Halacha and Ethics, Lesson 1: Attitude Toward Non-Jews

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] On a timely topic like this, I wanted to talk about the attitude toward the gentile, but from the perspective of Jewish law and morality more broadly. You can look at this topic from several angles beyond Jewish law and morality—other angles having to do with changes in Jewish law and various methodological questions—but I specifically want to focus more on these aspects of the relationship between Jewish law and morality. Okay, so maybe I’ll give some kind of introduction before I begin. In various areas of Jewish law there’s a certain feeling that there’s tension between moral principles and Jewish law. Or to put it differently, not all laws fit what we intuitively perceive as moral principles. And the question is: how do you explain that? How do you relate to that? That’s both a theoretical question—how can this even be?—and a practical question—what do you do in such a situation, when there’s a conflict between Jewish law and morality? So I’ll take one example, maybe one or two, to sharpen the point. One example: what happens if the wife of a priest is raped? The rule is that the law says they have to separate. And yes, there have already been public controversies about this in the press around various cases, fictional or real—how can it be that Jewish law requires this couple, after the trauma the woman has gone through, to undergo yet another trauma, at the expense of the family of course and the children, when they want to remain together, and yet they are required to separate. That’s not understandable, at least from the outside, but it seems to me those feelings also existed on the inside—inside meaning within the world of people committed to Jewish law. The question is how one relates to a situation like that, when principles of morality, of compassion—usually, not usually, in this case—clash with the halakhic instruction. Right, Amalek is already a more classic example, but the attitude toward the gentile more broadly seems to me also to be an example. There are various places where Jewish law relates to the gentile in a way that, at least today, is perceived by us as immoral or discriminatory. There are opinions that stealing from a gentile is not forbidden at the Torah level; canceling his debt; every interpersonal commandment does not apply in relation to a gentile; one does not desecrate the Sabbath to save a gentile’s life where a Torah prohibition is involved, at least. There is an entire complex of laws that arouses a kind of moral discomfort. The question is: what do you do with a conflict of this sort? So there are several principled approaches. A first principled approach, which I think can be attributed to Rabbi Kook, says that a contradiction is impossible. Meaning, if we don’t understand, or if it seems to us that there is a contradiction between Jewish law and moral principles, then we haven’t fully understood the matter. Either we haven’t properly understood the Jewish law, or we don’t properly understand what the moral command is. And therefore we’re supposed to rethink either in the halakhic context or in the moral context, to see why they coincide. And if they still don’t coincide, we’re still supposed to have confidence that there is some resolution, even though we don’t understand it. But Jewish law is supposed to be aligned with morality. I’ll say more than that: according to Rabbi Kook, in several places—I’m not an expert in his thought, I’m not sure there are people who are experts in his thought, that’s another discussion—but in at least several places in his writings he says something much more far-reaching. He says there are no laws that have no moral purpose at all. Meaning, that’s a stronger statement than what I just said. What I said until now is that a contradiction cannot exist between Jewish law and morality, but there could also be other laws that are amoral—not related to morality. Not eating pork—what does that have to do with morality? That’s something neutral. It’s not anti-moral and it doesn’t coincide with morality; it’s unrelated; it’s not a moral application. Rabbi Kook argues that there’s no such thing. That all laws have moral purposes—at least in several places; I don’t know if one can say this about his overall method.

[Speaker B] But here—you don’t desecrate the Sabbath for a gentile. So how can you say that that is moral? Fine.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, so that’s already the question of the conflict. That’s what I’m talking about. So here there’s an even more total statement, and I’ll come back to it later after I— I’ll try to explain what I think about this, because Rabbi Kook is really assuming two assumptions here. The first assumption is that a system like Jewish law cannot have goals beyond morality. Jewish law is supposed to achieve only moral goals. Now, we don’t always see how that happens and how it connects, but somehow, indirectly, it always leads to achieving a moral goal. Wait, about the definition—I’ll get to that in a moment; actually the definition is less important here, it seems to me, but I’ll get there in a minute. And the second assumption is that Jewish law in fact always strives to achieve those goals, meaning there is no contradiction between it and moral principles. Each of those assumptions—and there is a certain connection between them, as I’ll claim later—is an assumption that needs clarification. I personally don’t agree with them. But that’s his claim: the claim of convergence. Now, of course that claim of convergence can be interpreted in two ways. With Rabbi Kook it seems to me fairly clear that it’s one of them, but in principle it can be interpreted in two ways. Let me perhaps introduce what is called the Euthyphro dilemma. It’s a Platonic dialogue, Euthyphro, where he asks: is the good good because God—there it’s the gods—commanded it, or did the Holy One, blessed be He, command it because it is good? Is something good because the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded it—His command is what defines it as good—or no, is it good independently, and because it is good the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded it? In other words, the question is whether the good is some category that has an independent standing apart from the Holy One’s command, and the Holy One commands us to do the good, or whether the very fact that He commands it defines the category of good—there is no other definition. Now understand that both of these conceptions assume overlap—overlap between morality and the divine command. Both of them. The dispute is only over the direction of the overlap. One conception says yes, because the Holy One, blessed be He, always commands doing the good—that’s the overlap I described until now. But the opposite direction also really speaks of overlap. It’s just overlap by definition. It simply says that good means what the Holy One commands. So of course there also can’t be a contradiction; that too leads to overlap, but it’s an overlap whose meaning is completely reversed. One approach empties morality of content; there is only divine command—you can call it morality if you want, what difference does it make, it’s just a label. And the first direction empties the concept of religious command of content. It basically says it is only a translation, or means for achieving moral goals. Rabbi Kook, it seems to me, chooses the option I just mentioned second—which is the first one—as I understand him at least. It seems fairly clear to me that he adopts the option that empties religious command of content. Meaning, he is basically saying that everything is morality. And the opposite conception—this formalist conception—there are those who, not exactly Leibowitz, but it’s similar to Leibowitz’s religious view—Leibowitz did accept morality as an independent category. A conception that says the command does not derive its force from the fact that it is moral; the command is binding because there is a command. Now there are people who go even further and say: and that’s also morality. In other words, that is simply the definition of morality—what the Holy One commanded. So really what we have here is a definition. Now before I move on, there’s another conception I want to support, and I want to clarify this inquiry, this dilemma—whether it is this way or that. The Torah says, “Do what is right and good,” or cling to His ways. There are commands in the Torah, and the question is what can we learn from these commands. Do these commands tell us something on the question— it doesn’t say “right”…

