The Periphery of Halakha – Lesson 7
This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
🔗 Link to the original lecture
🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI
Table of Contents
- [0:03] Introduction: Peripheral categories and Jewish law
- [2:45] The experience of accompanying someone in a private religious court
- [3:52] The impossibility of Torah law adjudication in today’s religious courts
- [5:14] Is compromise permitted under Torah law?
- [8:33] The mechanism of value conflict
- [10:06] The mechanism of a transgression for its own sake
- [11:49] Lot’s daughters and the halakhic conflict
- [14:30] Conscientious objection and a manifestly illegal order
- [31:21] Meta-halakhically overriding a specific halakhah
- [32:39] Dworkin’s positivist approach to meta-principles
- [35:15] The fifth part of the Shulchan Arukh and meta-halakhic values
- [37:17] The question of separating communities in the writings of the Netziv
- [39:32] The advice to separate communities according to “the evaluator”
- [44:25] Preserving unity – the meta-halakhic image of stone and dust
- [47:17] Everyday examples: smoking and speed
Summary
General overview
The text presents the position that the prohibition against going to secular courts is indeed prohibited in the straightforward reading of the sources, but in practice there is no social or legal way to function without an effective general legal system, and the religious courts do not in fact provide Torah law either. The speaker argues that the right approach is to admit openly that this is forbidden and nevertheless do it, instead of dealing with it through a “wink” and deliberate blindness, because concealment erodes trust in Jewish law and in halakhic decisors. He then looks for halakhic-conceptual formulations to justify such a ruling, and suggests different mechanisms such as value conflict, a transgression for its own sake, and meta-halakhic considerations of social normalcy and the infrastructure of a legal system, while comparing this to frameworks in general law and bringing examples from medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim).
Peripheral categories and halakhic decision-making
The speaker defines “peripheral categories to Jewish law” as factors that come from outside formal Jewish law but become involved in halakhic decision-making. He uses the topic of secular courts as a test case for understanding how such considerations actually operate. He frames the tension between fidelity to the direct halakhic text and the necessities of social and legal life.
The prohibition of secular courts and the lack of a practical option
The speaker states that at least in his conclusion, the prohibition against going to civil courts is indeed forbidden according to the straightforward interpretation of the sources, and permissive interpretations do not persuade him. He says there is no practical possibility for a society to exist without one large and effective legal system that governs what happens in society. He lists reasons why a private system of religious courts cannot provide a sufficient answer, including disputes with people outside the religious or Haredi group, the outdated nature of the halakhic system in relation to current questions, and the lack of authority to summon witnesses.
Religious courts, compromise, and a contempt order
The speaker cites Nadav Shnerb to the effect that religious courts in practice do not adjudicate Torah law today, and force litigants to sign that they waive Torah law and want compromise. He describes a personal experience in a private religious court in Jerusalem where he requested Torah law, but the court refused to hear the case without a signed arbitration document allowing compromise. He describes an example Nadav gives of a religious court that issued a contempt order against a litigant who demanded Torah law and refused to deviate from it, so that the system labeled as “refusing” precisely the person insisting on Torah law. He concludes that even going to a religious court does not result in receiving Torah law, so the option itself “does not exist” in reality.
A practical position: resorting to civil courts without permission
The speaker presents his own view that one should go to civil courts and not to religious courts, and that no one’s permission is needed for this, while noting that no halakhic decisor agrees with him and that this is “my own opinion.” He clarifies that compromise is permitted if both parties agree, and by the same token if both parties agree they can also go to civil court; but the problem is when the parties want Torah law and do not receive it. He formulates the dilemma this way: there is no reasonable halakhic or interpretive way to permit civil courts, but there is also no real option not to resort to them.
Declaring the prohibition and acting anyway
The speaker argues that in such a situation one should declare that the matter is forbidden and that there is no permission for it, and nevertheless do it. He says this is in fact what most people do anyway, but “with a wink” and quietly, while “closing their eyes and mumbling the usual formula.” He argues that this should be put on the table both tactically, to prevent loss of trust in Jewish law and in halakhic decisors, and because it is the truth: the thing is forbidden, and yet it must be done.
The question of halakhic justification without life-saving necessity
The speaker asks how a person who is completely committed to Jewish law can allow himself to act against a prohibition when the matter is not one of physical life-saving necessity. He stresses that life-saving necessity overrides prohibitions as part of Jewish law itself, but here nobody will die from it, and yet he still sees it as necessary from the outset. He presents several possible formulations for justifying such a decision, and notes that he is not entirely sure whether they are really different or just different angles on the same logic.
First mechanism: value conflict
The speaker presents a mechanism of conflict between values, in which the value of maintaining a properly functioning society with an effective legal system stands against the halakhic value of the prohibition against secular courts. He says that when there is a conflict, Jewish law is not the entire world of values but only part of it, and there are also non-halakhic values that can be decisive. He says that in such a case one may decide in favor of the opposing value and violate Jewish law as a transgression, when the stronger value justifies crossing the prohibition without Jewish law itself permitting it.
Second mechanism: a transgression for its own sake
The speaker presents the idea of “a transgression for its own sake” through the Talmudic passage in tractate Nazir about Yael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, and describes the discomfort of halakhic decisors and commentators who try to force the case into halakhic categories of override such as a positive commandment overriding a prohibition or life-saving necessity. He argues that the very term “a transgression for its own sake” proves that there is no halakhic permission here; rather, it is a transgression done because of a great value that justifies it. He compares this to value conflict and presents the closeness between the mechanisms.
Lot’s daughters as a field decision without a decisor
The speaker describes Lot’s daughters, who had relations with their father because they believed humanity had been destroyed, even though incest is one of the sins for which one must die rather than transgress, and there is no source permitting it. He says that the Sages praise their decision, and in the context of the passage this signals that it is similar to a transgression for its own sake. He concludes that there are situations in which a person “in the field” must decide without consulting a halakhic decisor and without being a great Torah scholar, even when the decision runs against formal Jewish law.
Comparison to general law: a manifestly illegal order and conscientious objection
The speaker compares a transgression for its own sake to the frameworks of conscientious objection and a manifestly illegal order. He describes a manifestly illegal order as a case in which one is required not to obey, and even someone who obeys can be punished, bringing the Kafr Qasim affair as an example of a “black flag” even where there is no explicit contradiction to statutory law but rather to a fundamental moral principle. He describes conscientious objection as a violation that requires accepting punishment, but where there is legal or meta-legal legitimacy for preferring personal or group values, and suggests that such a person is not regarded as a criminal with disgrace, and may even be worthy of appreciation for willingness to pay a price.
The question of punishment in a transgression for its own sake, and Tosafot on the wood-gatherer
The speaker says it seems to him that one who commits a transgression for its own sake perhaps would not be punished, though he notes that he has no clear sources. He cites Tosafot in Bava Batra, which brings a midrash about the man who gathered wood on the Sabbath in order to teach that the Jewish people were still obligated in the Torah and its punishments, and Tosafot discusses why he is not exempt because it was a labor not needed for its own productive purpose. The speaker concludes that Tosafot implies that the mere fact that it was “for its own sake” does not exempt one from punishment, and that a transgression for its own sake resembles conscientious objection, in which one violates and is punished, though he himself leans against punishing and says it depends on the judge.
The relation between value conflict and a transgression for its own sake, and a suggested distinction
The speaker says the two formulations look similar, because in both a strong value prevails against a halakhic instruction, and he is not sure there is really a difference between them. He suggests a possible distinction according to which value conflict places an external value such as morality against a halakhic value, while “a transgression for its own sake” may be a decision arising from a value at the foundation of Jewish law itself rather than an external value. He argues that in that sense the act may not be a transgression at all, because meta-halakhah expects it to be done even though there is no formal justification for it within halakhic rules.
Meta-halakhah, the law of the kingdom is law, and the commandment of laws for the Noahides
The speaker argues that the fundamental conception of Jewish law recognizes the need for a society to have an effective legal system, and suggests bringing proof from directions such as “the law of the kingdom is law” and the Noahide commandment of establishing laws. He says that formal Jewish law wants a proper legal system according to Torah law, but in a pathological reality where it is impossible to establish such a system that will be accepted and function, the fundamental value of having a legal system at all takes precedence. He lays out three possibilities: a system according to Torah law, a system not according to Torah law, or no legal system at all; and he argues that the usual comparison between the first two misses the third possibility and the price of social disintegration.
