Midrash and Principles of Interpretation – Lesson 6

Table of Contents

• Maimonides’ two innovations about derash: interpretive and halakhic
• The independence of the two innovations and examples of different combinations
• Supporting derash, creative derash, Nachmanides’ objection, and indications for the distinction
• The example of “the fruit of a beautiful tree,” a law given to Moses at Sinai, and doubts regarding measures
• Levels of connection to verses: rejecting the Torah-level/rabbinic dichotomy
• A mere asmachta and the Ritva versus the conventional view
• First root: “do not deviate,” rabbinic doubt, and the tension between source of authority and formal status
• “Offenders will be punished” as a model: branching versus specification, and a formal definition of prohibition
• Legumes on Passover, the Sanhedrin, and the status of an “invention” versus a binding enactment

Summary

General overview

The text presents Maimonides’ approach to derash as made up of two separate innovations: an interpretive innovation, according to which the hermeneutical principles of derash do not uncover a law already written in the verse, but rather expand the “spirit of the verse”; and a halakhic innovation, according to which the products of such derashot have the status of words of the Scribes rather than Torah-level law. The text explains that one can accept one innovation without the other, brings the Ran in tractate Nedarim as an example of accepting the interpretive innovation while rejecting the halakhic one, and proposes a way to understand how Maimonides distinguishes between “creative” derash and “supporting” derash, whose status is Torah-level when the Sages indicate this or when the structure of the Talmudic passage suggests that the law preceded the derashot. From this, the text develops a conception of a continuum of “levels of connection to verses,” rather than a dichotomy, including a discussion of the concept of “a mere asmachta” in the Ritva, while at the same time proposing a similar framework for the relation between do not deviate and rabbinic laws, so that the Sages retain authority without every rabbinic law automatically becoming Torah-level.

Maimonides’ two innovations about derash: interpretive and halakhic

The text states that Maimonides’ interpretive innovation is that laws derived from derash are not “found inside the verse,” but are rather an expansion of the idea of the verse, so derash is an expanding tool and not a revealing one. The text illustrates this with “You shall fear the Lord your God”—to include Torah scholars—as an expansion of fear of God that also applies to Torah scholars, and not as a claim that this obligation is itself written in the verse. The text adds that Maimonides’ halakhic innovation is that the products of such derashot are words of the Scribes and not Torah-level law, because in his view what is Torah-level is only what is interpreted literally from the Torah. The text ties this to implications such as “we do not punish” for a law that comes from derash—“we don’t administer lashes, there’s no liability to punishment”—and suggests that even with regard to doubt one should seemingly require “rabbinic doubt is treated leniently,” although it adds that “we’ll still talk more” about laws that emerge from derashot.

The independence of the two innovations and examples of different combinations

The text argues that the two innovations “do not depend on each other,” and each can be adopted separately. The text brings the Ran in Nedarim as an example: a law learned by derash is not written in the Torah, and therefore an oath to fulfill it can take effect, whereas an oath regarding something explicitly written in the Torah does not take effect because a person is already sworn from Mount Sinai. The text concludes that the Ran accepts the idea that derash expands rather than reveals, but rejects Maimonides’ halakhic claim and holds that such laws are Torah-level and not rabbinic. The text also proposes, at least in principle, the opposite position: accepting the halakhic innovation—“what is not written in the Torah is not Torah-level”—while rejecting the interpretive innovation by arguing that laws of derash are indeed “written in the Torah” in the sense that they are revealed there, and are therefore Torah-level, though the text notes, “I don’t actually know of such a view.”

Supporting derash, creative derash, Nachmanides’ objection, and indications for the distinction

The text quotes Maimonides that laws of derash are “like branches that emerge from the roots,” and interprets this as an expansion that grows out of the verses themselves but is still not Torah-level. The text presents Nachmanides’ objection: if “tradition does not create a Torah-level law” and “derash also does not create a Torah-level law,” then how can “supporting derash” generate Torah-level status—“zero plus zero equals one.” The text suggests that the distinction is this: a derash that stands on its own is expansive and therefore is not written in the Torah, whereas “supporting derash” indicates that the tradition comes to tell us that in this case the derash functions as revealing rather than expanding, and so the law is Torah-level. The text says it is hard to distinguish based on the derash itself, but points to indications, such as a Talmudic passage that offers “five suggestions” for deriving an agreed-upon law, from which it appears that the law preceded the derashot, and therefore this is “supporting derash.”

The example of “the fruit of a beautiful tree,” a law given to Moses at Sinai, and doubts regarding measures

The text brings the passage in tractate Rosh Hashanah where “the fruit of a beautiful tree” means an etrog, and emphasizes that the abundance of derashot together with agreement about the result suggests an earlier tradition. The text says Maimonides agrees that this is Torah-level even though it is brought through derashot, and even cites it as an example of how “the fruit of a beautiful tree” being an etrog is a “law given to Moses at Sinai,” based on the structure of the Talmudic passage. The text presents Maimonides’ view that both a “law given to Moses at Sinai” and laws of derash are not, in and of themselves, Torah-level, because they are not written in the Torah, and explains this as a preference for “black on white” over tradition, which might be suspected of human error. The text illustrates the issue of doubt through “the measures… are a law given to Moses at Sinai,” and brings Maimonides’ Commentary on the Mishnah in tractate Kelim chapter 17, where he discusses the possibility that a doubt about a measure should have been treated leniently because it is a rabbinic doubt, but explains that in practice the measures “only specify and define” the Torah-level prohibition, and therefore doubts about them are generally treated stringently. The text mentions the dispute between Rabbi Yohanan and Reish Lakish about “half a measure,” and presents the ruling like Rabbi Yohanan that “half a measure is prohibited by Torah law,” where the main difference is “regarding punishment… for this one you get lashes, and for that one you don’t.”

Levels of connection to verses: rejecting the Torah-level/rabbinic dichotomy

The text states that the common division between Torah-level law and rabbinic law as a dichotomy is not sufficient, and that according to Maimonides, connection to verses is “a continuum of levels.” The text places at one end enactments and decrees that have “no connection at all to verses,” such as “reading the Megillah on Purim,” and at the other end laws explicitly written in the Torah, such as “you shall not plow with an ox and a donkey together,” which are “laws even the Sadducees agree with.” The text adds an intermediate level of “plain-sense interpretation” that is not derash, illustrating it with “to establish a name for his dead brother” as a metaphor that does not require naming the child after the deceased. Above that it describes derash as expansion, and below it places asmachta as a weaker connection, using numbers just for illustration—like “ninety percent… sixty percent… twenty percent”—while stressing that there are also “shades” within each level.

A mere asmachta and the Ritva versus the conventional view

The text presents the understanding of “a mere asmachta” as the explanation used by the Talmud and the medieval authorities (Rishonim) for a case where a derash exists but the law turns out to be rabbinic, so that the derash does not create the law but merely serves “to put a reason in one’s mouth” or as a mnemonic. The text presents the Ritva in Rosh Hashanah as arguing that asmachta is not just a memory aid but a real connection to the verse, only that the connection is “not a full connection,” and so it still remains rabbinic. The text explains that the Ritva holds that asmachta creates a rabbinic law that is “more severe” than an ordinary rabbinic law because it has a connection to Scripture. In this way, the text places asmachta as another level within the continuum of connections, distinguishing between derash, asmachta, and legislation that has no connection to verses.

First root: “do not deviate,” rabbinic doubt, and the tension between source of authority and formal status

The text moves to the first root in Sefer HaMitzvot, where Maimonides rejects counting rabbinic commandments among the 613, unlike the Halakhot Gedolot, which counts Hanukkah candles and Purim. The text presents Maimonides’ position that the obligation to obey the Sages in their enactments and decrees rests on the verse “do not deviate,” and brings Nachmanides’ objection that if so, then every violation of a rabbinic law is a violation of a Torah-level prohibition, and therefore “rabbinic doubt” should have to be treated stringently. The text formulates the problem as a “short blanket” between two questions: what is the source of authority obligating obedience to the Sages, and if there is such a source, why does that not turn it into Torah-level law. The text brings an explanation from Shev Shema'teta that distinguishes between a factual doubt regarding an agreed-upon decree and a doubt created by a dispute among the Sages about the very existence of the decree, and argues that in a dispute one cannot claim that the Sages themselves built in permission in a case of doubt.

“Offenders will be punished” as a model: branching versus specification, and a formal definition of prohibition

The text uses an image from Winnie-the-Pooh of a sign saying “Offenders will be punished” to argue that without a definition of “offender,” the threat has no real content, and similarly with “do not deviate” if there is no category of rabbinic violations. The text proposes a solution according to which the Torah does not directly command each rabbinic detail, but in the “subtext” of do not deviate it becomes clear that there is a category of violations that are not Torah-level but are also not detached from the Torah. The text distinguishes between “specification,” as with vows, where “he shall not profane his word” turns every violation into a particular case of a Torah-level prohibition, and “branching,” where do not deviate reveals the existence of the prohibition but does not turn every rabbinic violation into a particular case of a Torah-level prohibition. The text explains this as a formal distinction between an act forbidden because of a direct command and an act that is “not acceptable” to the legislator even before explicit legislation, and compares this to a rabbinic violation as an act that is not accompanied by a Torah-level prohibition but is still binding and actionable.

Legumes on Passover, the Sanhedrin, and the status of an “invention” versus a binding enactment

The text moves to a discussion of legumes on Passover and argues that “legumes are not a rabbinic prohibition… they never were,” distinguishing between an enactment established “in an authorized forum” and a custom-stringency that arose from a local concern and lost its rationale. The text rejects the claim that it is enough that “the Rema writes that it is forbidden” in order to create a prohibition, and demands clarification of the sources and the authority behind the ruling. The text gives a parable of an obstacle in the road that justifies going around it as long as the obstacle exists, but does not justify continuing to go around after it has been removed, and presents this as a model for customs that are not a binding rabbinic enactment. The text concludes by moving to another question about “women as testimony” after distinguishing between authorized legislation and a prohibition that was never actually enacted.

