. Indeed, not only does it fit intuition; it is the source and basis of our trust in the faculty called intuition. By contrast, the price Steinitz pays—namely, abolishing the distinction between the logical and the physical—is itself a claim about the world, and that claim does not fit intuition. Therefore it is very hard to accept.

Summary: Steinitz’s Approach

In this appendix we saw an example of characteristics that point to an implicit synthetic approach in Steinitz, such as the attempt to arrive at a metaphysics that makes claims about the world, and does not settle for an empty analytic metaphysics. We pointed out that such an approach fits his political inclinations, and that this is an example of the connection to which I pointed, especially in the second part, between a right-wing political worldview and a synthetic philosophical position.

Even if one identifies with him on both of those matters, when he tries to carry out his rationalist offensive by analytic means, one cannot identify with him. This leaves him where he began, because one cannot break through the rigid framework of analytic emptiness by analytic means. One cannot arrive at synthetic claims through analytic means alone.

As stated, Steinitz’s motivations—to show that philosophy is not empty—are synthetic. But his basic claim that he has an analytic proof for them, which he mistakenly identifies with rationality, is precisely what creates a breach, sometimes even a large one, on the analytic level. This breach arises from the unbridgeable gap between the analytic and the synthetic. One can accept these claims and arguments precisely if one is not looking for analytic proofs for one’s worldview, because it is enough for us that it accords with common sense. This is true rationalism, and the only possible one, as I hope I have succeeded in showing in this book.

I hope that in writing this book I have made some contribution to the revival of this rationalism—the true one, and not the analytic counterfeit.

Bibliography

The bibliography is divided into two parts: a general bibliography, itself divided into Hebrew and non-Hebrew works, and sacred texts. The general literature is arranged by author’s name, and the sacred literature is arranged by title.

At first I considered a different division: a bibliography of Judaism and a general bibliography. But to the best of my understanding there is no real division along that axis, as can also be inferred from the course of this book.³¹ The division I ultimately chose is not free of problems either, since various items dealing with what is usually called “Judaism” are difficult to classify as “sacred texts.” Therefore, for the convenience of the readers, I chose to classify each item according to the usual intuitions, despite their problematic character.

A. General Bibliography

Hebrew

• Aviner, Rabbi Shlomo, “Does the Study of the Natural Sciences Lead to Love of God?”, Tzohar 1, Tel Aviv, 5760.

• Aviram, Roni, “Secularization as an Introduction to the Growth of the Last Man: Friedrich Nietzsche’s Critique of Modernity,” in Between Religion and Morality, edited by Daniel Statman and Avi Sagi, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat Gan, 5744.

• Avraham, Michael, “Between Greece and Israel: Aspects of Torah Study,” MeMidbar Matanah no. 104, Yeshivat Hesder Yeruham, Hanukkah 5760.

• Avraham, Michael, “Is Belief in Logical Contradictions Possible?”, submitted to Iyyun, 5762.

• Avraham, Michael, “A Hermeneutics of Canonical Texts,” Akdamot 9, Beit Morasha, Jerusalem, 5760.

• Avraham, Michael, “Memory and Days of Remembrance: Between Remembering and Recounting,” MeMidbar Matanah 76, Yeshivat Hesder Yeruham, Memorial Day for Israel’s Fallen Soldiers, 5758.

• Avraham, Michael, “Zeno’s Arrow and Modern Physics,” Iyyun 46, Jerusalem, 5758 (see also my article in the weekly sheet of the Department of Basic Jewish Studies at Bar-Ilan University for Parashat Ki-Tetze, 5755, as noted there).

• Avraham, Michael, “What Is ‘Legal Effect’?”, Tzohar 2, Tel Aviv, 5760.

• Avraham, Michael, “The Expertise of the Decisor of Jewish Law as an Evaluator of Reality,” Tzohar 7, edited by Rabbi Azriel Ariel, Tel Aviv, Summer 5761.

• Avraham, Michael, “He Gives the Wicked Evil According to His Wickedness,” Alon Shevut – Bogrim 9, Iyar-Sivan 5756, p. 145.

• Avraham, Michael, “An A Fortiori Inference as a Syllogism,” Higayon 2, Aluma, Jerusalem, 1992.

• Avraham, Michael, “Torah Study: The Law with Respect to the Object versus the Law with Respect to the Person,” Tzohar 6, Tel Aviv, Spring 5761.