[Speaker B] “And good,” “what is right and good in the eyes of the Lord,” fine—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “What is right and good in the eyes of the Lord”—what does that mean? So one can understand “Do what is right and good in the eyes of the Lord” to mean something like “keep all My commandments.” That you should fulfill the commandments; that is called doing what is right and good in the eyes of the Lord. Okay? According to that, there’s no room to talk about going beyond the letter of the law, about matters of morality, about piety, because what is right in the eyes of the Lord is piety—meaning the command is what constitutes the concept of morality. The Sages and the commentators did not interpret it that way. They spoke about things that are beyond command, about “do what is right.” “Do what is right and good.” Now if they really are telling us that there are things beyond command, that means their validity does not derive from the fact that there is a command concerning them. Rather, there is some independent standing to the good, not because there is a command about it; it has some independent standing. And what the Torah tells us is that beyond command, there is also some concept of good or of morality. And you are supposed to behave that way as well, not only obey commands. More than that: when we speak about cleaving to the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be He—just as He is compassionate, so you should be compassionate, and so on—what does that mean? Or also “Do what is right and good.” What is right and good? Suppose I want to follow the attributes of the Holy One and do what is right and good—what is that? How do I know what that is? According to the definitional approach, of course, what do you mean—look in the Shulchan Arukh and see what is good. Since good means what the Holy One has commanded. But if we are talking about going beyond the letter of the law, now I’ll ask myself: what does that mean? What does count and what doesn’t? What’s the criterion? How do I know what is good and what isn’t good? There isn’t the slightest hint of that anywhere. The assumption is that what is right and good is within us; that is, we understand what right and good are. The Torah is only telling us: don’t ignore that feeling of right and good. The Holy One expects you to behave that way as well, not only to obey commands. But that gives a stamp of approval to that feeling inside us, and there is no definition there of what “right and good” means. Meaning, it relies on our conception of what is right and good. Or in other words, again I come back to the point that right and good are not defined by the fact that there is a command concerning them. We understand what we understand to be right and good. It cannot—

[Speaker C] Go against the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments are the good.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, but that’s part of the good; there are other things that are good. The Ten Commandments are not the issue; those are commanded. I’m talking about what exists beyond command. How do I know what does and does not count? Is standing on one leg good or not good? There’s no command about it. So maybe every morning one has to stand on one leg—how do I know not? What’s the criterion? The criterion is what we understand as right and good. The Torah assumes that if it tells us “right and good,” we understand what it’s talking about.

[Speaker B] Of course, by generalization. What? From the commands you’ll generalize.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, but the generalization can go in all kinds of directions.

[Speaker B] Also in what wasn’t commanded.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, but the generalization can go in all kinds of directions. How do I know which direction? The problem of induction. So also “cling to His attributes”—just as He is compassionate, so you should be compassionate, and so on. We have the thirteen attributes of mercy: “The Lord, the Lord, a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abundant in kindness and truth.” So seemingly there we have a detailed description of what is expected of us. Right? But in the end it concludes with “a jealous God” and “avenging”—jealous and avenging. So there too are we supposed to do that? To cling to His attributes means all His attributes—compassionate, gracious, jealous, and avenging. So everything listed there, no? It is generally accepted that no. The medieval authorities say no. Jealous and avenging—vengeance, “God of vengeance, Lord”—vengeance we leave to the Holy One. Unless, again, one needs it to set things right here. But vengeance for the sake of vengeance is the Holy One’s domain—“He will avenge the blood of His servants that was spilled.” So what does that mean? How do you know? The list is a list of thirteen attributes, so how do you know to split off the first ten or eleven and exclude the last two? You know because that is not what we call good. Where is that written? In the Torah it appears as one list; there is no hint in the Torah that this is something different. It’s because I understand that vengeance and jealousy are not good traits.

[Speaker B] Does God have a bad trait? What?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] For the Holy One, those attributes are apparently good in His case, because He does them properly. And for us—as the medieval authorities say—that’s an interesting theological question. But for us, they say no, don’t do that. Now beyond the theological question, which deserves respect in its own place, it’s clear that if we are told not to do that, that means that from our perspective it isn’t good. Why does He do it? Good question. That has to be discussed separately.

[Speaker B] We don’t know how—there’s a human limitation. The Holy One knows how…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So why with compassion and grace is there no human limitation? Is it always right to have compassion? It isn’t. There too there are limits. “One who has compassion on the cruel…” Right, there are limits; it is not always right to have compassion. There are always limits. It’s all not simple. I don’t think that’s correct. Jealousy and vengeance are essentially something different from compassion and grace, not only because of the complexity of applying them. So what does that mean? It means that beyond the criterion that it simply appears in the list, there is another external criterion here. We know on our own how to sort what does and doesn’t count. Where does that come from? Is there a verse saying that only the first ten or eleven count and not the last two? There isn’t. So what is it? Our natural moral straightness. Our simple intuition tells us that those do not. Again, we go by intuition. Yes, we go by our own understanding.

[Speaker D] Maybe you should finish with the tree of knowledge. What? Good and evil—that’s part of creation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Well, I didn’t understand.

[Speaker D] So that means evil is not—it’s not far from God. It’s part of God’s creation. He creates everything, as in “forms light and…”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “Forms light and creates evil.” But what does that mean? Fine, so He created evil, but He created it so that we won’t do it—assuming we take that literally. Right? That’s what happens. “Do what is right and good,” “walk in His ways”—that’s what I’m talking about. That command tells me to distance myself from evil. Now when I ask, what is evil? Who defines what evil is?

[Speaker B] And what is good?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Same thing. If you know what evil is, you know what good is. So I ask: where does that definition come from? That definition is what each person understands. Meaning that there is some category of good and evil that does not emerge from command. The command presupposes its existence. It relates to these things as already existing. The command does not see itself as constituting these categories, such that by virtue of the command we now know what good is. No. We know good and evil independently of command. The command tells us, gives religious validation, says to us: that moral intuition, that moral understanding of good and evil—the Holy One demands that you implement it. He created you with those intuitions. So that is really a kind of—there is another verse. The verse is what is written inside us. Our moral intuition is also a kind of verse. Yes, we also received that from the Holy One. And therefore it seems to me that these are indications that the good has an independent standing. It is not true that command defines what good is. The command tells us to do good. Maybe I’ll continue from there later. There’s a book by Avi Sagi, Religion and Morality, where he discusses this. He calls it, in shorthand, morality as God’s command. And he surveys the different conceptions of medieval and later authorities on this issue, and comes to the conclusion that there is almost no such conception in the Jewish world—a conception that morality is defined by command. Almost everyone agrees that morality has some independent standing. It is not defined by virtue of command. An important point in this context, perhaps, is that this does not mean what Leibowitz, characteristically, takes one step too far—that morality is an atheistic category. Meaning, that commitment to morality is detached from the Holy One. That’s an Olympic leap beyond what I said just now, even beyond what I said just now. All it means is that it is a category outside command, outside Jewish law. But still—and this seems quite simple to me—it can certainly derive its force or its significance from God’s will.

[Speaker B] Its definition is outside Jewish law. But there is a command, after all, to do…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, but that command is not necessarily halakhic. They don’t count it. Not “You shall be holy,” and not “Do what is right and good.” Specifically “Walk in His ways” they do count.