Okay, last time I talked about Maimonides’ approach—how he understands the world of derashah. And I said that there are two innovations in his view: an interpretive innovation and a halakhic innovation. The interpretive innovation is that the laws derived from derashah do not uncover what is already inside the verses; rather, they expand what is in the verses. He understands the hermeneutic rules as expanding tools, not as revealing tools. That’s the interpretive innovation. Which means that, basically, the product of the derashah is not a law written in the Torah; it’s not a law found inside the verse. Rather, it’s some law that emerges from the spirit of the verse, an expansion of what is in the verse. “You shall fear the Lord your God”—to include Torah scholars—that doesn’t mean that “You shall fear the Lord your God” already contains within it the obligation to fear Torah scholars. Rather, the idea of “You shall fear the Lord your God” expands and says, okay, this also applies to Torah scholars. So that’s the interpretive innovation. And then there’s the halakhic innovation, which says that the products of derashah are really laws whose status is that of rabbinic law, not Torah-level law. The laws that come out of the hermeneutic rules, laws learned by means of midrashim—those are not Torah-level laws but rabbinic laws, laws of the Sages. Because for Maimonides, a Torah-level law is something interpreted literally. “De’oraita” means “from the Torah.” So whatever is not found in the Torah—and we saw that the interpretive innovation says that laws derived by derashah are not found inside the Torah—then the halakhic innovation follows: such laws are rabbinic laws, not Torah-level laws. We saw a few implications of this—lashes aren’t administered for them, and so on. Now, I said that these two innovations are not dependent on one another. Neither depends on the other, in either direction. You can adopt the interpretive innovation without adopting the halakhic innovation. That’s what the Ran does in Nedarim, for example. There the Ran says that if I swear to fulfill a law that I’m obligated in by virtue of a derashah—not explicitly written in the Torah, but only by virtue of a derashah—the oath takes effect. Even though an oath on something explicitly written in the Torah does not take effect, because I’m already sworn from Mount Sinai, and one oath cannot take effect on another oath. Okay? What does that mean? The Ran apparently understands that something learned from derashah is not written in the Torah, and that an oath only does not take effect on what is written in the Torah, regardless of whether it’s Torah-level or rabbinic-level. Rather, interpretively: if it appears in the Torah, the oath doesn’t take effect; if it doesn’t appear in the Torah, the oath does take effect. And we see that the Ran understands that laws that emerge from derashot are not written inside the Torah; the derashah does not reveal what is in the Torah but expands it. In that sense, the Ran agrees with Maimonides’ interpretive innovation. But explicitly he does not agree with the halakhic innovation, and he claims that these laws are Torah-level laws, not rabbinic laws. Even expansion is a tool that creates Torah-level law, not rabbinic law. So he accepts the interpretive innovation but not the halakhic innovation. Someone could also have accepted the halakhic innovation without accepting the interpretive one. Meaning, he could have said that the halakhic innovation says that what is written in the Torah is Torah-level, and what is not written in the Torah is not Torah-level. And he holds that laws derived from derashot really are written in the Torah; he doesn’t understand them as expansion but as genuine revelation—that’s how he thinks. Therefore, from his point of view, he treats those laws as Torah-level laws. But he would still agree that a law not written in the Torah would be rabbinic—for example, a law given to Moses at Sinai. It doesn’t come from derashah, but it also isn’t written in the Torah; it’s a law transmitted orally. So that really would be a rabbinic law. Except that, in his view, laws derived from derashot are written in the Torah, and therefore they are Torah-level laws. He agrees that in principle, if there is a law not written in the Torah, then it is not Torah-level. Someone like that could exist—I don’t happen to know such a position, by the way—but in principle it could exist. And this is the meaning of what Maimonides writes: that the laws emerging from derashot are like branches growing out of roots. We saw this in the second root—he writes it there—that this is basically a kind of expansion. The roots are the thing itself, the verses, and there are branches that grow from the roots. We expand what is in the roots, and therefore he says: don’t think this isn’t real—but it’s not Torah-level. What’s the implication of that? For example, that we don’t punish for a law that comes from derashah; there are no lashes, no fixed punishment. Meaning, it has a less prestigious status? Rabbinic. Yes. Now as for doubt, we’ll still talk about that. Seemingly doubts here too should go leniently, because with rabbinic law, a rabbinic doubt is decided leniently. So seemingly that should apply here too. Regarding a law given to Moses at Sinai, Maimonides really does write that doubt is treated leniently, but regarding laws derived from derashot we’ll still discuss whether that’s so or not. That’s what we saw last time. And I said that I began with Nachmanides asking Maimonides: how can Maimonides say that derashot don’t create Torah-level law, and oral tradition also doesn’t create Torah-level law? A law given to Moses at Sinai is not Torah-level, and laws derived from derashot are also not Torah-level. But a supportive derashah—that is Torah-level, according to Maimonides. Wait, Maimonides says that laws given to Moses at Sinai are not Torah-level? No. Yes—they are not Torah-level according to his view. And laws derived from derashot are also not Torah-level. But if there is a supportive derashah—what is a supportive derashah? I have a law that came by tradition from Sinai, and I found a derashah that anchors it in Scripture. The derashah didn’t create the law; it supports an existing law. That, according to Maimonides, is Torah-level. So Nachmanides asks: how does this miracle happen? Zero plus zero comes out to one. Tradition does not create Torah-level law, derashah also does not create Torah-level law, and if there is both tradition and derashah, then it is Torah-level law. Why? Now it can be understood. Why? Because where the derashah stands alone, with no tradition, then it expands. So the product is not written in the Torah, and therefore it is not Torah-level. A law given to Moses at Sinai is also not written in the Torah, so it too is not Torah-level. But if there is a supportive derashah, then what does that mean? If the derashah could have produced the law by itself, then why was it transmitted to me by tradition? Why was it given to me at Sinai? I could have derived it by derashah. Apparently the tradition comes to tell me that in this particular case the derashah is revealing, not expanding. If it’s a supportive derashah. Yes. Therefore it was transmitted to me by tradition to say: know that this law, when you want to derive it by derashah, here the derashah does not expand what is in the Torah but reveals another layer already inside it. That can happen. There are derashot that really do function as revealing, not expanding. And if so, then indeed the product—the law produced in this way—is Torah-level. Just a question: if I remember correctly, we said that we have no way to distinguish between a supportive derashah and a productive derashah. No, there are certain indications. For example, when the Talmud, in some passage, brings a certain law and then brings five suggestions for how to derive it from different places in the Torah. Then it’s pretty clear—not definitive proof, but pretty clear—that this is a supportive derashah, because the law itself is agreed upon. No one argues whether the law is correct or not; the only question is whether it comes from here, or here, or there. So it’s pretty clear that the law really preceded the derashot. We search for the derashot only after already knowing that this is the law. For example, the Talmud in Rosh Hashanah says that “the fruit of a beautiful tree” means an etrog—not a lemon and not an orange. How do we know? It brings, I think, five possibilities there. “Hadar”—that dwells on the tree all year, and things like that; that the taste of the fruit should be like the taste of the tree. All those derashot. But no one says it means a clementine. Everyone agrees it means an etrog. Apparently, the fact that it means an etrog was accepted by tradition; it was known beforehand. And now we come and look for a derashah that will anchor this tradition we received. So there, from the sugya itself, it seems that this is probably a supportive derashah, not a productive derashah. Therefore Maimonides, for example, writes that if the Sages themselves say that the product of the derashah is Torah-level, then it will be Torah-level. If the Sages said nothing, the assumption is that it is rabbinic, because it is a productive derashah. And if the Sages said it is Torah-level, then even though it is a law that came from derashah, it will be Torah-level. Why? I claim because if the Sages said it is Torah-level, what they’re really telling me is that this is a supportive derashah, not a productive one. And according to Maimonides, a supportive derashah is Torah-level. Why? Because a supportive derashah basically means that here the derashah revealed what is in the verse rather than expanded it. Okay? So those are our indications for distinguishing between types of derashot. We need information. When you look at the derashah itself, it’s hard to distinguish. But if the Sages tell you it’s Torah-level, then it’s probably a supportive derashah. If you see from the structure of the sugya that various derashot are brought but the result is always the same, again that’s an indication that it’s probably a supportive derashah—and then the product really will be a Torah-level law. To say that “the fruit of a beautiful tree” means an etrog—even Maimonides will agree that that is Torah-level, even though they bring it from derashot. Maimonides, by the way, brings this as an example of a law given to Moses at Sinai—that “the fruit of a beautiful tree” is an etrog. What law given to Moses at Sinai? That that itself is a law given to Moses at Sinai. I think he simply learned it from this sugya: once he saw that there are five different derashot, all leading to the etrog, he understood that apparently there was a tradition from Sinai that it was an etrog, and the derashot merely come to support the law we had received. And from there he concluded that this is a law given to Moses at Sinai. Rabbi, a question regarding a law given to Moses at Sinai according to Maimonides—does that guarantee that he thinks it isn’t Torah-level in terms of force? In terms of its strength? Right. Because with rabbinic law there’s, let’s say, the human uncertainty that enters here, the human understanding trying to understand the Torah. Yes, beyond reasons. Generally speaking, what we receive from the Holy One, blessed be He, is supposed to be Torah-level—that’s the accepted view. And what the Sages create—they’re allowed to, there’s “do not deviate,” and so on—but that’s rabbinic law. That’s the accepted picture. Maimonides goes against this. Maimonides claims that Torah-level means what is written in the Torah literally. And a law given to Moses at Sinai is not written in the Torah, and laws derived from derashot are also not written in the Torah. Therefore for him both are words of the Sages. Rabbinic. Including in their force. So they have less binding force? Yes. Does he explain why? What’s the logic behind it? I think—he doesn’t explain—but I think what he means is that what is written in the Torah is what we received from the Holy One, blessed be He. That is the most authoritative thing. About that we were warned. It is written, everyone can understand it, you don’t need to hear from somebody else that this is the law—it is written; everyone sees the Written Torah, it was always written. In other words, the implicit claim in his words is that only what is written in black on white is treated with the highest seriousness. A law given to Moses at Sinai—you receive a tradition from the Sages that the Holy One, blessed be He, said this as well. At Sinai. But it’s still only a tradition. Someone could say: look, I don’t know, I’m not sure—maybe they got confused, maybe here, maybe there, who knows. Therefore, says Maimonides, it can’t have the status of Torah-level law. What is written in the verses—the Torah itself—we received, and we pass the text from one to another; there is no involvement of the Sages in creating that law. So that is Torah-level. Let’s say tefillin—being square, that’s a law given to Moses at Sinai, right? So what, does that have less force? Here there’s a major question, because with Maimonides it’s very rare to see implications where he