• Evron, Arnon, Gödel’s Theorems and the Problem of the Foundations of Mathematics, The Broadcast University, Tel Aviv, 1998.

• Ohana, David, and Robert Wistrich, editors, Myth and Memory, Van Leer Institute and Hakibbutz Hameuchad, Jerusalem, 5757.

• Otto, Rudolf, The Holy, translated by Miriam Ron, Carmel, Jerusalem, 1999.

• Urbach, Simha B., Pillars of Israelite Thought, Department for Torah Education and Culture in the Diaspora of the World Zionist Organization, Jerusalem, 5730.

• Orwell, George, 1984, Am Oved, Tel Aviv, 1995.

• Atlan, Henri Naftali, These and Those, Am Oved, Tel Aviv, 1994.

• Ingber, Rabbi Shmuel, Weekly sheet of the Department of Basic Jewish Studies at Bar-Ilan University, no. 58, Parashat Va’era.

• Ish-Shalom, Benjamin, Rabbi Kook Between Rationalism and Mysticism, Am Oved, Tel Aviv, 1990.

• Elon, Menachem, Jewish Law, third edition, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5752.

• Elitzur, Avshalom, Time and Consciousness, The Broadcast University, Tel Aviv, 1994.

• Epstein, Raisa, Nativ, Sha’arei Tikva, March 1997 (see also Makor Rishon, 18.7.98).

• Ariel, Rabbi Yaakov, “Law and Natural Morality,” Tzohar 2, Tel Aviv, Winter 5760.

• Aren, Lydia, Buddhism, Dvir, Tel Aviv, 1993.

• Baum, Frank L., The Wizard of Oz, translated by Basmat Even-Zohar, Hadar, Tel Aviv, 1980.

• Borges, Jorge Luis, Fictions, translated by Yoram Bronowski, HaSifriya HaHadasha / Hakibbutz Hameuchad, Tel Aviv, 1998.

• Biller, Aviad, “Rabbi Kook and Hegel,” Alon Shevut – Bogrim 7, Yeshivat Har Etzion, Alon Shevut, Elul 5755, p. 133.

• Bikhler, Ze’ev, Aristotle’s Philosophy of Science, The Broadcast University, Tel Aviv, 1992.

• Bikhler, Ze’ev, Three Copernican Revolutions, University of Haifa / Zmora-Bitan, 1999.

• Brown, Abraham Zvi, editor, From Parmenides to Thinkers of Our Time, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5737.

• Brown, Abraham Zvi, Chapters in Ontological Analysis: The Problem of Being, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5737.

• Bergman, Hugo, Thinkers of the Generation, Magnes, Jerusalem, fourth edition, 5744.

• Bergman, Hugo, Thinkers and Believers, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5744.

• Bergman, Hugo, The Philosophy of Immanuel Kant, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5740.

• Bergman, Hugo, Introduction to Logic, Bialik Institute, Jerusalem, third edition, 5735.

• Bergman, Hugo, Introduction to Epistemology, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5736.

• Barzel, Alexander, Petahim 63-64, Jerusalem, Tevet 5745, pp. 42-48.

• Gur, Moshe, Haaretz, 13.11.98.

• Descartes, René, Principles of Philosophy, in the series Philosophical Texts, edited by M. Dascal, University Publishing Projects, 1979.

• Dascal, Marcelo, editor, The Just and the Unjust, University Publishing Projects, 1977.

• The Hebrew Encyclopedia, Jerusalem.

• Husserl, Edmund, Cartesian Meditations, translated by Abraham Zvi Brown, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5751.

• Hess, Izhar, and Eliezer Strom, editors, Questions about God, Shoreshim Library, Hed Artzi, Or Yehuda, 5758.

• Herrigel, Eugen, Zen in the Art of Archery, Dvir, Tel Aviv, 1990.

• Vonnegut, Kurt, Cat’s Cradle, translated by Amatzia Porat, Am Oved, Tel Aviv, 5738.

• Wittgenstein, Ludwig, Philosophical Investigations, translated by Edna Ullmann-Margalit, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5755.

• Wittgenstein, Ludwig, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, translated by Adi Tzemah, Hakibbutz Hameuchad, Tel Aviv, 5755.

• Weiler, Gershon, “The Methodological Perplexity in Moral Theory,” in The Just and the Unjust, edited by Marcelo Dascal, University Publishing Projects, 1977.

