Dogmatics – Lesson 10

Table of Contents

• A methodology for studying the principles: truth versus a foundational principle
• The number of the Thirteen Principles versus the 613 commandments and systems of enumeration
• Rabbi Yerucham Perla, the Vilna Gaon, and the roots of Sefer HaMitzvot
• The Thirteen Principles as the definition of an apikoros and their halakhic implications
• The first and second principles: the existence of the Creator, His unity, and the limits of the verses
• The third principle: the denial of corporeality, weak sources, and the dispute with the Raavad
• The role of verses in Maimonides: “after the conviction,” not as proof
• Principles, commandments, and Jewish law
• The fourth principle: eternity, the creation of the world, and its status as a great foundation
• “The foundation of foundations” in the Mishneh Torah and the obligation to sanctify God’s name
• Conclusion: questions about creation ex nihilo, Lavoisier, and the Big Bang

Summary

General Overview

The text summarizes a way of studying Maimonides’ principles through two fixed questions for each principle: what is the source for the claim that it is true, and why is it defined as an obligating foundational principle rather than just another important truth. The claim is that philosophical arguments help show that something is true, but have difficulty grounding its status as a principle such that anyone who disagrees is “outside the game,” whereas tradition or verses provide binding force but often require philosophical interpretation that can itself be disputed. The discussion then emphasizes the difference between the 613 commandments as an enumeration with halakhic implications and the number thirteen principles, which is Maimonides’ own arrangement and has no practical significance as a number. The status of the principles is then tied to the definition of an apikoros and its halakhic consequences. The discussion moves on to the first principles, especially the denial of corporeality and the creation of the world, through a confrontation with the Raavad’s critique and a proposal to understand creation not merely as a philosophical proof for God’s existence, but as a foundation for religious obligation.

A methodology for studying the principles: truth versus a foundational principle

The speaker states that with every principle one has to examine how Maimonides decides that it is true, and how he decides that it is a principle, because many things are true without being counted among the principles. He suggests two possible bases: philosophy, and tradition or verses, and argues that they work in opposite directions, because a philosophical argument strengthens the truth of an idea but also raises the suspicion that it was not handed down in tradition and was born from reasoning. He distinguishes between a truth that emerges from reason and a principle that obligates others, and explains that reason can persuade but does not make it possible to define someone who disagrees as a denier of Torah, whereas a traditional source makes it possible to demand acceptance as part of belonging to “the Torah we received at Sinai.” He defines a principle as a foundation without which “you’re not in the game,” and argues that reason is a good answer to “why is this true,” but a poor answer to “why is this a principle.”

The number of the Thirteen Principles versus the 613 commandments and systems of enumeration

The speaker compares the Thirteen Principles to the 613 commandments and stresses that unlike the 613, regarding which there is discussion whether the number itself is binding, most of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and Nachmanides arrive at the conclusion that if everyone accepts it, it appears to be a tradition and is therefore binding. He argues that the number thirteen is not a tradition but Maimonides’ own decision, and that one could split details within a single principle into several principles and greatly increase the number. He explains that with commandments there is a practical consequence if the number 613 is binding, because if there is a dispute over one commandment then one must supply another commandment in its place, and Nachmanides in fact adds commandments at the end of Sefer HaMitzvot in order to bring the count up to 613. He states that with principles it makes no difference whether there are thirteen or forty-two principles, because there is no need to “make up” an alternative principle; the only practical question is whether something is a principle or not.

Rabbi Yerucham Perla, the Vilna Gaon, and the roots of Sefer HaMitzvot

The speaker cites Rabbi Yerucham Perla in his introduction to Rav Saadia Gaon’s Sefer HaMitzvot, where he argues that the enumeration of the commandments in itself has no practical consequence, because most of the considerations in the count are classificatory or technical and do not determine whether something is Torah-level or rabbinic. He quotes, in the name of the Vilna Gaon’s brother in Maalot HaTorah, that the Vilna Gaon did not write comments on the count of the commandments because there is no practical consequence in it. He adds that Rabbi Yerucham Perla explains that a practical consequence arises only if one assumes that 613 is an exact number, because then a dispute about one commandment requires supplying another in its place, and from this indirect halakhic disputes emerge, as is evident in the disputes between Maimonides and Nachmanides over the roots. He describes how the later authorities (Acharonim) deal mainly with the halakhic disputes born from the discussion of the roots and not with the roots themselves, and mentions the book Vayishlach Sharashav as a rare treatment of the roots as such.

The Thirteen Principles as the definition of an apikoros and their halakhic implications

The speaker says that according to Maimonides, the Thirteen Principles are part of the definition of an apikoros, and that is why they appear in Maimonides’ introduction to the chapter Chelek, which deals with those who have no share in the World to Come. He states that halakhic consequences follow from this, because someone who denies them is an apikoros, and with respect to an apikoros there are laws such as “one lowers him and does not raise him.” He mentions that they have already discussed the difficulty of deciding matters of thought that carry halakhic consequences, and presents the principles as Maimonides’ detailed account of “what an apikoros is.”

The first and second principles: the existence of the Creator, His unity, and the limits of the verses

The speaker describes how in the first principle Maimonides establishes the existence of the Creator and loads into it details whose source is unclear, even though he links it to the utterance “I am the Lord.” He argues that “I am the Lord your God” is far from containing everything Maimonides puts into it, and therefore the interpretation of the verse rests on philosophical considerations; and if so, the verse can be interpreted differently on the basis of a different philosophy. He presents the second principle, God’s unity, in which Maimonides defines a unity that is not the unity of a species or a category and is not composite, and he assesses these as philosophical principles with no clear source in the Torah and, in his view, not even in the words of the Sages. He notes that here too Maimonides brings a verse, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is One,” but the verse itself does not “settle the matter once and for all” because its interpretation depends on prior reasoning.

The third principle: the denial of corporeality, weak sources, and the dispute with the Raavad

The speaker presents the third principle as the denial of corporeality and emphasizes that here not only the question of whether it is a principle becomes sharper, but also the question of its truth and its source. He reads in Maimonides the claim that the One is not a body nor a force within a body, and that the events that happen to bodies do not happen to Him; and he cites the words of the Sages, “neither sitting nor standing, neither back nor weariness,” and the verse, “To whom then will you liken God, and what likeness will you compare to Him?” He argues that the proof from the verse is weak, because one could say that He is a body but utterly unlike anything else. He brings the verse “For you saw no form” as the source on which Maimonides hangs this principle, and challenges that it too could be interpreted as concealment rather than absence of a body; he even raises possibilities such as a “transparent body” to show that the verse is not decisive. He adds a discussion about defining what is corporeal and what is spiritual in terms of mass or physical interaction, and suggests that whatever falls under the laws of physics is corporeal, even if it has no mass, like a photon.

The speaker argues that Maimonides himself senses that the plain meaning of the biblical verses, and even the aggadic sayings of the Sages, appear to contradict the denial of corporeality, because of anthropomorphic descriptions such as “the hand of the Lord,” walking and speaking and regret. Therefore he is forced to interpret all of these as metaphors. He stresses that a metaphor can itself be the plain meaning, and not necessarily something that departs from the plain meaning, and gives the example of modern use of “with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm” to show that this is a natural linguistic tool. He notes that Rashi writes “an actual hand” in certain places, and connects this to the Raavad’s testimony about different traditions in reading the verses.

The speaker cites the Raavad’s critique of Maimonides in the Laws of Repentance 3:7 regarding one who says that there is one Master but that He is a body and has form. The Raavad asks: “Why did he call such a person a heretic? Many who were greater and better than he followed this view… based on what they saw in the verses, and even more on what they saw in the aggadic statements that confuse the mind.” He concludes that the Raavad agrees with the truth of the denial of corporeality, but disputes its status as a principle that defines a heretic, because an error in this matter based on verses and aggadah does not put a great person outside the game. From this he formulates an understanding of a “principle” as a claim such that anyone who disagrees with it is outside Judaism, and he emphasizes that the Raavad is arguing over that boundary. He also rejects the feeling that Maimonides invented incorporeality, and brings Onkelos as someone who consistently translates bodily descriptions in a metaphorical way.

The role of verses in Maimonides: “after the conviction,” not as proof

The speaker argues that Maimonides usually first explains the principle and only afterward says, “and this is what the verse indicates,” so that the verse is not presented as the proof from which the principle is derived, but as a way of fitting the philosophical reading to the verse. He concludes that one should not be overly impressed by the bringing of verses, because even if there is a verse, that still does not mean it is a principle; and there is also a principled critique of the very distinction between the principles of the Torah and its other parts.

Principles, commandments, and Jewish law

The speaker is asked whether the Thirteen Principles are part of the 613 commandments, and he answers that they are not commandments. He illustrates the distinction between Jewish law and a commandment through the example of “half a measure,” which is a Torah prohibition but not an enumerated commandment. He presents the difficulty of deciding whether something is a principle merely on the basis of the collapse of “the whole structure,” and stresses that even so one must clarify both truth and principled status.

The fourth principle: eternity, the creation of the world, and its status as a great foundation

The speaker reads the fourth principle in Maimonides: eternity, meaning that the Holy One, blessed be He, is absolutely eternal, and every being besides Him is not eternal in relation to Him. He cites the verse “A refuge is the God of old,” together with the statement, “The great foundation of the Torah of Moses our teacher is that the world is created… after absolute nonexistence.” He notes that Maimonides says the proofs are found “in many books,” and that in the Guide he circles around the eternity of the world so that there will be “a conclusive demonstration of His exalted existence.” He presents here a distinction between proofs for truth and a rationale for the status of a foundation. He raises a logical difficulty: the fact that without the creation of the world a certain proof for God’s existence falls away does not prove that creation is true or that it is a principle, because one could choose another proof or rely on tradition.