The Vizhnitz Rebbe’s parable and the third possibility
The speaker quotes in the name of the Vizhnitz Rebbe, author of Dammesek Eliezer, the saying that it is better to fail in baseless love than in baseless hatred, and adds that he always thinks it is better not to fail in either. He uses this to emphasize that sometimes discussion gets stuck between two alternatives while forgetting a third alternative, which is the correct one. He presents this as a framework for understanding the need to weigh the possibility of “no legal system at all” against “an effective system that is not Torah law.”
Ronald Dworkin: rules and principles, and bringing principles into the law as part of the law
The speaker presents Ronald Dworkin’s distinction between rules and principles, where principles are not formulated in the statute book but underlie the legal conception of a particular society. He says Dworkin sees these principles as legal rules that must be taken into account in interpretation, even if they are not universal but are foundational in a particular society. He describes how Dworkin, as a positivist, brings principles into the law by claiming they were “implicitly legislated” as obvious foundations, so that taking them into account is not an illegitimate move beyond the law but an application of the law itself.
The fifth part of the Shulchan Arukh and preferring principled infrastructure
The speaker cites a term attributed to the Chazon Ish, “the fifth part of the Shulchan Arukh,” meaning that a halakhic decisor cannot suffice with the four written sections, because there are meta-halakhic values that are unwritten but still binding. He says such values can override a formal halakhic prohibition, and according to this conception resorting to the courts in the State of Israel may be not a transgression for its own sake but an obligation—to the point of the extreme claim that one who goes to the religious courts is the wrongdoer, according to that view. He includes formulations such as “the Torah was not given to ministering angels” as part of a family of meta-halakhic principles involved in practical judgment.
The Netziv on separating communities as a meta-halakhic principle
The speaker cites the Netziv in Meshiv Davar, part 1, responsum 44, on the controversy over separating communities, and quotes: “I beg the evaluator, this advice is as harsh as swords to the body of the nation and its existence.” He presents the Netziv’s concern that disputes in the past between Pharisees and Sadducees led to destruction and bloodshed “with permission and in the name of a commandment, in error,” and that a similar danger exists if people are distanced and persecuted out of suspicion of heresy. He brings the Netziv’s image of Israel as dust against abundant waters and the need to become a “solid stone” through unity, and presents this as a Torah-based principled consideration grounded less in halakhic sources than in a meta-halakhic outlook.
The Torah was not given to ministering angels, and the normality of human life
The speaker presents the principle that the Torah was given to human beings and does not expect an “abnormal” life, even if that means recognizing that human reality includes risks and failures. He cites Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach in Minchat Shlomo, who distinguishes between a dangerous act that is normative and a suicidal act, and argues that as long as smoking is seen as normative it cannot be defined halakhically as suicide. He expands this with examples of normality, including everyday risks such as harmful eating or moderate speeding, and connects it also to intuitions about standards of modesty and criticism of the “shawl women” as something “non-normative” that is not the way of a functioning human society.
Maimonides on going out to the desert, and the argument against social asceticism
The speaker quotes Maimonides in Laws of Character Traits, chapter 6, about someone who cannot find a country that follows a good path; if they will not let him sit without involving him in their bad conduct, “he should go out to caves and thickets and deserts.” He says that in practice nobody does this, including Haredim who prefer isolation, and he suggests a deeper principle according to which the Torah was given to be lived within a normal society “with all four species, including the willow branches,” and not to a collection of ascetics in the desert. He argues that it is preferable to remain within human society even at the cost of the risk of failure, because that is the meta-halakhic basis of living Torah in a human world.
A decree not accepted by the majority of the public is void
The speaker distinguishes between the principle of not enacting a decree that the public cannot abide by and the principle that “a decree not accepted by the majority of the public is void.” He argues that the second principle is stronger and means that if something did not take hold among the public, then it is “not right” and is not Jewish law, even for an “elevated person” who could keep it. He explains that the public gives feedback that the study hall created an enactment detached from everyday life, whereas Jewish law is supposed to be relevant to an entire society and not only to the “oilam” of the study hall, returning again to the principle that “the Torah was not given to ministering angels.”
A decentralized legal system in the Haredi world and the claim of social disintegration
The speaker points out that even within Haredi society there is no single legal system but many religious courts belonging to different Hasidic courts and groups, creating a decentralized system that sometimes does not allow disputes to be adjudicated between different communities. He uses this as an indication that a fragmented private system is not a normative society and cannot function. He argues that the Torah is meant to exist within a normative world, and therefore there is room to permit and even require use of the courts despite the prohibition.
Tosafot in Avodah Zarah on selling non-kosher animals to gentiles
The speaker quotes Tosafot on Avodah Zarah 15, which asks how people actually sell calves and foals to idol worshippers despite an agreed prohibition, and cites Tosafot’s answer that the prohibition was said in their times when many Jews lived together. He quotes Tosafot’s wording: “But now, what is he to do if he finds no one to sell to—should he lose it? … therefore the Geonim in exile practiced permission in this matter.” He presents this as a permission that does not rest on life-saving necessity but on the claim that this is simply “doesn’t make sense” and it is unreasonable to live that way economically and socially, to the point of permitting even a Torah-level prohibition in a pathological reality.
Permissions in the laws of interest and Haym Soloveitchik’s description
The speaker mentions a book by Professor Haym Soloveitchik called Halakhah, Economy, and Self-Image, which surveys permissions in the laws of interest among medieval authorities in the Middle Ages that were given “straight against the words of the Talmud” because it was impossible to make a reasonable living otherwise. He notes that these permissions did not enter the Shulchan Arukh, but in their place and time they were created in response to a situation in which “it was impossible to live” according to the formal demand. He concludes that the reality of “it just doesn’t make sense” activates a meta-halakhic logic by which prohibitions loosen when normal Torah life is otherwise impossible.
End of the lecture and scheduling notice
The speaker stops the lecture and invites a brief comment because he is hurrying to another meeting. He announces that there will be no lecture on the night of Hoshana Rabbah and that they will meet on the Thursday after Sukkot. He ends with, “Happy holiday, good night.”