• Zini, Rabbi Eliyahu Rahamim, “Logic and Metaphysics in the Homilies of the Sages,” in Sefer Higayon, edited by Moshe Koppel and Eli Merzbach, Zomet Institute, 5755, p. 65.

• Taub, Gadi, The Stooped Rebellion, Hakibbutz Hameuchad, Tel Aviv, 1997.

• Taylor, Richard, Metaphysics, translated by Yael Cohen, Adam / The Open University, Jerusalem, 1983.

• Yehoshua, A. B., The Terrible Power of a Small Guilt, Yediot Aharonot and Sifrei Hemed, Tel Aviv, 1998.

• Kasher, Rabbi Menachem Mendel, “The Concept of Time in the Torah, in the Books of the Sages, and in the Early Rabbinic Authorities,” Talpiyot, year 5, issues 3-4, pp. 799-829.

• Levy, Ze’ev, “On Ethical Aspects of the Relation to Animals,” Machshavot 66, Nisan 5754, pp. 18-31.

• Leibowitz, Yeshayahu, Faith, History, and Values, Akademon, Jerusalem, 5742.

• Lieberman, Saul, Greek Language and Hellenism in the Land of Israel, Bialik Institute, Jerusalem, 5723.

• Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, Critical Remarks, in the series Philosophical Texts, edited by M. Dascal, University Publishing Projects, 1979.

• Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, The New System, translated by Yosef Or, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5750.

• Lerman, Hillel, The Flood, 13 Elul 5758.

• Munitz, Meir, “The Logical Basis for the Unity of Opposites in Rabbi Kook’s Thought,” Alon Shevut, Yeshivat Har Etzion, Alon Shevut, Nisan 5755, p. 112.

• Meidan, Avraham, “Deontic Logics and Possible Worlds,” in The Just and the Unjust, edited by Marcelo Dascal, University Publishing Projects, 1977.

• Maimon, Shlomo, The Hill of the Guide, Israeli Academy of Sciences, Jerusalem (year not specified).

• Nadler, Aryeh, head of editorial team, Introduction to Psychology, The Open University, 1990.

• Nietzsche, Friedrich, “On the Usefulness and Harm of History for Life,” in The Gay Science, translated by Israel Eldad, Jerusalem, 1969.

• Suzuki, D. T., “Lectures on Zen Buddhism,” in Zen Buddhism and Psychoanalysis, edited by Yehuda Regavim, A. Rubinstein, Jerusalem, 1975.

• Statman, Daniel, and Avi Sagi, editors, Between Religion and Morality, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat Gan, 5754.

• Statman, Daniel, and Avi Sagi, Religion and Morality, Bialik Institute, Jerusalem, 5753.

• Said, Edward, Orientalism, translated by Atalia Zilber, Am Oved, Tel Aviv, 2000.

• Searle, John, Mind, Brain, and Science, Sifriyat Afikim, Am Oved, 5749.

• Agnon, S. Y., The Book of Deeds (in Near and Visible), Schocken, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, 5722.

• Oz, Amos, All the Hopes: Thoughts on Israeli Identity, Keter, Jerusalem, 1998.

• Oz, Amos, Here and There in the Land of Israel, Keter, Jerusalem, 1993.

• Amiel, Rabbi Moshe Avigdor, “The Concept of Time in Halakha,” Sinai, issues 43-44.

• Etzion, Yehuda, Thus Have You Seen, and Renew, Jerusalem, 5755.

• Polkov, Avron, Logic for Thinkers and Computers, Akademon, Jerusalem, 5740.

• Foucault, Michel, History of Madness in the Age of Reason, translated by Aharon Amir, Keter, Jerusalem, 1972.

• Feige, Michael, “‘Let Them Who Walk Go?’ The Attitude of Gush Emunim and Peace Now toward Movement Martyrs,” in Myth and Memory, edited by David Ohana and Robert S. Wistrich, Van Leer Institute and Hakibbutz Hameuchad, Tel Aviv, third printing, 5757.

• Pirsig, Robert M., Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, translated by Yehuda Regavim, Zmora, Bitan, Modan, Tel Aviv, 5738.

• Fish, Menachem, Knowing Wisdom, Hakibbutz Hameuchad and Van Leer Institute, 1994.

• Freudenthal, Gad, and others, Introduction to the Philosophy of Science, The Open University and the Center for Educational Technology, Tel Aviv, experimental edition, 5737.