The speaker suggests one possibility: that Maimonides thinks there is no other way to arrive at faith except through philosophical proof, and therefore the creation of the world becomes a condition for stable belief. He connects this to his thesis in Matzui HaRishon, that tradition alone is not a strong argument and that traditions can come into being. He suggests another possibility: that the issue is not proof of existence but justification for obligation to the command, such that God’s being “the source of every existent thing” is the basis of His binding authority. He notes that this seems to conflict with the Guide of the Perplexed, where Maimonides describes the possibility of interpreting the Torah even if eternity had been proven, and he admits that the point requires clarification.

“The foundation of foundations” in the Mishneh Torah and the obligation to sanctify God’s name

The speaker quotes from the opening of the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah: “The foundation of foundations and the pillar of wisdoms is to know that there is a First Being, and He brings every existing thing into being…” He emphasizes that this is a book of Jewish law, so philosophical principles appear there as the basis of halakhic obligation. He ties this to the fact that Maimonides then goes on to discuss sanctification of God’s name and self-sacrifice, and argues that the extreme command to give up one’s life is understandable against the background of an absolute obligation that stems from the fact that the human being and all reality depend on Him. He distinguishes between moral gratitude and “ontological gratitude” for the very fact that a person was created, and brings the verse “Is He not your Father, your Maker? He made you and established you,” as interpreted by Rabbi Yitzhak Karo, to set out two grounds for obligation: He made you, and He established you. He says that grounding values in pure logic is impossible, and that obligation resembles intuitions like copyright or honoring one’s parents; he even agrees hypothetically that there would be obligation toward a “scientist” who created a human being.

Conclusion: questions about creation ex nihilo, Lavoisier, and the Big Bang

At the end he is asked whether the creation of the world means creation ex nihilo, and he confirms that it does: “after absolute nonexistence.” He refers to the saying attributed to Lavoisier, “Nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything is transformed,” and argues that today we know Lavoisier is not right in a certain sense. He mentions the Big Bang and the singular point, distinguishing between the very beginning itself and what happens “from then on.” He concludes by announcing tomorrow’s lecture at eight-thirty and wishing everyone a peaceful Sabbath.

