The Way of Halakha – Why We Must Observe the Commandments – Lesson 1

Table of Contents

• [1:38] Introduction: Investigating the foundations of Jewish law beneath the surface level
• [4:17] Gratitude as a basis for serving God — a methodological question
• [9:06] Why one must study Torah — the thesis of “because one must”
• [12:02] The concept of “for its own sake” in commandments — a Talmudic passage in Nedarim
• [14:56] Out of love and fear in idolatry — an analysis of Maimonides
• [18:34] A Hasidic story: prayer while repairing wagon harnesses

Summary

General Overview

The speaker wants to deal with the foundations of Jewish law at the “level” beneath ordinary halakhic conduct, and to ask what the basis is for the obligation to obey Jewish law and serve God. He sharpens a methodological difficulty: an answer that grounds halakhic obligation in some prior value has to be both logically prior and strong enough to justify even self-sacrifice, and it is hard to find such a value. From this he suggests that serving God and Torah study are fundamental values that do not require external justification, and that the level of “unconditional obligation” comes before love, fear, experiences, and benefits, which are additional levels built on top of it.

The Methodology of Searching for the Foundation of Halakhic Obligation

The speaker poses as a first question where one even looks for an answer to the question, “Why must one obey Jewish law?” He cites the author of Duties of the Heart, who grounds the service of God in gratitude, and argues that such a grounding requires that the obligation of gratitude be logically prior to serving God and also strong enough to bear demands such as self-sacrifice. He argues that it is difficult to see any value “on the face of the earth” that is both prior to the Torah and strong enough to ground commitment to the Torah and Jewish law, and that even examples of social or military self-sacrifice are not really similar to self-sacrifice for a value in and of itself.

Why Study Torah: “Because One Must Study Torah” and Torah Study for Its Own Sake

The speaker describes a discussion about “why one must study Torah” and presents the position that the reason is simply “because one must study Torah,” since he cannot find any more basic value that could ground Torah study. He cites Nefesh HaChaim, Gate 4, in the name of the Rosh in Nedarim, that Torah study for its own sake means “for the sake of Torah,” unlike commandments, which are “for the sake of the One who commanded them,” and he derives this from the exposition: “Do things for the sake of the One who made them… and speak of them for their own sake.” He distinguishes between “for its own sake” and the dispute over whether commandments require intention, and argues that the law of doing something for its own sake appears in contexts such as guarded matzah, a bill of divorce written for the sake of the woman, “the offering must be slaughtered for the sake of six things,” the spinning of tzitzit, and a sukkah made for shade — and there it is not about intending to fulfill an obligation, because these acts are not commandments in themselves but conditions in the object itself.

“For Its Own Sake” Versus Intention: The Essence of the Obligation and Fulfilling It

The speaker explains that according to the view that commandments require intention, the intention is to fulfill one’s obligation, whereas “for its own sake” is not aimed at fulfilling an obligation but at defining the act as being done for the sake of the thing itself. He notes, as an aside, that the discussion of “fulfilling one’s obligation” is “a somewhat different issue” from the question of doing something for its own sake and serving God, and suggests coming back to it another time. He illustrates that the requirement of “for its own sake” exists even where there is no “obligation” to perform the act itself, and therefore it is not dependent on the discussion of whether commandments require intention.

Maimonides on Idolatry: Out of Love and Fear Versus “Accepted It as a God”

The speaker cites the dispute between Abaye and Rava in tractate Sanhedrin and the halakhic ruling in accordance with Rava that one who worships idols out of love or fear is exempt, and he presents the interpretation of most medieval authorities (Rishonim), that this refers to love of a person or fear of a person. He emphasizes that Maimonides writes that one who worships idols out of love or fear is exempt “unless he accepted it as a god,” and understands this to mean love and fear toward the idol itself, and still he is exempt — which sharpens the question, “When is one liable?” He interprets “accepted it as a god” to mean a commitment to do something “because it says so,” not out of love, fear, dread, or interest, and from this he derives that genuine service of God begins at the level of unconditional obligation, while love and fear are levels two and three and cannot replace the first level.

Stories of Prayer and Mechanical Commandment-Observance: Obligation as Level One

The speaker brings a story about Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, who saw a Jew repairing a wagon yoke while wearing tefillin and mumbling a prayer, and he argues that there is something profound in that: the fact that he keeps mumbling comes from a sense of obligation that “this is what one has to do.” He gives the example of a tired person who remembers that he did not pray Ma’ariv and mumbles a prayer without adequate concentration, and asks why he is doing it if he is not really fulfilling his obligation, and answers that this is an expression of the motivation of obligation. He describes an “archetypal” Jew who prays three times a day not for healing or livelihood but simply “because one must pray,” and criticizes the “righteous people” who rebuke this as mechanical observance, arguing that this is the prayer of a true servant of God. He attributes this basic position to “up to here, Leibowitz,” and adds that Leibowitz is mistaken when he concludes from this that intentions, requests, and experiences have no value, because those are levels two through four, built on top of level one — obligation.

Aglei Tal: Enjoyment in Torah Study and the Distinction Between “Enjoys” and “Studies Because of the Enjoyment”

The speaker cites the Aglei Tal in its introduction, where it states that it is a mistake to think that enjoyment of study detracts from doing it for its own sake, and that joy is even part of the commandment of Torah study, as is evident from the request in the blessing over Torah: “Please make the words of Your Torah sweet in our mouths.” He adds the lesser-known continuation in Aglei Tal, according to which one who studies “because of the enjoyment” — meaning that without the enjoyment he would not study — is not properly fulfilling the service of God. He connects this to the basic distinction that at the root of the act there must stand “because You commanded,” while enjoyment may join in but cannot be the obligating foundation.