[Speaker B] The question is what the difference is. But plainly, moral commands, at least some of them, don’t enter into Jewish law. And therefore the claim is that this is God’s will that lies outside Jewish law. But that doesn’t mean there are two authorities here. Because one could very quickly reach the conclusion… Okay, so maybe the teacher doesn’t depend only on you but on the sages?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, that’s a secondary question. What do you do when there are disagreements? But that is also true within Jewish law. Within Jewish law there are no disagreements? It’s always a question—what do you do when there are disagreements? Is there an authorized body, a Sanhedrin? Do we follow the majority? Does each person follow what he thinks? You can ask that question in the halakhic context, and you can ask that question in the moral context too. But that doesn’t affect my discussion. My discussion is whether these are two different categories or one. Okay. Where was I? Right. So the claim that morality is an independent category—by independent I mean outside Jewish law—does not mean that morality is an independent category outside God’s will. It could very well be—and I think this is also the correct approach—that God’s will is expressed in two different categories. There is a will that is included in command. The Holy One commands. That is an ultimate, defined demand; there is Jewish law and you can’t depart from it. And there is God’s will that tells me: be a good person. “Be a good person” is apparently not a command, not a halakhic command. They don’t count it. Not “You shall be holy” and not “Do what is right and good.” Specifically “Walk in His ways” they do count. The question is what the difference is, but plainly moral commands, at least some of them, do not enter into Jewish law. And therefore the claim is that this is God’s will that lies outside Jewish law. But that doesn’t mean there are two authorities here. Because one could quickly come to the conclusion—what Leibowitz at least presented his position as, and I’m not always sure he understood himself. Really, not out of disrespect. There are people who aren’t aware of a definitional nuance and present their position in a certain way, and it’s not clear that that’s really what they meant. Because on the one hand he presented a conception in which command encompasses everything. Meaning, for a Jew, there is nothing except command. Nothing else is relevant. On the other hand, he was constantly scolding us over moral questions. So how do those things fit together? The usual claim was that yes, there is a moral category that obligates him as a human being, not as a religious Jew. The religious obligations are exhausted only in Jewish law. But I’m not sure that’s right. I mean, it’s entirely possible that he too meant what I’m saying now—that in fact there is God’s will in the halakhic context and in the moral context, and the definition of what is moral is an atheistic definition—or a human definition—and not a definition by command. Meaning, to define what is moral and what is not moral is entrusted to our human conscience. But the command—why do I do, why obey the command? I also have an evil inclination to speak slander. The fact that someone has a desire or feeling to do something, an inclination to do something, doesn’t mean he should do it, right? So why should I fulfill my moral inclination, but not my inclination to speak slander? Because the Torah said that the inclination toward the good is one that should be fulfilled. Okay? So there is God’s will that we realize the good, but it does not define what good is. The definition of what good is—that’s our definition. Okay? So that’s ours. Meaning, from within our own conception; I assume that’s what the Holy One also intended, but we know it from our own conception, not from command. Fine. So that is about the two extreme conceptions, both of which identify Jewish law with morality, but always at the price of emptying one of the categories of content. Either we empty morality of content, because really it’s just another name for Jewish law, or we empty the category of Jewish law or God’s will of content, because really it’s just morality. But both forms of this identity empty one of those categories of content.

[Speaker B] It seems that the two categories can be opposed, because for “what is right and good” the example Nachmanides gives is the neighboring property owner. So you have the legal rule, the halakhah, and you don’t act according to the halakhah but beyond the letter of the law. So there is a contradiction between them, and yet…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s why I said I don’t agree with either of those two conceptions—precisely because of categories like going beyond the letter of the law, “do what is right and good,” “that you may walk in the way of good men and keep to the paths of the righteous,” all kinds of things—yes, right, those are exactly the indications I brought for why I don’t accept that conception. But before I move on for a moment to the conception I do accept, I just want to— I started saying something—ah yes. This identification empties one of the categories of content, and I want to bring an example here to sharpen more why both approaches are problematic in my eyes. Rabbi Dessler writes in Michtav MeEliyahu that in those places where one is allowed to lie—where a Torah scholar may alter his words in three matters, for the sake of peace, never mind, there are other places where one is allowed to lie—then it isn’t a lie at all, it’s truth. That’s what he says. It won’t be called a lie. To lie means to say something you are forbidden to say; here you are saying exactly what should be said, so it isn’t a lie. Now this is a bit parallel to the approach that empties morality of content and grounds it in halakhic command.

[Speaker B] Because the issue is that a lie is something that isn’t true.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, so it’s a matter of definition. You can define it his way and survive, no problem. But I’m saying that in essence it’s an outrageous approach. Because a lie is a lie, nothing will help. You can say there are situations where one may, where one must lie—fine. But then you lose the sensitivity to the fact that there is still something problematic here. And once you define it as truth, then you’ve emptied the concept of truth or falsehood of content and mapped it onto what one should or shouldn’t say halakhically, so there is no truth and falsehood—there is only whether it is right or wrong to say, that’s all. But truth and falsehood have their own standing. When I lie, I am doing something that is not right. Sometimes I have to do it; sometimes it is overridden; sometimes it is entirely permitted—whatever you want—but it is a lie. You can’t define it as “not a lie.” In the same sense, I have difficulty accepting these conceptions that empty either religious command or moral command of content. Because our intuitive feeling is that there are two such categories, and both are binding. And the attempt to identify them with one another is simply uncomplex thinking. It’s a way of thinking that says if there are two binding categories, that must mean they are really one; there can’t be two—especially if they sometimes even contradict each other. Okay? So the easiest theoretical move is to get rid of that by means of identification. But it’s easy and it’s wrong. Not always—easy isn’t always wrong—but in this case…

[Speaker B] Truth isn’t always the highest value—we know that peace…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. But it’s still the truth. That’s exactly what I’m saying. But it’s still the truth. Fine, so call it a white lie; that’s better than calling it truth. That’s what I’m saying. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. It’s a clash between values, where the value of peace… peace overrides the value of truth. Excellent—but don’t tell me that because of that it’s now called truth. It isn’t. And you’re just emptying it entirely of content. Now the same thing when I say that killing Amalek is the absolute good, or not saving a gentile on the Sabbath is wonderful good because we simply don’t understand, or separating a kohen’s wife who was raped from her kohen husband is marvelous good because we—it’s the highest good because we don’t understand—that’s doing the same thing. It’s basically emptying the concepts of good of any content. It’s basically saying, forget it, there’s no such thing as good. Jewish law is Jewish law. And there’s no such thing as good. There’s something very problematic here. By the way, this also has implications—or at least it doesn’t have to have implications, but it seems to me this is likely to have implications. Because once you map morality onto Jewish law, you lose your sensitivity to things that are outside Jewish law.