Okay. We started going through Maimonides’ principles, just to summarize the points that are supposed to accompany our discussion of the principles. I said that with each principle it’s worth checking, first, how he decides that this principle is true at all, and second, how he decides that it is a principle. Meaning: why isn’t it just something true? There are lots of true things—why should this specifically be counted among the principles? And I said that, in principle, there can be two answers to those questions: a philosophical answer, and tradition—whether from verses or from tradition and the like. These two answers, in certain senses, operate in opposite directions. Meaning, the philosophical answer addresses the first question, that is: who says it’s true? So I have an argument in favor of this thing being true. But if I have a good philosophical argument for this principle, that starts to raise some suspicion or doubt whether it was really handed down to us in tradition, or whether, since it makes sense, they just decided on it at some point along the way. And you’ll ask, what difference does it make? In the end, as long as it’s true, it’s true—what difference does it make whether it comes from Sinai or from reason? Why would I need a verse if reason tells me so? The difference is that just like in “why would I need a verse if reason tells me so,” even there there’s a difference. Meaning, reason doesn’t really make something Torah-level. But here too: when something comes out of reason, then fine, if it’s a correct argument then it’s true. But if someone, for example, doesn’t agree with that argument or doesn’t think that argument is correct, and his reasoning says something else, you can’t come to him with claims and say that he’s out of line. He can tell you: in your opinion I’m mistaken—fine, okay—but that’s not the same as saying, okay, this is what’s written in the Torah; if you don’t accept it, then you’re denying the Torah. That’s a claim you can make to someone who doesn’t think like you. Of course, he can tell you, no, I interpret the Torah differently. But on the fundamental level, if you bring a source that this is tradition, then you’re saying, okay, by virtue of that I can also demand it of others. What does “demand” mean? If they weren’t convinced, then no. But if they don’t accept it, then that means they’re not in the game—that is, they’re not accepting the Torah that we received at Sinai. But if you say it’s something that comes out of reason, fine—this reasoning is your reasoning, and I may have different reasoning, and therefore you can’t come to me with claims. And therefore reason is a good answer to the question why it’s true, but it’s a pretty bad answer to the question why it’s a principle. Because if you say it’s a matter of reasoning, a principle is, in some sense, the infrastructure without which you’re not in the game. If this thing is only a matter of reasoning, I don’t see how reasoning can give me an infrastructure without which you’re not in the game at all. Reason can persuade me that it’s true. But if someone else has different reasoning, you can’t say that because he thinks differently he’s not in the game. So that’s why this works in directions that, as I said before, seem opposed to each other. Now, I spoke a bit about the number of the thirteen principles, yes, that it’s like the 613 commandments. The question is how seriously we really take this number of thirteen principles. It’s quite clear that this is unlike the 613 commandments, where there’s a discussion—I talked about whether the number 613 is really binding, or whether it just came out that way for Rabbi Simlai after he counted all the commandments in his enumeration and it came out to 613. But that’s not necessarily a binding number. Yet the position of most medieval authorities (Rishonim), and even Nachmanides, who hesitates, in the end reaches the conclusion that if everyone accepts it, it looks like a tradition, and therefore it is a binding number. As for the thirteen principles, the number thirteen is not a tradition; it’s Maimonides’ decision. And we already discussed that within one principle there can be all sorts of details that Maimonides, for some reason, groups together as one principle. You could have treated that as four principles, and then the number of principles would rise dramatically. But regarding principles I said it doesn’t matter, because regarding commandments, if I understand that the number 613 is a number that was given to us, then once I, say, disagree with Maimonides about some commandment, I’ll have to find another commandment to complete the count of 613. And from here all sorts of halakhic ramifications emerge regarding disputes over the count of the commandments, because you have to decide that something that wasn’t Torah-level, say according to Maimonides, according to you is Torah-level, and therefore that’s an additional commandment completing the count. The count. Nachmanides, at the end of Maimonides’ Book of Commandments, counts the commandments that he adds to Maimonides’ count in order to complete it to 613. But all that is only if you really assume that 613 is a binding number everyone has to reach. But the number thirteen is not like that, and therefore it has no significance whether there are thirteen principles or forty-two principles—it really doesn’t matter. In the end, the question whether something is a principle or not is a good question. But the question whether it’s a separate principle or included within another principle—what difference does it make? It has no significance. If someone disagrees with something, then of course he won’t need to look for another principle to complete the picture. By the way, Rabbi Yerucham Fishel Perla—I don’t know if I mentioned this, but Rabbi Yerucham Perla really talks in the introduction to Saadia Gaon’s Book of Commandments, and he gives a general introduction there to the counting of the commandments, several interesting introductions. In general, that book is a fascinating book. And he says there that basically the count of the commandments has no practical significance. What difference does it make whether something is included in the count of the commandments or not? Most of the considerations about what is included and what is not included in the count of the commandments have nothing to do with the halakhic definition of the commandment—whether it’s Torah-level, rabbinic, or whether it is defined this way or that—but it’s just an analytical question, or technical questions that don’t change very much. And therefore, for example, it seems to me that the Vilna Gaon’s brother points this out in Ma’alot HaTorah. He points out there that the Vilna Gaon, for example, didn’t—after all, he has comments on every written thing, on everything that moves there are comments of the Vilna Gaon next to it, except for the count of the commandments. On the count of the commandments the Vilna Gaon didn’t touch it. He has no comments on it, no references to it. Again, I’m not sufficiently expert in his writings, but those who are expert say that there’s no reference at all by the Vilna Gaon to this matter. And his brother explains that there’s really no practical significance—what are you going to occupy yourself with there? What practical difference does it make how many commandments there are, and what is included in commandments and what isn’t? So Rabbi Yerucham Perla argues that because the conclusion is that 613 is an exact number, that is what creates the practical ramifications. Because if you disagree with someone about a particular commandment—say you say it’s rabbinic, not Torah-level—then obviously it can’t enter the count of commandments, but then you have to find another commandment to enter in its place, since you have to complete the count of 613. And in the considerations of why to include something else in the count of 613, halakhic conceptions can come in. And therefore when one reads, for example, the arguments between Maimonides and Nachmanides around the roots, or around the Book of Commandments, one sees that although the argument is ostensibly about what is counted and what is not counted, from this argument emerge very many halakhic disputes. They emerge indirectly, in order always to complete the count; they’re not disputes that emerge directly from whether you do count the commandment or don’t count the commandment. In fact, the later authorities usually don’t deal at all with the roots and the principles of the roots, but rather with the halakhic disputes that arose between Maimonides and Nachmanides in the discussion about the roots. But with the principle of the root itself almost nobody dealt. We wrote the book “And He Sent His Roots,” because truly it was almost a neglected obligation—almost nobody dealt with the roots themselves, with what the root says, what its meaning is, not with the halakhic disputes that emerge from discussions of the root, which is usually what the later authorities do if at all, because in general there is little treatment of the roots. In any event, for our purposes, the number thirteen does not have the same status as 613. Meaning, Maimonides simply arranged it that way, but it has no importance—it really doesn’t matter. Okay. Now last time, at the end of the previous session, I talked about the fact that the thirteen principles, according to Maimonides, are basically part of the definition of the concept of an apikorus, a heretic. And therefore this is at the beginning of chapter Helek, where the discussion is about heretics, those who have no share in the World to Come and so on. There Maimonides lists the thirteen principles in his introduction to chapter Helek. Therefore what this basically means is that these principles have halakhic implications. Meaning, someone who denies them is a heretic, and for a heretic there are rules—“one may lower him into a pit and not raise him out,” and various other things, all sorts of halakhic implications that can emerge from that. These are theological questions that have halakhic implications, and I already discussed that—the question of how one can decide them if they are factual questions, but on the other hand they have halakhic implications. We already discussed that. But from Maimonides’ standpoint, the thirteen principles are basically a detailed account of the definition of the concept of apikorus—what an apikorus is. Now we started, we read the first two principles, the first foundations, right? These are translations, after all—it was written in Arabic. So the first foundation is the existence of the Creator. We discussed how he inserts all sorts of details or definitions into this first foundation, and these definitions—it’s not always clear where they came from. They came to Maimonides, and why he suddenly decided, on what basis, that these principles are a binding principle, without which you’re not in the game. At the end Maimonides says that this is the first foundation, and it is what is indicated by the utterance “I am the Lord.” Meaning, he brings a verse for it. This is always what we’ll ask with each of these foundations or these principles: where does it come from? Is it a verse? Is it reasoning? Is it both? Why is it true, and why is it a principle? Right? These are always the two questions we’re supposed to notice when we study the principles. So it comes out of “I am the Lord your God,” but as I said, “I am the Lord your God” is very far from saying everything Maimonides loads into it. And when Maimonides interprets it that way, it’s clear that all sorts of philosophical arguments and considerations enter in here, but from his perspective that is the interpretation of “I am the Lord your God.” On the other hand, since this interpretation is based on reasoning, on philosophical considerations, someone else may come along who understands philosophy differently, and he will interpret the verse “I am the Lord your God” differently. So the fact that it comes from a verse is not terribly impressive to him. He also agrees with the verse; he just interprets the verse differently. Therefore, even if there is a verse, that still does not shut the door on the possibility of disagreeing with this principle, or at least not seeing it as a principle, because the verse itself, as verses tend to be, usually doesn’t really say—certainly not all the information you want to put into that foundation. The second foundation is His unity. And here too Maimonides inserts all sorts of details: that He is the cause of everything, and that He is one—not a unity of species, not a unity of genus, not one composite thing divisible into many units, and not one like a simple body, and so on. In short, all sorts of principles that are probably philosophical principles too. I don’t think they have any source in the Torah; by the way, these things probably don’t even have a source in the Sages, in my opinion. Meaning, this whole philosophy of what it means that the Holy One, blessed be He, is one—His oneness, yes, His oneness in the sense of one—these are Maimonides’ inventions. Again, I haven’t done deep research here, but as far as I can think, I don’t think there’s a real source before Maimonides. And again, that means he’s inserting his philosophical considerations into his interpretation, which here too comes from a verse—that’s what he says—and this is the second foundation indicated by what is said: “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one.” So here too he brings a verse. But again, his interpretation of the verse contains all the philosophical principles. Now we’re at the third foundation; this one we haven’t yet seen. The third foundation—the denial of corporeality in Him, yes, the denial of corporeality with respect to the Holy One, blessed be He. Now here again we ask: why is this true, and why is it a principle? So Maimonides says: the denial of corporeality in Him. Here the question already begins not only as to why it is a principle, but even why it is true. Because it’s not entirely clear whether this foundation is possible, or whether there is a source for it. And as is known, the Ra’avad already commented on this—we’ll return to him in a moment, I already mentioned him, in another second we’ll return to him. But for now I’ll read Maimonides: “And that is that this One is not a body, nor a force in a body, and the accidents of bodies do not happen to Him, such as motion and rest, neither essentially nor accidentally.” Meaning, all the descriptions we apply to material bodies are irrelevant for describing the Holy One, blessed be He. He is not a body in any sense whatsoever. “Therefore the Sages of blessed memory denied of Him composition and separation, and they said: no sitting and no standing, no back and no weariness”—meaning, no separation, which is “back,” and no joining, because “weariness” comes from “they shall swoop upon the shoulder of the Philistines”—never mind the sources. “And the prophet said: ‘To whom will you liken God, and what likeness will you compare unto Him?’ And if He were a body, then He would resemble bodies.” So here he already has some kind of source: “To whom will you liken God” or “what likeness will you compare unto Him?” Maimonides says, if the Holy One, blessed be He, were a body, yes, if He were corporeal, then He would in fact resemble bodies. So why do you say that one cannot compare Him? Well, you understand that this is a very weak argument. A very weak argument, because one could say: yes, He is a body, but “To whom will you liken Me, and I should be equal?” simply means that He is immeasurably strong, immeasurably wise, utterly different from every other body—but still He could be a body. Meaning, “To whom will you liken Me, and I should be equal?” still does not say that He is not a body. He also exists. In that sense, He resembles all the other things that also exist. So does that contradict the verse “To whom will you liken Me, and I should be equal?” I don’t think so. “And everything that appears in the books among His descriptions in bodily terms, such as walking and standing and sitting and speaking and the like, they are all by way of…” the intention is: metaphors. Meaning, one anthropomorphizes the Holy One, blessed be He, in order to illustrate things, so they relate to Him using descriptions that really fit human beings and not Him Himself, but still they use them. “And people have already spoken much on this matter. And this is the third foundation, indicated by what is said: ‘For you saw no form.’ Meaning, you did not apprehend Him as having form, because, as we have said, He is not a body and not a force in a body.” Now here too, the source from the verse is weak. “You saw no form”—it could be that the Holy One, blessed be He, hid Himself. Who says He has no body, that it is impossible altogether, that He has no form? We didn’t see a form because He hid Himself, because He’s located somewhere, because He’s abstract, because He’s a subtle body, so it’s hard to see Him. But it could still be that He’s a body. A transparent body. Right? But it has mass, even though it’s transparent. It could be we don’t see it. Like glass—sometimes I’m here and I don’t see it. The fact that I didn’t see it, does that mean it isn’t a body? Why does the Rabbi still hold that He is not a body? What? I didn’t understand. Why does the Rabbi still hold that He is not a body? Who said I hold that? That’s how it seemed to me I saw in the Rabbi’s books, unless I’m mistaken. Okay, no. I think logic says He’s not a body, from all sorts of considerations about how I arrive at belief in the Holy One, blessed be He, and the claim that material things are things that require a cause. So if you go backward in the chain, in that regression backward, then you have to assume there is a first link that presumably doesn’t require a cause. And if that’s so, then apparently it’s not corporeal, it’s not… You can still say, as the rabbi said, that it’s corporeal, just a different kind of matter. Maybe? Well, I don’t know. And this of course begins to raise the question: then what is the definition of matter? What would be called different matter, and what is not matter at all? Like glass, as the rabbi said—there’s glass, say, which is more spiritual matter… It’s not more spiritual. It’s simply transparent. You don’t see it. It’s no more spiritual than anything else. Okay, we need to understand what “spiritual” even means. Meaning, the question is: once you say it’s different matter, a question of definition already arises. When do you call it different matter, and when do you call it something non-material? Fair enough—I really don’t know what it actually looks like. There is different matter. I think there is matter, because, as the Rabbi explains in the book, at some point you have to explain that the regression ended, because logically there is something I don’t understand. Okay, fine. That’s where it ends, and I don’t know what it is, but it’s different matter. Why say it’s something spiritual—just saying a word… I’ll repeat the question, I’ll repeat what I said. So you decide it’s different matter, but you don’t know how to define what matter is. In what sense is it different matter and not spirit? What is there in it such that it is still called matter and not spirit? You can’t say. It’s stronger maybe, I don’t know. So it’s different matter. Ours decays, ours decays very quickly, and it doesn’t decay. Or maybe it does, I don’t know. Is that the definition of matter—what decays or doesn’t decay? As part of the definition… I didn’t understand. So if it doesn’t decay, spirit also doesn’t decay. So in what sense is it matter? In that it’s solid, I don’t know. Again, you understand you’re raising all kinds of hypotheses here that actually say nothing. You can decide whatever you want. Like anything, I can decide. If you decide all this is matter, then it’s material; and if you decide all this is spirit, then it’s not material. Fine—that’s just a question of definition. You’ve said nothing. So the Rabbi says even more—the Rabbi says that really there’s no practical difference whether we say spirit or matter; it’s all the same thing anyway. I didn’t say there’s no practical difference. No, there’s no practical difference in our definitions because we don’t understand what it is in any case. There is practical significance in your definitions, not ours. Because you wanted to claim that maybe it’s matter, but a different kind of matter. I don’t know what a different kind of matter is. I know material things. I don’t know what… If you tell me there’s a different kind of matter, you have to define for me in what sense that other kind is still matter and not spirit. I know how to define it: what has mass, or what creates physical interaction with physical things—that’s material. And what doesn’t, isn’t. But if you tell me there are other kinds of matter, then now you have to tell me why you decided it’s another kind of matter and not spirit. And how would the Rabbi define spirit? What? And how would the Rabbi define spirit? What doesn’t interact with physics. So the differences are very easy, it’s just… Fine… No, so the differences are as if… A photon, for example, is also something that has no mass and sometimes you don’t see it if it’s in a non-visible frequency, but it interacts with particles. Meaning, it’s part of physics. Therefore, as far as I’m concerned, it’s material. But the rabbi takes the whole spiritual itself and brings it down to the level of the material in a certain sense. Because everything we understand of the holy, it turns into something like, I don’t know, light or something. The Rabbi turns it into something, well, this simply has mass and this doesn’t have mass. It becomes something very… No, I’m claiming that even things without mass can be material. That’s exactly the point. Therefore I insist on not defining it by mass, but rather I insist on defining it by the laws of physics. Whatever falls under the laws of physics… physics is material. A photon too falls under the laws of physics; it’s material, even though it has no mass. And maybe you also don’t see it if it’s in a non-visible range of frequencies. So in fact non-tangible things are also material. They can be material. Yes. By the way, if one relates to dualism, then in man too, after all the body is just a dwelling place for the soul, and the soul is the main part of the person. So why assume that specifically the Holy One, blessed be He, has a body? In a person too, the soul is the main thing—it is the person, the soul. Okay, I accept the argument, assuming you are a dualist of course. But yes, true. True, I accept it. Meaning there is no need to assume that specifically the Holy One, blessed be He, has a vessel He is meant to enter and act through. Right, there is no need to assume it—but one could assume it. And again, someone can come and insist, I don’t… there isn’t some decisive argument on this matter. It seems to me that this principle of Maimonides sounds reasonable, but as I said before, what sounds reasonable to me at most says it’s true. But from here it’s hard to derive that it’s a principle, or that it’s binding—yes, on someone who thinks otherwise, then I have a problem with him, he’s a heretic, I don’t know. No, he’s not a heretic. He has different reasoning, he interprets the verses differently. Therefore this point is very important—that the issue of corporeality doesn’t really have a real source. On the contrary: Maimonides himself senses that on the straightforward level, when you look at it simply, the verses actually indicate the opposite. Meaning, if I’m already looking for a source, then the source in the verses actually says the opposite. There are the descriptions of the Holy One, blessed be He, that He thinks and regrets and walks and the hand of God, and all sorts of things of that kind—they are basically anthropomorphic descriptions. And it’s not only descriptions; just throughout the whole Hebrew Bible (Tanakh) we see something strange: God says something and people argue with Him, and there’s some strange dialogue like that. Seemingly, why should there be a dialogue with Him at all? If He’s perfect and things like that. Why is there a dialogue in which He is corrected, where Moses says to Him don’t do it this way, do it that way? What does that have to do with corporeality? If He were so spiritual, why would there be such a situation… How did we get to a situation where God needs to be corrected, so to speak? And if He’s material, why does He need to be corrected? No… No, then you already say, fine, He entered into our box somehow. I don’t see the connection. Meaning, the fact that people argue with Him—whether He is spiritual or corporeal, one can argue with Him. I don’t think that’s specifically related to spirituality and corporeality. So… But the plain sense of the verses—Maimonides himself has to deal with this. So Maimonides here indeed… indeed brings some source, let’s say, a rather flimsy one: “For you saw no form,” and I said why I think it’s flimsy. But among other things, he also notices that if there are sources at all, then there are actually very good sources for the conception that He is corporeal. And therefore Maimonides has to say: no, all these are metaphorical descriptions, anthropomorphizing with an aleph, not literal descriptions. You understand that you can’t say these descriptions are the source for Maimonides’ conception. At most they don’t contradict Maimonides’ conception. But where does he have a source from? So—“for you saw no form,” that’s it. Even in the Sages it seems the opposite. I can’t hear. Even in the Sages it seems completely the opposite, because in the Sages there are lots of aggadic passages that describe Him literally as a person—sitting on a high and exalted throne and so on. Yes, okay, there are these and there are those, yes. Anyone who studies Berakhot immediately sees that this is… In aggadah you can find anything; it’s not… So… How do I understand a principle? What is a principle at all? How can one call something a principle and other things less of a principle? As I understand it, with my mind, a principle means that if you don’t believe in it, then you damage the whole totality of Judaism and the commandments. A foundation, therefore in… a foundation because with all His commandments, it collapses everything. Yes, foundation is better, one hundred percent. Yes, exactly. So I’m saying, we need to focus on that question, not only whether it’s true or not true, whether there are verses, what exactly power means or not… There are two questions here. One question is why it’s true, and the second question is why it’s a principle. Absolutely—two questions. In the meantime we’ve only dealt with the question why it’s true, from where Maimonides derives it. The second question is of course why it’s a