Why There Is No “Why” for a Fundamental Value: Axioms, Chains of Justification, and Values That Are Not Arbitrary

The speaker argues that every process of grounding and justification stops at some foundational point that itself has no further justification, but that does not make it arbitrary; rather, it makes it self-evident. He compares this to geometry, where the axioms are not proven, yet they are the basis from which theorems are proved, and explains that a proved theorem cannot be “more correct” than the axiom on which it rests. He applies this to values and explains that if foundational values are viewed as arbitrary, then all behavior derived from them is arbitrary as well; therefore anyone who holds a meaningful value system must recognize that there are values that are true even without justification. He concludes that the question “Why serve God?” mistakenly assumes there is some more fundamental value that can ground it, whereas in his view the service of God itself is the fundamental value, and this is what is called “accepting Him as God.”

Study Beyond the Minimal Obligation and Educating Toward Torah Study

The speaker distinguishes between the obligatory part of the commandment of Torah study and Torah study for its own sake, which goes beyond the obligation, and cites the Talmudic passage in Nedarim 8 about “one chapter in the morning and one chapter in the evening” as the basis for fulfilling the obligation. He presents the dispute between the Rosh and the Ran over the scope of the obligation, and suggests that what motivates study beyond the minimum is the basic value of Torah itself, which needs no justification. He argues that in education toward Torah study, a person ultimately “digs within himself” and discovers this foundation, and that one can expose people to this possibility so they will not get confused by “confusing” questions, even if that may seem like rote repetition that some would call “brainwashing.”

Rabbi Amital, Truth, and the Holocaust: The Limits of Gratitude as a Basis for Serving God

The speaker returns to the basis of gratitude and cites Rabbi Amital in the article “Even Though He Distresses and embitters me” (A World Built, Destroyed, and Rebuilt; also in Alon Shevut), who asks how a Jew who passed through the gas chambers can serve God out of gratitude. He cites the Talmudic passage in Yoma 69 about the Men of the Great Assembly who restored the words “the mighty and the awesome,” and explains in the name of Rabbi Elazar: “Because they knew that the Holy One, blessed be He, is truthful, therefore they did not attribute falsehood to Him,” in order to show that one cannot base the service of God on a lie. He notes that even without the Holocaust there is a difficulty, because the Holy One, blessed be He, also “made” the troubles from which He later rescued us, and he raises the question, “For what exactly is one supposed to give thanks?” including mention of the saying, “It would have been more comfortable for man not to have been created than to have been created.”

Two Kinds of Gratitude: Moral and Philosophical, and the Link to Unconditional Obligation

The speaker presents a distinction between moral gratitude toward someone who has done one a favor, and philosophical gratitude, according to which the very fact that someone is the source of one’s existence creates an obligation toward him, even without any felt benefit. He refers to Yitzchak Hutner, Pachad Yitzchak, Rosh Hashanah, essay 3, as a place to see an implication of this philosophical conception. He brings a legal intuition from the issue of “wrongful birth,” in which a child sues his parents for not having had an abortion, and argues that the common intuition that he cannot sue reflects a sense of obligation, or of the impossibility of suing over existence itself. He connects this to his main claim: even when it seems that a person serves God out of gratitude, in practice the deeper obligation is that same unconditional “just because,” and philosophical gratitude can be called gratitude and can merge with the principle of “accepting Him as God” — “whatever He says, I do” — independent of love, fear, or benefit.

