Bikkurim 2

From here it is clear that according to all opinions, the first-fruits declaration apparently is, in the simple sense, indispensable. That is, if certain fruits were obligated in the recitation and I did not recite it, or I cannot recite under certain circumstances, the fruits must be left to rot. What does that mean in terms of the questions we raised at the beginning? Is the recitation a law in the object itself? Is it a law in the person? Is it inherently tied to bringing the fruits and bringing the first-fruits, or is it some side commandment whose timing just happens to be the bringing of the first-fruits? From here it is clear that according to all opinions, the recitation over the first-fruits is a law in the object itself, meaning it invalidates the fruits; the fruits must be left to rot if I did not recite. Right? There was room to say that according to Maimonides maybe not, and you remember that Maimonides really was in a position where we couldn’t fully decide whether the commandment of recitation is part of bringing the first-fruits or not. So what happens here? Maimonides really says: one who was fit for recitation before the festival, and now is no longer fit for recitation, still brings them. No big deal—he brings but does not recite; the recitation is not indispensable. But I said earlier that even in Maimonides it’s not simple, because there are cases where even according to Maimonides it is indispensable. When? In a case of doubt. When there is doubt, then even according to Maimonides there are situations where I cannot recite and there is a possibility that the fruits require recitation, because they are ordinary fruits that I have just like that. In such situations, Maimonides says they must be left to rot. Meaning there too, I agree that the recitation is indispensable and that it invalidates the first-fruits. So even in Maimonides there are cases where this affects the first-fruits themselves. Indeed, as it seems, at least with respect to this case—unless there is some exceptional explanation—it seems that even according to Maimonides the recitation is really some kind of law in the object itself. In other words, it is a law in the first-fruits as an object, such that if you did not recite, the first-fruits are invalidated. Now there are rules for when yes and when no. If it is not obligated in recitation, then there is no problem, like you said before. It’s not that it “doesn’t matter in every case,” says Maimonides—not that it is not indispensable. “Not the same in every case” means that when one is obligated, one is obligated and it is indispensable. When one is not obligated, then no, then there is no problem. Not that it is not indispensable. It is indispensable. It is indispensable only in those cases where one truly is obligated, not in cases where one is not obligated. But it is indispensable; meaning, it really is a law in the object itself in those cases where one has to recite. So even according to Maimonides, there is a law in the object here. Why am I saying this? What interesting implications come out of this, even before we get to speech? The Mishnah at the beginning of the seventh chapter of Sotah—the Mishnah talks about things that may be said in any language. There are things you can say in any language, and things that have to be said only in the holy tongue. Various recitations: Shema, prayer, Grace after Meals, the first-fruits declaration—they list a lot of recitations there. The Mishnah says that the first-fruits declaration is said only in the holy tongue. By the way, Shema and prayer are said in any language. You can recite Shema and pray in any language and fulfill your obligation. He explains the Mishnah in Sotah there, but the first-fruits declaration is said only in the holy tongue, that’s what the Mishnah says. The question is why. Why really? What is special about it? After all, all you want is to convey some content: “My father was a wandering Aramean,” and so on. So the source for this, what the Talmud brings, is because in the Torah itself the wording is written. That is, in the Torah itself what is written is written. Day and night regarding Shema—it does not say what to say day and night. Fine, you can say it this way, you can say it that way, occupy yourself with Torah in the morning and evening. So Shema you can say this way, you can say that way. But here, the Torah actually writes what the formula is that must be said: “And you shall answer and say, ‘My father was a wandering Aramean, and he went down to Egypt,’” those verses, in their exact wording, must be said. So that is the source. The source for why it must be said in the holy tongue is clear: the Torah tells me what to say. It does not tell me what to think about, what ideas to have. It tells me the formula that I must say. The question is what idea lies behind this. That is the source, but why really? Why here does the Torah dictate a formula and obligate me specifically in the holy tongue, and not say to me: listen, remember everything the Holy One has done for you, tell of His goodness and all that—even in English you could do that, what difference does it make? The main thing is that you tell of the goodness of the Holy One, in Maimonides’ language. It seems to me that this law is connected to what