[Speaker E] And therefore, there are things that Jewish law obligates. Say, giving charity—if you didn’t do it because it’s an obligation, then you lost the commandment.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, no—“so that my son should live,” the Talmud says that’s okay. The commandment of charity. But right, I’m not saying that where Jewish law commands, then Jewish law commands. I’m talking about a place where either it doesn’t command, or there’s a clash between Jewish law and morality, and then we have to see what to do. If we even define it as a clash. So how should we relate to such a clash between Jewish law and morality? The clash, it seems to me, the simplest and most natural view, in my humble opinion, is to say that in Jewish law—or not in Jewish law, sorry—in the Holy One, blessed be He, there are several kinds of values, not just several values, but several types of values. There are religious values and there are moral values. And they are not—they’re two different categories, and both obligate us. Now sometimes there’s a conflict, and the conflict is, for example, in saving the life of a gentile on the Sabbath, or a kohen’s wife who was raped, or all the examples I gave earlier, where from the standpoint of the moral value it’s not right to do it, and from the standpoint of the religious value it is right to do it. For example, in the context of a kohen’s wife who was raped, translated into simple language—not that I fully understand it—but in simple language, the reason the Torah tells them to separate is apparently that the Torah is telling us that continuing life in such a way harms the holiness of the priesthood. The kohen, in some sense, desecrates his holiness, and he has to remain holy. I don’t know why it harms it, but that’s what the Torah says. Now if I accept that, then you understand that this is a religious value; it doesn’t belong to morality. Morality in the ordinary sense is doing good for another person, preserving justice, the proper social structure, and so on. Here it’s a religious value to preserve the holiness of the priesthood. It has nothing to do with morality. But that doesn’t mean there’s no such value. There are other values in Jewish law besides moral values. And sometimes there is a conflict. The religious value says they should separate, and the moral value says they should not separate. So someone following Rabbi Dessler will say: that too is morality. But I’m saying that to say that this too is morality is to empty the concept of morality of content. Basically, you identify morality with Jewish law, and that’s it. There’s no such thing as morality under that definition. But if I understand that this is not right, that it’s not moral to do this—you’re hurting them, true—but what can you do, there’s a religious value that obligates me to hurt them. When I perform surgery on someone, it can hurt. Fine. But I need to do it in order to heal him. Does that mean it doesn’t hurt? It does hurt. But sometimes you need to cause pain in order to heal. So sometimes you have to violate a moral value in order to advance a religious value. And people don’t understand this category—that there are values that are not moral; there are other values that are a-moral, not immoral, a-moral values. There are values that are outside morality. They’re additional values; the value system is broader than moral values. And therefore, when there is a clash, it doesn’t necessarily mean we’re facing a theological problem. How could it be that the Holy One, blessed be He, wants us to do something not good or something bad, something that has to be solved by one of the two previous approaches? Rather, I’m in no theological problem at all. The Holy One, blessed be He, wants me to behave according to moral values, and He wants me to behave according to religious values. And sometimes there is a conflict. Even within the religious values there are conflicts many times. Saving life on the Sabbath, or a positive commandment overriding a prohibition—that’s a conflict within the world of religious values alone; you don’t need morality in order to have conflicts. And likewise there are conflicts within morality too, and you don’t need religious values in order to create conflicts. Right? Sartre tells of a student of his who came to him during the Holocaust in Paris and told him—he deliberated with him, he asked him what he should do. He had a dilemma. His mother—he was left alone, his father collaborated with the Nazis, his older brother was killed by them, and his mother was left alone, sick, already elderly, and he wondered whether to stay there in occupied Paris and help her, or to flee abroad and join the Free French army and fight the Nazis. So you need to find a solution—what to do in the bottom line. But the clash itself creates no problem. Such a clash is even to be expected. Okay? There’s no problem with it. So certainly when we have religious values and moral values, all the more so conflicts can arise. Right? The chocolate example—anyone who knows it has probably had it coming out of every pore by now. Someone can come and tell me it’s not good to eat chocolate because it makes you fat, and someone else will say it’s good to eat chocolate because it tastes good. So who’s right? They’re both right. It’s both fattening and tasty. True, in the bottom line I need to decide whether to eat it or not eat it. I have a conflict on the practical level, on the behavioral level—what to do. But there’s no theoretical problem here. Meaning, the fact that two different values lead to contradictory conclusions in a certain situation is not problematic on the principled level. You need to find a solution for what to do, but there’s no fundamental problem here. So also in our context, if there’s a religious value that leads to a certain conclusion and a moral value that leads to the opposite conclusion, that only means we are in conflict. Just as there can be conflicts of all sorts, here too there is another conflict. It doesn’t mean I now have to map one onto the other. To map one onto the other means, basically, that when Sabbath conflicts with saving life, then the claim is that there is no obligation at all to keep the Sabbath in such a case. There are those who define this as full permission. But in the simple conception there’s no need to go that far. Obviously there is an obligation to keep the Sabbath, but the obligation to preserve life overrides the obligation to keep the Sabbath. Why do we need this simplistic way of thinking that says that once there is a conflict, clearly one side has to be mapped onto the other? No—there are two sides here, and they are in conflict. So therefore the fact that there are conflicts between Jewish law and morality should not trouble us on the principled level. Yes, it can happen. And the simple answer is that there are additional values beyond moral values, and they too obligate, and sometimes in a given situation this can clash with moral values. Not always—at least not in every case—not always, but yes, such conflicts can occur. Now, this approach can lead us to the opposite extreme conclusion, and I now want to qualify that too. Because this approach can say: okay, if that’s so, then I’m not bothered at all by laws that are not moral, because what’s the problem? There’s this religious value, there’s that moral value, and when they clash you need to find a practical solution, but I have no principled problem with the clash. And then I remove from my halakhic toolbox the tools of morality, because it’s a separate category, and I don’t interpret the halakhic command in moral categories. And that too is a mistake—again, taking this approach one step too far. There is a book by Moshe Halbertal, Interpretive Revolutions in the Making. I think it was his doctorate, I think. And there he talks about how part of the arsenal of interpretive tools of the halakhic decisor is moral principles. Meaning, moral principles take part in interpretation. It’s not something completely foreign to the halakhic world. And therefore I say: in a place where there are several interpretive possibilities, one of which can fit moral values, there is no problem adopting it—on the contrary, very good, let’s adopt it. What I said earlier is true where the command of the Torah is clear, there’s no room for interpretations, and it clashes with moral principles. Fine, that can happen. But that doesn’t mean I should now remain indifferent and say, well, if this is the command of the Torah, why should I care that the command of the Torah is not moral? Apparently there’s some religious value here, end of story, and I’m not bothered by it at all. By the way, that’s the price of the identification approach I described earlier. Because once I identify morality with the command of the Torah, I’m not supposed to be bothered by anything. The fact that it contradicts my natural inclinations? On the contrary—that’s only a reason, another opportunity to work on my character traits and improve them in the direction the Holy One, blessed be He, wants. Meaning, to suppress the moral feeling on the altar of religious or halakhic obligation. And that is the result that comes out of the identification approach. In contrast, the more complex conception I presented earlier tells us that I’m prepared to accept the existence of conflicts if I am convinced that there really is a conflict. But if I examine the halakhic command and see that it can also be interpreted in a way that does fit moral principles, why wouldn’t I do that? I’m not trying to create conflicts by force. Meaning, I do think that in principle, as much as possible, it’s worthwhile to create coherence among our values. True, one shouldn’t panic if sometimes it doesn’t work. True, one shouldn’t panic if sometimes it doesn’t work. But the basic motivation to reconcile them is perfectly fine—just not at any price. Meaning, when I have several interpretive options, I will certainly choose the moral option. That is perfectly fine. There are many interpretive principles, and morality is one of them; moral intuition is one of them. Okay, that’s enough for the introduction.