Okay, in these meetings I want to spend a little time on questions that touch on the foundations of Jewish law, but not on the halakhic planes themselves, rather one level below. I don’t know whether “below” is the right direction to look; some would maybe say it’s one level above, I don’t know. I mean: how halakhic conduct actually works, what assumptions lie at its foundation. In general, when people speak about the philosophy of Jewish law, that’s a fairly new subject under that title. In recent years there have been conferences about these matters. Usually they deal with questions about how the system operates: halakhic ruling, “these and those are both the words of the living God,” the meaning of rejected opinions, and so on. I’m trying to deal with similar things, but first, to try very often to see them within a genuinely halakhic perspective—that is, to try to see, מתוך the halakhic sources themselves, to try to resolve these problems. And second, also to try to see what assumptions stand behind these things. What I want to deal with today is really the foundation of foundations: why at all? Why should one live according to Jewish law at all, obey Jewish law? What is our halakhic obligation? When you ask a question of that sort, then first of all we have to ask ourselves a prior methodological question: how do we even look for the answer? Meaning: where do we even look for the answer? I’ll give perhaps an example. The author of Duties of the Heart writes, and elaborates over two sections, about serving God out of gratitude. That in itself is a somewhat problematic thesis—a very problematic thesis, not somewhat, in many respects—but right now I דווקא want to begin with one aspect, namely: how can it even be that this is the kind of answer we find? That is, this too touches on the question of where to look for the answer. Because clearly, if I base the obligation to serve God on gratitude, then I have to assume that the obligation to feel gratitude comes prior to serving God, and is strong enough—logically prior, not in the sense that it is stronger, but logically prior. Meaning: that obligation is something I know even without knowing that I have to serve God. Quite apart from the question of how strong the obligation of gratitude is. That’s another question. So I have to assume, first, that it is logically prior, and second, that it is strong enough to ground the obligation to the Torah. For example, the Torah in certain cases demands that I give up my life. I find it hard to imagine an obligation of gratitude that would cause me to give up my life. Meaning, the question whether—now I am talking about strength, not logical priority—the question is whether the strength of my obligation to the value of gratitude is strong enough to ground those very outcomes that I want to ground on it. In other words, the value I use to ground the obligation to serve God has to be such that, at least in some circumstances, I would be willing even to be killed for it. And that’s a strong claim about gratitude. I mean, I don’t know, I think many people—everyone answers this as he answers it. I don’t think one can lay down hard-and-fast rules here. But I don’t think many people would say that they are prepared to give up their lives for gratitude. Gratitude is a good thing; if someone did you a favor, you return a favor, you praise him, you smile nicely at him, you say thank you very much—but to be killed? That still sounds a bit extreme. So that’s why I bring up this problem. It is not the only one, and maybe not even the hardest one in the context of gratitude as a basis for serving God. I bring it in order to illustrate the methodological difficulty that exists when one asks such a question. The difficulty is basically: where do we look for the answer? Do we have any value at all—even before the question whether I can successfully ground on it the obligation to serve God—do we have any value under the sun that has such great force, and of course is also logically prior, meaning it exists independently of any obligation to the Holy One, blessed be He, and to the Torah, such that I can ground on it the obligation to the Torah and to Jewish law? It is hard to see such a value. Even, say, someone who gives up his life to protect society or the state in the army and things of that sort—first, that is usually situations of possible mortal danger, not certain mortal danger. A person does not go to be killed with his own hands, even in war, generally speaking. And second, there that is the result of a social contract: if we don’t do this, then all of us will die. Meaning, either way—it’s not being killed for the value; it’s being killed because we’ll be killed anyway. Even if we don’t do it, we’ll die. Meaning, it is very hard to think—I’m only trying to sharpen the point, I don’t care right now to argue over these matters. I’m trying to sharpen the difficulty in the very question I’m asking. Meaning, what kind of answer could even exist, could even be considered, before I’ve yet found the answer—where should I look for it? Meaning, what sort of value is even a candidate? I want to try to make for myself a list of possible answers and then check them one after another and see which of them can serve as a basis for serving God and which cannot. I don’t know how to make that list. That list is more or less the empty set. There was actually once a discussion here in the yeshiva about why one should study Torah. Surely there have been another ten thousand such discussions since then, I’m sure. In any event, I claimed in that discussion that the reason one should study Torah is because one should study Torah. That’s it. Therefore one should study Torah. And that is for the simple reason that I cannot find a value that would be both logically prior and stronger, such that I could ground Torah study on it. I cannot identify a more fundamental value. Again, the Holy One, blessed be He, could perhaps be such a thing—that could be some basis for this—but assuming that the Holy One, blessed be He, and the Torah are one, and “would that they forsook Me but kept My Torah,” then maybe even that won’t help. And the claim was—well, the question there was not really why study Torah, because there is a commandment to study Torah, so one has to study Torah. The question was: what use is it? In that sense, the Holy One, blessed be He, won’t help us. Meaning: what use is it? What does it advance? What kind of matter is it? What does it add? So here again you need to look for something that itself will not require an explanation. Yes? Something like: it adds to the value of, I don’t know, increasing the cosmic “yekum purkan” in the world. I don’t know what. And that “yekum purkan”—that’s the Aramaic word for x. Whatever you put in its place, it doesn’t matter. That “yekum purkan” is supposed to be logically prior and stronger than the obligation to study Torah, so that it can ground it. You understand? Those two conditions have to be fulfilled. I cannot find the domain of substitution for this variable. In other words, there isn’t one; the domain of substitution is an empty set. In fact, some of the guys here—I no longer remember, was it fourth-year students or those who studied Nefesh HaChayim with me? Fifth year? Fifth year. Those who studied Nefesh HaChayim with me here, we talked a bit about these matters. In Nefesh HaChayim, Gate 4, he discusses Torah study for its own sake. What is Torah study for its own sake? He brings there the Rosh in tractate Nedarim, where the Rosh says that Torah study for its own sake means for the sake of Torah. And that is called “for its own sake.” As opposed to fulfilling commandments, which is for the sake of God. The commandments are not a value in themselves; they are a means to serving God. They are, as it were, for the Holy One, blessed be He, in order to fulfill the demands that the Holy One, blessed be He, makes of us. Torah study is not like that. Torah study—we study for its own sake, meaning for the sake of Torah. There isn’t something more fundamental that can ground our obligation to study Torah. He derives this from some verse—how does it go there? “Do things for the sake of their Maker,” something like that, “and speak of them for their own sake.” The