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, let’s sum up for a moment where we’re holding. We’re talking about peripheral categories to Jewish law—things that circulate around Jewish law but are involved in halakhic decision-making. They come from outside, but they intervene in what happens inside. So in the last few lectures I dealt with the example of the prohibition against going to civil courts, the prohibition of secular courts, and briefly I’ll say that my conclusion, at least, was that in terms of the straightforward interpretation of the sources, this is forbidden. The interpretations that permit it, or don’t see it as much of a prohibition, are very unconvincing to me, to put it mildly. On the other hand, it is completely clear that there is no practical option to behave that way. There’s nothing to be done—we can’t. A society cannot exist without one large effective legal system that controls everything that happens in society. It can’t be that a certain group will rely on some private system and not rely on the general system, for many reasons: also because the private system doesn’t provide an answer, also because when you have a dispute with someone outside the religious or Haredi group you won’t be able to solve it in a religious court, also because the halakhic system is not sufficiently up to date and therefore still can’t really provide answers to a number of questions from the contemporary world, and also because the private legal system—the religious courts—has no authority to summon witnesses. I also mentioned what Nadav, my friend from physics at Bar-Ilan, Nadav Shnerb, wrote. In one of his articles he brought up that religious courts today basically do not adjudicate Torah law at all. When people come to a religious court, the court forces them to sign a form declaring that they waive Torah law and want compromise. I once accompanied some kollel fellow who got involved in some private religious court in Jerusalem, and that was really my only experience of how this works in practice. Other than that case, I never really took part. And I wanted—I said this, I don’t remember if I already told it—I wanted them to adjudicate according to Torah law, because I thought that according to Torah law I could get him acquitted. They refused to adjudicate. They said, if you don’t sign an arbitration agreement for compromise, then we won’t hear your case; go find yourselves different judges. Nadav writes there in his article and brings an example from a religious court where two litigants came and wanted Torah law. The court wanted, just like in my case, to force them to sign permission for the judges to compromise. The litigants didn’t want that, or at least one of them didn’t want it, and the court issued a contempt order against him. A contempt order is for someone who refuses to come be judged according to Torah law. They issued a contempt order against him because he did want Torah law—because he was unwilling to deviate from Torah law. He demanded that they give him Torah law. He did not want them to make compromises and judge according to other principles; he wanted Torah law. And they issued a contempt order against him because he wanted Torah law. What that basically means is that even if you go to a rabbinical court, to a Torah court, you won’t get Torah law. So the option of Torah law basically doesn’t exist at all. Not only is it impractical, not only does it create problems—there is no such option. Even when you go to a religious court, they do not judge you according to Torah law. So why should I go to them? The only reason I go to them is in order to be judged according to Torah law and not according to some other law. They make me sign that I am waiving Torah law. Fine, if I’m waiving Torah law, then I’m going to civil court. My view is that one should go to civil courts and not to religious courts, and no one’s permission is needed to do that—but no halakhic decisor agrees with this, I’m saying that openly. It’s my own opinion. In any event, on the one hand I’m saying—
[Speaker B] Rabbi, is there no place for compromise in Torah law? Is it impossible to make a compromise according to Torah law? Or is that self-contradictory?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If both sides agree, then they can make a compromise, no problem at all. If both sides agree, they can even accept a cattle herder as their judge. So by the same token, they can also go to civil court. Here I’m talking about the case where the sides don’t agree—they want Torah law. They won’t get it. The court doesn’t give it to them. So the claim, in short, is this: there is no reasonable halakhic or interpretive way to permit going to civil courts, resorting to civil courts. On the other hand, there is not really any option not to resort to civil courts, for many reasons, only some of which I mentioned now. Our involvement in the legal world of society as a whole is also something that I think giving up on is simply absurd—it just makes no sense. There is absolutely no logic in doing that; it is patently unreasonable. So what do you do in a situation like that? What I argued is that in such a situation, what you need to do is declare: this is forbidden, and there is no permission to do it—and do it. And my claim was also that overall that’s what most people do anyway, only they do it with a wink. Quietly. Because they don’t really say that it’s forbidden, and they don’t say that it’s permitted, and they don’t say anything—people just close their eyes and mutter the usual line. I argued that this has to be put on the table. First, on the tactical level, it has to be put on the table because otherwise you make a mockery of the whole thing, and people lose trust in Jewish law and in halakhic decisors. And second, because that’s the truth. Not only on the tactical level—that’s the truth. The truth is that it is forbidden, and nevertheless it must be done. That’s the truth. And therefore there’s no need to be embarrassed by it, and no need to hide it. That is what should be said, and that is what should be done. Then at the end of the previous lecture we started getting into the question of how, despite all that, one can justify such a dilemma or such a decision in halakhic terms. Can someone who is committed to Jewish law, completely committed to Jewish law, allow himself to make this sort of decision? Seemingly that means you’re not committed to Jewish law—you say Jewish law forbids it, and nevertheless I say to do it. Again, if this were life-saving necessity, I wouldn’t have said anything. Life-saving necessity overrides everything. Jewish law itself says that life-saving necessity overrides all prohibitions. But here there is no life-saving necessity in the physical sense; no one is going to die from this. And still I think there is no choice and it must be done despite the fact that it is forbidden. From the outset, it should be done—not as a concession. From the outset, that is what should be done: not to go to Torah adjudication. And the question is: how do you justify something like that? So I said there are a few possible formulations; we started this last time. And I’m not entirely sure whether these different formulations are really different. We see them from different angles and through different sources or examples, but at the end of the day, when you think about what actually underlies the logic of each such mechanism, they are very similar, if not identical. So let me just remind you of the first two mechanisms we met at the end of the previous lecture. One mechanism is the mechanism of value conflict. I say: here I have a certain value—moral, social, or other—the existence of a functioning society with an effective legal system, yes? A pretty clear value. And on the other hand there are the values of Jewish law, that one may not go to courts that do not adjudicate according to Torah law. So there is a clash of values here. And wherever there is a clash of values, it is true that from the standpoint of Jewish law there is no way out, but Jewish law is not our entire world of values; it is only part of it. We also have other values that are not halakhic values, as we saw in the series on Jewish law and morality, and once they are in conflict, the possibility opens up of deciding in favor of value A or value B. Therefore one option is to define this situation as a conflict. And once it is a conflict, I can violate Jewish law if the opposing value is strong enough or justifies violating Jewish law. And again, the violation of Jewish law will indeed be a transgression. It’s not that Jewish law permits such a thing—no. You are violating the prohibition; the prohibition that exists here, you are violating it. But the value standing opposite it justifies crossing that prohibition. That is the formulation of value conflict. The second formulation that I brought—and here I elaborated a bit more, because value conflict we already discussed in the series on Jewish law and morality—the second formulation I brought was the formulation of a transgression for its own sake. I brought the Talmudic passage in tractate Nazir about Yael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, who had relations with Sisera in order to kill him. And the Talmud refers to this as a transgression for its own sake: a transgression for its own sake is greater than a commandment not for its own sake. And I said that halakhic decisors and commentators are very uncomfortable with this sugya and try somehow to force it into halakhic categories, and really try to depict it as if what we have here is some halakhic principle of override, like a positive commandment overriding a prohibition, or life-saving necessity overriding the Sabbath, or principles of override that are internal to Jewish law and part of Jewish law. But clearly not—it’s obvious even semantically. It’s called a transgression for its own sake. No one would call a positive commandment overriding a prohibition a transgression for its own sake. A positive commandment overrides a prohibition, and therefore the prohibition is not a transgression, because Jewish law itself tells me to fulfill the positive commandment even at the price of the prohibition. But if here the Talmud calls it a transgression for its own sake, that means it’s a transgression. There is no halakhic permission. But because the value standing opposite it is so strong and so great, you are called upon to commit the transgression. Okay? Like I said before, you can already see that the situation is very similar to what I earlier called value conflict. I’ll come back to the relation between those two mechanisms. And my claim was that there are certain situations in which a person in the field, without consulting a halakhic decisor, even if he himself is not a great Torah scholar, must make a decision. Like Lot’s daughters, who had to make a decision because in their assessment humanity had been destroyed, and the only way to continue it was to have relations with their father—incest, the gravest prohibition there is, one of the sins for which one must die rather than transgress. There is absolutely no halakhic permission to do that under any circumstances. There is no source that permits such a thing. Even under life-saving necessity, the three cardinal sins are not permitted. But the Talmud praises Lot’s daughters for the decision they made there, to have relations with their father. And this appears immediately after the sugya of a transgression for its own sake. It doesn’t explicitly call it that, but the context sends the message quite clearly. Basically we’re dealing here with a transgression for its own sake. And again, it is a transgression, because there is no halakhic permission; there is no interpretive justification within Jewish law that would allow such a thing. That’s on the one hand. But on the other hand, it still was the right thing to do in that situation. That’s what Hazal are saying there. Now, I compared this to conscientious objection and to a manifestly illegal order—that was at the end of the lecture—and I said there are situations in which even the legal system sees legitimacy, or gives legitimacy, to a person not to obey the law. And this happens in a few situations. One case is when the order is manifestly illegal. What does that mean? When there is a situation in which it is clear that you are forbidden to obey the order given to you. When does that happen? For example, if it contradicts a clear state law. If it tells you to violate some very fundamental moral prohibition—say, just murder without justification or something like that—as in the Kafr Qasim affair and so on, an order over which a black flag flies, where the assumption is that this is also a manifestly illegal order. And the accepted legal conception is that even if it does not contradict the statute but only a basic moral principle, as in the Kafr Qasim case, it is still a manifestly