principle, meaning why it is so important to Maimonides to deny the corporeality of the Holy One, blessed be He. Rabbi, may I ask…? When we discuss why it’s a principle, he’ll have to explain why it collapses everything, not only whether it’s important—even if it’s very, very important. Yes. No, I’m asking: can we ask not why it’s true, but whether it’s true? Why Maimonides thinks it’s true, and then one can discuss whether it’s true. Yes. I think one should also ask: even if it is true, who says it’s a principle? Yes. Okay. Here really, what? I’m trying to think where he got these things from, and I see maybe three possibilities: either he really has a tradition, or it’s from exegesis, or I’ll now bring a third option that I’m sure the Rabbi will reject outright—some kind of divine inspiration or prophecy. So which of the three is most plausible? I think it’s a philosophical consideration. Exegesis? No, not exegesis—a philosophical consideration. These principles are philosophical considerations? I said, maybe—meaning, he simply reached that conclusion? I’m saying: there are philosophical considerations and there are sources. But as we’ve seen in the previous principles as well as here, these are not two things that exclude one another. That is, the philosophical consideration is what interprets the verse for you, and then you have a source from a verse. But the source from the verse in its plain sense is not really a source. You need to interpret the verse philosophically in order for that thing to serve as a source. So why does he use verses if in any case it’s so weak? Is he looking for justification? That’s apparently the interpretation of the verses. He’s looking for justification for his philosophical interpretation. I don’t know if it’s justification, because look—when you look at his wording, for example, he says: “And this is the second foundation, indicated by what is said, ‘Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one,’” for example in the second foundation. Or: “The first foundation is that to which the utterance ‘I am the Lord your God’ points.” And here too: “And this is the third foundation, indicated by what is said, ‘For you saw no form.’” It seems a bit as though the verses here are not brought to strengthen his position, but rather he means to say: after I’ve convinced you that this is the principle, know that it’s also written in the verse. But the persuasion comes before the verse. He doesn’t say first of all it’s written in the verse, and from that verse we see such-and-such and such-and-such. The order is reversed. In all the roots, in all the principles, the order is reversed. First he explains to you what is true, and after that he says, and this is what is written in such-and-such a verse. Meaning, it doesn’t seem he brings the verse as support for his words or proof for his words—on the contrary. After he reached that conclusion from philosophical considerations of one sort or another, then he tells you: and this is how you should read this or that verse. Yes, but maybe he brings verses that are difficult to understand anyway. They’re some kind of gray zone, hard to explain, so you can interpret them however suits us. Fine, then it’s true you can interpret them differently too. But what are you trying to say—that one can argue? No, it seems he’s using a verse that’s hard to explain. There isn’t much proof in that, because in any case he uses a verse that’s hard to explain; you can explain it in a million ways. Not only that. When he goes to explain it, he has recourse to philosophical considerations that can certainly be debated. Yes, exactly. So that’s why I say one shouldn’t be overly impressed by the verses Maimonides brings. And that only strengthens the second question even more: why these things are considered by him principles, beyond the question of why they’re true, but also really why they are principles. By the way, even if there is a verse, that still doesn’t mean it’s a principle. There are many verses; most verses are not principles in Maimonides’ eyes. That is one of the criticisms of those who disagree with him and claim: everything is a principle. There is no such thing as principles. Every part of the Torah is a principle. There’s no such thing as saying this report is more pleasing and that report is less pleasing—no, you’re not allowed to do that here. By the way, in Maimonides’ 613 commandments, are the thirteen principles part of them? No. Meaning, they’re not Jewish laws? Whether they are Jewish laws or not I don’t know, but they are not commandments. Not among the 613 commandments. Jewish law and commandment are not the same thing. Even a half-measure is a law, and it is not a commandment; there is no enumerated commandment of a half-measure. By the way, from the ending of Maimonides’ thirteen principles, it seems in some way that he himself says he arrived at them by philosophical considerations. That’s how he ends his whole discussion of the thirteen principles—from the very last passage it seems that’s what he says. Ah, okay, wait, I copied the whole thing here; maybe let’s take a look for a second, I don’t remember anymore. Wait, so what’s the meaning of the fact that something can be Jewish law but not a commandment? What? I didn’t understand. I didn’t hear the question. How? I didn’t hear the question. Mine or the one who just asked? The one who just asked. I’m asking what the significance is. What’s the significance of the very fact that it can be Jewish law but not a commandment? That’s it—it isn’t counted in the count of the commandments. I didn’t understand the difference. That’s it—it isn’t counted in the count of the commandments. There’s nothing else. You asked whether it is counted in the count of commandments; I answered him. No, but what can be Jewish law—again, what can be Jewish law and not a commandment? I said, for example, a half-measure is a law and not a commandment. No, but okay, measurement, half-measure—what is half-measure? No, the prohibition of a half-measure—it’s a separate prohibition. The prohibition in the commandment is the full measure. A half-measure is prohibited by Torah law, but it is not an enumerated commandment. Or beautifying a commandment—that’s a law, and it isn’t counted in the count of the commandments. That’s “This is my God and I will glorify Him.” Rabbi? Rabbi? Yes. I just didn’t understand the question. We’re kind of splitting into two topics: seeing what Maimonides’ source is that this is correct, and afterward why it’s a principle. Seemingly, we could have focused only on the second question. If we found something that is a principle, such that if it isn’t true then all Judaism collapses, and we do believe in Judaism for one reason or another. That’s true, but one still has to discuss both questions. If you can clarify the second without the first, then fair enough. Maybe you can. I can’t clarify the second even with the first, so to clarify it without the first I don’t at all see how I would do that. But to work hard on the first, if we won’t succeed on the second… No, why? We need to know whether it’s true. Maybe that’s more important than whether it’s a principle, no? Anyway, the Ra’avad in this context, in Laws of Repentance chapter 3, law 7—we’ve already seen it, yes. “There are five who are called minim: one who says there is no God and no ruler for the world,” etc., “and one who says that there is one Master there, but that He is a body and has form.” Yes, so that is called a min. “And likewise one who says He is not alone,” etc. Now “minim,” many times, is a term set aside for Christians. Or at least in Maimonides’ period—not in the Talmud, but in Maimonides’ period, probably—minim is already a term that usually points to Christians. And it may be that “a body and has form” comes to exclude the Trinity, yes, since they hold there is some kind of union between God and their prophet, who was a human being. It’s basically one entity. So maybe this matter—that He is not a body and does not have form, and one who says that He is a body and has form is a min and is called a min—maybe this in some way is relating to Christianity. In any case, the Ra’avad there says: “And one who says there is one Master there, but that He is a body and has form. Abraham said: Why did he call such a one a min? How many greater and better than he went with this thought, according to what they saw in the verses, and even more according to what they saw in the aggadic statements that confuse the mind.” So the Ra’avad is basically saying that you can’t call this a principle—I already brought this Ra’avad—you can’t call this thing a principle, because many great and good people like Maimonides thought it was true, that the Holy One, blessed be He, is corporeal. And where did they derive it from? From the verses—which are exactly the verses Maimonides says must be read metaphorically. But Maimonides too says that in the verses one can understand it that way. And what I said when I brought this Ra’avad is that the Ra’avad in effect is not objecting to the claim that this is true, because he says they learn it from aggadot that confuse the mind. Meaning, he too agrees that this thing is a distortion. And therefore his argument with Maimonides is on the second question, not the first. On the first question—whether it’s true—the Ra’avad also agrees that it’s true, that the Holy One, blessed be He, does not have a body. The question is whether it’s a principle; on that the Ra’avad argues. But it’s not a principle, because there are many others, great and good like him, who thought that the Holy One, blessed be He, does have a body. How can you call that a principle? What lies behind this, basically, is that the claim that He has no body really is not something you can derive in a simple way from verses. And the fact that you’re right because it’s logical—I also agree. But the fact that it’s logical means that it’s true, not that it’s a principle. And if someone erred in this, he still erred—the Ra’avad also says that he erred. But this error does not make him a heretic or a min. Okay, that’s exactly the distinction we made between the question whether it is true and the question whether it is a principle. Beyond that, there’s some article by Omann that I once saw, but I think others say this too—that the feeling of many people is that Maimonides invented this principle. It didn’t exist before him. Meaning, until him everyone thought it was obvious that the Holy One, blessed be He, has a body and a bodily form and all that, and then Maimonides suddenly came and made a revolution, took the things out of their simple meaning, turned all the verses into metaphors—and as I said, “for you saw no form” is a weak source, one can manage without much difficulty. And therefore Maimonides basically made some revolution here that was very accepted—today of course, nobody disagrees with it. But this was basically some revolution that Maimonides made in his thirteen principles; before him they didn’t think this way. I don’t think that’s true. There’s an article by Omann about it, but others wrote this too. First of all, Onkelos. Onkelos is very consistent: everywhere an organ of the Holy One, blessed be He, appears, or some corporeal description of the Holy One, blessed be He, Onkelos takes pains to translate it in a way that makes clear it’s a metaphor and not a simplistic literal description. So first of all I think it existed before Maimonides; Onkelos is from the period of the Tannaim. Another thing: there is some… this is a common mistake in my opinion, but I still think it’s a mistake. If it’s common, that doesn’t make it a principle—but a mistake can still be a mistake. Meaning, the claim that the plain sense of the Torah indicates that the Holy One, blessed be He, has a body. Because it says “the hand of God” and all the descriptions that He went and came and spoke, and all kinds of anthropomorphic descriptions like that, and that He thought and all these anthropomorphic descriptions. I don’t accept that claim. I don’t accept that claim because when you read a text metaphorically, that too is plain sense. It’s not that metaphor is exegesis and the plain sense must always be literal. Many times, when you read a text, you understand that it is speaking metaphorically, and that is the plain sense of the text—not that you are taking it away from its plain meaning. If today I were to tell you, “With my mighty hand and outstretched arm I will go to war against this or that opinion,” then what would you think—that I’ll actually use my hands and my arm and there will be war with weapons and everything? No. Everyone understands I’m using metaphors. So is that taking my words away from their plain sense? No. Metaphor is one of the ways to read a text in its plain sense. It’s easy to say that today, but in the period when the Torah was given that was something else. It’s always easy to say. I just want to say on the fundamental level, even before the question of corporeality, on the fundamental level when you read a text it’s not correct to assume that the plain meaning of the text is always the literal interpretation. Many times… Rashi, specifically, says twice about the hand—the great hand and that—when he mentions it in his Torah commentary, an actual hand. He says it at least twice, I remember seeing it in Rashi—an actual hand. So what? Why does he emphasize “an actual hand”? Apparently he really… Maybe, fine. The Ra’avad