• Fromm, Erich, “Psychoanalysis and Zen Buddhism,” in Zen Buddhism and Psychoanalysis, edited by Yehuda Regavim, A. Rubinstein, Jerusalem, 1975.

• Perush, Adi, Trends in the History of Skepticism, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5734.

• Perelman, Chaim, Legal Logic, translated by Ora Gringard, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5743.

• Perelman, Chaim, The Realm of Rhetoric, translated by Yosef Or, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5744.

• Tzemah, Adi, “Necessary, Analytic, A Priori,” Iyyun 36, Jerusalem, 1987, p. 168.

• Kant, Immanuel, Critique of Pure Reason, Bergman and Rotenstreich edition, Bialik Institute, Jerusalem, 1982.

• Kant, Immanuel, Critique of Practical Reason, Bergman and Rotenstreich edition, Bialik Institute, Jerusalem, 1986.

• Kant, Immanuel, Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals, translated by M. Shafi, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5741.

• Kagan, David, “Laws of Decision in Cases of Uncertainty,” Higayon 1, Aluma, Jerusalem, 1989, p. 23.

• Koppel, Moshe, “Hillel the Elder and the Foundation of Halakha,” Higayon 3, Aluma, Jerusalem, 5756, p. 42.

• Koppel, Moshe, “Moses in Rabbi Akiva’s Study Hall: On Torah from Sinai and the Doctrine of Numbers,” Higayon 2, Aluma, Jerusalem, 5753, p. 66.

• Koppel, Moshe, and Eli Merzbach, editors, Sefer Higayon, Zomet, Alon Shevut, 5755.

• Kishon, Ephraim, Scapegoat, translated by Itamar Ya’oz-Kest, Hed Artzi, Or Yehuda, 1998.

• Koestler, Arthur, Is It Really a Coincidence?, Sifriyat Afikim, Am Oved, Tel Aviv, 1975.

• Kroy, Moshe, Beyond Being and Non-Being, Reshafim, Tel Aviv, 1987.

• Kripke, Saul A., Names and Necessity, translated by Avishai Raveh, University Publishing Projects, Israel, 1994.

• Rauch, Leo, chief editor, Philosophy, Yahdav, 1983.

• Russell, Bertrand, The Problems of Philosophy, translated by M. Sternberg, Magnes, Jerusalem, 5747.

• Russell, Bertrand, Human Knowledge: Its Scope and Limits, 1948 (cited in Bergman, Introduction to Logic, in the note on p. 101).

• Russell, Bertrand, “On Denoting,” in Philosophy, translated by Dorit Bar-On, Yahdav, 1983.

• Ravitzky, Aviezer, “Tolerance,” in Traits and Emotions, edited by Asa Kasher and Aharon Namdar, Hoshen LaMishpat, Ramat Gan, 5755, p. 193.

• Regavim, Yehuda, editor, Zen Buddhism and Psychoanalysis, A. Rubinstein, Jerusalem, 1975.

• Rosenberg, Shalom, “Rabbi Kook and the Blind Dragon,” in In His Light, edited by Haim Y. Hamiel, World Zionist Organization, Department for Torah Education and Culture in the Diaspora, Jerusalem, 5746.

• Rosenberg, Shalom, “The Doctrine of Kabbalah in Nefesh Ha-Hayyim,” Shana BeShana, Jerusalem, 5758, p. 357.

• Rotenberg, Mordechai, Christianity and Psychiatry, The Broadcast University, Ministry of Defense Publishing House, Israel, 1994.

• Ronen, Yehudit, “Everything Is Foreseen and Freedom Is Given,” in Between Religion and Morality, edited by Daniel Statman and Avi Sagi, Bar-Ilan University, 5754, p. 35 (see also Higayon 2).

• Ross, Tamar, “Two Interpretations of the Doctrine of Contraction: Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin and Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi,” Mehqerei Yerushalayim be-Mahshevet Yisrael, vol. 1, issue 2, Jerusalem, 5742, p. 153.

• Sagi, Avi, These and Those, Hakibbutz Hameuchad, Tel Aviv, 1996.

• Sagi, Avi, “The Jewish Religion: Tolerance and the Possibility of Pluralism,” Iyyun 44, 5755, pp. 175-200.

• Schwartz, Dov, “The Logical Foundations of Halakhic Exposition: Rabbi HaNazir’s Approach,” in Sefer Higayon, Zomet Institute, 5755, p. 23 and onward, and the articles cited there.