says, for example, that a law given to Moses at Sinai is treated leniently in cases of doubt. There is such a thing in his commentary on the Mishnah in Keilim, chapter 17. He says it is not lenient there, but he explains why it isn’t lenient. Which means you can see that his assumption was that it should have been lenient. And almost nowhere does this issue appear—maybe one or two other places. Why? Because most laws given to Moses at Sinai—and we talked about this—are laws that define a Torah commandment written in the Torah. For example, it says in the Torah, “and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes”—that is certainly a Torah commandment. And the law given to Moses at Sinai comes only to say what those frontlets should look like: that they should be square and black and have such-and-such passages inside them. So the law given to Moses at Sinai only explains what the verse is saying, and then it’s Torah-level. A law produced by a law given to Moses at Sinai—not one that explains an existing Torah law, but a law that the Sinai law innovated from scratch—that would be a rabbinic law. There are very few such cases. Most laws given to Moses at Sinai are laws that explain existing Torah commandments. Details of Torah commandments, exactly. Characteristics of, definitions of, existing Torah commandments—and then it’s a Sinai law in an interpretive sense. But if there is a law given to Moses at Sinai that really conveys a new law to me—for example, the willow branch ritual and the water libation are laws given to Moses at Sinai according to one opinion; that’s a tannaitic dispute. The willow branch ritual and the water libation? Yes, on Sukkot. Okay, so according to that opinion, for Maimonides this would be a rabbinic law. Because it is not an interpretation of an existing law; it is a new law that the law given to Moses at Sinai created. It does not interpret a law written in the verse. But tefillin does. Or measures, for example—that’s Maimonides in his commentary on the Mishnah in Keilim. The measures, the interpositions, and the partitions are laws given to Moses at Sinai. All the measures we have: an olive-bulk for forbidden foods—you have to eat an olive-bulk; or matzah, you have to eat an olive-bulk. The amount for eating on Yom Kippur is a large date’s worth, and so on. All these measures are laws given to Moses at Sinai, as the Talmud says. Again, there’s a dispute, but in the conclusion that’s what the Talmud says. And Maimonides says: what if I have doubt about the measure? I ate pork, and I don’t know whether there was an olive-bulk in what I ate. Or there is pork in front of me and I don’t know whether its quantity is an olive-bulk or not. Do I have to be stringent and not eat it? No, because this is a rabbinic doubt. Since the measure is a law given to Moses at Sinai, and according to Maimonides a law given to Moses at Sinai is rabbinic, and with a rabbinic doubt we rule leniently. Wait—the doubt is about what, not whether to eat it? To eat it—obviously not. Why? If it’s a rabbinic doubt you can eat it—what’s the problem? You can eat pork less than an olive-bulk? Yes, why not? Rabbinic doubt, rule leniently. I don’t think so. Rabbinic doubt, rule leniently—that’s the meaning. If you have something that is doubtful whether it is poultry or not poultry, and it got mixed into milk. You don’t know if it’s chicken or soy. Are you allowed to eat it? Certainly yes. Rabbinic doubt, rule leniently. That’s the meaning. Poultry with milk? Yes. Poultry with milk is rabbinic. Meat with milk is Torah-level. So if there’s a doubt regarding poultry with milk, rabbinic doubt, rule leniently. For a Torah-level doubt you have to be stringent; for a rabbinic doubt you don’t have to be stringent—you may be lenient. Certainly. Yes, if you can clarify it, then you should clarify it. But say it can’t be clarified—you don’t know. You may eat it. Rabbinic doubt, rule leniently. Okay? Now Maimonides asks: so then why don’t we say with measures too, rabbinic doubt, rule leniently? And he says—this is exactly what he says there—that the measures merely explain the Torah prohibition against eating pork. The measure says: the prohibition is at an olive-bulk. We are not creating a novel law; we are only detailing and defining the Torah law. So there it is not called a rabbinic law, because the law given to Moses at Sinai explains the verse for me. Now the verse forbids me to eat an olive-bulk of pork—a Torah prohibition. The fact that the amount in question is an olive-bulk was renewed via the law given to Moses at Sinai, but that Sinai law only explains what the Torah means when it says it is forbidden to eat pork. So that is an interpretive law, and if it is an interpretive law, its status is Torah-level, not rabbinic. So Maimonides himself writes this, and that’s the great basis for all the questions asked against him: why don’t we find anywhere in Maimonides that doubt regarding a law given to Moses at Sinai is treated leniently? Because most laws given to Moses at Sinai are like this—interpretive laws, not innovative laws. And therefore their doubts really are treated stringently. But in principle, if there were a law that is innovated by a law given to Moses at Sinai, then its doubt would be treated leniently. Okay. Now—you reminded me, so I’ll ask you something, not really related, parenthesis, opening parenthesis. What happens if there is a sick person on the Sabbath who needs to eat meat? The doctor says he needs to eat meat to recover, a life-threatening situation, you know. Now there is no kosher meat. Two possibilities: either he can eat pork—I have pork from my non-Jewish neighbor, okay?—or I can slaughter an animal for him on the Sabbath. Life danger overrides the Sabbath. Slaughtering is taking life; it’s prohibited, but life danger overrides the Sabbath. I can slaughter a cow, a sheep, whatever, kosher meat, and he’ll eat kosher meat; or no, let him eat pork. Which is preferable? What would you say? Let’s say slaughtering is enough; you don’t also need to cook it—which would add more prohibitions. Let’s say there’s some tartare steak ready and raw. Depends on the severity of the acts, no? Right—so what do you say? What’s better? Honestly I don’t know what’s more severe, whether slaughtering an animal or eating pork, but I think slaughtering the animal is more severe. Exactly. Exactly. In other words, in the article I wrote on my website, I said this is a test for laymen. People who don’t know how to learn will immediately say: obviously you have to slaughter. What are you talking about? Life danger overrides the Sabbath. Pork—heaven forbid—put pork into your mouth? Into your mouth? A Jew doesn’t eat pork under any circumstances. Now a Torah scholar knows that you have to check the levels of severity of the prohibitions. Slaughtering on the Sabbath is a stoning-level prohibition—it’s the most severe prohibition there is. Pork is an ordinary prohibition; lashes. Yes, it has become some kind of taboo, but the halakhic prohibition itself is at the level of a standard negative commandment. That’s all. Therefore, as a starting point, clearly it is preferable to give him pork rather than slaughter a cow for him on the Sabbath. Now there are different positions among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) for various other reasons, not important right now, but in the initial conception that is obviously the answer. Maybe there are disputes about it. Okay? Fine—that just came to mind because you said before that it can’t be possible to eat—what did you say there? To eat pork less than the required measure. Yes—to eat something where you’re uncertain whether it contains an olive-bulk. So can you eat it? And the answer is yes—rabbinic doubt. Meaning, if I eat pork in less than the required amount, then what exactly is the halakhic implication? No, so I’m saying there’s no implication because the measure is not really a rabbinic rule—it defines the Torah prohibition. Therefore in this case there is no implication; the measure is part of the definition of the Torah law. Let’s say if… As practical Jewish law, if you ate less than an olive-bulk of pork, there is a dispute between Rabbi Yohanan and Reish Lakish. Reish Lakish says a half-measure is rabbinically prohibited. If you ate less than an olive-bulk, it is forbidden, but rabbinic, not Torah-level. Torah-level is from an olive-bulk and up. Okay? Rabbi Yohanan—and that’s how we rule in practice—Rabbi Yohanan says a half-measure is forbidden by Torah law. By Torah law? Yes. Then what’s the difference between eating an olive-bulk and eating less than an olive-bulk? That for one there are no… and for the other there are lashes; but both are Torah prohibitions. Meaning, the act of eating itself is forbidden? Only regarding punishment—only regarding punishment were the measures stated. Okay, fine, and that’s how we rule in practice. Fine, back to our topic. So basically the claim is that this explains all the questions we asked about Maimonides. I think this picture more or less covers everything. I’ll get to the laws of doubt at the end, but first I need to make a few clarifications regarding the significance. Do you want to turn on the air conditioner? Whatever you want. So what comes out of this is that we usually think there’s a sharp dichotomy between rabbinic law and Torah law. What is written in the Torah is Torah-level; what the Sages created is rabbinic. Or alternatively, interpretation creates Torah-level laws, even if the Sages are the interpreters—but they are interpreting the Torah. Once they interpreted it, from my perspective that’s what is written in the Torah, so the law is Torah-level. Legislation creates rabbinic law. They legislate new laws not by interpreting the Torah but because they have the right—or perhaps even the duty—to legislate other laws, to fence things off, as with poultry and milk lest you come to eat meat and milk, or things of that sort. So the connection to the verses is what determines whether something is rabbinic or Torah-level. Usually we understand that the connection to the verses is dichotomous. Either it’s written in the Torah or it’s legislation by the Sages; either interpretation or legislation. Here it turns out that it isn’t dichotomous. It turns out that the connection to the verses exists on a continuum of levels. It’s not zero or one; there’s a range of levels. There can be a partial connection to the verses, a full connection to the verses, or no connection to the verses. Ordinary rabbinic laws have no connection to the verses at all. The Sages say one must read the Megillah on Purim—they aren’t saying it as an interpretation of some verse; it’s an enactment of the Sages, period. It has no connection to any verse. So that’s classic rabbinic law, and everyone agrees on that. “You shall not plow with an ox and a donkey together”—mixed species in labor. So you can’t plow with an ox and a donkey together; that’s explicitly written in the Torah, so the connection to the verses is one hundred percent—absolutely, it’s written there. So that’s Torah-level according to everyone. The questions arise when the connection to the verses isn’t complete. Meaning, it comes out of a verse but it isn’t written in it; it’s an expansion of it, as we said earlier, Maimonides’ interpretive innovation. Maimonides’ innovation is that there is an intermediate level of connection to the verses. Because Maimonides does nonetheless distinguish this from ordinary rabbinic law. A law that comes from derashah is not the same as legislation of the Sages, even though according to Maimonides both are words of the Sages. Why? Because legislation has no connection to a verse at all; the Sages decide on a new law and legislate it. In derashah, the Sages begin from the verse. It’s not their own initiative. They look at the verse and, by means of the hermeneutic rules, expand what we find in the verse—but it begins with a verse; there is some connection to the verse. But it does not reveal what is inside the verse, so it is not written in the verse. It has a connection to the verse—the spirit of the matter, or whatever you want to call it. Maimonides says that this intermediate state is already rabbinic law, but it still isn’t the same as rabbinic law that is the product of legislation, which is not connected to the verses at all. In other words, levels of connection to the verses are a continuum; it isn’t just one or zero, either there’s a connection or there isn’t. It depends on how much connection there is. Okay, that is really what Maimonides is trying to claim here. Is the connection some kind of conceptual resemblance? The question is how much of it is actually in the verse. If it’s really written in the verse, then yes. If it’s only similar, then it isn’t in the verse, but the spirit of the matter is related to what is in the verse. But legislation isn’t similar or anything—I simply decide on a new law, and it has force because of the Sages, and you must listen to the Sages, but it’s a law they invented; it has no connection at all to what is in the verse, not by derashah or in any other way. Right, so these are different levels of connection to the verses. For example, some