already said there were those before Maimonides who did not think like him. It’s not Rashi who said it; it’s the Ra’avad. Yes, because you’re saying that already from Onkelos they noticed this, they were careful about this. Onkelos is an earlier idea. I didn’t say it was universally accepted. The Ra’avad himself testifies that it wasn’t universally accepted. I’m not arguing with the Ra’avad. I’m only claiming that Maimonides did not invent this; it is an earlier idea. And just like they found Rabbenu Tam tefillin in Masada. That doesn’t mean Rabbenu Tam’s tefillin preceded Rashi’s tefillin; it means Rabbenu Tam’s tefillin preceded Rabbenu Tam. But what was first, or whether there were only Rabbenu Tam tefillin there or also Rashi’s—that’s an entirely different discussion. These are two different things. What I only want to say is that this conception existed even before Maimonides. Was it the dominant view? Was it universally accepted? That’s another discussion—I don’t know. So that’s one thing. Second, as I said before, the feeling—and many times scholars also fall into this fallacy, into this assumption—that one has to read the words in their literal meaning, and metaphor is basically some kind of exegesis or adaptation of the text, adaptation with a tav and aleph, yes, to something else, to some agenda I have or something like that. That’s not true. Texts use metaphors. Now, that still doesn’t mean every statement about the hand of God and so on—here I come to Abraham’s comment from earlier—that still doesn’t mean “the hand of God” and all that must be read as metaphor from time immemorial. It’s entirely possible that today it seems obvious to us that it’s a metaphor because we’re influenced by Maimonides, but before Maimonides maybe they really read it literally—I don’t know. I’m only saying that one cannot bring proof from the fact that the Torah’s literal meaning is corporeal that this was indeed the view until Maimonides. That’s no proof. I don’t know what was there, but there’s no proof. If I read it today, nobody would dream otherwise. That’s how the verses are read. The same is true regarding rabbinic exegesis. What? The same is true regarding rabbinic exegesis—today nobody would dream of reading the Sages’ aggadot to mean that the Holy One, blessed be He, has a body. Ah, yes, fine, same thing. Same thing, yes. The Ra’avad just mentioned it. “Aggadic statements that confuse the mind,” yes. So there are people who erred, but the Ra’avad himself says the aggadot didn’t say that. Yes yes, but he… Not all the aggadot said that. It’s not that the Ra’avad says: I disagree with the aggadot. But he says that people read the aggadot in a simplistic way, which we don’t do today. Right. But it seems obvious to me that it’s metaphor, because I ask myself: if it hadn’t been written metaphorically, how would it have been written for us to understand it? It’s very similar to, say, a father who wants to speak to his three-year-old son, a small child, speaking to him in his language. He’s not going to speak philosophy to him and very lofty words. So if the Holy One, blessed be He, wants to convey a message to us, He has to convey it through metaphor and things we understand. Yes, but you don’t have to use a description of limbs. You could say, “I dealt with them with great force,” without saying “with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.” Fine, there are ways of doing that. It’s not—especially don’t forget that the Holy One, blessed be He, invented that language, so He could have invented fitting terms too to express that matter, assuming that the holy tongue, yes, is something the Holy One, blessed be He, created. So wait—then the whole practical significance of “with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm” is just for… The practical significance is whether He has a body—is that really the question? That’s the practical significance. That’s the argument here. Practical significance for what? I didn’t understand. No no no, okay, I’m asking whether that’s the argument, yes, okay. Yes. The question is whether those verses mean corporeality, or whether those verses are metaphors. That’s basically what… So I’m saying, a source from the Torah is hard to see. Maimonides’ claim that this is a metaphor can be a claim about the plain sense of Scripture. You don’t necessarily have to say there’s some exegesis here. The common attitude is that Maimonides is basically forcing the verses because philosophically he decided that the Holy One, blessed be He, has no body, and now he’s forcing the verses to fit him. That’s not true. Or at least it’s not necessary. That is, he reached that philosophical conclusion, and therefore he reads these verses as metaphors—but that’s fine, because metaphor is an accepted literary tool. There’s no reason to rule out that kind of reading. Maybe yes, maybe no, but it’s not necessarily the case that every metaphor is some kind of reading that goes against the plain sense of the verse. That’s regarding the third foundation. So we discussed the question whether it is true or not true, and in this case we also discussed the question whether it is a principle or not a principle. The Ra’avad really sharpened the difference between those two things when he said: I agree it is true; I do not agree that it is a principle. Because others made that mistake. And from here too comes out how the Ra’avad understood the meaning of the concept “principle.” And that’s why I brought the Ra’avad then, in order to clarify what a principle is. Because from this Ra’avad it emerges that a principle means something such that whoever disagrees with it is outside the game. A principle in the sense of the trunk of the tree, the roots or the foundation of the tree, without which there is no tree. Okay? So the claim basically is that these principles, these foundations, are things that everyone who is in the game accepts. Within them one can disagree, but those—no. It’s not sociology. Sociology is a derivative here; it’s not the reason. Meaning, it’s an essential conception. He says—Maimonides says—this is Judaism. Whoever is outside this game is not in Judaism. Consequently, sociologically too, he will now determine that anyone who doesn’t… According to the Ra’avad, not according to Maimonides. I asked about the Ra’avad. If according to the Ra’avad he extracts what principles are? No, I don’t think so. Don’t think so. Because what does the Ra’avad say? Let’s say there were many Jews who thought like that, but they weren’t as great as Maimonides. Just simple Jews who are mistaken about this. That wasn’t the Ra’avad’s claim. Although sociologically they too are Jews. So why not? Because the claim is not sociological. The claim is: there are Torah scholars here—you can’t tell me they’re talking nonsense. You can say they’re mistaken; I also think they’re mistaken. You can’t say they’re talking nonsense, that they’re outside the game. Therefore the Ra’avad argues that this is not a principle—not because of a sociological argument. It’s an ad hominem argument, but not a sociological one. Meaning: great Torah scholars—what they say cannot be denial of a principle, cannot be heresy. You can agree with him, you can disagree with him, but a min he is not. Okay? Theoretically, say, there is the split of Christianity, of the minim, from Judaism. Not only could that be; after all, he claims it. After all, in what did they split? They basically attributed some kind of corporeality to the Holy One, blessed be He—what I said before—because it’s a union between the human being and God. Okay? So the Ra’avad says: that itself is not an idea you can call heresy. Okay? Even though it’s not correct, even according to the Ra’avad. Okay? Wait, Rabbi, but when the Rabbi says that according to Maimonides someone who doesn’t believe this is outside the game, what does that mean? That basically someone who keeps all 613 commandments but doesn’t believe in the thirteen principles—is that worth nothing according to Maimonides? I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you whether it’s worth nothing, but yes, he has the status of a min and an apikorus. And what about everything we said at the beginning—that you can’t give formal authority over… I devoted several lessons to that, I devoted several lessons to that. So we raised various possibilities. But fair enough—in the final analysis, you can say he is a min and an apikorus, but you can’t come at him with claims over it. It may be that he is a min and an apikorus, fine. But according to the Ra’avad, if, say, someone were to decide that some idol, that he made for himself some actual idol—this is God—and He revealed Himself at Sinai and gave all the commandments, and I also keep them all, strict in light and severe alike—but this is God. So the Ra’avad says yes, that’s legitimate? With great and good men, everything is okay? I don’t know, but it could be yes. That’s a bit of an extreme case. It could be that in very extreme cases the Ra’avad too would say that’s outside the game. So that’s a Torah scholar who erred. What’s extreme? I’m saying exactly what the Ra’avad said. In your opinion he’s not great—he’s even a bit greater than him—but it’s some object. It’s hypothetical, because a great person might not say such things. If he says such things, then he’s not a great person. But the Ra’avad himself says he is great—greater than Maimonides, greater and better than him. No, that’s regarding… yes, wait, so that one who found himself the idol, one meter sixty, that’s not big enough, so let’s make it bigger. I said there’s a difference between corporeality—attributing corporeality to the Holy One, blessed be He—and worshiping an idol. You’re taking it too far. I’m saying I don’t see the difference. If He’s corporeal. So the problem is that he didn’t give the Torah at Sinai—that’s the story. No, the problem is that this idol didn’t do anything; it’s just an inert lump of stone. But I don’t see it here in front of me. I’m only saying that it exists. I can’t point to it. So you went back to corporeality. So what difference does it make now? So you went back to corporeality. That’s corporeality. And the Ra’avad says that according to the Ra’avad that’s legitimate. And that’s Judaism in every respect—not denial of a principle. It’s a mistake, but not denial of a principle. Honestly it sounds a bit ridiculous. We’re talking about an idol, it just isn’t here, it went… No, it’s not an idol that isn’t here. You’re taking it to… you’re exaggerating it. Not an idol that isn’t here. We’re talking here about an omnipotent being that created the world and everything, only it has a body in some sense. That’s all. Not some piece of stone that you can’t see because it’s hiding behind a tree. No, but you don’t see the disagreement between us. He really agrees to all the other things; he just says, “Here is your God, O Israel”—this calf. He took us out of Egypt and gave us the Torah. He doesn’t agree to all… What means agree to all the things? He agrees to all the things except that all these things never existed. What does it mean that he agrees to all the things? No, I agree with what the Rabbi said. Meaning, how can it be not called a min—someone who says all these things about the calf? So I’m saying: a person who says that this idol took us out of Egypt is a min even according to the Ra’avad. But what is “this”? Because he can point to it. But if he can’t point to it and says it’s there. What do you mean if he can’t point to it? Because it’s a piece of stone? Even if he can’t point to it because it’s hiding behind the tree—but it’s a piece of stone. Right, but the Ra’avad too speaks about those who anthropomorphize—a piece of stone. Not true. When you say of the Holy One, blessed be He, that He has a corporeal body, you haven’t turned Him into a piece of stone. He’s still an omnipotent being that created the world, only He has a body. Again, I didn’t say what He did. I only said what He looks like. He looks like that. Right, so what if He looks like that? He looks like that but He does things. There can also be, you know, a doll that looks like a human being—is it a human being? What does that have to do with anything? Why should I care how something looks? The question is what its capacities are, what its significance is, what its essence is. How it looks—why is that interesting? About the sin of the golden calf, it doesn’t say that they were making complex theological claims. They said that this was the Lord, and He took them out of Egypt, and He’s omnipotent and everything. And still it was a great sin. Obviously. But not because it denied a principle. The sin wasn’t that it had a body. So what was it? The sin was that this was a lump of gold that we threw into the fire, and you’re telling me this is the Lord? Well, that’s exactly what the Ra’avad is talking about. These great and good people said… No, no, no, the great and good people. Again you’re denying it. No. The great and good people believe in the Holy One, blessed be He, exactly like you and me and Maimonides. They just claim that He has a body. So He’s located somewhere? Then that calf is simply located somewhere. No no no. They are not claiming that the Holy One, blessed be He, was created by throwing some gold jewelry into the fire. What is the connection between one thing and the other? You’re making the sin be that they themselves created it. Not that they themselves created it. Rather, taking