• Steinitz, Yuval, A Logical-Scientific Missile to God and Back, Zmora-Bitan, Tel Aviv, 1998.

• Steinitz, Yuval, Metaphysics Must Always Be, Dvir, Tel Aviv, 1990.

• Steinitz, Yuval, Tree of Knowledge, Dvir, Tel Aviv, 1994.

• Stern, Yedidya, The Accessibility of Rabbis to Policy Questions, position paper published by the Israel Democracy Institute, Jerusalem, 1999. See also in the collection Between Authority and Autonomy in Jewish Tradition, edited by Ze’ev Safrai and Avi Sagi, Hakibbutz Hameuchad together with Ne’emanei Torah Va’Avodah, Tel Aviv, 1997.

• Sternhell, Ze’ev, “Back to Modernity,” Politika 48, Bialik Institute, Jerusalem.

• Scholem, Gershom, There Is More to It, Sifriyat Afikim, Am Oved, Tel Aviv, 5750.

• Shalit, Daniel, Face-to-Face Conversations, Tavai, 5755.

• Sharpstein, Ben-Ami, Biederman, Shlomo, Daor, Dan, and Hoffman, Yoel, Philosophy in the East and Philosophy in the West, Yahdav, Tel Aviv, 1978.

Foreign Languages

• Bunch, B. H., Mathematical Fallacies and Paradoxes, Van Nostrand Reinhold, N.Y., 1982.

• Carnap, R., Introduction to Symbolic Logic and Its Applications, Dover, N.Y., 1958.

• Feynman, R., and Wheeler, Physical Review 21, p. 425, 1949.

• Feynman, R., Reviews of Modern Physics 20, p. 367, 1948.

• Gardner, Martin, The Scientific American Book of Mathematical Puzzles and Diversions, Simon and Schuster, N.Y., 1959.

• Gellman, Y., “Names and Divine Names: Kripke and Gikatillia,” Sefer Higayon, M. Koppel and E. Merzbach, eds., Zomet Institute, 1995, pp. 51-60 in the English section.

• Graves, D., and Alon, I., “A Language for the Description of God,” International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 36, pp. 169-186, 1994.

• Hofstadter, Douglas R., Gödel, Escher, Bach, Vintage Books, N.Y., 1979.

• Kerner, S., “The Impossibility of Transcendental Deductions,” The Monist 51 (1967), no. 3.

• Kerner, S., “Transcendental Tendencies in Recent Philosophy,” Journal of Philosophy 63 (1966), no. 19.

• Penrose, R., The Emperor’s New Mind, Oxford University Press, 1989.

• Penrose, R., Shadows of the Mind, Oxford University Press, 1994.

• Putnam, H., “The Refutation of Conventionalism,” in Mind, Language and Reality, Cambridge, 1975.

• Quine, W. V. O., “Two Dogmas of Empiricism,” in From a Logical Point of View, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1953, pp. 20-46.

• Whitehead, A. N., and Russell, B., Principia Mathematica, Cambridge University Press, 1962.

B. Sacred Texts

• The Light of the Lord, Rabbi Hasdai Crescas, Ferrara, 1545.

• The Light of Life on the Torah, Rabbi Hayyim ben Attar, printed in the Rabbinic Bible editions of the Pentateuch.

• Joyous Light (on Maimonides), Rabbi Meir Simha HaKohen, Jerusalem (year not specified).

• The Man of Halakha—Revealed and Hidden, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Department for Torah Education and Culture in the Diaspora of the World Zionist Organization, Jerusalem, third edition, 5749.

• Sayings of Understanding, Rabbi Zvi Hirsch Hayyot, in The Writings of Rabbi Zvi Hirsch Hayyot, vol. 2, Words of the Sages, Jerusalem, 5718.

• Talmudic Encyclopedia, Talmudic Encyclopedia Institute, Jerusalem.

• Channels of the Sea, Rabbi Yehiel Michel Rabinovich, Tiferet HaTorah Institute, Jerusalem, 5749.

• Ways of the Righteous, anonymous author, edition of Gabriel Zhelushinsky, Feldheim, Jerusalem, 5751.

• Building of Zion (responsa), Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger, Institution for the Encouragement of Torah Study, Jerusalem, 5752.