medieval authorities write—Ritva, for instance, in Rosh Hashanah and elsewhere—that when we find in the Talmud: “this derashah is merely an asmachta.” You know that expression? “This derashah is merely an asmachta.” What does “merely an asmachta” mean? When we find a derashah, we usually understand that the law was created from this derashah. Therefore, according to most medieval authorities, it is a Torah-level law. According to Maimonides, it is a rabbinic law. According to most medieval authorities, such a law is Torah-level. Wait—when we find a derashah that created a law. According to most medieval authorities, that is a Torah-level law. A Torah-level law? Yes; according to Maimonides, no. Because Maimonides says that laws derived from derashot are words of the Sages. Okay? And most medieval authorities say it’s Torah-level. Fine? But those are laws derived from the verses. What happens when we find a derashah and then suddenly discover that the product is actually a rabbinic law? We discover a derashah? We find, in some sugya, a derashah that created a law, and suddenly in another sugya we’re told: look, this law is a rabbinic law. According to Maimonides there’s no problem, because derashah yields rabbinic law. What about the other medieval authorities? So the Talmud says—and Ritva says, and really this starts already in the Talmud—that the derashah is only an asmachta. The derashah didn’t really create the law; the derashah is just some kind of support, to give it a textual peg, to help me remember the law. It didn’t really come from there; the law is rabbinic, and we sort of make a derashah to support it from Scripture. But the law is Torah-level? The law is rabbinic. I’m saying I find another sugya that tells me the law is rabbinic. Yes. But I have a derashah here, which according to most medieval authorities other than Maimonides would mean the law is Torah-level. Okay? So what do you do? The Talmud says: no, that isn’t a real derashah; this derashah is like a derashah—an asmachta. What does asmachta mean? It’s a case where I’m not really making a derashah. The law is rabbinic, but I can kind of tie it to the verse. It helps me remember it or something like that. Now the standard medieval understanding is that this is just a memory aid or something of that sort; it doesn’t mean anything significant that it is an asmachta—it is just an ordinary rabbinic law. That is how the concept of asmachta is usually understood. “Asmachta b’alma,” according to most medieval authorities, means a rabbinic law; the derashah isn’t really a derashah—you can kind of pin it onto this verse, but it doesn’t truly emerge from there. You could have pinned it somewhere else as well. Yes, it just fits best in your mouth, helps you remember, and remember that the Torah was transmitted orally for generations so they needed memory aids, and so on. So they hung it on one verse or another. Ritva claims not so. Ritva claims that asmachta means there is a connection to the verse, only it isn’t a full connection such that you can say, “it is written in the verse, this is Torah-level law.” Rather, it has some connection to the verse, some sort of extension of the spirit of the matter or something like that. In other words, Ritva does not agree with Maimonides regarding derashot. That they are Torah-level? He thinks derashot are Torah-level, and Ritva apparently understands asmachta as an even weaker connection than the connection that derashah has. So in fact we have four levels. We have ordinary rabbinic laws—enactments and decrees—which are not connected to verses at all. Yes. We have laws explicitly written in the Torah—those are Torah-level laws. We have what are called laws that the Sadducees also concede, Sadducees who do not accept the Oral Torah but do accept what is written in the Torah; in the language of the Sages these are called laws that the Sadducees concede. That is certainly Torah-level, full connection. Now there are laws that emerge from plain-sense interpretation of the verses. Those too are Torah-level according to everyone. Wait, go back to what you just said. Wait—there are the ones that are legislation? Right. Legislation is one end of the scale. The opposite end of the scale is laws explicitly written in the Torah. Isn’t that plain meaning too? No, explicitly written—not just plain meaning, explicitly written in the Torah. I’ll explain in a second what plain meaning is. Explicitly written in the Torah is what is called laws that the Sadducees concede: “You shall not plow with an ox and a donkey together.” It’s written. No interpretation is needed at all. Okay? Now in the middle there are several levels. For example, there are laws that I can interpret out of the Torah, but they are not written in the Torah; that is interpretation. Not derashah—interpretation. I simply look at the text, interpret it, and arrive at the conclusion that this is what it says. It is not explicitly written; it is not something that no one could disagree with. Okay? This is a law that has a connection to the text, but it isn’t the same as a law explicitly written—there is some interpretive element here. Isn’t that derash? No, no—that’s plain-sense interpretation, not the hermeneutic rules of derashah. Plain-sense interpretation? Yes, plain-sense interpretation. Do you have an example? For example: “to establish a name for his dead brother.” In levirate marriage, yes? So you produce a child “to establish a name” for your dead brother—the child’s uncle who died. Okay? Does that mean you have to call the child by the dead uncle’s name? To give him the same name, Yosef, because you need “to establish a name for the dead”? The Talmud says that that’s the plain meaning. But we interpret it differently. “To establish a name” means to preserve memory, but you do not need to call him by that name. Now, that isn’t derashah. It’s simply explaining that “to establish a name for your dead brother” is a metaphor. It doesn’t mean literally that you should give him the same name; rather, “establishing a name” is like what we would call today a memorial for the dead uncle, some kind of remembrance for the dead uncle. That is interpretation of the verse, not derashah. I’m just explaining that it’s a metaphor. It’s not something written… say, the Sadducees might not concede it; they might not interpret the verse that way. But “you shall not plow with an ox and a donkey together”—they too would concede that, because it’s written; there’s no… it doesn’t depend on any interpretation. Here it depends on interpretation, but it isn’t derashah; it’s interpretation by the tools of plain meaning. Okay? But it’s an interpretation claiming to be the plain meaning. Right. Therefore I’m saying that it’s Torah-level. Even according to Maimonides, it would be Torah-level, because it isn’t derashah; it’s plain-sense interpretation. But still it isn’t exactly the same as something explicitly written in the Torah. There is some slightly lesser degree of connection to the text. It is still above the threshold of Torah-level even according to Maimonides; not only what is explicitly written in the Torah counts as Torah-level. But this is the next level. It says in the Torah, “and you shall eat the peoples who are among you”—what is that, cannibalism? Okay, that’s interpretation. Right. Some interpretations are more necessary, some less necessary. There is “His mighty hand and outstretched arm” of the Holy One, blessed be He—also written in the Torah. But Onkelos says these are metaphors. He has no hand and no foot and no arm. Others came and there were some who interpreted it literally. The Raavad? The Raavad comments on Maimonides that there were many good and worthy people who interpreted it that way. The Raavad himself agrees with Maimonides; he says don’t declare them heretics, because there were many good and worthy people who interpreted it that way. Fine? So that’s already interpretation; one can argue about it. Even though the interpretation is interpretation of what is written in the plain sense, it isn’t a derashah that expands what is written—it explains what is written. Okay? Therefore, even according to Maimonides, it’s Torah-level. And this is already a somewhat lower level of connection to the text. It’s not one hundred percent connection; it’s ninety percent, let’s say, for the sake of discussion. Because it isn’t self-evident; it’s not just plain as day. Now there is interpretation by way of derashah—that’s the next level, the third. Interpretation by way of derashah, let’s say, call it sixty percent. Fine? Derashah. We said that’s maybe sixty, seventy percent—I’m just throwing out numbers. And then asmachta? Exactly. Asmachta, say, is twenty percent, thirty percent—but that’s already below the threshold of Torah-level. That is already rabbinic. Okay? According to Maimonides, even derashah is already below the threshold. According to the other medieval authorities, derashah is above the threshold. But asmachta is below the threshold according to everyone. That is certainly rabbinic. By the way, Ritva also claims that asmachta has… it’s more severe than an ordinary rabbinic law. In what way? Asmachta—the law that comes from asmachta—is more severe than an ordinary rabbinic law, though it too is rabbinic. It is more severe in some respects, doesn’t matter now. A bit closer… Yes, because it has some connection to the text; it isn’t just a memory aid. It is really related to what is written, but only in a rather weak way. Okay? The final level is decrees or enactments—things not connected to the text at all. Zero. Fine? So you could say there are five levels of connection to the text. And within each of them, of course, there are different degrees. There can be more convincing derashot—then it’s eighty percent connected to the text; less convincing derashot might be sixty percent. It doesn’t matter. I’m just attaching numbers and marking notches on the axis, but clearly there are also shades within asmachta, shades within derashah, shades within plain-sense interpretation. Like you said before, the example you brought earlier of plain-sense interpretation—“and you shall eat the peoples.” There everyone would agree that that is the interpretation, even though it isn’t explicitly written, but it is hard to interpret otherwise, right? So that would be, say, ninety-five percent, not ninety percent. Fine? So I’m assigning numbers, but really these are ranges. Fine? These are levels of connection to the text. Now let me give you another example, also within Maimonides’ view, of that same idea of intermediate degrees. For instance, the root—what we saw this semester is the second root. That’s the root in Maimonides that deals with laws learned from derashot. But there is also the first root, which deals with rabbinic laws. Rabbinic laws meaning enactments and decrees, yes—the lower level, the very lowest level, which has no connection to the text. Fine? Maimonides says: these are not counted in the enumeration of the commandments. These are rabbinic laws. The enumeration of the commandments is the 613 Torah commandments; rabbinic commandments do not enter there. The Baal Halakhot Gedolot counts some rabbinic commandments too, but that’s not important right now; that’s the dispute in the first root. Wait, there are disputes after that too, right? He also counts Hanukkah candles, Maimonides, and then… No—the Baal Halakhot Gedolot counts them. Hanukkah candles and Purim he counts, and Maimonides objects and says you do not count rabbinic commandments. That’s the first root. Now, what happens there in the first root? Maimonides argues: why must we keep rabbinic laws if they have nothing in Scripture—so why must we keep them? He says: because there is a verse that says, “do not deviate from all that they instruct you,” or “according to all that they instruct you”—a positive commandment and a prohibition. The Torah itself authorizes the Sages to determine prohibitions and permissions, to legislate. Nachmanides argues that this cannot be. Why? Because if it were so, then a rabbinic doubt should have to be treated stringently. Because if you violate a rabbinic prohibition, then you have really violated the prohibition of “do not deviate,” according to Maimonides, right? Since the prohibition of “do not deviate” is what authorizes the Sages to establish a prohibition. So if I ate poultry with milk, then I did not violate merely a rabbinic prohibition; I violated a Torah prohibition: “do not deviate.” So doubts should be treated stringently. Why is a rabbinic doubt treated leniently? We talked about formal authority and non-formal authority, didn’t we? So that, say, if the Sanhedrin actually legislated and you acted against the Sanhedrin, then you really violate Torah law. No. If the Sanhedrin legislates, then it’s rabbinic. If the Sanhedrin interprets, then it’s Torah-level. That’s the whole difference. Sorry, if the Sanhedrin—right, if the Sanhedrin interprets. But I’m talking about legislating. The Sages determined in the Sanhedrin that it is forbidden to eat poultry with milk. Fine? Now I ate poultry with milk. According to Maimonides, seemingly I violated the prohibition of “do not deviate.” If so, if I have