[Speaker B] Could you say that in the case of Chulya we see that he said he had to do it, but he didn’t say that to everyone—he said it to someone he knew would obey him?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Could be, very true, or according to his level, yes, absolutely. Therefore you—yes, it actually says there, the wording is “you are a great person,” meaning there’s…

[Speaker B] But with regard to him, the moral value becomes a religious value.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that I’m not sure about. That I’m not sure about. He gave him an assessment of whether this moral value really obligates him, because this is a financial loss.

[Speaker B] It’s a loss, right, so he—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] says it’s a financial loss, but from his standpoint. So you can’t just say there’s morality, period. He says, “Look, at your level, you really are supposed to behave in this way.” But still it seems to me that this is a moral instruction, not a religious instruction. True, he says “that is the law,” but the “law” there, in my opinion, is not in the sense of Jewish law in the formal sense. Okay, so that was the conceptual framework. Now I want to get more into the topic. One of the examples I mentioned earlier is indeed the attitude toward gentiles. The attitude toward gentiles in the words of the Sages is a very off-putting and discriminatory attitude, and to a large extent it arouses discomfort in a contemporary reader. I mentioned earlier that according to some opinions, stealing from a gentile is not forbidden by the Torah, withholding repayment of his loan is not forbidden, one does not return his lost object, one may speak slander about him. All the prohibitions and commandments between one person and another do not apply to gentiles. And indeed the question is how to relate to this. Those who hold the identification approach will say: what’s the problem? The halakhic command defines what morality is; I’m not in conflict at all. Meaning, there’s no such thing as morality—morality is an atheistic category; there is the halakhic command, and that is what defines what is good. That is one error. The error in the other direction is the mistake that says: look, morality says this cannot be. If morality says it cannot be, then apparently there has been some mistake in halakhic interpretation, and therefore one should behave differently. There’s an article by Rabbi Benny Lau in Akdamot, following Professor Rosenthal, who was also the rabbi of Kibbutz Yavne, I think—Saad or Shoshanat Yavne. And he was a professor of Talmud at the Hebrew University. And he wrote about saving the life of a gentile on the Sabbath—this was in the sixties, when they established the movement “For a Judaism of Torah,” together with Urbach and the other figures of the academic religious left. And the essay he gave there on opening night was about saving the life of a gentile on the Sabbath, and he praised the Hatam Sofer, who basically permitted violating the Sabbath with Torah prohibitions in order to save a gentile. True, the Hatam Sofer says this is because of peaceful relations, danger to life, and all kinds of basket-like considerations of that sort, but his claim was that these were only the formal tools he used. In truth his motivation was moral motivation, so he made use of the formal tools whereby… the holy spirit appeared in his study hall. “Holy spirit” is pretty problematic for anyone who knows the Hatam Sofer a bit, it seems to me. And therefore he proposed there an interpretation which in my view is a very dishonest interpretation of the Hatam Sofer and of Jewish law as well. And in fact the conclusion was even more than that: the conclusion was that now, if you are on a desert island and there is no issue of peaceful relations, and afterward gentiles elsewhere won’t persecute Jews and won’t fail to save them, and all the considerations we know today don’t apply—even then you need to violate the Sabbath on a Torah level in order to save the gentile. Because in truth the permission is based on a moral conception, and the halakhic tools the Hatam Sofer used are only the external wrapping, but behind them there really sits a moral consideration. So first, I disagree with him about the conception—his conception of the Hatam Sofer. That is certainly not true about the Hatam Sofer.

[Speaker B] Couldn’t that be a matter of principle? The implication is that if that really is the issue, then the prohibition… no, so I’m saying first of all…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It doesn’t exist from the outset. That’s stage two, that’s the next stage. First of all, regarding the question whether that was the Hatam Sofer’s intention—I have almost no doubt that it wasn’t, and I assume he also knew it wasn’t. The Hatam Sofer himself, by the way, qualifies this permission and says that in places where there is no concern, then no—meaning there is a very blatant ignoring there of qualifications that appear in the halakhic authorities. Secondly, on the principled level this is really very problematic, beyond the question whether that was the Hatam Sofer’s intention. About this the Talmud says: “By God, had Joshua son of Nun said this, I would not obey him.” Right? There are things I do not accept even from Joshua son of Nun. If the Hatam Sofer said such a thing, and even if he intended such a thing, I would not accept it even from him, because this is something that cannot be said. But that is exactly the meaning of the opposite identification approach, which says that Jewish law cannot contradict morality because there is no Jewish law—there is only morality. Fine, so that is identification, the opposite identifying conception. So yes, of course the question is: then what did the Sages think and what did they mean when they said it is forbidden to save the life of a gentile on the Sabbath, if in truth it is always permitted regardless of peaceful relations? So what, that’s just for nothing? “Was it for nothing that the eulogizers eulogized and the embalmers embalmed?” There are passages about this, medieval authorities and later authorities—what, how can you throw all that away because of some speculation in the words of the Hatam Sofer? And an incorrect speculation in the words of the Hatam Sofer. So that is an excellent illustration of the implications of the two identifying conceptions. Now, in this context and generally in the context of attitudes toward gentiles, there is a third conception: the conception of the Meiri. And this conception, it seems to me, expresses what I presented earlier—this conception that says there are two categories here, but where it is possible to integrate them or interpret Jewish law in a way that fits the category of morality, then do so. And the Meiri, in principle, does not begin with the question of saving the life of a gentile on the Sabbath; he speaks generally about the attitude toward a gentile. And you can see that he is troubled by these rabbinic statements about the attitude toward a gentile. So he doesn’t say: since this is immoral, apparently it doesn’t exist. Rather, he makes a more delicate move. So let’s start with your first source, the Meiri in tractate Bava Kamma. By the way, this Meiri appears in dozens and dozens, perhaps even hundreds of places throughout his commentary on the Talmud. And he says as follows: It follows that even idol worshipers, and those who are not constrained by the ways of religion, it is forbidden to rob them. And if a Jew was sold to him as a slave, it is forbidden to leave his possession without redemption, and likewise it is forbidden to withhold repayment of his loan. Nevertheless, one is not obligated to go looking for his lost object in order to return it to him. Moreover, even one who found his lost object is not obligated to return it, for finding is a partial act of acquisition and returning it is an act of piety, and we are not bound to piety toward one who has no religion. And likewise with his error—if he erred on his own, not through my trickery and not through my effort—a gentile’s error, it seems proper, yes, even a gentile’s error; and likewise with his error, if he erred on his own, not through my trickery—obviously, if it was through my trickery and my effort then no, but if it was not through my trickery and effort—there is no obligation to restore it. Nevertheless, if he becomes aware of it, in any case he must restore it—if the gentile became aware of it. And likewise, even with a lost object, in any case where delaying its return would cause desecration of God’s name, one returns it. Ah—but anyone from the nations constrained by the ways of religion and worshipers of God in whatever form, even though their faith is distant from ours, are not included in this; rather they are like full Jews in these matters, both regarding lost objects and regarding error and all other matters, with no distinction whatsoever. So he says all these things were said about the ancient nations who were not constrained by the ways of religion, the ancient idol worshipers. But those in our time are like Jews in these matters, both regarding lost objects and regarding error and all other matters. Of course there are places where he says not that one may marry them, but the moral sanctions, the discrimination—those do not apply to them. Maybe one more source before I continue: look at the Meiri on Avodah Zarah 26b. Meaning to say, it was stated concerning idol worshipers, who were not constrained by the ways of religion, and on the contrary every sin and every ugliness was admirable in their eyes. And the chief of the philosophers already said: kill one who has no religion. But anyone who is among the worshipers of God, even if he is not part of our religion, is certainly not in this category, Heaven forbid. And it has already been explained—and this is already after skipping a bit—and it has already been explained that these matters were said about those times when those nations were idol worshipers and were filthy in their deeds and ugly in their character, as in what is said in part: “Like the practice of the land of Egypt in which you dwelled, you shall not do; and like the practice of the land of Canaan,” and so on. But as for other nations, who are constrained by the ways of religion and who are clean of the ugliness of these character traits, and on the contrary punish for them, there is no doubt that these matters have no place whatsoever regarding them, as we have explained. And this has already been repeated many times in our words so that you should not need the many forced explanations you find in the novellae and in Tosafot unnecessarily. And so on—there are more places in the Meiri; what is brought here is only a tiny fraction, but there are many other places where the Meiri keeps repeating this all the time. Wherever there is some such discriminatory law, the Meiri notes: this applies only to the ancient nations who were not constrained by the norms of religion, but today it is different. How should we understand this Meiri? So of course here… the conservatives immediately explain that it was written out of fear of censorship. Right? That’s the classic refuge. The Meiri was afraid they would kill him if he wrote such things about gentiles, so he wrote this because of censorship. And the truth is that such things appear quite a bit in books, and obviously in certain places it was because of censorship.