• In the Secret of the Individual and the Community, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Department for Torah Education and Culture in the Diaspora of the World Zionist Organization, Jerusalem, 5749.

• The Mighty Acts of the Lord, Maharal of Prague, in The Writings of Maharal, Yehadut, Bnei Brak, 5740.

• Rose Garden, Rabbi Yosef Teomim, Institution for the Encouragement of Torah Study, Jerusalem (year not specified).

• Knowing with Understanding, Rabbi Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto, edition of Rabbi Hayyim Friedlander, Bnei Brak, third edition, 5743.

• Glosses of the Gaon of Vilna on the Shulchan Arukh, the Gaon Rabbi Elijah of Vilna, printed in the standard editions of the Shulchan Arukh.

• The Mighty Hand, Maimonides, Shabtai Frankel edition, Bnei Brak.

• Ways of the World, Rabbi Yeshua ben Yosef HaLevi of Tlemcen, edition of Shemaryahu Portnoy, Sha’ar HaMishpat Institute, Jerusalem, 5760.

• The Luminary, Rabbi Zerahiah HaLevi, printed around the rulings of the Rif in the standard editions of the Babylonian Talmud.

• Measures for the Study of Halakha, Rabbi Moshe Avigdor Amiel, Jerusalem, second edition, 5732.

• The Book of Beliefs and Opinions, Saadia Gaon, edition of Rabbi Yosef Kapach, Yeshiva University Press, New York, 5730.

• The Introduction of Rabbi Nissim Gaon to the Talmud, printed in the editions in our possession at the beginning of tractate Berakhot.

• Duties of the Hearts with the commentary A Good Heart, by Bahya ibn Paquda, edition of Pinhas Yehuda Lieberman, Jerusalem, 5731.

• The Villages of Jair (responsa), Rabbi Yair Hayyim, Lemberg, 5656.

• Novellae of Rabbi Shimon Yehuda HaKohen on the Talmud, Rabbi Shimon Shkop, Jerusalem, 5747.

• Novellae of Ritva on the Talmud, Rabbi Yom-Tov Asevilli, Mossad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem.

• Novellae of Nahmanides on the Talmud, Rabbi Moses ben Nahman, Or Olam, Jerusalem, 5735.

• Novellae of Rashba on the Talmud, Rabbi Solomon ben Abraham ibn Aderet, Mossad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem.

• Hatam Sofer on the Talmud, Rabbi Moses Sofer (publication details not given).

• The Hand of Malakhi, Rabbi Malakhi HaKohen, Heikhal HaSefer, Bnei Brak (year not specified).

• Silent Dove, Rabbi Yonah Karpilov, Yeshivat Yonat Elem, Bnei Brak, 5749.

• Good Lesson, Rabbi Yosef Engel, Friedman Press, New York (Warsaw, 5653).

• Collected Good Lesson (on the weekly Torah portions), compiled and edited by Jacob Israel HaKohen Beifus, Tashbar HaRav, Rekhasim, 5749.

• Precious Vessel, Rabbi Meir Dan Plotzki, Piotrkow, 5687.

• Guide of the Perplexed, Maimonides, edition of Rabbi Yosef Kapach, Mossad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem, 5737.

• Letters on Torah, correspondence between Rabbi Joseph Rosen, the Rogatchover, and Rabbi Mordechai Kalina, Sifriyat Bnei Torah, Jerusalem, 5752.

• Words of Logic, Maimonides, edition of H. Y. Roth and D. Z. Bennett, Magnes, 5747.

• Wars of the Lord, Nahmanides, printed around the rulings of the Rif in the standard editions of the Babylonian Talmud.

• Decoder of Hidden Things, Rabbi M. M. Kasher, Tzafnat Pa’aneah Institute, Jerusalem, 5736.

• Wisdom Drawn Forth, Rabbi Meir Simha HaKohen, edition of Rabbi Ze’ev Metzger, Meirav Institute, Jerusalem, 5754.

• The Lesser Order of the World, attributed to Rabbi Yosef Tov Elem, Sifriyat Bnei Torah (year and place not specified).

• The Greater Order of the World, attributed to the tanna Rabbi Yose ben Halafta, edition of M. D. Yerushalmi (year and place not specified).

• The Bahir, Rabbi Nehunia ben HaKanah, edition of Rabbi Reuven Margoliot, Mossad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem, third printing, 5754.