illegal order and you are forbidden to carry out that order. Notice: it’s not that you are allowed not to obey. You are required not to obey. And if you carry out the order, you can go to prison. If you carry out the order. And the law requires you not to obey; it’s not merely recognizing your right not to obey. Yes, that’s something else. In contrast, I said there is conscientious objection. Conscientious objection is a case where a person receives an order—a soldier, it doesn’t matter, or a person whom the law tells something, a soldier whose commander gives some order—and from the standpoint of that person’s own value system, not the value system of society or of the entire universe, but his own personal value system or that of the group to which he belongs, that system does not allow him to do it. It is a red line for him. Evacuation of settlements, for certain soldiers, is something that for them is like one of the sins for which one must die rather than transgress—it is a red line. So in such a case they can engage in conscientious objection. Conscientious objection differs from a manifestly illegal order, because conscientious objection is a violation. It is a violation for which you are also supposed to bear punishment, to sit in prison for it. But there is legal or meta-legal legitimacy to do it. There is recognition of your right to remain faithful to your personal values even when that conflicts with the law. So for example I think—and I said this should be checked with jurists, I’m not a lawyer—but I think that disgrace certainly would not attach to such an offense. A person like that is not considered a criminal carrying disgrace. And this is an offense—in fact, in a certain sense one may even appreciate such an offender. He is willing to pay a price for preserving his values. And the law matters to him; he is not out to dismantle the law. Therefore he refuses and bears the consequences, goes to prison and accepts the required punishment. He did not obey the law, but he disobeyed the law in a legitimate way. “In a legitimate way” is not what the law itself says. Because if the law itself told you to do it, then we’d be talking about a manifestly illegal order. And then you are obligated not to obey the law or the order given to you. I’m talking here about a different case, where legally you are required to obey the order. But we understand that you have your own value system, which you believe in and to which you are loyal, and this step is so severe from the standpoint of your personal system that there is legitimacy to violate the law, to refuse, and not carry out the order. This is very similar to a transgression for its own sake. I think that someone who commits a transgression for its own sake—it seems to me, at least—also would not receive lashes. That is, unlike in law, where you do have to bear punishment for such an offense, in the halakhic context—again, I don’t know sources for this—but it seems to me that they also would not impose punishment for such a thing. Something like this comes up in the context of the wood-gatherer, now that I think of it. Tosafot in Bava Batra brings some midrash that the wood-gatherer who gathered wood in the wilderness there on the Sabbath basically did it in order to teach the Jewish people that they were still obligated in the whole Torah even though it had been decreed that they would not enter the Land. People thought that since it had been decreed they would not enter the Land, they were exempt from Jewish law. And he wanted to show them—this is like a midrash that basically presents him as some kind of Socratic type, dying for the sanctification of the law—so he wanted to show them that one still receives the death penalty for Sabbath desecration, and therefore he gathered wood on the Sabbath. Tosafot discussed whether this should perhaps be exempt because it was labor not needed for its own productive purpose—he gathered not for the wood but in order to educate them, but never mind. In any event, here’s an example of such a situation. Suppose we knew that he did it for that reason—would we punish him? Tosafot seems to imply yes. Because Tosafot asks: why punish him, after all this is labor not needed for its own productive purpose? Meaning, because the character of the labor is such that in truth there is no halakhic transgression here, since labor not needed for its own productive purpose is not forbidden on the Torah level. But it follows from Tosafot that the mere fact that you did the transgression for its own sake does not exempt you from punishment. Tosafot’s difficulty—that he should be exempt from punishment—is only because this is labor not needed for its own productive purpose, not because he did it for its own sake. Which means that from Tosafot it seems that a transgression for its own sake is something like conscientious objection in law. You do it, and you are also punished. For my own part, I assume that a religious court would not punish for such a thing at all. That’s what I think. But again, since there are no halakhic rules on this matter, it’s hard to know what would happen; it would probably depend on the judge sitting in judgment. If I were sitting in judgment, I would not punish. But if Tosafot were sitting in judgment, he probably would punish. So I don’t know. In any event, those legal categories seem to me to be the framework, the conceptual framework, within which this notion of a transgression for its own sake should be understood. And then the claim is basically—and I’m returning now to our problem of resorting to the courts—the claim is that although it is forbidden because of “before them and not before laymen” and so on, nevertheless there is no choice because otherwise it dismantles the social fabric and the legal system without which society cannot exist, and therefore what I’m doing here is a transgression for its own sake. In another formulation, that’s just another formulation I’m suggesting in order to justify the decision that I recommended earlier, yes? To resort to civil courts.
[Speaker B] But here are two examples where not only were they not punished, the Sages actually praised them—both Lot’s daughters and that case. As if they did something noble—not sure if noble, but something worthy of praise.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] By implication, yes, they do receive punishment for something like that. What? By implication, yes, they do receive punishment for something like that. Like I said earlier. But never mind—I’m also saying, and I also think, that here one should not punish; rather, this is a noble act. I claim that about our example too. I’m saying that we need to resort to the courts—”noble” is an exaggeration; it’s the act that ought to be done. We need to resort to the courts even though it is forbidden. So if there were punishment for such a thing, then in my personal opinion one should not punish someone who does it. Because that’s what he is supposed to do. So that is a second formulation.
Now I want to comment a little on what I said earlier: what exactly is the relationship between these two categories? On the face of it, they are very similar. What is a transgression for its own sake? In a place where there is a sufficiently strong value that overrides the halakhic value, I do not obey Jewish law. What is the first formulation I gave? A clash of values. The same thing: there is some external value strong enough that I violate the halakhic value. So what is the difference between the formulations? I’m not entirely sure there is a difference, but I’ll give you something that seems to me perhaps to make a difference between the two formulations.
In the context of a clash between values, I’m basically talking about, say, a moral value versus the halakhic value. Meaning, there is a value that belongs to a system external to Jewish law—for example morality, or any other value—and it stands against halakhic values. The question is which one prevails. That is a clash of values, and yes, sometimes this one prevails and sometimes that one does.
In the formulation of a transgression for its own sake—or at least in the last formulation I gave—it may be that we are not dealing here with an external value. This is a value that is actually found at the very basis of Jewish law itself. It’s not that there stands here a moral value that confronts the prohibition of secular courts. I claim that in the very essence of the legal conception of Jewish law—not because of an external value, not because of meta-Jewish law—if I understand the principled mindset of Jewish law, not just what Jewish law says on the table, then in my view Jewish law itself expects me to do this thing. In a certain sense I would even say that this could turn the act into something that is not a transgression at all. But then it is no longer a transgression for its own sake; it is simply what I am supposed to do.
True, from the standpoint of the simple halakhic instructions it is hard to find a justification for this. But I understand that the meta-Jewish law, the foundational conception of Jewish law, does indeed expect me to act this way. Since the basic conception of Jewish law clearly recognizes that a society needs to function properly, and there needs to be a legal system—what is “the law of the kingdom is law”? So the courts in Syria, all the… yes? You can bring many proofs for this from many directions, that there is such a meta-halakhic value: that a society should be run with an effective legal system. Perhaps the strongest proof is the commandment of laws incumbent upon the Noahides. The commandment of laws incumbent upon the Noahides is a commandment to establish a legal system that will run that society properly. So clearly, if the Noahides are obligated in this, then we are obligated in it too.
Now, true, from the standpoint of formal Jewish law, that will not help. From the standpoint of formal Jewish law, yes, one must establish a proper legal system according to Torah law. But here a situation has arisen—like in the case of Lot’s daughters—a pathological situation that the Sages did not have before their eyes: a situation in which there are judges fit to judge, Torah scholars, and nevertheless there is no possibility of establishing a legal system that operates according to Torah law. Society will not accept it; it simply cannot function that way today. What happens in such a situation?
So my meta-halakhic conception says that in such a situation the value that there be an effective legal system shared by society as a whole overrides the prohibition of secular courts. Now notice the difference between this and a clash between values, because here too I present it as though it were value against value. But the first value—I said, the value of proper social functioning—is not a moral value, or not only a moral value. It is first and foremost a meta-halakhic conception. It is what stands at the foundation of Jewish law itself. And therefore, in halakhic terms, this is Yose hitting Yose. That is, the foundational conception of Jewish law prevails over a specific halakhic instruction. This is not a value belonging to a system external to Jewish law that is set against a halakhic value; rather, there is here some meta-halakhic conception that, again, I extract from various sources and interpretive tools of one kind or another, but it is not written clearly anywhere.
And still, because it is clear to me that this is in fact the fundamental infrastructure on which the legal conception of Jewish law rests, it ought to override the prohibition of secular courts. First of all, I need there to be a legal system. Beyond that, I also need it to be according to Torah law. Therefore, if there is a legal system not according to Torah law and one according to Torah law, one should choose the one according to Torah law. But what happens if there is a clash between two situations, and I need to decide between them: one with no legal system at all, and the other an effective legal system not according to Torah law? About that, the laws did not speak. They compared a situation where there is a legal system not according to Torah law and one according to Torah law. But I say no: now we are in a third situation—no legal system at all, or an effective legal system but not according to Torah law. I claim that in this situation, Jewish law—or meta-Jewish law—even though there is no explicit instruction in Jewish law, the meta-halakhic consideration says that this is more important than the prohibition of secular courts. Because it is more fundamental. The prohibition of secular courts is on the second floor. First of all, there has to be a legal system. After that they tell me what kind of legal system. But clearly the ABC is that there be some legal system at all. And if the only option for such an effective system is one not according to Torah law, then there is nothing to be done—that is what we have.