[Speaker B] So either he couldn’t have—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] written anything at all, or written nothing at all, or instead of writing it in Rashi script in small letters in the middle of the passage, he should have written on the first page at the beginning of the book: everything written here about idol worship applies to the ancient gentiles who were not constrained by the norms of the nations; let the censor know and beware. Okay? He didn’t need to repeat this hundreds of times, or at least dozens and dozens of times, in each and every place anew. And that’s what he says: and then you won’t need all the forced explanations that the medieval authorities resort to. It’s completely clear. Anyone who reads this understands that it’s nonsense. Simply nonsense to say such a thing. The Meiri meant it seriously. But the question is what he meant, what is he saying here? Usually people interpret his words as meaning that the Christians around him—he was talking about Christians, he lived in a Christian environment in Provence—the Christians around him are not idol worshipers. He understood Christianity as something that is not idolatry. And so write several later authorities, several of his commentators. Professor Jacob Katz went even further; he dealt with history—yes, halakhic history, history through halakhic literature—and among other things he has an article about the Meiri in his book on Jewish law and Kabbalah. And there he says that the Meiri basically concluded that they are not idol worshipers, but he struggles with several difficulties. There are still several problematic things here. So the first difficulty is the principal question: the Meiri did not use this permission in order to permit Christian cultic objects anywhere, consistently. Everywhere the authorities imposed a prohibition on cultic objects, you will not find this qualification of the Meiri—that this was said about the ancient gentiles and not about the gentiles in our time who are constrained by the norms of the nations. The second point is that the Meiri nowhere points out that here he is deviating from the path of Maimonides. And the Meiri was a clear Maimonidean, and the Meiri opens every one of his discussions by bringing Maimonides’ commentary on the Mishnah in his very words. Okay? The Meiri was a devoted student of Maimonides. And if he deviates so fundamentally—after all, Maimonides said Christians are idol worshipers—if he deviates so fundamentally from Maimonides’ path, I would expect him to say so. He can disagree with Maimonides from time to time, but he says so; he should say it. He doesn’t say it anywhere. Third, the Meiri does not say at all anywhere that gentiles are not idol worshipers. He doesn’t say that the gentiles in his time are not idol worshipers. What he says is that the gentiles in his time are constrained by the norms of the nations. Meaning, they behave in a—yes, constrained—they behave in a moral way, in a human way. That’s what he says. He doesn’t speak about the question of idolatry.

[Speaker B] They punish for it? He says they punish things like that?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, yes. So consistently he never says anywhere what people put into his mouth—that the gentiles in his time are not idol worshipers. And indeed, the great majority of the laws he deals with—and this is the fourth point—are not laws that deal at all with questions of idolatry. They are questions of attitude toward the gentile, attitude in the human sense. So the fact that we hang this on the question of whether the gentile is an idol worshiper or not may be a kind of fixation of ours, and not what the Meiri meant at all. What the Meiri seems to me to have meant is that the Christians… meaning, Jacob Katz in a certain sense was actually a conservative scholar in this respect, because he did not immediately run to context. Meaning, if there is an explanation that is an internal halakhic explanation, he did not immediately go and explain things in terms of influences and contexts and how the environment caused the decisor to do this or that, as many academic scholars tend to do. He was careful about these things where possible and proposed internal halakhic explanations. But here, in the end, in the second half of his article, he says: fine, but what about the cultic objects? So he says apparently the Meiri did not dare go that far. Meaning, he had already made the revolution, but his feeling was that it was impossible to deviate so blatantly from the traditional course of Jewish law, and therefore there he starts waving his hands and explaining philosophy and context and connections. He himself apologizes for slipping into context instead of giving a halakhic explanation. But he says there is no halakhic explanation. How can you understand someone who says it’s not that they are not idol worshipers, and nevertheless… he does not permit their cultic objects. And since there is no halakhic explanation, there is no choice but to go into context, and basically the second half of the article is devoted to that; the first half is just an introduction, the second half is really the article. And because he is mistaken in the introduction, the second half is unnecessary. The Meiri does not mean to say that the gentiles are not idol worshipers. The Meiri means to say that the gentiles in his time are human idol worshipers. They are idol worshipers who behave in a human or reasonably moral way. And here there is a very great novelty relative to the tradition we know, because usually among us it is accepted that idolatry always comes with human corruption, moral corruption—handing children over to Molech, adultery, murder, all the reprehensible traits there are always appear among idol worshipers, from the Hebrew Bible through the Sages and onward. So this tradition was so strong among us that even the decisors or commentators until our own time, when they read the Meiri, it is obvious to them that if the Meiri says one must behave differently toward the gentiles of his time, then clearly he understands them not to be idol worshipers. Because if they were idol worshipers, then clearly they are humanly corrupt. But I think that is a mistake. The Meiri does not—