• The Book of Education with The Offering of Education by Rabbi Yosef Babad, author unclear, Machon Jerusalem, tenth edition, 5757.

• The Kuzari, Rabbi Judah Halevi, edition of Rabbi Yosef Kapach, Kiryat Ono, 5757.

• Book of Commandments, Maimonides, Shabtai Frankel edition, Bnei Brak, 5755.

• Sifra, a tannaitic midrash (rabbinic exposition) on Leviticus.

• The Writings of Maharal, Maharal of Prague, Yehadut, Bnei Brak, 5740.

• The Arukh Dictionary, Rabbi Nathan of Rome, Lemberg, 1870.

• Festival Delight (responsa), Rabbi Raphael Yom-Tov Lipmann Halperin, Vilna, 5640.

• Studies in Conceptual Analysis, Yitzhak Adler, New York, 5749.

• On Repentance, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Department for Jewish Education and Culture in the Diaspora of the World Zionist Organization, Jerusalem, fourth printing, 5739.

• The Fear of Isaac (Hanukkah), Rabbi Isaac Hutner, Gur Aryeh, New York, 5749.

• The Fear of Isaac (Purim), Rabbi Isaac Hutner, Gur Aryeh, New York, 5746.

• Face of Joshua on the Talmud, Rabbi Jacob Joshua Falk (publication details not given).

• Rulings of the Rosh, Rabbi Asher ben Yehiel, printed in most editions of the Babylonian Talmud.

• Rulings of the Rif, Rabbi Isaac Alfasi, printed in most editions of the Babylonian Talmud.

• Joseph’s Orchard (on the Torah), Rabbi Yosef Patsanovski, Piotrkow, 5690.

• Tzafnat Pa’aneah on the Torah, Rabbi Yosef Rosen, edition of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Kasher and Rabbi Moshe Shlomo Kasher, Tzafnat Pa’aneah Institute, New York and Jerusalem, 5734.

• Collection of Essays, Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman, Tel Aviv, 5744.

• Collection of Lessons, Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman, Tel Aviv, 5724.

• The Voice of Prophecy, Rabbi David HaKohen, the Nazir, Mossad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem, 5735.

• Re’em on the Torah, Rabbi Elijah Mizrahi, Horev, Jerusalem, 5711.

• Gersonides on the Torah, Rabbi Levi ben Gershom, edition of Rabbi Yaakov Leib Levi, Mossad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem, 5756.

• Nahmanides on the Torah, Rabbi Moses ben Nahman, edition of Rabbi Hayyim Dov Chavel, Mossad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem, 5719.

• Seven Discussions, Rabbi Aryeh Leib HaKohen, Agudat Netivot HaTorah VehaHesed, Bnei Brak, 5740.

• Field of Desire, Rabbi Hayyim Hezekiah Medini, Beit HaSofer, Bnei Brak (year not specified).

• Shulchan Arukh with commentaries, Rabbi Yosef Karo, Zikhron Yaakov Torah Institute, 5737.

• Responsa of the Rosh, Rabbi Asher ben Yehiel, Jerusalem, 5741.

• Responsa of the Rashba, Rabbi Solomon ben Abraham ibn Aderet, Tiferet HaTorah Institute, Jerusalem, 5750.

• Collected Method on the Talmud, Rabbi Bezalel Ashkenazi, Shilo (publication details not given).

• Lessons of Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky on tractate Makkot, Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky, Israel, 5756.

• Two Tablets of the Covenant, Rabbi Isaiah HaLevi Horowitz, Heikhal HaSefer, Bnei Brak (year not specified).

• Gate of Justice (on the Shulchan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat section), Rabbi Yisrael Isser, Königsberg, 5620.

• Gates of Integrity, Rabbi Shimon Shkop, Committee for Publishing the Gaon Rabbi Shimon, New York (year not specified).

• The Torah of the Land of Israel, Rabbi Yuval Sherlo, Yeshivat HaGolan, Sifrei HaGolan, Hispin, 5758.

• The Teaching of the Burnt Offering, Rabbi Moses Isserles, edition of Rabbi Nahum Karnbiser, Yeshivat Hiddushei HaRim, Tel Aviv, 5752.

• Babylonian Talmud (with commentaries).

• Jerusalem Talmud (with commentaries).

• The Glory of Israel, Maharal of Prague, in The Writings of Maharal, Yehadut, Bnei Brak, 5740.

Index of Subjects and Names

Footnotes