we have seen until now. What characterizes those things that have to be said specifically in the holy tongue? What is the difference between cases where I need to speak specifically in the holy tongue and things that may be said in any language? It seems pretty simple when you look at such a distinction. It seems to me the first distinction that comes to mind is that when I can say something in any language, there really is no law to say it at all. There is a law to think or express some sort of content. It doesn’t matter whether in this language or that language; what matters are the ideas or thoughts or intentions accompanying the act, and those can be expressed in any language—it makes no difference. If there is a law to say it specifically in the holy tongue, then clearly there is some special law here beyond just needing to think about the content and pray properly to the Holy One—there is a law of speech. One has to say something very specific, as the Torah says. Then the Torah tells me that this is also in the holy tongue. Of course, theoretically the Torah could obligate speech in other languages too. But where there is no need for speech, for example, and only the ideas matter, you will not find that the Torah requires the holy tongue. There is no such example. Because if the thought and the content are what matter, if the ideas are what matter, then it makes no difference what language. If I define a specific language, that means this speech has some role beyond the expression of ideas. Usually we know that speech has a communicative role—we need to convey messages to each other, so we speak. So speech is basically a means of conveying ideas or expressing ideas. But in Jewish law speech is not always like that. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it is not. Shema and the Amidah are of that sort. That is a little surprising, but they are. And therefore you can say them in any language. Because at the end of the day what matters is the content, not the speech itself. But there are things where the speech itself has some significance. And there there are rules. What is halakhic speech? Halakhic speech can be done only in the holy tongue. Where do we see that? Exactly in the implication we have been discussing up until now. What does it mean that speech is required and content is not enough? After all, we know that in Jewish law there are cases where speech is effective speech—not speech that expresses content or conveys messages, but speech whose role is to create something, to create legal effects. Speech in vows, speech in Nazirite vows, speech that is a type of vows, consecrations, valuations, right? Betrothal too, yes, maybe that as well. Not certain—let’s leave that, that is a different discussion. In those situations, what happens is that the speech is meant to act, not merely to express intentions, not merely to accompany some act, but the speech itself is meant to do something. When I pronounce a vow or a vow of Naziriteship, I become a Nazirite, reality changes, the spiritual reality changes. Meaning, speech is effective speech. In a place where speech acts, then you need the holy tongue. In a place where speech merely expresses ideas, then you do not need the holy tongue—express them however you want. But if the speech is like some kind of hammer, yes, it is a tool that creates something, that builds something—that is the holy tongue. “By the word of the Lord the heavens were made,” right? In the holy tongue, the Torah, the world was created. Meaning, the holy tongue is a kind of tool with which things are built. So too in Jewish law, when we want to impose legal effects, create realities, the way to do that is to speak them, to do it in the holy tongue. If I say it in English, it has no significance as an effective act—it is an expression of content, but it is not something that can act. And if I want speech that acts, then I need speech in the holy tongue. I think that is the reason why first-fruits requires the holy tongue—because of everything we said before. Since the words are not just some expression of gratitude or remembering the Holy One’s kindnesses, the words—the first-fruits declaration—are part of what applies to the fruits the status of first-fruits. In other words, we actually turn these fruits into first-fruits by means of speech too, also by means of speech. So the speech is effective speech, speech in the object itself. And since the speech is effective speech, it has to be done in the holy tongue. If the speech only had to express something—say, the intention of a commandment; commandments require intention—does one have to intend specifically in the holy tongue? No, any language will do. Rashba says—and this is the last passage I attached for you now—Rashba in Berakhot has a very, very interesting insight. The Talmud there discusses Shema, that one has to utter it with his lips, and that it may be in any language, and so on. So Rashba says: Rabbi Yosei said to you, from that itself you learn “in any language that you hear.” The interpretation in the first chapter is as follows: we learn two things from it, because when we expound “hear” as “in any language,” we also learn hearing itself from it, and that one must make it audible to one’s ear. Both that it must be audible to one’s