This reminds me of what the Vizhnitz Rebbe—I think I mentioned this already—what the Vizhnitz Rebbe, the author of Dammesek Eliezer, if I remember correctly, said: it is better to stumble in baseless love than in baseless hatred. And I always think in that context that it is better not to stumble in either one. Very often we compare between two situations, but we forget that in the larger picture there is also a third situation. And I do not always have to decide specifically between those two situations. Sometimes there is a third situation that is the correct one. Here too, I keep thinking about the two situations: judging according to Torah law or judging not according to Torah law. But there is a third situation here—not judging at all, there being no legal system whatsoever. That too must be taken into account when we compare the options. Very often we focus on two options and forget that there is a third option that needs to be considered.
Anyway, my claim is that there may indeed be some difference here between the first mechanism, a clash of values, and the second mechanism, a transgression for its own sake—or the cousin of a transgression for its own sake, namely conscientious refusal. Here it is not exactly conscientious refusal. According to the last formulation I gave, it is almost an obviously illegal order. To tell me to judge by Torah law is an obviously illegal order. And why? Because the principles of the halakhic system itself tell me otherwise. This is not an external value, in which case you could say transgression for its own sake or conscientious refusal because these are my personal values standing against the law. Here these are values that stand at the basis of the legal system itself—the halakhic law, in this case. And therefore it is a somewhat different situation.
I’ll remind you of what I said in the previous class as well. There is a philosopher or legal thinker named Ronald Dworkin, who argued that there are two kinds of rules that a judge—or a legal interpreter—must take into account. One of them is rules, and the other is called principles. Rules and principles. That is, rules are something the legislator himself established. There are rules for interpretation; there is the Interpretation Law, yes? So the Interpretation Law says how one approaches interpretation. On that too the legislator gave instructions on how to interpret. Those can be called rules.
And besides that there are principles. What are principles? Principles are rules that the legislator did not formulate. They do not appear in the statute book, and yet it is clear to the judge that they stand at the basis of our social-legal conception, or perhaps even of humanity as a whole. If these are basic moral laws like in the Nuremberg trials, then it is humanity as a whole. But Ronald Dworkin is not talking about that; that is extreme. Ronald Dworkin is talking about something more innovative. He wants to argue that even if there is a legal system whose foundations are not basic moral principles, but rather principles that underlie the conception of a given society—say in the State of Israel, or in Belgium, it does not matter where—and this is not something universal, but in that society it is clear, decisive, unequivocal, a foundational rule, even though the legislator never wrote it anywhere—Ronald Dworkin says: as far as I am concerned, this is a legal rule. One must take it into account as well when interpreting the law.
If I really see it this way, then the last mechanism I described is actually closer to that than to a transgression for its own sake. Because a transgression for its own sake still sounds like some kind of clash with an external value. What I am saying here, in a certain sense—true, there is no halakhic permit for it, but I would not call it a transgression. It is not a transgression for its own sake. It is not a transgression at all. Because the reason I do it is not due to some other “for its own sake,” but because of what I perceive Jewish law itself expects of me. In that sense it is not a transgression, because this is what Jewish law wants me to do—or meta-Jewish law, since the enacted Jewish law does not contain this instruction. But the meta-halakhic conception, in that sense very similar to Dworkin’s principles, quite clearly requires me to do this, at least in my assessment. Others may disagree with me, but if that is what seems correct to me, then I am supposed to act that way, and it may very well be that it is not even right to call this a transgression for its own sake. Not even a transgression. Rather, an overriding of unarticulated meta-Jewish law over a specific Jewish law that is articulated. The principled infrastructure of the legal conception has priority over a specific legal instruction, even though that principled infrastructure is formulated nowhere and does not appear explicitly in the law books.
In other formulations one could say—perhaps I’ll sharpen it more—according to what I am saying now, in the last formulation I proposed, one might even call it a third formulation already: this is no longer a transgression for its own sake but rather taking meta-halakhic principles into account. That is, principles that emerge from Jewish law itself, but not from its instructions, rather from its subtext. This can already be interpreted as something like what I said earlier—that it is not a transgression at all. That is, there is no dilemma here at all. This is what the halakhic system itself expects me to do, and not some external value that clashes with the instructions of Jewish law and overrides them. In that sense this is somewhat different from a transgression for its own sake.
By the way, I mentioned perhaps—I no longer remember whether I mentioned this—in the context of Dworkin and principles, there too there are two formulations. One could say that these principles are not part of the law but they are binding, in which case that really goes with the first formulation I gave: an external value that clashes with the law. But Dworkin was a positivist. Therefore, Dworkin basically does not accept the validity, or is unwilling to give legal status, to values outside the law. They have no legal status. They are conscientious refusal, but still it will be a transgression and you will be held accountable for it. Maybe it is legitimate because you have your own values, but it has no standing within the legal system itself. One cannot say that what you did is not a transgression.
So how does Dworkin bring his principles into positivist thinking? He simply says that these principles are as if they were legislated implicitly. They did not go through legislation in the Knesset, but they were enacted by the very fact that they are accepted by the public, so there is no need to legislate them. They are considered part of formal law even though they were never legislated at all. Then this has full legal standing, unlike other external values. It has full legal standing, and even as a proper positivist you can take it into account in your legal interpretation. And if that is really so, then the result is not a violation of the law; it is not a legitimate violation of the law; it is not called violating the law at all. It is what the law says, because these meta-legal principles are in fact part of the legal system itself. Even though I derived this through my own interpretation, and perhaps others will disagree with me, and it is written nowhere and did not go through legislation in the formal sense in parliament or in the Knesset, as positivists require—that no law has validity unless it goes through legislation. Dworkin’s claim is that there are mechanisms of implicit legislation. That is, something that does not require legislation because everyone understands that it is the ABC of that society. Legislation is needed only where something is not self-evident, so society has to vote that it nonetheless accepts the rule, the principle. But if there is something clear, then there is no need for legislation. It is enacted and standing. And again, not necessarily basic moral principles as people usually think, but also things that are the basics of the particular society under discussion.
In this context one might also enlist a term attributed to the Chazon Ish: the fifth section of the Shulchan Arukh. As is known, the Shulchan Arukh has four sections: Orach Chayim, Even HaEzer, Yoreh De’ah, and Choshen Mishpat. But the Chazon Ish says that a halakhic decisor cannot suffice with only the four written sections of the Shulchan Arukh. There is some fifth section that is written nowhere, no less important and sometimes even more important than the written sections. And it seems to me that what he means by this is what I said earlier: there are certain meta-halakhic values not written in the Shulchan Arukh, but it is completely clear that they have the force of Jewish law written in the Shulchan Arukh, if not more than that. And sometimes they will even override a formal halakhic prohibition written in the Shulchan Arukh.
If that is so, then I return to the issue of secular courts, and here I can say that my meta-halakhic conception tells me there is no alternative—I must resort to the courts in the State of Israel, and then this is not even a transgression for its own sake, but rather what must be done. Whoever does not do this is the offender. Whoever goes to the rabbinical courts is the offender according to this conception. You have to understand—that is a bit extreme. He is the offender because what is right to do in the legal, meta-legal conception of Jewish law is to go to the courts and not to the rabbinical courts. It sounds a bit radical.
There are similar formulations, like “the Torah was not given to ministering angels,” or all sorts of things of that kind. They all revolve around certain meta-halakhic principles involved in halakhic judgment. I’ll now bring a few examples so you can see that this is not quite as bizarre as it may seem at first glance.
The Netziv, in Ha’amek She’elah, in his responsa—I’m sharing it here—speaks about… you know that several times in Jewish history there was a dilemma whether to separate communities. Separation of communities means that when communities arose that were not fully loyal to Jewish law—Maskilim, Reform, Conservative, Neolog, it does not matter, all sorts of relatively new movements—overall, when you live in exile, the Jewish community is some concept that has representation before the authorities, that is, it has legal standing in many places. And the question arose whether to preserve this legal concept or split it. That is, to declare that there are several Jewish communities, like several religions—just as there is a Muslim minority and a Jewish minority, so too there is an Orthodox Jewish minority and a Reform Jewish minority—or to preserve the Jewish community in all its streams as one community, at least before the outside authorities. This is what is called the issue of separating communities.