Talmud in Nedarim brings this, and there the Rosh says that “things”—the commandments—you do for the sake of their Maker, for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, who commanded them. “And speak of them”—speech means Torah study—“for their own sake,” that you do it for the sake of the things themselves, not for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, for the sake of their Maker. That is what he derives from there. What is really the point of this matter? We know that regarding commandments there is a dispute whether commandments require intent or do not require intent. The concept of “for its own sake” is not the concept of intent; these are different concepts. The concept of “for its own sake” appears in other halakhic contexts. For example: guarded matzah, which must be guarded for the sake of the commandment matzah; writing a bill of divorce for the sake of the woman being divorced; “for six purposes the sacrifice is slaughtered,” a Mishnah in tractate Zevachim; spinning fringes, and more—various things that have to be done for their own sake. The concept of “for its own sake” there is not the concept of intent in the sense of whether commandments require intent; it is a different concept. We do not find a dispute over whether matzah requires guarding for its own sake that depends on the question whether commandments require intent or not. And that is for the simple reason that baking matzah and guarding matzah is not a commandment at all. So why should it be related at all to whether commandments require intent? There is only a law that the matzah with which one fulfills the obligation must be guarded. There is no commandment to guard the matzah. A matzah that is not guarded—it may be that we cannot fulfill our obligation with it, but that is not because there is a commandment to guard the matzah. Or to spin fringes; also a sukkah for shade; writing a bill of divorce—that’s a great commandment. There is no commandment to write the bill of divorce, but a requirement of “for its own sake” is indeed demanded there. Meaning, the rule of “for its own sake” is not connected to the rule of whether commandments require intent, and in terms of content too it is unrelated. In terms of content, what does it mean that commandments require intent? According to the view that commandments require intent, then what is one supposed to intend? You know? To fulfill the obligation. Right, that is what one must intend; with prayer too it is like that. In prayer one first has to intend to fulfill the obligation, and only afterward all the mystical intentions of the Ari. So “commandments require intent” means intending to fulfill the obligation, for the sake of their Maker. “For its own sake” is not in order to fulfill an obligation, as I said before, because there is no obligation. There is no obligation to spin fringes, no obligation to build a sukkah, there are no obligations, so certainly I do not need to fulfill any obligation here. So what does the concept of “for its own sake” mean? We talked about this back then in the classes on Nefesh HaChayim. Maimonides, in the laws of idolatry, writes—this is a dispute in the Talmud in tractate Sanhedrin between Abaye and Rava—about someone who worships idols out of love or fear: is he exempt or liable? And the halakhah follows Rava, that one who worships idols out of love or fear is exempt. Now the medieval authorities (Rishonim) there naturally wonder the obvious question: then when is one liable? When I hate the idol? When I don’t… What else is there besides worshiping idols out of love or fear? What greater service or ritual do we have than that? What idol worship would one be liable for? In fact, most of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) explain, as Rashi writes there and Tosafot, that idol worship out of love or fear means out of love for a person or fear of a person. Meaning, I worship idols for someone’s sake, because I fear him or because I love him and want to please him—then I am exempt. If I love or fear the statue itself, the idol itself, then of course I am liable. That is the simple assumption of the medieval authorities (Rishonim). But when Maimonides brings this law—if that were the plain meaning in the Talmud, then it is clear to you that Maimonides will write the opposite—and Maimonides writes that one who worships idols out of love or fear is exempt unless he accepts it as a god over himself. I don’t remember the exact wording. Meaning, clearly when he speaks of worship out of love or fear, he does not mean out of love or fear of a person, but love and fear of the idol itself—and then you are exempt. So of course here the question comes back up: then when are you liable? If one who worships idols out of love and fear is exempt, then when are you liable? What is this supreme, perfect ritual for which you are liable? Of course this question is interesting also on the other side—or really on the first side—the side of serving God. For serving God out of love and fear, if we make this analogy, then serving God out of love and fear is not serving God. So what is? It is not religious ritual, right? It is not serving a deity. So what is it? It seems to me that I once heard from some friend that the explanation of this Maimonides—Maimonides contrasts idol worship out of love and fear with idol worship in which one has accepted it as a god. What does “accept it as a god” mean? In other words, what is there in serving God—or the gods, on the other side—beyond love and fear? Do you understand how all this connects to the question troubling us here? Meaning, what is the meaning of this obligation to serve God? What is there here beyond love and fear? Here they brought an example, a famous Hasidic story. Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev saw a Jew leaving the synagogue in the middle of prayer, still wearing tefillin, and fixing the yoke of his wagon there near the synagogue, while continuing to mumble the prayer during the repair. So he says to the Holy One, blessed be He: look, Master of the Universe, what a people of righteous men—they pray in the synagogue, they pray in the street, they pray while fixing wagons; these Jews never stop praying. Wonderful, truly genuine servants of God. The first time I heard that story I shook my head out of concern for gossip and did not add another word. But now I want to repent regarding that matter. I think there is something very deep in that story. Why does that Jew keep mumbling? Not why he goes out to fix it—that is obvious. But why does he keep mumbling? What do you say? What is he mumbling for? What is he doing, making a joke of it? After all, he is not fulfilling his obligation anyway—“the sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination.” So why continue to mumble there? A Jew went to ask… A Jew went to sleep, almost dozed off already, wrecked with exhaustion, and then remembered that he had not prayed the evening prayer. The evening prayer is optional, as is known. What does he do? Sometimes he gets up, lowers one leg from the bed, shoves one hand into the pajama somehow—it’s not nice to pray like that with nothing on—and mumbles the prayer in skips, says one thing and covers up a little and goes back, closes his eyes, and goes looking for new stories. Why does he do that? After all, he has not fulfilled the obligation of prayer—he had no intent, he barely even said it, not only did he not intend it. Why does he do it? Is he an idiot? At least let him gain some sleep; just an irrational fellow. Why does he do it? Let me ask you a third question—a hint. A Jew goes to the synagogue in the morning. He is alert, not tired, not fixing wagons, wearing tefillin, with everything, and he prays the Amidah with tremendous devotion. Why does he do that? Because he wants healing from the Holy One, blessed be He? “Heal us, Lord, and we shall be healed”? He is not sick. Wants a livelihood? Thank God, he has a plentiful livelihood. One has to pray, right? He goes because one has to pray, right? That is the reason he goes. That same person—I am talking about the archetypal Jew, right? The simple, ordinary Jew, simple or not simple, I don’t know, who goes to the synagogue three times a day and prays properly—he is