something doubtful—maybe poultry, maybe soy—in milk, I should be stringent, because there is concern that I will violate a Torah prohibition. A Torah-level doubt is treated stringently. So where did the principle “a rabbinic doubt is treated leniently” disappear to? Nachmanides says there is no room for that principle, because every rabbinic law is really Torah-based at root, and every doubt should have been treated stringently. Then there is no difference between Torah-level doubt and rabbinic doubt. That’s how Nachmanides attacks Maimonides. Fine? Now, it’s not clear what Nachmanides himself answers to this. Nachmanides? Yes, because the question is: okay, so you say it doesn’t come from “do not deviate”—then where does it come from? Why obey the Sages? You say it can’t come from “do not deviate,” because then it becomes a Torah prohibition. Okay, so there are no verses—then why obey them? “Ask your elders and they will tell you,” all those… Then find other verses. The same question returns. If you accept that, the same question comes back. Then you have verses, and it becomes a Torah prohibition. That is exactly what the commentators say. They say that according to Nachmanides, not only is the verse “do not deviate” not the basis for the force of rabbinic law—no verse can be the basis. Because if you find any verse that gives them force, then the question Nachmanides asks against Maimonides will be difficult against him as well. Because then it becomes Torah-level again. So Nachmanides himself now will have to explain to me why a rabbinic doubt is treated leniently. After all, there is a verse that I violate if I violate a rabbinic law. Therefore, clearly according to Nachmanides there cannot be any verse at all. In the Jerusalem Talmud they talk about this, right? I think there’s a difference between the Babylonian Talmud and the Jerusalem Talmud on this issue, because in the Jerusalem Talmud it says “about right that it is left”… No, no—that’s something else. It’s Sifrei and the Jerusalem Talmud, but it’s something else. I’m talking about right that is left—I’m not talking… I’m talking about a case where they issue a ruling that is right, a true ruling. No, because what I remember—granted I don’t control the material—but what I remember is that in the Jerusalem Talmud it says it could be that they tell you about left that it is right and you accept it. The verse then says: about right that it is right and about left that it is left. Yes, but that isn’t connected to us. I’m talking about a case where they give a ruling that is right—that’s perfectly fine, they say about right that it is right. And the question still remains: why should I accept it? I don’t know, I’m trying to answer the problem that every interpretation by the Sanhedrin that is really plain-sense interpretation and not an enactment—there indeed you are obligated to listen to them. Why? Where does that come from? And that’s what comes from “do not deviate right or left.” But no—according to Nachmanides it cannot come from “do not deviate,” because… the way they interpret the Torah. No, the opposite. We are speaking only about legislation here, not interpretation at all. Then it really doesn’t apply to legislation? I’m trying to answer it. No—but we are speaking, and Nachmanides and Maimonides themselves speak, only about legislation. They aren’t speaking about interpretation. The authority of the Sages to interpret is agreed to by Nachmanides too; it comes from “do not deviate.” According to Nachmanides he has no problem with that, because the result really is Torah-level, so what do I care? Its doubt really is treated stringently, right? The whole question Nachmanides asks is: what about the enactments of the Sages? The enactments of the Sages are rabbinic laws. And the rule is that a rabbinic doubt is treated leniently. If that too comes from “do not deviate,” then why leniently? You have a Torah prohibition in doubt. He’s speaking only about legislation. Now I say: so if Nachmanides does not accept that there is scriptural authority, some verse-based foundation for the binding force of the Sages to legislate at all—no verse whatever, because otherwise it becomes Torah-level—then why does it really have force? Why must one obey them? Nachmanides says nothing at all. So in fact we have two questions. One question is: what is the source of the obligation to obey the Sages? What is the source of the force of their commands? The second question: if there is such a source of force, then why is it rabbinic and not Torah-level? Why is its doubt treated leniently rather than stringently? Now this is a short blanket. Cover the head, the feet are uncovered; cover the feet, the head is uncovered. It’s impossible to answer both these questions. If you find a verse and there is a source, then it becomes Torah-level. If it isn’t Torah-level but rabbinic, apparently there is no verse—then why obey, if there’s no verse? And the Sages themselves say about their own words that they… The fact that they say so is all very nice—why should I obey them? Like the question. You could say it comes from a verse, and therefore I am obligated to obey everything the Sages say, and the Sages themselves qualify the force of their own words. Then it would work out. But again, then it would be Torah-level. What do you mean, the Sages themselves? We listen to all enactments of the Sages, say, by virtue of “do not deviate,” therefore I am commanded by Torah law to obey the Sages. And the Sages tell me: by virtue of the authority of the Torah given to us, we limit our own force to the level of rabbinic law. So that’s a possibility that Nachmanides himself raises when he attacks Maimonides. He says it can’t be right. He doesn’t explain why; he just says it can’t be right. And many later authorities discuss this. Some argue that this is exactly what Maimonides means. Others explain why Nachmanides thinks it can’t be right. For example: in a case where my doubt is created by a dispute between two opinions. One sage says poultry with milk is forbidden; another sage says poultry with milk is permitted. There is a dispute. But the one who says it’s forbidden says it is certainly forbidden. And the one who says it’s permitted says it is permitted. But I am in doubt whether this one is right or that one is right. In such a case you cannot tell me that the Sages said to me, look, in a case of doubt we didn’t forbid it to you. Because none of the sages says there is doubt here. I am the one in doubt. But the sage who forbids says: this is certainly forbidden; it is a rabbinic prohibition, you may not be lenient. And the other says: no problem, there is no prohibition here at all. I am in doubt. If there is a regular rabbinic prohibition and I am in doubt whether this is poultry or soy in milk, then you are right. But if my doubt is created by a disagreement between sages, then there is no room for that reasoning. That’s how the Shev Shema’tata explains why Nachmanides doesn’t accept that possibility. Or like the Rabbi—with the poultry and soy? If the prohibition of poultry with milk is agreed upon, and before me lies something I don’t know whether it is poultry or soy in milk—if it’s soy in milk, it’s permitted; if it’s poultry in milk, it’s forbidden. That’s a rabbinic doubt. You can tell me that the Sages who prohibited poultry with milk also told me: look, we only prohibit something that you know is poultry. If you’re in doubt, we didn’t prohibit it. Part of the same decree that says poultry with milk is forbidden also says that this is only in a definite case, not in a doubtful one. That’s all when my doubt concerns an established and agreed decree. But if the doubt arises because there is a dispute about the decree itself—one says they prohibited poultry with milk, the other says they did not prohibit poultry with milk. Now I have poultry with milk before me. I know what it is; there’s no doubt about that. I don’t know whether it’s forbidden, because one sage says it’s forbidden and the other says it’s permitted. So I’m in a rabbinic doubt. In such a case you already can’t say that the Sages themselves said to me, don’t worry, in a case of doubt we didn’t prohibit it. Because the one who prohibited it prohibits actual poultry with milk. The fact that you are standing here before poultry with milk—that’s what he prohibited for you. He didn’t say: if you are in doubt, you may eat it. He said: poultry with milk is forbidden for you to eat. You are in doubt only because the other says there is no prohibition. Therefore here you can’t say that the Sages who prohibited it are themselves telling you it is permitted if you’re in doubt. That’s what the Shev Shema’tata argues. Okay, but then the very fact that we’re in this doubt—the doubt is because there are two… But neither of the two opinions says you may eat it because you’re in doubt. One says you must not eat it because it is definitely forbidden; the other says there is no prohibition at all. Neither says: look, if you’re in doubt, then I didn’t prohibit it. No—the one who prohibits prohibits it even in the situation where somebody else says permitted, because he doesn’t accept what the other says. Yes. Therefore—but then you can live with it in the sense that okay, we have a legal system, say I’m obligated to rule leniently, but there are internal contradictions here. No—but now, in the doubt, can you be lenient in such a case? In the doubt can you be lenient? I don’t know—if you say that… So again, maybe yes. How? There is a Torah-level doubt of “do not deviate” here. But I am equally obligated to listen to the one who forbids and the one who permits. Right. Therefore I need to find some way that is not… You don’t know who is right, and you are not obligated to both of them; the question is who is right. You are in doubt whether he is right or he is right. Now if he is right, then you are violating a Torah prohibition. So it is a Torah-level doubt. Right, but if I am obligated to obey the Sages, then there is one sage who says this and one who says that—the Torah’s command seems to obligate me equally to both. And that’s impossible, and then maybe we have a contradiction… No, you must listen to the one who is right; the issue is who is right. No, that isn’t even what the verse says. Why? Because what does the verse say? No, here we do return to the Jerusalem Talmud you mentioned: about right that it is right, you listen to the Sages. If they say something correct. You don’t have to listen to them if it’s incorrect. No—they even say that, I think, only regarding something in the Torah, not in every matter. Not in every matter. That the authority of “you must listen to the Sages” applies in the interpretation of the Torah, not in every matter. No—even according to Maimonides it applies to legislation too, not only interpretation. I’m talking about the Jerusalem Talmud; if I remember correctly, that’s what it says there. The Jerusalem Talmud doesn’t enter this issue; if it did, it would decide the dispute between Maimonides and Nachmanides. So in short, that isn’t important for our purposes, because the whole story is only an example. What I want to say is the following claim. The only way I can think of to solve these two questions—which apparently each one prevents solving the other, right? If there is a source, then it’s Torah-level; if it isn’t Torah-level, then necessarily there is no source—so why obey? There’s no way out of it. I claim that the solution is the same solution we saw here. Look, for example, in Winnie-the-Pooh. There, on Piglet’s hut, it says above the door: “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.” That’s what it says. Yes? Yes. “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.” You ask yourself—but then what? So? Now what is a trespasser? What do you have to do in order to be a trespasser? It doesn’t say anything. It just says, “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.” Now, what meaning does such an instruction have if you don’t know what counts as being a trespasser? Basically you can do anything. Right? Because nothing is defined here as an offense. If nothing is defined as an offense, does the instruction “trespassers will be prosecuted” have any content? No, because you don’t—there is no such thing as a trespasser; you need to define who the trespasser is. Right? Now, when the Torah tells me, “do not deviate from all that they instruct you,” fine? So the Torah is basically telling me that the Sages have authority. Whoever violates their words will be punished—trespassers will be prosecuted. But you’re telling me that rabbinic laws don’t come from the Torah, so basically there is nothing that is an offense except Torah law, because for rabbinic law we still haven’t found the force. Wait, wait—what? That rabbinic laws don’t come from the Torah? Look, I’m saying this: what Nachmanides says—that rabbinic laws cannot come from “do not deviate.” Because otherwise they would be Torah-level, right? On the Torah level, rabbinic laws do not exist. There are no such prohibitions there. No, sorry, again—it can’t be that rabbinic laws come from the verse “do not deviate,” because otherwise they would be Torah-level laws and not