[Speaker B] In his wording here it’s completely clear that it’s not. Yes, right.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It says it in black and white, absolutely. And therefore I think the Meiri is really teaching us something else. He says: true, the gentiles of old were idol worshipers and also corrupt. The question is whether there is a connection between these two characteristics. Is it always the case that whoever worships idols is also corrupt in the human and moral sense? The Meiri says no. And therefore the Christians of his time, in his view, were idol worshipers. The Trinity is idolatry. But they were Catholics in that period, of course; the Reformation and the rest had not yet happened. So they are idol worshipers in every sense, and certainly their cultic objects cannot be permitted—they are idol worshipers. But the Meiri argues that the attitude of the Sages toward gentiles is not conditioned on their being idol worshipers. They were idol worshipers, but that is not why they merited this attitude from the Sages, the halakhic attitude. Rather, it was because they were morally corrupt. But that changed. In his time the gentiles were no longer morally corrupt, and therefore the attitude required toward them is now different, and they are like Jews in every respect, says the Meiri. In every respect—withholding repayment of a loan, theft, everything. It clearly implies from him: “you shall not steal,” all of it. Meaning, the same prohibitions that apply regarding a Jew also apply regarding a gentile so long as they behave like human beings. And in truth, if you look in your source sheet at Maimonides in his commentary on the Mishnah, the second source, already in Maimonides there is something like this. Maimonides says: And do not be astonished by this matter, and do not let it trouble you, just as it does not trouble you that we slaughter animals even though they have not sinned, because one who does not possess human character traits is not truly included in the category of man; rather the purpose of his existence is for the sake of man. Why do we slaughter animals? Lovely. So Maimonides says: because one who is not a human being exists for human ends; one may use him for our needs. He says the gentiles behaved like animals, and don’t be surprised that we treat them like animals. So they are basically animals that stand for our use. You’re not allowed to say things like that today, but apparently that is how the Sages and Maimonides following them saw the gentiles around them, who really were corrupt. They simply did not behave in a human way, and they do not deserve humane treatment. But the Meiri now takes one step further. Fine—so what happens when that changes? When they do behave in a human way? Excellent. Then indeed it reverts to being exactly like a Jew. All the obligations toward a Jew also apply toward gentiles. It’s simply the obvious next step. Now notice: this is, in any case, a continuation of Maimonides. Why did I ask earlier why the Meiri did not note that he is going against Maimonides? The very prosaic explanation: he simply is not going against Maimonides, so why should he note it? He is continuing Maimonides’ path. Just as Maimonides tied it to corrupt character traits, so too he ties it to corrupt character traits—except that in his assessment, the gentiles around him no longer possessed such corrupt traits, and therefore the law returns to its original form. And by the way, there is also a source for this in the Talmud. I’m surprised the Meiri doesn’t bring it. The Talmud says: “He rose and saw the nations and permitted their property to Israel.” The Talmud says that once He saw that the nations had stopped observing the seven Noahide commandments, the Holy One, blessed be He, permitted their property to Israel. Meaning, this is conditioned on their behavior. Once they keep the basic human standards, which are more or less the seven Noahide commandments, then they deserve humane treatment exactly like any other person. But why did all this law develop? All this law developed because they abandoned their human obligations. So the Meiri says: fine, what happens when that returns? In the time of the Sages, this could change only through the procedure of a resident alien. Meaning, if a gentile comes and accepts before three people the observance of the seven commandments, he receives the status of a resident alien. Regarding a resident alien, all the human obligations apply exactly as they do regarding a Jew. And here I agree, by the way, with Rosenthal’s interpretation on this matter; I think it is certainly true that even for the Sages this is not a matter of peaceful relations and so on—it is a matter of the law itself. It is part of the law itself: the prohibitions regarding a gentile do not apply. They were not said about a resident alien. But you had to undergo a procedure, to accept resident status before three. But in a context where the default gentile was a corrupt gentile, you had to undergo a procedure in order to leave the presumption of being an unreasonable gentile and receive a different halakhic status. But in a place where the presumption is that you are a reasonable person, that you behave in a human way—as Rabbi Kook also writes—then you no longer need the procedure of standing before a religious court of three in order to receive the status of resident alien. In such a situation, then you are in principle a resident alien even without the procedure the Sages defined, because here you do not need to leave a presumption. In order to leave a presumption you need a ruling of a religious court, but here the presumption already is that you are a reasonable person. If the presumption is that you are a reasonable person, then you receive the status of resident alien. So all gentiles essentially return to the status of resident alien in principle, except those who don’t. Now of course you need the opposite procedure—if there is evidence or a clear indication that the gentile before us, the man or woman before us, is not such a person, then perfectly fine: the attitude remains as the Sages said. But now the burden of proof lies on whoever wants to claim that the rabbinic attitude should be applied, because the default gentile has become a different kind of gentile. I want to—well, there’s much more that could be said here on this matter, but that is the gist of it. I want to conclude the discussion by returning to saving…