not dreaming of healing or livelihood or anything. Maybe he dreams of other things during the prayer, but certainly not of that. So why does he go? You know the verse “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we invoke the name of the Lord our God.” There are those who, in order to get to America, need chariots and horses and planes; we invoke the name of the Lord. The moment we start the Amidah, we’re already in America. So why does he do it? He does it because there is an obligation to do it, that’s all. Now there are all kinds of righteous people who come and scold him: “So this is just rote observance, and his prayer is worth nothing, and it would have been better had he not prayed.” And they—it would have been better had they not opened their mouths. You have no better prayer than that. That is the prayer of a genuine servant of God. A genuine servant of God is someone who needs nothing, but goes to pray because one has to pray. And prayer requires intent, and commandments require intent, and prayer requires intent—he also has intent for the meaning of the words, and also the intent to fulfill the obligation—he simply does not need livelihood, and he is not coming for that. He is even doing the intentions because one has to. That is the Jew who usually goes to pray. I don’t know what your experience is, each person for himself; today I confess my own sins. Most of my prayers are like that. So what—is that rote observance? Is it better not to pray like that? Better not to pray? I think not. That is prayer that is—what is service of the heart? This is prayer. Genuine service of God is when you do it because that is what one must do, because you were commanded; therefore you do it. Now, up to here—Leibowitz. Why is Leibowitz nevertheless wrong? It’s usually like that: he is right up to a certain point and wrong from there on. In that he always takes a correct idea one step too far, almost always. And the idea is a correct idea, but it does not follow from it that there is no value in intentions, prayers, requests to the Holy One, blessed be He, desires and longings. That does not follow from here. That is level two, level three, level four; there are different levels. The basic level of prayer is that one needs to fulfill the obligation of the commandment of prayer. Therefore one goes to pray. On top of that, of course, if you can also have intention, and if you have experiences, then wonderful. And if you also want, I don’t know, requests and prayers, healings and salvations and all kinds of such things—and there is no righteous man who will give them to you for a hundred shekels—then you go and you do that in prayer too, so there are additional levels as well. But that is level two, level three, level four; not level one. If that is level one, then you have not fulfilled the obligation of prayer. And I say this to those who scold that Jew. If they pray only because they need salvations and healings, they have not fulfilled the commandment of prayer. For according to Maimonides it is a positive commandment, etc., but according to Nachmanides, who disagrees—no, no, it is a rabbinic commandment. A rabbinic commandment—is that not a commandment? It is a different definition, not the same positive commandment of serving God; that is not the point at all. But there is a rabbinic commandment to pray. The Torah-level commandment according to Maimonides to pray—if there is such a thing at all—the Sefer HaChinukh says there is. The object of prayer exists even according to Maimonides. Fine, if you pray, that counts as prayer; there are practical implications to that, but it is not the commandment of prayer. Fine, but three daily prayers at set times and texts and so on—that is certainly not Torah-level according to Nachmanides, and according to Maimonides probably not either. It’s not clear, but probably not. So what does this really mean? Maybe I’ll give another example. In the introduction to Eglei Tal he says that some people mistakenly think that if one studies and enjoys the study, then it is studying not for its own sake. You have to suffer; otherwise it is not genuine service of God—you must suffer. So he says: there is no greater mistake than that. Joy is part of the commandment of Torah study. Pleasure is part of the commandment of Torah study. How do we know this? Every morning we bless: “Please make the words of Your Torah sweet in our mouths.” Obviously, I don’t assume that we recite the blessing over Torah and ask the Holy One, blessed be He, that we should not fulfill the commandment of Torah study. So clearly the enjoyment does not detract from the commandment, that is obvious. He says more than that: it is even part of the commandment. But there is a continuation to Eglei Tal that people know less well: someone who studies because of the pleasure truly has not fulfilled his obligation. That is something else. Someone who studies and also enjoys it—that is perfectly fine; on the contrary, that is the more important commandment. But someone who studies because of the pleasure, meaning that without the pleasure he would not study, has not fulfilled his obligation. That is not serving God. Because commandments require intent, you need to… Well, the question is whether… What? He’s done, he blows the whistle and sings. What do you mean he studies in order to enjoy and then he fulfills? He knows it’s a commandment. What, he doesn’t know? It’s like saying… Fine. First, the question is what the matter means. If it is “on condition that my son shall live”—and without my son living I would not have given—then here there is an “I” who needs something and would not have given without my son living? That is a totally different question, because the commandment of charity, when the poor person is standing before me, is an obligatory commandment; when he is not before me, it is an existential commandment. An existential commandment does not require fulfilling an obligation at all. There is no obligation. And when there is an obligation, then if you give it so that your son will live, and without that you would not have given, you did not fulfill your obligation. Even charity—you didn’t. Besides, there are opinions that this is only regarding charity and not all commandments, because charity is like an offering; that is already another topic. The question is whether this is a general principle or only regarding charity. What? The examples are of “for its own sake”; a person enjoys it, that’s not… No, maybe I’ll go back for a moment to that point—you’re right. “For its own sake” and intent, as I said earlier, are two concepts. When I say that you are doing it not for its own sake, I mean you did not serve God. As for the question of whether one has fulfilled the obligation, that is already a somewhat different topic, and maybe we’ll discuss it on one of the next occasions. You’re right, I accept that comment. So basically, why does that Jew who fixed the wagon yoke keep mumbling? Why does the one who forgot the evening prayer mumble, even though he hasn’t fulfilled the obligation at all? Why does he do it? Because of the simple sense of obligation—that one must do it because that is what is written, that one must do it. There is a halakhic obligation to do it; that is why he does it. Now, it is true: he has not fulfilled the obligation, he hasn’t done this or that—but he is trying; his conscience bothers him; after all, one is obligated, and this and that. Basically there is here an expression of a genuine motivation for serving God. That does not mean that he fulfilled the obligation of prayer; that is already a different question. But there is here an expression—that is perhaps part of the difference between “for its own sake” and “commandments require intent.” But there is here an expression of genuine motivation for serving God. It is not sloppiness, it is not rote observance; on the contrary, this is serving God on almost the highest level. Not the highest level. The most fundamental serving of God, let’s call it that. This is how one should serve God: because first of all there is an obligation. Even if I do not need livelihood, or health, or anything, I need to go pray; there is a commandment to pray. Even if my son is alive, thank God, everything is