And this came up on several occasions with the Ktav Sofer, the son of the Chatam Sofer, in Hungary, and the Netziv wrote about it too, among others. The Netziv addresses it in his responsa, Meshiv Davar, part 1, siman 44, and there he responds to a proposal that appeared in a periodical called HaMa’arikh. There a proposal was raised to separate jurisdictions, that is, to part from the Maskilim, from the Reform, from all the Buddhists and all these sectarians—meaning not those who were not part of the Jewish community at all, but all those parts of the Jewish community that were not loyal to Jewish law ideologically. We are not talking about lax people or people who were not meticulous about every detail, but those who adopted a different conception not loyal to Jewish law in its ordinary sense. A proposal was raised to separate communities. Then a major polemic broke out, and the Netziv wrote a very principled and very interesting responsum about it. And he writes as follows:
“And behold, HaMa’arikh, in that journal, instructed and advised to protect ourselves from this generation by separating from one another completely, as Abraham separated from Lot. I beg of HaMa’arikh: this advice is as harsh as swords to the body of the nation and its survival.” That is, says the Netziv, there is a meta-halakhic consideration here, because of which one may not take this step, even though in principle it is called for. On the face of simple considerations, it is a called-for step—why should you carry all these people on your back?
“Indeed, when we were in the Holy Land and almost autonomous in the days of the Second Temple, the land recoiled”—if I understand correctly, I don’t know exactly what he means here—”the Temple was destroyed and Israel exiled because of the dispute between the Pharisees and the Sadducees. And it also brought upon us, because of baseless hatred, much bloodshed, which is not according to the law.” Namely, when a Pharisee—he is speaking specifically about the Pharisees, notice—saw that someone was lenient in some matter, even though he was not a Sadducee at all, really not a Sadducee, but he was lenient, or relied on a lenient opinion, or was lax, it doesn’t matter. But one of the zealous Pharisees saw someone being lenient—rather, committing a transgression—and because of baseless hatred judged him as a Sadducee, of whom the rule is that one lowers them into a pit and does not raise them up, and proclaimed him a Sadducee. And from this bloodshed multiplied, under permission and in the name of commandment, in error.” The motivations are “under permission” and “in the name of commandment,” but clearly there is no justification for that; it is an error.
“And the Torah already alluded to this as explained”—never mind—”and all this etc.,” I do not know what those initials stand for. “And all this is not far-fetched, Heaven forbid, to happen also at such a time as this, when in the eyes of one of those who uphold religion, it seems that so-and-so is not conducting himself according to his path in the service of God, and he judges him as a heretic and distances himself from him, and they pursue one another with license and false imagination, Heaven forbid, and corrupt the entire people of God, Heaven forbid.”
That is, even if we were in our land and under our own authority—the Sadducees and Pharisees were in the Land of Israel, when we were more or less under our own authority, not entirely, not full independence, but more or less, as he himself says above, “almost autonomous.” “How much more so now, when we are subdued in exile and Israel is scattered among the nations, and we are likened in exile to the dust of the earth, as the Holy One, blessed be He, said to our father Jacob: ‘And your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth.’ And the nations of the world are likened to many rushing waters, as it is written in Isaiah: ‘Ah, the roar of many peoples, who roar like the roaring of the seas.’ There is no remedy for a clod of dust in the rush of many waters, unless the dust is made into a solid stone—unity. Then even if a rushing river passes over it, it only rolls it from place to place, but does not destroy it entirely, unlike dust. So too Israel among the nations has no remedy except to be the Stone of Israel”—a biblical term that of course he uses figuratively—”namely, they should be bound together in one bundle, and then no nation or tongue can destroy them. How then can we say to separate each man from his fellow, and the nations of the world will come and sweep them away little by little, Heaven forbid?”
So essentially the Netziv claims that this separation even has halakhic aspects. Because essentially you are talking about partnership with people whom in principle, according to the conception of some people at least, you should lower into a pit and not raise up. The Netziv says: true, but the moment we define two communities with two separate entities, like the Sadducees and the Pharisees, there is very great danger that wars will begin, some of them unjustified. You will seize someone, suspect him of being a Sadducee, and lower him into a pit, even though the actual Sadducee himself might indeed have been lowered into a pit. But because of the implications, I tell you: do not separate even from the real Sadducee. That is, because of the meta-halakhic consideration, because of future concerns, the Netziv says: I strongly oppose separating these communities.
And here too it seems to me that the Netziv does not mean to talk about saving life. That in the end we will lower him into the pit and not raise him because we think he is a Sadducee when really he is not. That is a literary depiction of another motive. What the Netziv is really trying to say is: we must remain one unit, like his parable of the stone and the dust. Looking at future concerns and danger to life is merely a literary illustration, you could call it that. That was not his consideration. It is not a consideration of danger to life; it is a meta-halakhic principle that says we are supposed to remain together, even though on the face of the cold and simple—indeed simplistic—consideration, we ought to separate. Therefore I think this is a good example of integrating a meta-halakhic or conceptual consideration into decision-making.
There were halakhic considerations there too in that context. Incidentally, throughout the whole responsum the Netziv makes use of various midrashim, verses, and his interpretations of verses, almost without halakhic sources. There are no halakhic sources. Because what he is saying here is not a halakhic statement; it is a meta-halakhic statement. It is a meta-halakhic consideration, but it is clear to him that it overrides every other consideration, however strong. And look at the level of homiletics he uses to justify that meta-halakhic consideration: stone and dust, and with the stone the waters come and roll it but do not cover it, but the dust… fine, it is a children’s story, a nice story for kindergarten. What—is that a halakhic consideration? The answer is yes, because it is a literary depiction of a principled calculation, or a meta-halakhic calculation. He does not intend to derive it from those verses of the Stone of Israel and dust and stone and his homiletics. That is not the point. It is merely a literary expression of a consideration that is meta-halakhic. So I think this is a very good example of the matter, and especially good because we are not talking here about a moral value. The unity of the Jewish people is not a moral value; it is a Torah value. In moral terms, why should one remain united with people who advocate an entirely different value system, who deny the Torah? I do not see a value there, certainly not a moral value. I’m not even sure I see in it a religious value, by the way. But the Netziv saw in it a distinctly religious value, and for him that was the consideration that tipped the scale here.
Okay. Another formulation one could suggest for this matter is to hang it on… no, I am bringing all these formulations in relation to secular courts, because in fact each formulation looks from a different angle at peripheral considerations. So this is not only in order to exhaust the issue of secular courts. I use the issue of secular courts as a touchstone or an example for various mechanisms of peripheral considerations.
So the next mechanism—which again, in my opinion, is a special case of the previous one—is: “the Torah was not given to ministering angels.” What does that mean? Someone could come and say—and I really think this is correct, though one could argue with it—that the Torah was given to human beings. “The heavens are the heavens of the Lord, but the earth He has given to human beings.” What does that mean? The Torah does not expect us to live abnormal lives. That is, there is normative behavior, reasonable behavior, of an individual and of a society, and the Torah does not expect us to depart from this plain and reasonable behavior, even at the price of prohibitions sometimes.
I will perhaps bring a few common and relatively agreed-upon examples. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman, in his responsa Minchat Shlomo, brings this consideration several times. For example, he writes about cigarette smoking, or about driving at excessive speed—I think he mentions that too; if not, perhaps I am the one who extended it there. I do not remember. In my article I wrote about excessive speed. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman says: after medicine had already discovered that cigarettes are harmful, is smoking now forbidden because of danger to life, because of “and live by them”? Is it forbidden to smoke cigarettes? Is that a halakhic prohibition? Rabbi Shlomo Zalman argues that it is not.
Why not? Because as long as smoking is perceived in the world as a normative act, it is not a suicidal act. It is not jumping off the roof of a building, okay? True, it is dangerous, but fine, people take risks. There is nothing to be done. For status people take risks. Whipped-cream cake is dangerous too—it makes you fat, and if you eat too much of it it is dangerous. Or extreme sports—that too is dangerous. So is it forbidden to do that? No, it is permitted. As long as the action is considered in the world to be a normative action, it is permitted. What about danger to life? There is risk here at levels that in other contexts we clearly would have had to avoid. I think—and I did not check statistics—but I am almost certain that cigarette smoking kills far more than Corona on the whole. And still, cigarette smoking he was prepared to permit, while regarding Corona I assume he would say to be careful. Why? Because cigarette smoking is still considered a normative act of a normative person. When you see someone smoking, you do not say he is committing suicide. Once this is a normative person, you cannot say Jewish law requires me not to do it, because it is a normative action.
Again, one could say that speaking slanderously is also a normative action, and in that sense Jewish law does not require me to refrain from that either. By the way, I do not reject that. It could very well be that within certain bounds, where every normative person here and there chatters a little malicious gossip, there may be room to say that it would not be forbidden. Of course, someone who manages to avoid even that is on a higher level, but on the principled halakhic level I do not entirely reject the possibility that such a thing would not be forbidden. This of course depends on context—how severe the prohibition is, how important the norm is, and so on. But for our purposes, I am saying that there is such a system of considerations.