[Speaker B] Rabbi Kook on this issue is unequivocal; he doesn’t speak of it at all as peaceful relations.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “The main point is in accordance with the opinion of the Meiri, that all the nations that are constrained by proper norms between one person and another are already considered resident aliens in all human obligations.” Yes, that’s the… yes. So people explain: it’s a letter, but he didn’t mean it—of course, these things are well known. In any case, there are more sources here, both in the Meiri and also the Be’er HaGolah writes this in two places. I won’t go into all of those things now because I want to manage also to wrap up our discussion with one more example with which I began—the example of saving the life of a gentile on the Sabbath. I wrote a response article to Rabbi Benny Lau’s article in Akdamot, where he discussed Professor Rosenthal’s method and identified with it, and I said that this is a halakhic or interpretive scandal. Interpretive dishonesty. You cannot save the life of a gentile because the motivation of the Hatam Sofer was moral and ignore the halakhic tools of permission, the halakhic argument. The fact that I want something does not make it right. At most I can turn over every stone to see whether I have a halakhic instrument to do it, but when the halakhic instrument does not exist, then it cannot be done. Meaning, you can’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. But there is a standard halakhic instrument here that can be used, and it really does express this conception, and it was not the Hatam Sofer—it’s against the Hatam Sofer—and I do not rely on the Hatam Sofer, but I think this is what is correct, and that is the Meiri. The Meiri, who says that the gentiles of today have every law of a Jew with respect to them—so if that’s so, one violates the Sabbath in order to save them. By the way, for a resident alien too one violates the Sabbath in order to save him; that is already part of the law itself. So if we say that gentiles are resident aliens, that the ordinary gentile of today is a resident alien, then one violates the Sabbath in order to save him. And by the way, the fact that one violates the Sabbath for a resident alien is itself the proof of what I’m saying now, because if that were Sabbath violation in the ordinary sense, it is impossible that they would permit it merely in order to relate to them sympathetically. Sabbath violation is an offense punishable by stoning. Rather what is clear is that for a gentile who behaves properly, according to the law itself it is permitted to save him—indeed one must save him on the Sabbath. This is not some permission for peaceful relations or anything like that. Because there there is no danger to life; a resident alien is a minority living among us. There is no danger to life and no peaceful-relations issue and nothing of that kind, so how could one permit intentional Torah prohibitions, offenses punishable by stoning? The Sabbath is as severe as it gets—to permit that in order to save a resident alien? Rather, what is clear is that a resident alien may be saved; there is no prohibition, there is no need to permit anything. Now the same thing applies regarding the ordinary gentile—that’s what I said. And therefore I thought that really there was no need to reach all this dishonesty; there is a simple interpretive process that truly reflects the truth and is correct. No, it’s not the Hatam Sofer, and this returns us again to first-order and second-order ruling—anyone who has heard me has heard this already, I won’t go into it again. I just want to show you that these things appear in the Meiri himself. I found this later; I hadn’t even noticed this Meiri, because most of these Meiris are either in Bava Kamma or in Avodah Zarah, these quotations of the Meiri, these qualifications. And here there is a Meiri in tractate Yoma, the last source on your sheet. In matters of danger to life, we do not follow the majority. How so? A courtyard in which there were Jews and with them ancient worshipers of stars and constellations, regarding whom we are not commanded to violate the Sabbath, since they have no religion at all and also have no regard for the obligations of human society—and then he continues discussing the passage. So in passing, in parentheses like that, he says: when we are not obligated to save a gentile on the Sabbath, that means those gentiles, exactly—those gentiles who are not constrained by the norms of the nations, for whom there is no obligation of human fellowship; they do not behave like human beings. It was about them that this was said. Meaning, the other gentiles—not only in monetary laws—is it permitted; one must violate the Sabbath in order to save them. Not peaceful relations and nothing of the sort, but like a resident alien, the same thing, in order to save them. Now there is room here to discuss somewhat which of the two reasons that appear in the Talmud for violating the Sabbath to save a gentile can be followed here. Because the Talmud, as is well known, brings several reasons, and two of them remain in the conclusion. One of them is: “Violate one Sabbath for him so that he may keep many Sabbaths.” After that they ask: but that doesn’t give us permission in a case of doubt—so they reject it, and then they bring “and live by them,” “and live by them and not die by them.” Even though the Talmud in tractate Shabbat does indeed bring “violate one Sabbath for him so that he may keep many Sabbaths,” and it seems that this reason too remains in the conclusion.

[Speaker B] They bring it elsewhere, but not there.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Could be, I don’t remember now.

[Speaker B] Also the sugya in Yoma is “and live by them.” In Yoma the Talmud says, “Shmuel said.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no—the sugya in Yoma too, it’s not so bad, the sugya in Yoma too remains with that, because what does the sugya in Yoma do—how does it reject that reason? It says that it doesn’t permit a doubtful life-threatening situation. Fine—but with regard to a definite life-threatening situation, that reason remains. It only can’t be sufficient, because in fact it is also permitted in a case of doubt, and in a doubtful case it doesn’t permit it. So therefore the reason remains; there’s no problem with that, there’s no contradiction between the sugyot. In any case, there are these two reasons here. Now in the halakhic authorities too, these two reasons are brought, and then of course the question arises: how can the Meiri permit us to violate the Sabbath in order to save a gentile if the permission to violate the Sabbath is conditioned on the fact that he will keep many Sabbaths? As is well known, gentiles, including resident aliens, are forbidden to keep the Sabbath, just as they are forbidden to study Torah. So here I found another interesting point, and it too appears explicitly in the Meiri. The Biur Halakhah brings this, this Meiri.

[Speaker B] Regarding those Jews who do not return.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? After he converts it’s already too late; I’m saving him before he converts. It doesn’t help me if he converts afterward. Ah, you’re saying he’ll keep the Sabbath, but then he’s like a newborn child, you know, it’s not really him anymore. Anyway, the Meiri himself, who is cited in the Biur Halakhah, explains—and I didn’t bring this for you because I ran out of space on the page—so he says as follows: “And even though it has been explained that it is impossible for him to live even one hour,” even then we save him—well, a Jew. A Jew whose fleeting life you save, meaning he is going to live only one hour, he won’t make it to next Sabbath and certainly won’t keep many Sabbaths. Is it permitted to save him, to desecrate the Sabbath in order to save him? So he says: “And even though it has been explained that it is impossible for him to live even one hour, in that hour he may repent in his heart and confess.” And this is not specifically about Sabbath observance. You desecrate the Sabbath to save him because he can fulfill many other commandments. Keeping the Sabbath is only there for the literary contrast: “Desecrate one Sabbath for him so that he may keep many Sabbaths,” but the intention is that he will fulfill many commandments. You need to enable him to fulfill commandments. So he says that even someone who lives one more hour can fulfill many commandments—not Sabbath—so he may repent in his heart and confess and study Torah and, I don’t know, do all sorts of other things. So because of that, you save him. If you understand “Desecrate one Sabbath for him so that he may keep many Sabbaths” that way, then it is not far-fetched at all to apply it to a non-Jew as well. Because the non-Jew, true, does not keep Sabbaths, but he has his own commandments. Once he has his own commandments, and each commandment justifies desecrating the Sabbath, then according to the Meiri’s own view there is no problem, because then I can also desecrate the Sabbath for a non-Jew so that he can continue living as he is supposed to live, as long as that really is what he does—and that is what happens in the case of a resident alien. So therefore, according to the Meiri himself, this too is not problematic. So if I sum up in one final sentence, basically what I wanted to propose here is a somewhat different conception of the relationship between Jewish law and morality: that they are really two parallel systems of values, and therefore the fact that conflicts sometimes arise should not trouble us on the level of principle. Of course, you still have to decide what to do, but the very appearance of conflicts is not troubling at all. On the other hand, precisely because I do not agree with the various identification approaches, I do think we should try to interpret the halakhic principle in a way that is, as much as possible, compatible with the moral imperative. In this case, regarding desecrating the Sabbath and desecrating the Sabbath in order to save a non-Jew, we saw that there is a way to interpret it like that; even the Meiri made use of it. And therefore it seems to me that my conclusion is more radical than Rabbi Beni Lau’s, but it is based on a genuine halakhic argument and not on the basis of the fabricated motivations attributed to the Chatam Sofer.