fine, healthy and whole, I still have to give charity in circumstances where one must. Meaning, I need to do these things first of all because I was commanded. And there is an obligation to obey the command. After that, all the benefits that may come from it—not only benefits in the lower sense, also benefits in the higher sense. So if I now return to Maimonides on serving God for its own sake, or idol worship for its own sake, then what does it mean that one accepted it as a god? As distinct from love and fear. One who worships an idol out of love or fear is exempt. Why is he exempt? Tell me, if a police officer comes to me and says: listen, drive at the speed limit or else I’ll fine you. So I drive at the speed limit. That’s idol worship, no? Out of fear. I’m afraid he’ll punish me, and therefore I do what he says. Isn’t that idol worship out of fear? Or just obeying the law—isn’t that idol worship out of fear? There are those who want to say yes. Maybe even idol worship out of love sometimes. Why is it not idol worship? Because there is no acceptance of him as a god. No, you do not need an act of idol worship. The four ritual acts—for them you are liable even if you do not intend to worship idols, or even if it is not that idol’s normal mode of worship. So in the four ritual acts you are liable, but where that is its normal worship, you do not need the four acts. Whatever is defined as its worship—that is idol worship. So why not? Because there is no acceptance of it as a god. What is acceptance as a god? Maimonides contrasts acceptance as a god with worship out of love or fear. Worship out of love or fear means I do something because I love him; I do something because I fear him. That is a police officer, not idol worship. Idol worship means: I do it because he says so. That is called idol worship. I accepted him as a god over me. I don’t love him, don’t hate him, don’t fear him, and none of that. Whatever he says, I do—that’s all. Entirely independent of whether I love, fear, am scared, want healings, fear for salvations—whatever you want, it is irrelevant. Whatever he says, I do. This unconditional obligation—that is religious ritual. If it is directed toward an idol, that is idol worship. If it is directed toward the Holy One, blessed be He, that is serving God. If that does not exist—if there is no acceptance of him as a god, but only love or fear—then just as it is not idol worship, it is also not serving God. Serving God out of love or fear, without the unconditional obligation—that if one day I wake up on the wrong side of the bed, I don’t love Him, don’t fear Him, nothing, and still I continue because of the obligation—if that does not exist, then all that love and fear are worth nothing. Love and fear are level two and three, not level one. If level one is missing, level two and three are hanging in the air; they have no meaning. You are serving yourself, not the Holy One, blessed be He. So that is exactly what I said before: Leibowitz’s mistake. On the one hand he is right that there must be a level one; on the other hand, that does not mean there should not also be level two and three. It does not mean that. It only means that two and three cannot be one. They have to come afterward, not instead. Love and fear, and all the great things that can accompany prayer, can come after the obligation. First of all, there is obligation, and so it is regarding everything. That is really the concept of “for its own sake.” We saw earlier the concept of “for its own sake”: to serve, to study Torah, and “speak of them for their own sake.” One studies Torah for its own sake. What does that mean? The Rosh says: for the sake of Torah. What does that mean, for the sake of Torah? I study Torah for the sake of Torah. I study Torah just because—right? That is basically what he is telling us. I have no better reason than Torah itself. And that’s it; that is the most basic reason. There is no more fundamental reason that can explain to me why I study Torah. I study Torah for Torah, in order to study Torah. What does that really mean? That is the meaning of the concept “for its own sake.” The meaning of “for its own sake” is: I do it for the sake of this thing, and not because this thing is a means to something else. For the sake of this thing—I do it for its sake. No—it is an end, not a means. It is not a means to something else. When there are things that I can justify through more fundamental principles, that is a sign that they are instrumental, not ends. Right? If serving God were for the sake of gratitude, then clearly all serving God would be only a means to realize the value of gratitude. But it is not. Serving God is not a means; it is an end. It is a value that stands on its own. A value is something that is an end and not a means. That is what is called a value. Therefore, just as for Torah study I cannot find a prior reason that will ground for me the obligation—or not necessarily the obligation, but the usefulness of Torah study—the usefulness of Torah study is that I know Torah, that I have studied Torah. Why is that so? Because there is no such thing—as I opened with—there is no more fundamental value, both on the logical plane, one that is both logically prior and stronger, on which I can ground the obligation to study Torah. That is the most basic obligation there is. And therefore I do not need to look for something to ground it either. For every process of grounding must stop somewhere. Someone asks me: tell me, why do you do x? Because of y. And why do you do y? Because of z. And why do you do z? At some point it stops, right? And then what? Then z has no reason why I do it—so it is arbitrary, right? So if it is arbitrary, then how does it help me that because of it I do y? Then y is arbitrary too. After all, z is arbitrary, so what do I care that I do y because of it? Then y is arbitrary too. So all justifications are worth nothing. Unless—z is not arbitrary. Z is so clear and self-evident that no justification is needed to explain why I am obligated to it. Like in geometry, right? The axioms have no proof, right? From the axioms we derive derivative propositions: theorems, theses, right? Now we prove those theses on the basis of the axioms. Fine—but the axioms have no proof, so what is the point of all these proofs? The axioms are arbitrary, right? They have no proof. So what does it help that I have a proof for the proposition that the sum of the angles in a triangle is 180 degrees? Such a proof is just a reduction of that proposition to the axioms. If the axioms are arbitrary, and therefore this too is arbitrary, then what does that help? Once I asked high school students which is more correct: the theorem that the sum of the angles in a triangle is 180 degrees, or the theorem that between two points there passes one straight line? The first has a proof; the second does not—it is an axiom. Seemingly the first is more correct, no? What do you say? Obviously not, right? The result cannot be more correct than the premise. And if the premise is arbitrary, then even if the result is proven on its basis, the result is arbitrary too. Meaning, if we do not accept the truth of the premises, then the whole structure is meaningless. Entirely arbitrary. All the proofs in the middle do not help; the proofs only connect propositions for me: if this, then that; and if this, then that. But if I do not know that the first is true, then all the rest are arbitrary to the same degree. The same is true in the realm of values. In the realm of values too there is grounding. There are fundamental values, and from them I derive secondary values or derivative forms of conduct. If I cannot ground the values themselves, because they are the most fundamental values, then if I think they are arbitrary, all my behavior in the world is arbitrary, because it is based on those values. Unless—someone thinks it is not arbitrary. Someone who thinks it is, then we stop here. And someone who thinks it is not all arbitrary, then apparently he thinks there are things which, although not justified, are nevertheless true. Values are something non-arbitrary despite the fact that we have no justification for them. And for the most basic thing, from which onward I begin my chain of justifications, I