Someone who exceeds the speed limit on the road—where ninety kilometers an hour is permitted, he drives one hundred. Not something suicidal, but something that on the whole most normative human beings do from time to time, okay? So he has not violated a prohibition. He has not violated “and live by them,” because this is a normative action. Is it dangerous? True, dangerous—so what? Dangerous. But as long as it is a normative action, “the heavens are the heavens of the Lord, but the earth He has given to human beings.” Meaning, you are supposed to conduct yourself in a normal way. I will perhaps bring another example.
[Speaker C] Maimonides writes in Laws of Character, chapter 6, at the beginning of chapter 6. Let me share it for a moment.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maimonides says as follows: “And if all the lands whose conduct he knows and about which he hears reports follow a path that is not good, as in our times, or if he cannot go to a land whose customs are good because of military forces or because of illness, he should sit alone, solitary, as it says: ‘Let him sit alone and be silent.’ And if they are wicked and sinful and do not allow him to live in the country unless he mingles with them and follows their evil customs”—they tell him, if you are in our society then you will sit and speak malicious gossip with us; that is part of society, otherwise we will not accept you—Maimonides says: if they will not accept you, “go out to caves and thickets and deserts, and do not accustom yourself to the path of sinners, as it says: ‘Oh that I had in the wilderness a lodging place for wayfaring men.'” Of course this homily is only a literary expression.
There is an interesting comment here by the Alter of Novardok, who says: think who that person is who would read this Maimonides and actually go live in a cave in the desert and not in human society because he cannot avoid transgressions. He would have to be some supremely righteous person, right? And even someone like that, if he fears that he cannot avoid transgressions, is supposed to go to the deserts and live in caves. A true Novardok guy.
Anyway, for our purposes, the claim is basically that there is no counsel and no wisdom against God. Now in practice—leave aside for a moment whether there are such sources or other sources; there are sources too—factually, nobody does that. Nobody does that. Even the Haredim, who in principle advocate such a policy, of secluding themselves so as not to stumble into transgressions—if we mix with the general public, we will stumble into transgressions—even so, there are transgressions also in Haredi society, and still they do not tell a person: lock yourself in your house and do not leave. At least most people I know do not advocate such a conception. And not only because if you corner them, maybe they will tell you it is simply because we would not be able to stand by it—not as a matter of principle, but simply, what can you do, we compromise. I think there is something deeper here.
The Torah was given to us to be fulfilled in our world, within ordinary human society, with all four species, including the willow branches, not only the etrogs. We are supposed to observe the Torah within a human society that functions normally. And if in order to observe the Torah you need to live in a cave in the desert alone—then do not go there. Stay within human society and do not go to the desert, even at the price that you may come to commit transgressions. Try not to, but even at the price that you know you will fail. Why? Because the Torah—and again, this is a meta-halakhic principle, it is not written anywhere in principle—but as a meta-halakhic principle I say: the Torah was given to a human society that functions normally, and not to a collection of monks living in caves in the desert.
What does that contradict? Does it override the prohibition of malicious gossip? Or perhaps even more severe prohibitions? Never mind, all sorts of prohibitions. Someone who lives in a cave in the desert will never steal, never speak malicious gossip, many prohibitions—he will never violate any of the interpersonal prohibitions. Everything will be fine. Look how many transgressions he saves himself, and how many commandments—well, commandments he will not fulfill either. There is no “love your neighbor as yourself” when you have no neighbor. But look how many transgressions he saves. And yet it seems that the accepted approach is that it is not right to live in a cave in the desert, even if that involves transgressions. Why? Because there is a meta-halakhic principle, which again can be extracted in various ways from various sources, but it is not something written and formulated clearly in a halakhic source, that says a society must conduct itself in a normal and reasonable manner. And if Jewish law requires you to behave in an unreasonable way—”the Torah was not given to ministering angels.” So leave aside the law, stay in ordinary human society, with the costs.
Of course, it depends what the costs are, what counts as ordinary human society—I have not given a criterion here, and of course much can be debated—but I am speaking on the principled level. There is such a logic in halakhic thinking. And I think this is also what underlies the statements I mentioned earlier of Rabbi Shlomo Zalman, who says that if the action is considered a normative action, then one cannot say the person doing it is committing suicide. That is simply not correct. In a normal human society there are quite a few people who do this—they smoke. You cannot say that smoking is suicide. Even though the very same level of risk in another context would be halakhically forbidden. Because the Torah was not given to ministering angels. If these are reasonable, normal, normative human beings, then one cannot say this is unacceptable behavior.
The same applies, by the way, with standards of modesty. Standards of modesty are not only a matter of undressing; they depend on the environment. There is something here about reasonable norms. Why, for example, do the women in full-body cloaks arouse so much antagonism even among Haredi halakhic decisors? If you corner Haredim, they will tell you: because people will not be able to stand by it, and therefore it is not worthwhile—a decree the public cannot uphold. But in principle, they might say, this is indeed a path worthy of appreciation, a path for elevated people, and so on. I think that is post facto rationalization. Deep down they oppose it because it is not right to behave that way. Why? It is the most modest thing there is. The whole body is covered, nothing is seen, everything is black, only holes for the eyes, if that—some do not even have that. The most modest thing possible. What is wrong with it? What is wrong with it is simply that it is not normative. It is not sensible. Human society does not behave that way. You speak to someone—you want to see whom you are speaking to. You want to see his body language; that is part of speech. You cannot speak to someone who is a sphinx behind a large black robe.
Therefore, since this is not a normative way, it is not right to do it, even though it is ostensibly the most modest thing. Very few people will give you that reason. Most will rationalize. They will say we would not be able to stand by it, or that some other problems would arise, other halakhic problems because of which it is forbidden, all sorts of things like that. I think these are all post facto rationalizations. People do not realize that they actually have a very deep intuition that a Jewish person obligated by Jewish law must live in a normative way. And if it is a non-normative life, that is not what Jewish law wants from me. Ah, where is that written, in what verse does it say that? I do not know. But that is the simple meta-halakhic conception I have, and it overrides halakhic principles. Modesty is a halakhic principle.
So my claim is that this is a meta principle. What I brought earlier is also an example of a meta-halakhic principle, but there it was not some specific problem that society would collapse and certain consequences would occur. If the Torah is meant to be fulfilled within a functioning society, then the problem is not the value of preserving a functioning society. This goes further than the formulation I gave earlier. My claim is not that the value of a functioning society overrides the prohibition of secular courts, but that Jewish law expects me to live in a functioning society, and therefore the prohibition of secular courts is not relevant in such a society. It is a nuance, but it is more extreme than the formulation I gave earlier. It is simply not normative. Not that there is a value in being in a functioning society, but a normative society is a functioning society, a society of human beings. The Torah expects us to live in a society of human beings, not in a collection of monks each in a different cave not getting along with one another. Therefore I think there is room to permit, and one should permit, resort to the courts despite the prohibition involved.
Another formulation on this matter.
[Speaker C] There is—I think I brought this once, I do not know if in this series—but I once brought the halakhic rule
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] that says that an enactment or decree that did not spread among the majority of the public is void. Usually people think that a decree that did not spread among the majority of the public is void because if the public cannot uphold it, one does not decree a decree upon the public that it cannot uphold. I claim that not decreeing a decree upon the public if it cannot uphold it, and the principle that a decree that did not spread among the public is void, are two entirely different principles. Not decreeing a decree upon the public if it cannot uphold it is a consideration made by a religious court when it comes to decree the decree. It has to assess whether the public will stand by it. And if the public will not stand by it, then compromise—even though it would be right to do it, compromise, do not do it, because the public cannot uphold it.
The claim that a decree that did not spread among the public is void is a stronger claim. If it did not spread among the public, then it is not right. Not just that therefore you too should not do it because Jewish law is supposed to be able to be fulfilled in all strata of the public. And something that cannot be fulfilled in all strata of the public is not Jewish law. Even if you are an elevated person and you want to do it, it is not right to do it; it is not Jewish law. And what basically lies behind this—and I spoke about this in the past—is that very often when new decrees or enactments emerge from a religious court or some study hall, whoever thought of it, whoever issues it, is in fact a group of Torah scholars whose occupation is Torah. But it is a product of the study hall, and the study hall often thinks in an ungrounded way, disconnected from the everyday lives of human beings.