something they themselves created and saying it is the Holy One, blessed be He—that is not the same as saying that the Holy One, blessed be He, has a body. Why? It’s the same sentence… You can say that sentence from the start. The problem when you say the Holy One, blessed be He, has a piece… that He is a chunk of iron and nothing more—you haven’t said He has a body. That’s not the problem. The problem is that this is not the Holy One, blessed be He; it’s just a piece of iron. But I’m saying there is some similarity between the things. We’re talking about the same Holy One, blessed be He, who created the world, according to how the Rabbi defines things. We go around in circles again and again. I can answer. I don’t see the difference… Don’t you see the difference between a piece of iron and an omnipotent being that created the world but simply has mass? Wait, suppose I had the privilege of speaking with the Ra’avad—I’d ask him: tell me, let’s talk about one of the greater and better people, suppose he gave me the name of someone. Yes. What does he think about God? That He has height x, width y, diameter z, some mass, something like that? No, maybe infinite height, maybe He has an infinite body. Could be. Something like that—but He’s located somewhere and one can conceive of Him and He looks like that, and I ask him, take me to see Him, and he says no problem, I’ll take you to see Him too on some trip. And everything is fine and it’s not idol worship and everything’s okay. Not okay. What’s the problem? I don’t understand. What’s the difference between that and the calf? What’s the connection? Because it’s just a matter of size and whether He’s here or there. No, it has nothing to do with size at all. Again, I’ll repeat, I answered this five times already. But they did the same thing. They didn’t create the world—He created the world. They made the calf. Yes, fine, but that being he takes you to see—nobody made that. It’s God just as you and Maimonides believe, only He has a body, that’s all. Nobody made Him, He’s omnipotent, He made the entire universe. Everything is there. It’s not some idol you made. What if someone had sent them the calf? Right, both have mass—so what? No, if someone had sent the calf to the Israelites, wouldn’t they have bowed to it? Rabbi… I’ve already answered that seven times, if not five times. I can’t keep repeating it; we can talk afterward if you want. We’re just repeating ourselves. I don’t… this isn’t getting started. I don’t understand the claim. Okay, let’s continue. So in principle… I’m moving on to the fourth principle. The fourth foundation: eternity. “And it is that this One described is absolutely primordial, and every existence other than Him is not primordial in relation to Him. And the proofs for this are many in the books.” Who are the “many books”? I’m not exactly sure. Is he talking about the Hebrew Bible (Tanakh), or books of philosophy? It’s not clear to me. “And this is the fourth foundation, indicated by what is said: ‘The eternal God is a dwelling place.’ And know that the great foundation of the Torah of Moses our teacher is that the world is newly created—that the Lord formed it and created it after nonexistence,” yes, creatio ex nihilo, after absolute nonexistence. “And the fact that you see me circling around the matter of the world’s eternity according to the philosophers’ opinion is in order that there be an absolute proof of His existence, may He be exalted, as I explained and clarified in the Guide.” So here there are several points that need discussion. First of all, the verse here appears in the middle. Right? “And this is the fourth foundation indicated by what is said: ‘The eternal God is a dwelling place.’” In all the previous principles the verse appears at the end. But here that is probably because this really is the end of the principle. After that, it’s only an explanation of why he sees this as a principle. And here again we see the difference between the two questions. Meaning, one question is why it is true. So he says: “There are many proofs for this in the books.” Again, I don’t know if he means verses or philosophical books. But those are the proofs for why it is true. Then he says: “And this is the fourth foundation indicated by what is said: ‘The eternal God is a dwelling place.’” Then he says: and why do I see this as a principle? Beyond the question of why it is true, but why is it a principle? So he says: “Know that the great foundation of the Torah of Moses our teacher is that the world is newly created.” Why is it a principle? Why is it a foundation? Why? “And the fact that you see me circling around the matter of the world’s eternity according to the philosophers’ opinion is in order that there be an absolute proof of His existence, may He be exalted, as I explained and clarified in the Guide.” So there is a somewhat problematic claim here. He is basically saying this is a principle because in the Guide too he talks about the fact that if the world were eternal, then there would be no proof of God’s existence. The proof of God’s existence is from the fact that the world is not eternal; it was created, and if it was created then someone created it. So since the world is not eternal, there is God. And therefore, Maimonides argues, belief in creation, the creation of the world—that it is not eternal—is a principle, is a foundation. Now here there is a logical problem, because… Begging the question? What? Begging the question? Yes, right. In a certain sense one can see it as begging the question. He’s basically saying that if, say, I thought the world were eternal, then I wouldn’t have proof of God’s existence. I wouldn’t have proof of God’s existence—but He would still exist. The fact that you knocked out one of my proofs for His existence—what does that have to do with the matter? There are other proofs of His existence that rely on certain assumptions, and those assumptions aren’t correct, and since they aren’t correct the proofs fall. So what? Does that mean I have to adopt those assumptions? Let’s say I said that every frog is omnipotent, and since there are frogs, it’s clear there are omnipotent beings, and here is the proof of God’s existence. I just made something up now. Okay. Now since if I give up the assumption that every frog is omnipotent, then my proof of God’s existence collapses, does that mean I have to accept the assumption that every frog is omnipotent? And not only must I accept it, but it is a principle—not only true, but also a principle? The fact that you knocked out one of the proofs of God’s existence—what does that prove? Maybe it means this proof isn’t correct. What’s the problem? It doesn’t mean there is no God. It means this proof is not the way to get to Him or not the way to prove His existence. For Maimonides, it seems that the proof—what Kant calls the cosmological proof or the physico-theological proof, the proofs from the fact that there is a world so apparently someone created it, or the world is complex so someone designed it—these proofs are basically the way to arrive at the Holy One, blessed be He, for Maimonides. Meaning, if you don’t arrive by this route, you simply don’t arrive at Him. There is no other way to arrive at Him. Which is very interesting. Because if there were another way to arrive at Him, then why would the fact that the eternity of the world negates this proof imply that the eternity of the world is not correct, or that it is a principle? I want to come to belief in the existence of God some other way. For example, I think I believe in the existence of God by virtue of tradition. The Jewish people saw at Sinai, they transmitted it to me in tradition, and therefore I know there is God. But the world is eternal—that’s what I think. What is bad about my faith? I think the world is eternal, but the Holy One, blessed be He, is God and He gave us the Torah, and I’m obligated by everything He said and everything is true, only the world is eternal. So what’s the problem? What, Rabbi? So there are several points here, conjectures I can suggest; I don’t know. And notice: here too Maimonides distinguishes between the question whether it’s true and the question whether it’s a principle. In the second passage he explains why it’s a principle, not why it’s true. Okay? He says: it’s a principle because without it you won’t have proof of God’s existence. But you won’t have that proof—maybe there’s another proof? So maybe Maimonides thinks there is no other proof, that the other proofs don’t work. Only this proof. Or in other words, tradition alone—even though Maimonides himself brings tradition as an argument—but tradition alone doesn’t stand. If you didn’t have a philosophical proof for God’s existence, you wouldn’t accept the tradition, or at least you wouldn’t have to accept the tradition. That’s one possibility. And the truth is, I only now noticed this Maimonides—it’s really my thesis in “The First Existent.” My argument in “The First Existent,” that the argument from tradition is not such a strong argument. What the Kuzari brings—in the Kuzari it’s two sentences, but people usually bring it in the name of the Kuzari—that a father does not lie to his son, and there is transmission of tradition, and therefore if our ancestors encountered the Holy One, blessed be He, at Mount Sinai, then there is God. Tradition is basically the fundamental basis for belief in God. And I argue that traditions can be formed, inventions exist, tradition is not such a strong argument. And people do sometimes make things up to their children. Just look at Hasidic stories and you can see for yourselves. The claim that I think completes the matter is the philosophical proof of God’s existence in the philosophical sense. Meaning, if I come to the conclusion that God exists in the philosophical sense, and now a tradition comes to me saying, “We encountered Him,” that combination together is already stronger. Meaning, the claim from tradition by itself isn’t much to write home about. But if I’ve already come to the conclusion that God exists from philosophical considerations, and now a tradition comes to me, that’s already something else. Therefore, if that is correct, then maybe this is what underlies Maimonides’ view. That Maimonides says that without a philosophical proof for God’s existence, like the physico-theological proof for example, tradition alone could not carry that burden. I need both of these in order ultimately to remain obligated. Otherwise it really is hard to understand what he writes here. And a second thing—second possibility, sorry—perhaps if the world is eternal… I didn’t understand—again, why isn’t this begging the question? I didn’t understand. If God is corporeal, then the physico-theological proof falls. So what does Maimonides answer to that? It falls. Okay, deal with it. So now tradition isn’t enough for you. No, he doesn’t need to answer that; it’s not a difficulty. What he says is—he’s explaining why this thing is a principle, to believe that the world is newly created. If you don’t believe, then you don’t believe. What can I tell you? But if you believe, know that if you don’t believe, then you’re outside the game. That’s all he’s saying. He isn’t saying it’s true because otherwise the proof falls. He says that because without this the proof falls, therefore it must be a principle. Okay? So that’s the first possibility. A second possibility. It’s a bit strange, sorry, because in the Guide he says that even if eternity could be proven, one could explain eternity and it would fit perfectly, and it would not shake the Torah in any way. He would get along with that just as he got along with the corporeality of the Holy One, blessed be He. It didn’t bother him at all in the Guide. No, it bothers him because it contradicts what is written in the Torah. He would interpret by way of more metaphors. Meaning there basically the claim is—you’re saying that the world is newly created and not eternal only by tradition. There is no philosophical argument here. An interesting question indeed. It does seem to contradict what he writes here. Yes. There are other contradictions between Maimonides’ writings. But yes, true, on the face of it it is not the same thing. There is another possibility—let’s think whether this one perhaps solves the problem. There is another possibility that says: the problem is not the proof, but my obligation. And about this too, at the end of the book “The First Existent,” I write: my obligation to the command of the Holy One, blessed be He, stems from the fact that He is God. What does that mean? One of the common interpretations is that He created me and the world and everything, and therefore whatever He says I am obligated to do. Meaning that even if I philosophically believed in God’s existence, but He did not create the world—the world is eternal—it could be that even if He appeared and commanded, it would not obligate. Then what He commands, everyone would be obligated to fulfill. Then the claim is not that without this I have no proof of God’s existence, but rather that without this there is no justification for my obligation toward His commands. And I talked about ontic gratitude at the end of the essay—but at the end of “The First Existent” I talk about that. And ontic gratitude, as distinct from moral gratitude, is gratitude not because you did me good, but because you made me. And you see this in the verse; several commentators say this