myself will never have a justification for it, right? By definition. Because if I had a justification for it, then that other thing would be the basic one and not this. Meaning, the basic thing is defined precisely as the thing for which I no longer have justifications. But that does not mean it is not true. On the contrary, it means it is so true and self-evident that I accept it even without justifications, even without proofs. So when someone asks me, say, why study Torah or why serve God, that question assumes there is some more fundamental value that is self-evident, stronger and also logically prior, and that can ground the obligation to study Torah or the obligation to serve God. And why is that value correct? That doesn’t need justification because it is self-evident. So for me, what is self-evident is Torah study or serving God. Therefore I do not look for more fundamental things. And it seems to me that it would be difficult to find more fundamental things. Again, I am not saying that this is how everyone has to proceed; everyone needs to examine his own value system. I’m telling you what I think. But someone who bases it on gratitude should examine himself again—does he really think that as a result of that he is also willing to give up his life? Either he is not willing to give up his life, or gratitude is not really the basis. In other words, one has to check oneself again. Which means that basically the conclusion is: when there is some fundamental value system, the very question why we do it is a question based on a mistake. It is a question based on the assumption that this is not a fundamental value system, but that there is something even more fundamental that can ground these values. Now, in serving God it seems to me—and I assume many of you will accept this—that there is nothing more fundamental than the obligation to serve God. On the contrary, because I serve God, therefore I am obligated to good character traits and to gratitude and to all sorts of things like that—not necessarily commandments; we talked about this today in class, but never mind—from the… from the obligation of serving God, not necessarily to commandments in the formal sense. So that, I think, is easy to understand there. What about Torah study? With Torah study it seems to me the situation is similar, perhaps within the system. What do I mean? Torah study is a very fundamental value that cannot be reduced to any other value, when I am talking about the parts of Torah study that are not obligatory. There is one part that is the commandment of Torah study, a commandment like any other commandment. Commandments require intent, with all the rules of commandments: for the sake of their Maker, not necessarily for their own sake—but that is reciting the Shema morning and evening, right? There one fulfills the obligation. One chapter in the morning, one chapter in the evening, and that is perfectly fine, at least according to some of the medieval authorities (Rishonim). The Talmud, in its plain sense—the Talmud in Nedarim 8. So reciting the Shema morning and evening is enough in terms of fulfilling the obligation. So why does one study all the rest? That is the Ran against the Rosh. The Rosh says that is the only obligation. The Ran says it is because of “and you shall teach them diligently,” and even that he says is only rabbinic, and therefore an oath can take effect on it; meaning, it is something weaker. One also has to understand what it is based on. But let’s leave that; for the moment let us go with the Rosh. So why does one need to study? One needs to study because one needs to study. That is the concept of “for its own sake.” Torah study for its own sake is not Shema morning and evening. Torah study for its own sake is that Torah which one does not need to study. So why study? What do you mean, why study? Ask me why one must feel gratitude—I understand the question. Why, I don’t know, honor parents? Wonderful question. But why study Torah? That is the most basic thing there is. I don’t know what further reason I can give for that. It is the most basic value there is in my eyes—I say again, everyone should examine himself. And therefore there is no question why to study beyond Shema morning and evening. Right. It cannot be otherwise. So how do you educate a child to study Torah? I think that ultimately, when a person digs within himself, he finds it. Even though he is not always aware of it. Many people ask themselves why study Torah, why serve God—the questions I dealt with here. And after you tell them this, they in fact discover that they too think this way. If not, then I don’t know what to tell them. Meaning, then I have nothing to tell them; it is not something I can transfer. But the advantage of this is at least to expose people to this option, because once you expose people to this option, some of them at least will discover that they are there too. Then they will not get confused by all sorts of confusing questions. That’s all. Meaning, it only hastens those already inclined; only someone who finds it within himself finds it, and someone who doesn’t, doesn’t. And therefore in truth the way to educate is, in some sense, maybe not… maybe to keep repeating this thing. You can’t convince; but you can transmit it over and over and over until it gets in. There are those who will say again that this is nothing but brainwashing. I think it is not brainwashing. A great many things that are repeated to me—I am still able to reject them and not accept them, at least in many cases. I think this reveals something that is already there in the person, and therefore it is not only brainwashing, so it seems to me. They’ll say that this too is the result of my own complete brainwashing. So therefore it seems to me that the answer to the question why fulfill commandments, why serve God, is a wonderful answer: just like that. That is the best answer there is. Because if there were another answer, it would mean I have an even more fundamental value, and then this would not be my most fundamental value. It seems to me that serving God is supposed to be the most basic value. That is what is called acceptance of Him as God. What Maimonides speaks about on the side of idol worship—on the side of serving God: acceptance of Him as God. What is acceptance of Him as God? That whatever He says, I do. Not because I love Him, not because I fear Him, not because of anything, but because of some self-evident sense that whatever He says, I must do. There is some obligation that is not conditioned on anything; it has no explanations. If it had explanations, it would be conditioned on something. “Any love that depends on something—when the thing ceases, the love ceases.” Maimonides in chapter 10 of the laws of repentance does indeed speak about serving God out of love and connects it to serving God for its own sake. There he does connect the things. But it seems to me that he is speaking about two different kinds of love. The higher love he speaks of there—that is what I am speaking about here: obligation, this unconditional bond to the Holy One, blessed be He. Sometimes that too is called serving God out of love. But that is not what is called out of love or fear in the laws of idolatry. There, love means—in a certain broader sense, let’s call it interested love. Not necessarily to gain something, but still where I have some goal outside the thing itself, where it is a means and not an end. Maybe one final note, because I won’t have time to really get into it. I spoke about gratitude in Duties of the Heart. Rabbi Amital asks in one of his essays—he calls it “Even though He causes me distress and bitterness.” There is in Rabbi Amital’s book about the Holocaust—what is it called… yes, A World Built, Destroyed, and Built Again. It also appears there; it also appeared in Alon Shevut. So he asks there: how can a Jew who went through the gas chambers and so on feel gratitude toward the Holy One, blessed be He, and serve God out of gratitude? He then brings the Talmud in tractate Yoma 69b: “Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: why were they called the Men of the Great Assembly? Because they restored the crown to its former glory. Moses came and said: ‘the great, mighty, and awesome God.’ Jeremiah came and said: foreigners are crowing in His sanctuary—where is His awesomeness? He did not say ‘awesome.’ Daniel came and said: foreigners are enslaving His children—where is His might? He did not say ‘mighty.’ They came and said: on the contrary, this is His mighty might, that He conquers His inclination and gives long patience to the wicked; and these are His awesome deeds, for if not for the fear of the Holy One, blessed be He, how could one nation endure among the nations?” And the rabbis—how could they do this and uproot the enactment that Moses instituted? How did they uproot an enactment instituted by Moses our teacher? It is known, the dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) whether an enactment instituted by Moses our teacher is Torah-level or rabbinic. Rabbi Elazar said: because they knew of the Holy One, blessed be He, that He is truthful, therefore they did not speak falsely of Him. One may not lie. What does that mean? How can we uproot it? So what should I do, lie? I cannot lie, so therefore they omitted it. And then he says: so one cannot lie. Duties of the Heart says one must serve out of gratitude, but he cannot. He cannot. By the way, you don’t need the Holocaust for this. There are many much better questions, even without the Holocaust, about gratitude as a reason to serve God. All the troubles that the Holy One, blessed be He, rescued me from—He also made them. So what exactly am I supposed to thank Him for? What? Your very existence? Who said my very existence is good? “It would have been preferable for a person not to have been created than to have been created.” But this is gratitude. Gratitude for what? For having done me harm? They voted and concluded. They voted and concluded: it would have been preferable for a person not to have been created than to have been created, and now that he has been created, let him examine his deeds. Preferable? Preferable. Fine, that is another question. Fine, never mind, so let us speak about someone for whom it would indeed have been preferable not to have been created, all right? It does not matter right now whether that is everyone. The question what exactly this “preferable” means is another question. “Noah was a righteous and wholehearted man.” So what? So Rabbi Amital wants to argue that serving God must be built on truth, and therefore it cannot be gratitude. In our case, one cannot ground our serving God on a foundation of gratitude; that is what Rabbi Amital says there. Then he brings another passage from Duties of the Heart, and he says: “As was said about one of the pious men, that he would arise at night and say: My God, You have made me hungry, and left me naked, and seated me in the darkness of night, and shown me Your strength and greatness. If You should burn me in fire, I would only add to my love of You and my rejoicing in You.” Similar to what was said: “Though He slay me, I will hope in Him.” And to this matter the sage alluded when he said: “A bundle of myrrh is my beloved unto me; between my breasts he shall lie.” And our sages said by way of interpretation: even though He causes me distress and bitterness, my beloved lies between my breasts.” Meaning, despite the fact that He causes me distress and bitterness—nevertheless. So this is a kind of answer like that. At the beginning you decided that gratitude is the reason why you serve God. Well then—here is where we are tested. Now there is no reason for gratitude. So now what? Are we done with serving God, goodbye, let’s go to the beach? No. Now he suddenly discovers something new. Two laws for a designated maidservant? Now he suddenly discovers some law that had been hidden there even in the situation where you did have gratitude. What? He calls it serving God out of faith. I don’t so much understand that term. What does “out of faith” mean? Faith is a kind of information: I believe in the Holy One, blessed be He, I know He exists. So what? I know He exists, but who said I need to serve Him? But what he apparently means is that I serve Him just because—without some other reason. Fine—then leave gratitude out of it. Then even when you have gratitude, you are not serving Him out of gratitude. There—you see that when gratitude is absent, you continue. So even when gratitude is present, it is not because of that. So remove gratitude from here. What does gratitude have to do with it at all? So here I will say just one sentence and stop, because I already have to run. There are two kinds of gratitude. There is philosophical gratitude and moral gratitude. Moral gratitude is gratitude toward someone who bestowed good on me. Then there is some obligation to show him gratitude. Look in Pachad Yitzhak too—I mentioned this several times here in the yeshiva. Where is it? Rosh Hashanah, essay 3, Pachad Yitzhak on Rosh Hashanah, essay 3. There you will see an interesting implication of this whole idea of understanding gratitude as something philosophical rather than moral. Moral gratitude is: someone did me a favor, so I am supposed to repay him with good. Philosophical gratitude is: if there is someone through whom I exist, then automatically an obligation of mine toward him is created. Quite apart from whether he wronged me; or even if they simply took me away from them at age zero and they did nothing for me—then why do I owe them anything at all? They took me against their will; never mind, not because they neglected me or something. But still, they didn’t do anything for me. So what? Do I truly owe them nothing in such a situation? I think there is still some obligation there, and it stems from the fact that there is a philosophical principle of gratitude: one from whom you derive is someone to whom you are obligated. Now, grounding this is of course hard—but the only way is to do what I said before, the way I do it: simply show that such intuitions exist in us, both in relation to parents and on legal levels. You know, there is a very interesting legal issue called wrongful birth. What is wrongful birth? A child sues his parents because they did not have an abortion. Because he was born very sick, impaired, and has a miserable life. So he sues his parents for not having had an abortion. Can he sue them? The accepted views today in legal theory are that he cannot sue them. Most accepted legal views are that he cannot. Now people spin around themselves and don’t know how to explain this, but somehow in the end everyone arrives at: yes, but obviously one cannot sue one’s parents, and that’s that. They cannot formulate for themselves something that is there within them. Now there are various explanations; one can propose this in several shades. But one shade, it seems to me, stands behind the matter—and I can’t get into it more—is the fact that I am obligated to them by virtue of the very fact that they brought me into being. I cannot sue someone over the fact that I exist. What do I want—not to exist? If I do not exist, there will be no plaintiff. Meaning, this is only an indication; by itself it is not enough. But I am saying it is also an indication that we have some intuition that if I come by virtue of someone, I am obligated to him. If I owe him my entire existence, then I am obligated to him. It seems to me that here gratitude connects with the “just because” that I spoke about earlier. Earlier I said: why do we serve God? Just because. Duties of the Heart said: because of gratitude. Suddenly Rabbi Amital says: yes, I served out of gratitude until the Holocaust; after the Holocaust it was over for me. So then why didn’t you stop serving? Because even before the Holocaust, you were not serving because of gratitude. You imagined that you were serving because of gratitude. Rather, one can call it gratitude, because it seems to me that this is also the root of moral gratitude. Since also someone who did good to me—even if he did not create me—still, he did good to me, so there is in me something of his. There is in me something that came from him, and therefore moral gratitude too is fundamentally rooted in philosophical gratitude. That is the more fundamental thing. And that is really the basis, and that is the “just because” I spoke about earlier—and therefore one serves God, and therefore I serve God. Good.