Therefore, when the enactment does not spread among the public, the public is actually giving feedback to the religious court or study hall that established that decree or enactment. It is telling them: this is not right. This is a detached way of thinking. So it is not merely that we cannot keep it, so please take us into account and compromise. It is much stronger than that. If we do not keep it, then it is not right. Therefore it is not proper to do it; that is not what Jewish law expects us to do. You too should not do it, even if you are able to keep it. And that is basically the claim. Why? Again, because a normative society is one built both of etrogs and willow branches. That is society, like the separation of communities I discussed earlier. And Torah needs to be fulfilled by society as a whole. Here, of course, we are talking about a society faithful to the commandments, not a society entirely unrelated to the commandments. In that sense it is not like separating communities, but the principle is similar. And a Jewish law that cannot be fulfilled by the public as a whole is void. One simply cannot do it; it is simply not correct Jewish law, it is void on its own. Because Jewish law has to be possible for the public as a whole. That does not mean people will not fail. That does not mean we will not stumble here and there, of course. But basically it has to be something relevant to the public as a whole. If it is not relevant to the whole public, then it is simply not correct Jewish law.
And again, because ultimately the Torah was not given to ministering angels. The Torah was given to a normal society, and in a normal society there are willow branches and etrogs. That is all. And the laws are supposed to relate to all parts of society. In that sense I want to claim that the permit—or even the obligation, in my view—to go to the courts, can also be based on an argument of this sort. It is an argument that says: Jewish law is not built for a collection of study halls with rabbinical courts judging society from within the study hall—the oilem and not the world, in the language of the Chazon Ish. No—it is built for the world, not for the oilem. Again, by “world” I mean those who are faithful to Jewish law; I am not speaking about people entirely unrelated to Jewish law, because then what Jewish law says is not relevant to them. But it is relevant in the sense that a legal system has to be effective for society as a whole, including—
[Speaker D] Excuse me, Rabbi? Yes. Excuse me? Yes. I can’t hear, sorry.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll continue—I thought you wanted to ask something. The claim, basically, is that a properly ordered society, a normal society, is one that doesn’t break apart into all kinds of separate religious courts. By the way, look at Haredi society: there’s a religious court for the Hasidim, and a religious court for the Lithuanians, and a religious court for this Hasidic group and that Hasidic group, and in effect there isn’t any shared legal system at all. The moment you move to a private system, even within the Haredi world, it’s no longer one system. It’s a decentralized system, and in many cases you can’t even adjudicate between people who belong to different communities in the same religious court. That means that a society conducted in that way is not a normative society; you can’t function like that. That’s another indication, in the last formulation I suggested here, that in fact one must go to the courts, because otherwise society simply falls apart, and that is not a normative situation. The Torah is supposed to exist within a normative world. Look, for example, there is Tosafot in tractate Avodah Zarah on page 15. According to the Talmud, there is a prohibition against selling idol worshippers calves, foals, and all kinds of impure animals, out of concern that they will have relations with them or things like that—there are various explanations there in the Talmud. In any case, it is forbidden. Now Tosafot says—I’ll share for a moment—Tosafot in Avodah Zarah: “We see that according to everyone, both Rashbam and Rabbenu Tam, it is forbidden to sell idol worshippers calves and foals and any impure animal. Therefore one should wonder what they relied on in selling calves and foals to idol worshippers.” People do it every day—they sell calves and foals to idol worshippers, to gentiles. What are they relying on? This is a halakhic prohibition agreed on by all opinions. In another minute you’ll vanish, your memory going up in smoke, your hair that caresses—what is that? What’s going on here? I don’t know, there’s some kind of… is there a hacker here, what happened? In any case, Tosafot says, “Who are those who are accustomed to sell to idol worshippers”—difficult, never mind, he offers a partial answer there. “And one can say: certainly this prohibition against selling an impure animal applied specifically in their times, when many Jews lived together. Then, if a person had an animal he did not need, he would sell it to his fellow and would not incur a loss. But now, what should he do, when he finds no one to sell it to—should he lose it?”
[Speaker E] In another minute you’ll vanish, your memory going up in smoke—I think you should show your talent somewhere else—the silences of the warm heart.
[Speaker F] What is that? What’s going on here?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know, there’s some kind of…
[Speaker F] Is there a hacker here, what happened?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In any case, Tosafot says that what they relied on in the time of Tosafot to sell calves and foals to idol worshippers—so he says why: because the prohibition on selling applied specifically in their times, when many Jews lived together. Then if a person had an animal and didn’t need it, he sold it to another Jew and everything was fine. What happens now? There are five Jews in the village. The other four Jews don’t need my calf that I don’t need. So what am I supposed to do—get stuck with a calf? A calf is something expensive, thousands of shekels. Okay? I can’t get stuck with that. Now notice: this is not saving a life. This is not a consideration of saving life. I’m stuck with a calf worth thousands of shekels. I have no one to sell it to, because to gentiles it’s forbidden, and the five Jews here don’t need it. So what do you do?
[Speaker G] Tosafot says: in another minute you’ll vanish, your memory going up in smoke, the silences of the warm heart. Evening.
[Speaker F] Fine.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I liked that one. Fine. In any case, Tosafot says: “But what should a person do, if he finds no one to sell to and must lose it?” Yes—what do you mean? “There is no counsel and no wisdom against the Lord.” And therefore the Geonim in the Diaspora adopted a leniency in this matter. And here too later on he brings another example of this. What do you mean—where did he get that from? What kind of interpretation is that? Everything they prohibited—there is no halakhic source for this leniency. It’s forbidden?
[Speaker D] Because it’s not saving a life either.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Tosafot says, נכון—but what am I supposed to do, stay with a calf worth thousands of shekels and have no one to sell it to? Completely unreasonable. It just doesn’t work. Meaning, it just doesn’t work, so Tosafot says that it is permitted.
[Speaker D] It doesn’t sound like the most…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What kind of consideration is that? This consideration, again, apparently is not a consideration of saving life. It’s a consideration that says: it’s not reasonable to live that way. People won’t be able to live like that. You won’t buy an animal, because you know that if you don’t need it, you won’t be able to get rid of it. So how will you make a living? In the end the whole business will collapse; you can’t function like that. But again, it’s not that someone will die in the end—this is not saving life. By the way, this is a Torah-level prohibition, not a rabbinic prohibition. “Do not place a stumbling block”—a Torah-level prohibition, even regarding a gentile. So Tosafot says yes, but it just doesn’t work. It’s obvious that in such a reality it is unreasonable to live this way. It is unreasonable not to allow people to deal in livestock—after all, that was their livelihood there, you have to understand. The Jews of that period probably were not large-scale farmers. At most they had animals. There were many other things they also could not do. You can’t live like that, says Tosafot. Therefore the prohibition is nullified. There’s more of this. There is a book by Professor Haym Soloveitchik—yes, the son of Rabbi Soloveitchik—who is a historian. It is called “Jewish Law, Economy, and Self-Image.” In that book he surveys, very systematically, astonishing leniencies in the laws of interest that one finds among the Spanish and Ashkenazic medieval authorities (Rishonim) in the Middle Ages, directly against the words of the Talmud. Son of a bitch, you whore.
[Speaker H] Wow. What a—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So the claim is, prima facie, that there are situations in which medieval authorities (Rishonim) permitted prohibitions—he brings examples of this, apparently including Torah-level prohibitions too, if I remember correctly—because in that situation it was impossible to make a living in a reasonable way. And again, this is not saving a life; rather, it is simply unreasonable living. Once life becomes unreasonable, they permit prohibitions directly against the Talmud. By the way, an interesting note from Haym Soloveitchik: none of these leniencies made it into the Shulchan Arukh. That’s very interesting—the evolution of Jewish law is fascinating. All kinds of special leniencies arise, but the halakhic ruling that ultimately converges into the Shulchan Arukh and passes on to later generations—this does not enter. It gets pushed out. It remains local and temporary, but it does not join the body of Jewish law. But for that place and time they permitted it, because this was a pathological situation. This was a situation in which it was impossible to live in the way Jewish law demands. It just doesn’t work. And once it just doesn’t work, you don’t have to do it. It sounds like a fairly radical argument, but it seems to me that this is what emerges from all these sources. Okay, I’ll stop here. If anyone has a relatively short comment, because today I’m rushing to another meeting—so if anyone has a comment or question, you’re welcome.
[Speaker C] Does anyone want to comment or ask?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, so we’ll stop here. Goodbye, and have a happy holiday. We’ll actually see each other on the Thursday after Sukkot. During Sukkot itself there won’t be a class—it’s the night of Hoshana Rabbah, everyone with his own plans. So goodbye and happy holiday, good night.