on the verse. Rabbi Yosef Karo’s uncle, for example, Rabbi Yitzhak Karo, in his Torah commentary, writes for example: “Do you thus repay the Lord, O foolish and unwise people? Is He not your father, your owner? He made you and established you.” Right—“Do you thus repay the Lord, O foolish and unwise people? Is He not your father, your owner? He made you and established you.” What does that mean? “He made you and established you”—what is that? “He made you” means simply He made you, and “established you” means He sustains you. Meaning, He gives you all the means to live. So you see there are two reasons, two causes, for our obligation toward the Holy One, blessed be He, such that if we don’t do what He commands, we are a foolish and unwise people—yes, gratitude, we have no gratitude. One reason is that He bestows good upon us; that is moral gratitude. If someone has done me good, I am obligated to acknowledge it in return. “And He made you”—that is not moral gratitude; it is ontic gratitude, philosophical, metaphysical. If He made me, then everything I have is from Him, so I am obligated—whatever He says I must do, because after all the powers by which I act I received from Him, so I cannot act against what He tells me to do with those powers. That is ontic gratitude, not philosophical—but it is conditioned on the fact that I indeed acknowledge that He created me and created the world, that He is the source of everything. Then perhaps what Maimonides is saying is this—and then I can really understand why it is a principle, not only why it is true, but why it is a principle. It is a principle because without it there is no service of God. Not because without it there is no belief in God, like the first possibility I mentioned, but because without it there is no religious obligation, there is no halakhic obligation, there is no service of God. And where do you see this? You see it in the famous passages that open Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah. There he writes these things very clearly. Yes, at the beginning of the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah: “The foundation of foundations and the pillar of wisdoms is to know that there is a First Existent, and He brings every existing thing into existence. And all beings from heaven and earth and what is between them exist only from the truth of His existence.” That’s the opening of the Mishneh Torah. Now I remind you again: the Mishneh Torah is a book of Jewish law. So why does he put at the beginning “the foundation of foundations” as a philosophical principle? Because it’s a foundation, yes—one of the thirteen foundations—and we too are now speaking about foundations. It is the foundation of our religious obligation, the foundation of our halakhic obligation. Why must one keep Jewish law? Because the Holy One, blessed be He, created us, and “all that is found exists only from the truth of His existence.” Basically, because everything we have is from Him, it is obvious that it is subjugated to what He commands us to do. Therefore Maimonides goes on and says… Rabbi, isn’t it that He doesn’t obligate us to do, but that it’s good to do? No no, one must do it. Whether it’s good or not is another question, but here he is talking about why one must do it. Yes, one must, but not by force—meaning, He doesn’t force us to do it. No, obligation in the philosophical sense. Force or no force—that already belongs to punishments. I’m speaking in the philosophical sense: there is an obligation to what He commands. This is what he says: “And if it should enter one’s mind that He does not exist, no other thing could exist.” Why is that terrible? Why is it so important? It is so important because without—meaning, the fact that He is the condition for my very existence and my ability to act—that is the basis for why I am obligated at all to fulfill everything that will appear in the Mishneh Torah. “And if it should enter one’s mind that none of the beings exist besides Him, He alone would still exist and He would not cease by their ceasing, for all beings need Him, but He, blessed be He, needs neither them nor any one of them. Therefore His truth is unlike the truth of any one of them. This is what the prophet says: ‘And the Lord God is truth.’ He alone is the truth, and no other has truth like His truth. And this is what the Torah says: ‘There is none besides Him,’ meaning there is no true existent besides Him like Him. And this Existent is the God of the world and the Master of all the earth,” etc. “And knowing this matter is a positive commandment, as it is said: ‘I am the Lord your God.’ And whoever raises upon his mind…” etc.—that’s the next commandment. “And He is one and not two,” and here all the first principles from the thirteen principles appear. “And He is not a body or a physical form.” You see—all the principles appear here. And at the very end, after he then goes off into all those chapters about the spheres and angels and all these Aristotelian matters, those inventions, when he comes back down to earth, to correct things, that appears in chapter 5. And in chapter 5 he speaks about sanctifying the Name. That is his return to the ground of Jewish law. Jewish law opens with sanctifying the Name. Meaning, chapter 1 is what we just read now—the truth of the Holy One, blessed be He, and His being the foundation of all reality. After that, all the spheres and angels and all that—you can erase that. And in chapter 5 there is the obligation to sanctify the Name, to give up one’s life and all that. Why is that there? Because of this. He says: because He is the foundation of everything and we are all built upon Him, and without Him we don’t exist at all and we have no power to act and nothing—therefore He has absolute authority over us. Whatever He commands, we must do. And he opens with the most extreme command there is—to give up one’s life. Because that means the obligation is absolute. So now explain why, where does such an absolute obligation come from? Since when does gratitude to someone mean that I will give up my life for him? So he says: no, this is gratitude not in the moral sense, because He did me good. It is metaphysical gratitude. Because everything by which I exist is only by His power, therefore my whole being is subject to Him, including my life. Therefore the demand is basically absolute. Why on earth? Why? I don’t understand the question at all—neither the moral one nor the ontic one. Why on earth? The fact that He created me—some poor miserable person whose fate is very difficult, born with deformities, and if one knows illness all his life, “few and evil have been the days of the years of my life,” as Jacob says. Better had I not been created. “It would have been preferable for man not to have been created.” You’re going back to the difficulties of moral gratitude. So I’m saying, there is no moral gratitude. I’m asking about the ontic one—it’s even worse. If I don’t even have gratitude for anything, He decreed, so I’m disabled. Still, I came from Him. So I owe Him? Yes. Or I’m angry at Him? Everything you received is from Him, so obviously you have to do what He tells you. Job could come, someone who was born and comes to his parents and says: you dragged me into this world, I’m angry at you, I hate you. But the Rabbi said that ontically I’m obligated to obey you. Why? Just because. Right. Why? What logic is there in that? That doesn’t explain it. Read the article, because I really tried to show it there from all sorts of angles. But in the final analysis, there is no logic by means of which you can ground values. Basic values are something that either you feel, experience, or you don’t. I can’t set them up on something more fundamental that would be clearer. This seems obvious to me. Meaning, if something creates me, it’s like—I bring there copyrights, I bring from honoring parents, there are all sorts of examples. Copyright: if you created something, obviously it is yours. Leibowitz said the exact opposite. Why? Leibowitz also said this in the third part. What again? The Rabbi says Leibowitz, in the third part on Jewish law, the Rabbi explained that values cannot depend on other things. Yes, obviously. No, I’m saying—but here I’m nevertheless explaining what that value means. The claim is that it’s like copyright. With copyright, if someone… Plato calls them “the spiritual children of a person.” So I have a spiritual child; an idea came to me. That idea is mine. I didn’t do any act of acquisition on it, and it’s not even clear there is any act of acquisition that can acquire such a thing, a thing with no substance. But it is mine. Why is it mine? Because I created it. I created it, and it is under my absolute ownership. No one can touch it. Why? So what if you created it? You created it and now I’ll take it. There is some kind of reasoning that says that if I create something, it is completely mine or subject to me—I am its owner. Rabbi, according to this, at the beginning of the lesson when we spoke about the issue of what the difference would be if we defined God as something more material than ordinary matter—the Rabbi told me, so how would you define it? I’m not sure I have to define it. It may be that I can say: the material that I know is what exists; there is something material even greater. There’s no definition for it, but it is something greater. I don’t need to define it. It’s like ownership. The Rabbi says where do I know there’s ownership from? If you don’t define it, then don’t say “material”; say “something greater.” No, I’m not speaking from my own reasoning because I haven’t thought enough about it, but if someone tells me, my reasoning is that there is something material but greater—this is how it seems to me—and he won’t know how to define it for me, the lack of definition is not a problem. He can tell me it’s something material but greater. This is the belief in corporeality that the Ra’avad speaks about. Obviously. What’s the novelty? That God must be something spiritual and not material. So the Rabbi told me, how would you define it? No—if you’re speaking about the belief in corporeality that the Ra’avad cites, there’s no argument at all. I completely agree. They claim there is someone great and material—material in the full sense, ordinary matter. But you suggested another formulation. You suggested a formulation that says: no, it is material, but in some other sense than the matter we know. So if you already say that, I don’t understand the difference between that and spirit. Okay, I understand. Suppose in another five hundred years there will be complete genetic engineering—that is, in a laboratory they’ll be able to create a person from electrons, protons, and chemical bodies. And some scientist created me, and here I grew. So according to the Rabbi I’m obligated to obey that scientist because all my being came from him? Apparently yes. The Rabbi agrees? Yes. That’s the Rabbi’s intuition? Yes. I now have to obey him even though the life he decreed for me is very difficult and terrible. It didn’t succeed for him. It has nothing to do with moral gratitude, I’m saying. Yes, I’m asking on the intuitive level. He decreed on me a very hard life. You have an obligation toward him. It’s not the same as the Holy One, blessed be He, because the Holy One, blessed be He, created everything—He also created the laws and my parents and my environment. But yes, in principle there is an obligation toward him, yes. That’s also the intuitive obligation of honoring parents. Right. And certainly the Chayei Adam ties the obligation to parents to the obligation to the Holy One, blessed be He. He says it’s one-to-one. But we’re speaking about the Holy One, blessed be He. And to that he doesn’t answer. The fact that the Chayei Adam ties it doesn’t mean anything. I can say not like the Chayei Adam, and I say that the fact that they created me itself gives them rights over me, even without connection to the Holy One, blessed be He. Fine, he has such an argument. Okay, we’ll stop here. This last principle of Maimonides that we discussed—that the world is not eternal—what does it basically say? That He created the world and all materiality from nothing? Is that the meaning? That before that there was nothing and He created it, so to speak, out of nothing? Yes. Does the Rabbi think that contradicts Lavoisier’s statement that I wrote in the chat here? What? I didn’t see. What does it say? It says: “Nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything changes.” Philosophically does it contradict that? Yes. But today we know Lavoisier wasn’t right, meaning, you don’t need the Holy One, blessed be He, for that. The Big Bang. Why wasn’t he right? The Big Bang. A world came into being that previously wasn’t there; there was a singular point. You can say, what, everything changed from the point—and where did the point itself come from? Well, maybe philosophically… So that’s it, the Big Bang really—I don’t know what it is, but that’s probably the creation of the world. But since then, nothing is really created. Since then—but there it was created. Yes. So also when the Rabbi says “I create a painting,” it’s not that I created it—I took paint and from that I made a painting. Right. Anyone else? I wanted to speak with the Rabbi afterward. Yes. Okay, so thank you very much and Sabbath peace. It’s worth mentioning that tomorrow’s lesson is at eight-thirty. Ah, okay, yes. For anyone who didn’t notice.