rabbinic. Right. Okay? Which means that on the Torah plane, rabbinic laws do not exist. They don’t exist—it’s not forbidden by Torah law. Rabbinically we need to see why it’s forbidden, but on the Torah level it doesn’t exist. Okay. So what is the verse “do not deviate” according to Nachmanides? It is exactly Piglet’s “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.” What are you really saying? You may not deviate from what the Sages said. In what? In nothing at all. You can do whatever you want. Because if you eat poultry with milk, that is only a rabbinic prohibition; it is not a Torah prohibition. That can’t be, right? You’re basically saying “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted” without defining anything as an offense. So what content does the statement “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted” have? When you tell me “do not deviate from all that they instruct you”—the Sages have authority, and what they command must be obeyed, that’s what the verse says—but every concrete command they issue is not forbidden. You can eat poultry with milk, you can do anything. So what is the meaning of the command? Wait, but why does the Rabbi say that? What exactly is the missing definition here? In the case of “trespassers will be prosecuted,” what’s missing is the definition of a trespasser. Yes, exactly. So what’s missing here? What is a trespasser? A definition is missing—what is a trespasser? What, someone who eats poultry with milk? Why on earth? That’s only an invention of the Sages. Who says I have to obey them? The Torah is speaking about some kind of trespassers, but on the Torah level he isn’t defined at all. He is defined only on the rabbinic plane, and the rabbinic plane doesn’t come from the Torah plane, as Nachmanides said. So on the Torah plane there are no offenses; all these things are not offenses. So what does the Torah mean when it says “do not deviate,” if there are no offenses? Therefore what do I claim? I claim that if the Torah says “do not deviate,” then in the subtext you can understand that clearly there is some kind of offense in the background, because otherwise the statement “trespassers will be prosecuted” has no meaning, right? “Do not deviate” has no meaning. Now, that does not mean that if you ate poultry with milk, then you violated “do not deviate.” No. You did not violate “do not deviate,” because then it would become a Torah prohibition. No. But it is clear from “do not deviate” that there is some other category of offenses, perhaps lighter ones, that one may not commit. That’s called rabbinic law. Rabbi, but let’s say, like with “trespassers will be prosecuted,” it says “do not deviate right or left from all that they instruct you.” Meaning, there is instruction, there are laws that I have to obey; I don’t know what the laws are. Now I’m on a mission to discover the laws, and once I discover a certain law, that should now receive Torah-level force. No. I don’t know something specific, like we said. No—I do know, no, no, again—I know. The Sages said it is forbidden to eat poultry with milk. Here, I know. But from the Torah standpoint it has no force at all, because it doesn’t come from “do not deviate,” as Nachmanides says. So it has no force; it is a rabbinic law. But who says there is such a thing as rabbinic law? Why must I obey them? After all, there is no verse in the Torah commanding this according to Nachmanides. According to Nachmanides? Yes—there is no verse in the Torah commanding either poultry with milk or obedience to the Sages. Because otherwise it would become a Torah prohibition, as Nachmanides said. So that can’t be. So I’m saying: then what is “do not deviate” talking about according to Nachmanides? If “do not deviate” tells me I have to obey the Sages, yes? “Trespassers will be prosecuted,” but there is no concept of trespassing on the Torah plane, then there is also no obligation to obey. Unless you define for me what the offenses are, you can’t speak to me about an obligation to obey. Right? Rather, if there is an obligation to obey—if it says “do not deviate”—then in the subtext I understand that apparently the Torah presupposes that there is some further kind of offense. It’s simply a logical conclusion. Otherwise the verse “do not deviate” would have no content. No, I don’t think that’s… I think the assumption at the base is that there are offenses. Right—that’s what I said. Right. There are offenses. But that doesn’t mean they’re weaker than Torah law. No, no—that doesn’t mean anything yet. There is another type of offense. Right? Yes, meaning there is an implicit assumption: there are offenses. Exactly. Now the Sages come and say: poultry with milk is forbidden. Okay, I ate poultry with milk. Okay? Did I violate “do not deviate”? According to Nachmanides, no. Why? Because it’s an offense not defined in the Torah as… Not only is it not defined in the Torah; “do not deviate” does not command me not to eat poultry with milk. “Do not deviate” tells me only that the Sages have authority. That’s all it tells me. Suppose I were eating poultry with milk because I fundamentally don’t recognize the authority of the Sages—not just because I felt like it and my inclination overcame me, but because I don’t recognize their authority in principle—that would be a Torah violation of “do not deviate.” But if I eat poultry with milk because my inclination overpowered me, then what—I mean, sometimes I violate Torah law for the same reason. But maybe you can also take this thing and project it onto the very authority of the Sages—that the Torah doesn’t define who a sage is. No, that’s fine—the Sanhedrin and the issue of ordination, that is defined. It is defined who a sage is. There is ordination from Moses our Teacher, each ordained person ordains another, and so it passes from generation to generation, appointment to the Sanhedrin—it’s a closed system, very clearly defined. Okay. Okay, so now I know who a sage is. But if this whole realm of offenses is not defined at all on the Torah plane, then the prohibition of “do not deviate” would also have no meaning. Because it would be “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted” without any offenses. If there’s such a heading, “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted,” that indicates that apparently there exists another category of offenses. Yes, it exists. Not the regular offenses—other offenses, ones the Sages determine. But—but wait—I didn’t understand this point. I didn’t understand why. Because otherwise “do not deviate” has no content. But wouldn’t it—I think we’re making some leap here. If I saw “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted,” I would say: there is some act of trespassing, period. Not that it’s a separate category. There is an act of trespassing; I don’t know what it is. I know nothing about it. There is an act of trespassing. Okay, but that doesn’t… Now, did the Torah command that offense? It only said that such a thing exists and is called an offense. For something to count as an offense, the Torah needs to tell me: don’t do that—“be careful,” “lest,” “do not”—very specific formulations in the Torah. There are no such formulations about eating poultry with milk. The Torah has no direct command: do not eat poultry with milk. The Torah has a direct command: you must obey the Sages. So if I eat poultry with milk because I don’t recognize the authority of the Sages, then I violated a Torah prohibition, because the Torah said the Sages have authority. Wait—if I eat poultry with milk because I fundamentally don’t recognize the authority of the Sages… if I fundamentally don’t recognize the authority of the Sages and therefore I eat poultry with milk, then I violated a Torah prohibition, because the Torah said the Sages have authority. But if I ate poultry with milk while I do recognize the authority of the Sages and I understand that I’m doing wrong—my evil inclination was strong, I failed, what can I do, I ate poultry with milk—in that case I did not violate “do not deviate,” because I recognized the authority of the Sages; I only violated the offense of eating poultry with milk, but that offense is not Torah-level because the verse “do not deviate” does not command it. So what is it, then? That’s what’s called a rabbinic offense. And my claim is that a rabbinic offense is not something the Torah commands, but it is an offense that I understand from the Torah to exist. You understand? It’s not the same as inventing a new prohibition with no authority behind it; anybody can invent a prohibition—why should I obey you? And on the other hand, it’s not the same as an offense the Torah itself commands. Here it’s an offense the Torah does not command, but from another command of the Torah I can understand that there exists another category of such offenses. There’s no command regarding them; I have a disclosure that they exist. But I didn’t understand why that now loses its Torah-level force. Because when I violated it, you cannot point to a verse that I violated—to a command that I violated. Yes, but the claim here—now we’re trying to understand Nachmanides, right? Both of them—Maimonides and Nachmanides—because I want to answer both questions. Each one answers one question. I said that each one has a short blanket: he covers the feet, or he covers the head, but both sides need to cover the whole body. Both questions need to be answered. Neither of them manages to answer both. Maimonides says “do not deviate right or left” gives Torah-level force—not just force, but all rabbinic offenses emerge from “do not deviate.” Nachmanides asks him: then all rabbinic offenses are Torah-level. Right, that’s his objection. And I ask, on behalf of Maimonides against Nachmanides: fine, so according to you it’s not “do not deviate”—then why obey? Neither side comes out clean. So what does Nachmanides answer? So I’m saying they both give the same answer, in my opinion. They don’t disagree at all; they just don’t understand each other. I claim they both say the same thing. They claim that the rabbinic offense can be learned as existing from a verse in the Torah, but the verse does not command me regarding that offense. And a Torah offense is only something that the verse itself commands me to do or not do. Let me give you an example. When the Torah says “he shall not profane his word,” regarding vows—if you made a vow, you have to keep what you vowed: “he shall not profane his word,” do not profane your speech, okay? Suppose you vowed not to eat bread today. Then you ate bread. You violated the vow. When you ate the bread, you violated a Torah prohibition. Right. Why? Because the Torah said “he shall not profane his word”; you spoke that you would not eat bread and then profaned that speech, right? Right. So basically the case of eating bread is a specification, a private case, of that general command “he shall not profane his word.” “He shall not profane his word”—now whatever you vow about, that general command says that if you violate it, you have transgressed a prohibition. Right. That’s what I call specification, deduction—the particular thing emerges from the general command “he shall not profane his word.” Right. With “do not deviate” and rabbinic offenses, I claim this is not specification but branching. What does that mean? I am not claiming that everyone who eats poultry with milk has violated “do not deviate,” in the way that one who ate the bread violated “he shall not profane his word.” It’s not the same relationship? No. In the case of the bread, the bread is a particular case of “he shall not profane his word.” Once you violated your word, you violated the prohibition of “he shall not profane his word.” Eating poultry with milk is not a particular case of “do not deviate.” It branches out from “do not deviate”; it doesn’t specify “do not deviate.” What does that mean? “Do not deviate” reveals to me that this thing is forbidden; it does not command me not to eat it. It’s not a direct command. “He shall not profane his word” commands you: do not eat the bread. If you said in a vow that you would not eat bread, then “he shall not profane his word” commands you directly: you may not eat this bread. It’s a direct command. If you violated it, then you violated a prohibition written in the Torah. But “do not deviate” does not command you not to eat poultry with milk. It merely reveals to you that, know this, eating poultry with milk is apparently some kind of prohibition, because otherwise the command “do not deviate” would have no content. So “do not deviate” does not command eating poultry with milk; rather, from it I learn that there is such a thing as the prohibition of eating poultry with milk. But what’s the difference, Rabbi? The difference is that specification is deduction. What do I mean? That what is specified is a particular case of the general rule. Therefore, whatever applies to the rule applies to the particular case, so of course it is Torah-level. If the rule is written in the Torah and you violated a particular case of that rule, then you violated a Torah prohibition. But eating poultry with milk is not a particular case of “do not deviate.” After all, if I ate poultry with