ear, and that it may be in any language. And Rashba says: this is difficult to me. How do we know we can derive two things from it? How can we learn two different laws from the same verse itself? Usually each source teaches me one law. If that source is already occupied, I cannot derive two laws from it. Here there is one source that teaches two things: both out loud and in any language. So Rashba says—I won’t read it all, I’ll tell you the gist. What Rashba says is this: if a source is needed for the fact that it may be in any language, that means it has to be audible to one’s ear. Because if it did not have to be audible to one’s ear, then it would be obvious that it may be in any language—what source would you need for that? Meaning, from that source we really learn only one thing: that Shema may be said in any language. That is what is learned from the verse. “Hear”—in any language that you hear. Rashba says: but let’s reason this out. A source is needed to teach that you may say Shema in any language. If Shema were something that one could merely think and not utter with one’s lips, then it would obviously be possible in any language—no source would be needed. Because thought, as thought, has no laws of what language or what tongue; any language whatsoever. If a special source is needed to teach me that any language is okay, what does that mean? Apparently I might have thought otherwise. How so? Apparently Shema has to be said out loud. And from here we learn that Shema has to be said out loud. So there are not really two things learned from this verse, only one: that it may be in any language. But from the fact that a verse is needed to teach me that it may be in any language, we indirectly learn already that it also has to be said out loud. Because if it were only a law regarding thought, then no source would be needed; it would be obvious that any language would do. Fine. There were some who wanted to make this into a philosophical dispute, perhaps the dispute here is in Tosafot on Shabbat 140b. There it says—this is the language of the Talmud, but Tosafot sharpens it further—what happens with contemplation in the bathroom, contemplation in words of Torah in the bathroom. Contemplation is forbidden, but then the Talmud concludes there that contemplation is permitted. The Talmud asks: perhaps that was in the holy tongue? Meaning, it seems from the Talmud that in the holy tongue contemplation is forbidden, while in another language contemplation is permitted. So Tosafot there explains the Talmud in just this way. It says that the Talmud means there is a possibility that in the holy tongue contemplation is forbidden in the bathroom, while in other languages it is permitted. The Ran comments there that this Tosafot disagrees with our Rashba. He does not accept what Rashba says. Why? Because there we see that even regarding contemplation, Tosafot distinguishes between the holy tongue and other languages. And Rashba says that with regard to contemplation there is no room at all to distinguish between languages. Fine, we will not get into what exactly the meaning of that distinction is there. Just as far as Rashba is concerned, some wanted to make this into a philosophical dispute. The question is whether human beings think in language, or think only the ideas, and language only expresses them in speech. But when I think, I do not think verbally, I do not think in language, but think the ideas. And there were those who wanted to say that this is the dispute between Tosafot and Rashba in the Talmud’s initial assumption here. I am sure that very many people—most, I think most people—do think verbally, because when I try to explain to them that I do not think verbally, they think I’m fooling them. I also think—but I think it is very hard to deny the fact that at least a large part of human beings do indeed think verbally. I don’t think Rashba, and even the Chazon Ish himself in the end, remained with that, or claimed that this is what Rashba means—that there is no verbal thought. Rather, the claim is that when there is a law regarding thought, the law does not obligate me as to language. Does contemplation include reading? Contemplation in words of Torah also includes studying a text. Perhaps, perhaps as far as he is concerned, actual contemplation is not necessarily contemplation in everyday language. So basically Rashba means—and this is how most commentators explain him—that when there is a law that is a law in thought, there is no significance at all to restricting it to a certain language. Not that one cannot think verbally, or that people do not think verbally, but that Jewish law does not enter that verbal layer. If Jewish law deals with thought, then for thought it does not matter in what language. Why not really? That is what we said before. What is it? When I speak of thought, thought means we are talking about ideas. There are always people who think verbally, but if the commandment does not have to be spoken, only thought, then what halakhah expects from me is only to think those contents, those ideas. So what difference does it make in what language? There are people who think verbally, but it is not important to halakhah in what language I think it. In a place where speech is required, there it may be that halakhah says: listen, you need speech in this language and not that language. Why? Because speech is not only expression of ideas, for once again, if that were all, what difference would the language make? Rather, speech is sometimes effective. And when speech is effective, the Torah says: I want this to be only in the holy tongue, because only then will it act; otherwise it will not act. Maybe I’ll finish with an interesting dispute here. There is a famous dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim). Maimonides says in the Guide, in two places, why is the holy tongue called the holy tongue? Because names were not assigned in it for the reproductive organs. That is, there are no names for the sexual organs of a person, and therefore it is the holy tongue. And both the Raavad in his commentary to Sefer Yetzirah and Nachmanides in the portion of Ki Tisa disagree with him strongly and say: then it should have been called a clean language—why the holy tongue? What is holy about that? And they say: no, the holy tongue is so called because that language fits, in some way, the nature of reality. Several medieval authorities write this. That means the holy tongue is different from the other languages. The others are conventional. They are expressions of content on the basis of words that we agree on among ourselves. What is their essence? We agree on these words, and then those contents are expressed that way. Agree differently, and they are expressed differently. But the holy tongue is different, because the holy tongue expresses the thing itself; it is not conventional. For that reason the Holy One created the world by His utterance, yes? “Forever, Lord, Your word stands firm in the heavens.” The heavens are the word of the Holy One. Meaning, the holy tongue is some kind of reality. And therefore it fits reality and creates reality. So when we want to create tracks—legal channels—in Jewish law, then indeed it is worthwhile to do it in the holy tongue. There are halakhic implications to this, by the way. Maimonides says in the laws of Shema: a person who recited Shema must pronounce its letters precisely, in whatever language he recites. You have to be precise with the letters when you recite Shema in English. That is a little strange, right? The Raavad says: what? All languages follow their meaning, and who is going to be so exacting about their wording? In other words, I could invent a language in which there would be no such vowel in the middle of that word, so why is it so important to be exact about that letter or sound? And someone else will invent another language where that sound is not there at all in that word—so what then? Because of consistency in the meaning of what I am saying. Yes, but why? Why is that so important? So that it will be clear what you are saying. What difference does it make? I can invent any language I want. But precision in letters means there is consistency in the content contained in the words in that syllable. Why? What is needed is to express the idea. Because otherwise the expression of the idea will not be… why? What is the problem with the expression of the idea? I and the Holy One understand what I am saying, so everything is fine—what is the problem? So why should I be exact about the letters? What lies behind this? What lies behind this is that Shema may be said in any language, as we said. Shema is an expression of content; it is not a law in speech itself. If it is an expression of content, then say it in whatever language you want. But then why be exact about the letters? The main thing is that the content be said in some way that makes clear what you are talking about. That is what the Raavad argues against him. It is part of the content—the separation, the speech, the pronunciation—maybe that is a good way to put it, to say the words clearly. The Raavad’s view is really the intuitive one: if what matters is only the expression of the ideas, then express them however you want, as long as you express them properly—what difference does it make? But Maimonides, true to his own approach, holds that the holy tongue is like all other languages; that is, he does not at all think there are languages that are more exact or that do things or something like that. Since that is so, he really sees no difference—all languages are conventional. So apparently one of the two explanations you suggested is correct: that one has to be precise with the letters for some technical reason, but not really for an essential reason. The Raavad, true to his own view—and in his commentary to Sefer Yetzirah he also disputes Maimonides. In the laws of Megillah too, by the way, there is the same dispute between Maimonides and the Raavad. And that is basically the root of the matter. Therefore, with the first-fruits declaration too, I said I am a bit unsure, because with the first-fruits declaration we also saw all along that Maimonides somewhat wavers on the question of to what extent this is a law in the object itself. Because according to Maimonides, even when something is read in the holy tongue, it is not supposed to be essentially different from reading it in any language. So because of that, it is not entirely clear to what extent this really is a law in the object itself. All right, so let’s stop here for a few minutes.