milk while in principle recognizing the authority of the Sages, then I have not rebelled against the authority of the Sages—I do recognize their authority. My evil inclination got the better of me; what can I do? So you cannot say that everyone who eats poultry with milk violated “do not deviate.” No, since I did not deviate from the words of the Sages—I recognize their authority; I just failed. One can fail even with a Torah prohibition because of evil inclination, right? Certainly. You violated an offense. I violated an offense, but a rabbinic offense. Because this offense is not a specification, not a particular case of “do not deviate,” but rather the command “do not deviate” reveals to me that eating poultry with milk is forbidden. But even if I ate… It does not command me. Even if I ate, say, pork because my inclination got the better of me, and I acknowledge the authority of the Torah, I still violated a Torah offense. Why? Exactly—why? Because the Torah does not say “obey me” in general. It says: “Do not eat pork.” If you ate pork, then you violated what the Torah commanded you. It says that’s… it doesn’t matter why; that’s it. Right—and if you ate it, then you violated what it commanded. Now, the same thing regarding the Sages? No, there it isn’t the same. Why not? That’s exactly the difference. Because if the Torah says “do not deviate from all that they instruct you”… And still I deviated? You didn’t deviate. I did deviate. No—so I’m explaining, no. If you ate it because you fundamentally don’t recognize the authority of the Sages, then you deviated. That really would be a Torah prohibition. Because the Torah said the Sages have authority, and you say, I do not recognize the authority of the Sages—that’s like pork, and it’s a Torah prohibition according to everyone. But if I say: I recognize the authority of the Sages, but what can I do, my inclination overpowered me and I ate poultry with milk? That’s like pork. No. Why not? Because with pork the Torah commanded not to eat pork. Here what comes out of the Torah’s command is not “do not eat poultry with milk.” Rather, the command indirectly reveals to me that there is apparently a prohibition not to eat poultry with milk, because otherwise there would be no prohibition even if I ate poultry with milk in rebellion against the Sages. Rabbi, I don’t quite understand. “Deviated” isn’t just deviating—say someone tells me something and I deviate—it isn’t only the internal motive; it’s also the act in practice. If someone now tells me—let’s say, it says “do not deviate” from what he says, he tells me “do this,” and I deviated in practice, no matter why, I deviated. That is the simple assumption, and it’s exactly against that assumption that I’m arguing. That is exactly how Nachmanides understood Maimonides. Exactly that. And therefore he says: what, everyone who eats poultry with milk violated a Torah prohibition? He deviated. Right? What does Nachmanides himself think? Or what would Maimonides answer him? It doesn’t matter why—not because he rebelled against the authority of the Sages. That is what Nachmanides argues against Maimonides, I’m saying again. What you’re asking is Nachmanides’ objection to Maimonides. What I’m suggesting now is a different proposal to resolve Maimonides. And what I claim—it doesn’t have to be so, but I claim that in order to resolve Maimonides, you have to say this: that the prohibition of eating poultry with milk depends on why you are doing it. Because unlike pork, in the case of pork the Torah said: do not eat pork. It didn’t say why, and command, and authority—it said do not eat pork. You ate pork, you violated the prohibition. And what about the Sages? No—with the Sages the Torah says: the Sages have authority. That’s what it says, period. It doesn’t say to me: do not eat poultry with milk. It says: the Sages have authority. Now, if you deny the authority of the Sages, you have gone head-on against the Torah, and that’s a Torah prohibition. But if you accept the authority of the Sages, then there’s no problem—you obeyed. You accept that the Sages have authority, but your inclination caused you to eat poultry with milk—what can you do? So I say here this is not a Torah prohibition of “do not deviate,” because you didn’t deviate. Because you recognize in principle the authority of the Sages. No, Rabbi—you are making a distinction between the internal motive and the act in practice, and I don’t understand why. So I’m saying: because it’s different from pork. With pork there is no such distinction. With “do not deviate” there is such a distinction. Because with pork, the command is about the act—eating pork. It is forbidden to eat pork. Well, and on that—“do not deviate.” Right, and what is “do not deviate”? “Do not deviate” means you may not fail to recognize the authority of the Sages. No—why is that the interpretation? That’s the interpretation I’m proposing. “Do not deviate,” to deviate is to move aside—“do not deviate” is an act. We’re arguing again in an unproductive way. You can interpret it your way, but then you remain with the problem. What I’m proposing is a different interpretation, which is also possible. You say it’s not necessary—I don’t care. But it is possible, and it is the only way to understand Maimonides. Now I’ll explain. Don’t ask: but it’s not necessary. I know it’s not necessary too. How do you interpret “do not deviate” as “do not fail to recognize”? In Sefer HaMitzvot here, exactly. I see—so explain. Then I say this: if you fundamentally do not recognize the authority of the Sages, that is definitely a Torah prohibition. Both Maimonides and Nachmanides would agree. But if you do recognize the authority of the Sages and merely failed, then you did not violate “do not deviate.” But on the other hand, you can’t say you’re in the clear. Why? Because from the fact that “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted” is written—that is, “do not deviate,” there is authority to the Sages—it is obvious that there are some acts that count as violating that authority. Otherwise it is emptied of all content. Wait, wait—but a moment ago you defined “do not deviate” as recognizing. Right, right. But if all the acts, all the other acts, were not forbidden acts, then what would it even mean not to recognize their authority? So eating poultry with milk would actually be permitted? So why, if I eat poultry with milk because I fundamentally don’t recognize their authority, have I committed a prohibition? Whereas if I stood on one leg because I fundamentally don’t recognize their authority, I haven’t committed a prohibition? You have to assume that this act is different from standing on one leg, because otherwise the prohibition against not recognizing their authority would also have no content. You need to pour into it the content of certain acts. But those acts are not commanded by “do not deviate”; rather, from the very fact that “do not deviate” exists, we understand indirectly that there are such acts that count as offenses. And since the understanding is indirect—not a direct command—you can’t say I violated a command. I didn’t violate a command. But the command revealed to me that this act is not okay, and that’s called a rabbinic offense. But it could be that the Sages commanded things that are not necessarily intrinsically bad. Doesn’t matter. What they commanded became forbidden. And then the act itself becomes forbidden. If I now violated it not out of denial of their authority but because my inclination overpowered me, and the act is not bad in itself… What do you mean, not bad? If the Sages forbade it, it became forbidden. It became rabbinically forbidden. But the Rabbi says the problem here is the very fact that I act out of lack of recognition of their authority. No, no, no—the opposite. I’m talking about someone who recognizes their authority and still violates it. Someone who doesn’t recognize their authority violated Torah law; there’s no dispute about that. Someone who does recognize their authority and still violates—that’s where the dispute is about whether it’s Torah-level or not. I’m trying to suggest a way in which such a thing would not be Torah-level, but would still be forbidden, despite not being Torah-level. Because I want to claim that when I eat poultry with milk, this is an act that the Torah clearly sees as some sort of prohibition. There is no command about it in the Torah, but from the command in the Torah I learn indirectly that the Torah views this thing as some kind of prohibition. Poultry with milk? Yes, poultry with milk. Meat with milk is ordinary Torah law; I’m talking about poultry with milk, which is a rabbinic prohibition. I’m talking about rabbinic prohibitions. No, the Torah doesn’t necessarily view it as intrinsically bad. So I’m saying: since the Torah said to obey the Sages, and the Sages forbade poultry with milk. Some of them. Not some of them—all of them. They forbade poultry with milk. So now I ask: what is the prohibition if one ate poultry with milk? If I ate poultry with milk out of denial, it’s Torah-level. But if I ate poultry with milk while recognizing the authority of the Sages? Then you cannot say I did something against the instruction, because the instruction said to recognize their authority, and I did recognize their authority. On the other hand, you also can’t say I performed some neutral act—no problem, eat as much poultry with milk as you want so long as you declare that you recognize the authority of the Sages. Then what does their authority even mean? I can still do whatever I want, as long as I state that I recognize the authority of the Sages? It has no content. But that’s true of almost every commandment. No, no, no—wait. First understand this, then we’ll see about every commandment. Here, is it understood? I understand how you’re interpreting it. That’s all. So I’m saying: if you recognize their authority in principle, then you can’t say you violated a Torah prohibition, because the Torah prohibition is only failing to recognize their authority. On the other hand, if I recognize their authority and then eat poultry with milk, you can’t say I simply did a neutral act with no problem. Why? Because if it really were a neutral act, and one could do whatever the Sages forbade as long as one declares recognition of their authority, then what is their authority? Anything they forbade I can still do. Their authority has no content. This is “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.” You are compelled to assume that the acts they forbade involve some kind of prohibition, even though this is not frontal confrontation with the prohibition. It’s like the Torah were to come and declare: listen, there are many other details, and this person is the expert and he will convey them to you. And then first of all you are commanded to recognize him as an expert authorized by the Torah. And automatically the details he tells you are part of his expertise; those too have meaning in themselves because he is the expert. Exactly, right. That’s if the Torah says you must accept him as an expert. If the Torah had said you must obey him, then it wouldn’t be the same, because then you simply have to obey him. If the Torah says you have to recognize him as an expert, you cannot recognize him as an expert without accepting… But on the other hand, clearly you did something that is not to the Torah’s liking. Right? That’s called a rabbinic offense. Rabbi, but let’s say now—if we step back and look at it from above—if that’s really true, then in terms of severity: after all, we have here the expert who knows how the Torah is supposed to be fulfilled. So you didn’t violate… well, he knows. So what if he knows? No, but I would say: the Torah’s intent was fully aligned with what he said. Entirely. It’s a rabbinic prohibition. The Torah’s intent was aligned—but “the Torah’s intent was aligned” is not the same as prohibition. No, I’d say—let me put it differently. I’d put it this way: if this person really is an expert, and only this way is God’s will fulfilled, as that person says, then if I act differently, that’s really a Torah prohibition—in the sense that I am truly opposing the Torah’s original intention. No, no—wait, that’s exactly the point. We talked about this last semester, chumash. Here what you can say is: it’s not right, it’s not the Torah’s will—that’s true. But prohibition is a formal category. A prohibition is when you violate a command written in the Torah, not when you violate what the Torah doesn’t want you to do. Let me give you an example. Suppose there were no law against running a red light. Okay. No law. There wasn’t yet a law saying that at a red light you don’t go through. Okay. But it would still be dangerous. Obviously the legislator wants you not to run a red light. It’s dangerous. Okay. But there was no law—hadn’t yet been legislated; they’re still working on it; next week it’ll be enacted. You ran a red light. Clearly you violated the will of the legislator. But there is no such law. So you are not an offender in the sense of having acted against the law. As long as it hasn’t been legislated, there is no such law. That doesn’t mean what you did was to the legislator’s liking. It wasn’t to the legislator’s liking—but there is no law; you didn’t violate a law. That’s the situation here, understand? But there is a difference between saying the Torah is not pleased with what you did and saying you violated a Torah prohibition. You violate a Torah prohibition when you act against a law that the Torah established as forbidden. By contrast, when you do something that is not in line with the Torah’s will—that isn’t a prohibition, not a formal negative commandment. It’s something not okay, but it’s not a formal prohibition. That’s what’s called a rabbinic prohibition. But then what’s the practical implication of that? For example, that you deserve disciplinary lashes—any rabbinic prohibition, as we learned—you have to observe it. So what if there’s no Torah prohibition here? There is a prohibition—a rabbinic prohibition. And for that you will be held accountable in the heavenly court if you don’t do it. But it’s a lighter prohibition, a rabbinic prohibition, not a Torah prohibition. It’s like moral offenses—the Torah doesn’t want you to commit moral wrongs, but there is no halakhic definition saying that it’s forbidden to do it. So what about that? You haven’t violated a Torah prohibition; there is no halakhic definition forbidding it. And the Holy One, blessed be He, will still come to you with claims for being immoral. There is a difference between saying you violated a prohibition and saying the act is not okay. So basically the claim is that… let’s say, in terms of the truth or correctness of the thing, everything is equally true in the same sense, but certain things we were not warned about explicitly, and therefore you can’t say it’s a Torah prohibition. You can’t punish me for them with the same severity as for something else that… Right. Ritva and the Rosh—Ritva and the Rosh, for example, in Tosafot HaRosh—write: what does “greater is one who is commanded and performs than one who is not commanded and performs” mean? The Talmud says: greater is one who is commanded and performs than one who is not commanded and performs. And there is one correct interpretation; all the rest are cute ideas. The correct explanation is that someone who is commanded and performs—or violates—if he violated it, then he both caused the problematic result for which the act was forbidden, and he also rebelled against the command, because he was commanded. But if someone did it without being commanded, then he did a problematic act—the act is problematic—but he did not violate the command. Same with fulfilling. If you fulfill a command that you were commanded in, there are two benefits. One benefit: it’s a commandment, it has good results. On the other hand, you also obeyed the command of the Holy One, blessed be He. One who is not commanded and performs did a very good act—good results, everything fine—but he did not obey the command of the Holy One, blessed be He. So he is less than one who is commanded and performs. This is exactly what I’m speaking about here. But this too sounds like something more formal. Right—Jewish law is a formal thing. It feels a bit lacking… Jewish law is a formal thing, like law in general. What isn’t forbidden isn’t forbidden. The fact that it isn’t to the Holy One’s liking—fine, so what? Not really—that doesn’t mean it isn’t forbidden; a person knows it’s forbidden, just that he isn’t… No, no—it isn’t forbidden. Because “forbidden” means halakhically forbidden—there is a command, like with the red light. If there’s no law, then it’s legally permitted to run a red light. Ask the legislator: is it your will that I run a red light? He’ll say no, of course not, it’s dangerous, the state pays money to treat you in the hospital afterward. We don’t want that. Not wanting it is very nice; as long as… as long as there is no law, it isn’t forbidden. Exactly the same thing here. But if a person now—wait, let’s step outside the halakhic discussion for a second—if a person really knows that something is wrong, knows that it is wrong, then it isn’t okay for him to do it. Right—but there is no prohibition here, that’s all. No, but if a person, so to speak, is honest with himself, he knows there is an unwritten prohibition here. What does “honest” mean? That’s psychology. I’m saying there is no prohibition. No, prohibition is a formal matter. If there is no law, there is no prohibition. Period. That’s it. You can say it’s not okay; you can complain, all true. But a prohibition—there isn’t one. If I know it’s, let’s say, the will of the legislator—but even if it’s just me toward myself, if I know that something is wrong despite not being commanded in it… That’s because it isn’t formal; what does that have to do with this? Now you’re talking about morality, and morality isn’t formal. But Jewish law and law are formal. What hasn’t been legislated is not halakhically or legally forbidden. The fact that it’s not right—true, it’s not right. Fine, so what? That is exactly rabbinic prohibition. What does rabbinic prohibition mean? It means: look, this isn’t okay, but you can’t say there is a Torah-level negative commandment here. So basically the claim is that this whole thing was just an example to say that there are certain prohibitions that only branch out from the Torah. You can’t say they are written in what the Torah says, and you can’t say they are completely disconnected from what is written in the Torah. It isn’t rabbinic in the ordinary sense, but it also isn’t Torah-level in the simple sense. It isn’t written in the Torah. But it branches out of the Torah; it has a connection to what is written in the Torah, but not a complete connection—an indirect connection. It isn’t what is written. But from what is written, you can understand that this too is forbidden. That’s another example of what I said earlier regarding derashot: derashot show you something else that is related in spirit to what is in the Torah, but it isn’t written in the Torah. You understand from the spirit of the Torah that it isn’t okay, but it isn’t written. It seems that both in root one and root two, Maimonides is talking about this sort of branching—an intermediate degree between what is written in the Torah and what is unrelated to the Torah. In the middle there is a whole range of possibilities that say: it is connected to the Torah, but not hermetically, not fully. It branches out from the Torah. I understand from the Torah that this too is forbidden, but you can’t say the Torah directly commanded it. Exactly the same as with derashot. Also in derashot, what we are basically saying is that you can’t say the Torah commanded reverence for Torah scholars when it said, “You shall fear the Lord your God.” No—it didn’t command reverence for Torah scholars. But from what it did command, I can understand that it also wants us to revere Torah scholars. So then, seemingly, from the perspective of a person who truly wants to do God’s will, it shouldn’t matter to him where it came from. Right—it shouldn’t matter to him, you’re absolutely right. Because a person who truly wants to do God’s will should fulfill whatever the Holy One, blessed be He, wants. But when I ask what the formal halakhic definition of such an act is—do we have a Torah prohibition here or not?—the answer is no. Because if you didn’t violate a command that prohibits it, then there is no Torah prohibition here. It may be that from your point of view that makes no difference, and it’s very good that it makes no difference, because a person should observe rabbinic laws like Torah laws, obviously. But in terms of definition—whether this is forbidden by Torah law or not—that’s a formal question, like whether it’s forbidden in the civil law. As long as it hasn’t been legislated, there is no halakhic or legal prohibition. Rabbi, I always thought that rabbinic laws seem to have less binding force because it’s harder to prove the clear connection between them and the will of God, unlike Torah laws. No, there is no connection at all between them and the will of God. It’s the will of the Sages, except that God said the will of the Sages is also binding, and not prohibited—sorry, is also binding and not optional. Why can’t one say that “do not deviate” refers to the Sages’ interpretation of the Torah, and not to their own enactments? I said: you can say that—that’s what Nachmanides says. But then I ask about enactments: why must one keep them? No—but I’m not speaking about enactments, really. You keep them by force of, like, the state. What do you mean, the state? Why does Jewish law require me to keep rabbinic laws? Why? No, but there are all kinds of laws. I’m asking why—rabbinic laws, enactments, decrees. Poultry with milk, legumes on Passover. Poultry with milk. Legumes on Passover is just nonsense. But poultry with milk. Very good—so why not keep legumes on Passover? Why not keep them? In fact don’t keep them—what do you mean? I eat legumes on Passover. I also eat them, but I do that because I was convinced that the reason the Sages gave for doing so is not… No—if that’s why you do it, then you’re an offender. I claim the Sages never forbade it, not that what they did wasn’t logical. There is no prohibition. What do you mean, there’s no prohibition regarding legumes? It’s an invention. No prohibition? Obviously it’s an invention, like many other things that are inventions. No, no—something that is an invention isn’t binding. Something that actually was forbidden, and I just think it wasn’t logical to forbid it—that is forbidden. So what if it wasn’t logical? That’s not the same thing. I claim it was never forbidden at all. Fine—but now we’re getting into another discussion. When did you get upset about that? Let me explain. Look at the second article on my site. The second article? Yes. There I talk about the prohibition of legumes; I explain exactly why it was never forbidden at all. It’s just an invention. Because then there was concern that it would get mixed up, but there is no prohibition in the thing itself. Right. So why can’t I say that about other things the Sages say? You can say it about whatever you want—no problem. Right, but that’s basically what exposes the foundations of the laws… No—legumes are not a rabbinic prohibition. There is no such prohibition; there never was one. In ordinary rabbinic prohibitions there is an actual prohibition—the Sages sat and established a prohibition. Regarding legumes, no one ever sat and established a prohibition. What do you mean? I open a book of Rema or something. What do I care? Open whatever book you want. He’s a halakhic decisor; he writes that it’s forbidden to eat legumes. He writes it—so what? I can also write. Do you want me to write a book for you? “It is forbidden to sit on a leather chair.” So what? So what? Okay, so how do I distinguish between… For that you have to know how to learn, look at the sources, see the basis for the ruling, and see that there is no basis. That’s it. It’s not the Sanhedrin. But isn’t that what characterizes all rabbinic law? No, no—because every rabbinic law is established by the Sanhedrin, and what the Sanhedrin established binds me. Whether I like it, dislike it, agree with it, disagree with it—that isn’t a factor. But in a case where it isn’t the Sanhedrin—this is thousands of years later, when there was no longer any Sanhedrin—sages practiced a restriction there because they were worried about things. Fine. Like—there’s an obstacle in the road. Fine? Everyone drives around it. Are you crazy? You’ll wreck the car if you drive straight over it. Fine? They removed the obstacle. The city fixed it. Are we going to keep driving around because our ancestors always drove around? Of course not. Nonsense. Right—but that isn’t a rabbinic prohibition. There never was, from the start, a rabbinic prohibition against driving straight. I just didn’t want my car smashed, so I didn’t drive straight. If the Sages had originally established a prohibition against driving straight, then I’d have to continue not driving straight even now after they fixed it, until they fixed the prohibition, until they revoked the prohibition. If I now go ask some person on the street—or even a rabbi—about the prohibition of legumes, he’ll tell me it’s a rabbinic prohibition. Because he’s mistaken. Fine, so what? So basically what the Rabbi claims—well, that’s also what I think, but I always… But not because it’s illogical. I’m saying it’s not enough to say it’s illogical. There are other prohibitions that I may think are illogical, but I know they were established in a competent forum, so they bind me. But this was never established. The question of whether it’s illogical is a secondary issue. First of all: why is it even forbidden, even if it were logical? Who determined that it is forbidden? There was no Sanhedrin, there was nothing. On top of that, I also claim that those who were stringent about it once did not determine that it was forbidden. They simply drove around because they didn’t want to crash. That’s all. Rabbi, let’s take an example we brought on Sunday—we talked about women as witnesses. Right, and is there a prohibition on women being witnesses? They’re not valid to serve as witnesses. They’re not valid? So that’s like a prohibition, no? No.