Innovation, Conservatism, and Tradition – Lesson 2, Part B

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, so I’m going back. The series three, five, seven—we saw two possibilities for continuing it. Either nine, if the assumption is that these are odd numbers, or eleven, if the assumption is that these are prime numbers. Okay? Who is more right? Let’s ask who here is the plain conservative and who is the midrashic conservative. The one who continues with nine, or the one who continues with eleven? What is the simple continuation, and what is the continuation that requires midrash?

[Speaker B] Nine is the simple one.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No—why? There’s a tendency like that, but the truth is I don’t see any real basis for it.

[Speaker C] No, they’re both midrashic, it’s just a question of which midrash you attribute to it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. There is no continuation—neither of them is a simple continuation. It always involves some kind of interpretation. Again, again, there’s an echo here. You know what? Maybe it really is mute. Let’s mute everyone. Okay. Yes, now there really is no echo. So Wittgenstein’s claim, basically, is that there is no way to continue a rule in a simple way without interpretation. Every rule that you act on, that you try to follow, always involves some kind of interpretation. Yes, if you want we can keep torturing this even more.

[Speaker E] Do you see the…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. Huh? No,

[Speaker E] We can’t see it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, I won’t do that screen share because I’ll lose the previous recording

[Speaker F] that’s running here on my screen.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] By the way, about mute: whoever wants to speak, I suggest—wait—I suggest that whoever speaks should press the space bar. Okay? I muted everyone. Whoever speaks should press the space bar, and when you release it, the speaking stops. Again. Someone here opened their mic.

[Speaker B] Golan, Golan, you’re not on mute.

[Speaker G] No, no, it’s not me, I think it’s Yisrael Surisa.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, fine, now everything is okay. So use the space bar, okay? Because the space bar puts it back on mute after you speak. Fine, anyway, Wittgenstein’s claim is broader. Basically, I write for you the series three, five, seven—the next number can be whatever you want. Not only nine or eleven; it could also be minus one-third, or a complex number if you want. Anything at all that you want. And it’s very easy to show that there is an interpretation that allows any continuation you want. Okay?

[Speaker G] What is this, postmodernism? Everything is possible?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This is not postmodernism, it’s a fact of life. Postmodernism is a mistake. Here this is a fact of life; nobody can argue with it. The claim in the end—try to think: suppose I want three, five, seven, and I want the next number to be ten. Let’s say that. It could also be anything you want, as we said, but let’s say ten. How do I construct the rationale, the interpretation, that will give me the continuation I want? Very simple. I build a function of n. Let’s say a plus bn plus cn squared plus dn cubed, with four coefficients: a, b, c, and d. Okay? I want it so that when n equals one it gives three, when n equals two it gives five, when n equals three it gives seven, and when n equals four—because n is the number, n is the number—in the first place in the series it gives three, in the second place in the series it gives five, seven, and ten. There’s no problem finding four coefficients a, b, c, and d so that this is what comes out. Those are four equations with four unknowns. You can solve that without much trouble, and we can arrange a rationale for any continuation you want. Whoever wants can put minus one-third there, whoever wants can put ten there, whoever wants can put minus one hundred seventeen point four or i plus one—complex numbers. Whatever you want. You can propose an interpretation for any continuation. And that basically means that there is no rule in the world that you can follow without interpretation. Following a rule always involves interpretation. If we go back to the swimsuits, the one who keeps going with the swimsuit even in a cold area, he too is actually interpreting. His interpretation is what we might call the trivial interpretation: that the instruction is to walk around in a swimsuit in every situation. But that too is an interpretation. It’s not that he doesn’t need interpretation and the other one does interpretations—he too is interpreting. Even the interpretation of plain conservatism is a kind of interpretation. So formally, at least, there really is no true difference between interpretation—between midrashic conservatism and plain conservatism. The difference between these two is a function of, I would say, culture or context or whatever. There are certain contexts where somehow we all tend to understand that this interpretation is the plain one and that interpretation is the midrashic one. Okay? In our culture this seems like the simpler interpretation, but that is not at all something objective. On the objective level, every one of these options is an interpretation, and the interpretations can be whatever you want. That is the hermeneutic circle. In hermeneutics the problem always is that when you offer an interpretation of a book or a work—a work of art, a literary work, whatever it may be—what you have before you is the book itself. Once you take the facts that are in the book itself and offer them an interpretation, how will you know that the interpretation is correct? You need some kind of feedback that is not tied to the book in order to check whether the interpretation you proposed is correct or not, but you don’t have that. The only data you have is the book. So you are trapped inside a kind of hermeneutic circle; you can’t get out of it, because the basis that you are interpreting is also the only thing that can give you feedback on your interpretation. That is why, for example, academics try to bypass the interpretive circle and argue that when I interpret a Talmudic topic / passage or interpret Maimonides, I need to see the context. I need to know Maimonides the person, the context in which he operated, what influenced him, other manuscripts, because then I have independent sources that give me feedback on the interpretation I am proposing for the text. In contrast, the traditional learner interprets the text from within itself; he does not need context, he does not need comparison of textual versions, Maimonides’ biography—these are not tools used by the traditional interpreter. Okay. So again, that is the problem—the problem is that even the interpretation that seems plain to us is actually a kind of interpretation; it too is interpretation. And therefore the distinction between plain meaning and midrash in this context is very unclear. Yes, like they always say in the joke: plain meaning is my interpretation, and midrash is your interpretation. Okay? In other words, what is the difference between plain meaning and midrash? Plain meaning is what I say, and midrash is what you say. Because plain meaning—what I say—is the simplest and most correct thing, and of course the other person says the same thing, that plain meaning is what he says and midrash is what I say. In other words, it’s hard to decide objectively what is a plain interpretation and what is a midrashic interpretation. But if I ignore this broad philosophical issue and I am willing to enter into a context, then I am willing to accept that in a given context, continuing to go with swimsuits is the plain interpretation, and going with clothing suited to the weather is a midrashic interpretation. Okay? I think intuitively we can agree on that, even though philosophically one can attack that distinction. But intuitively we can agree—I think that’s the first connotation that comes up for us when we see these two interpretations. So this difference, if you look at it philosophically, is much less dichotomous, much less sharp, than I presented earlier. Okay, anyway, I still assume that this difference does exist. Now I want—I actually want to sharpen a bit more—actually, you know what, before I sharpen it more, I want to continue looking for the definition of the innovator. Yes, I’m going back to the swimsuit example and I want to ask: how do I identify the innovator? So my first suggestion was that those who want to switch to warm clothes are the innovators, and those who stay with swimsuits are the conservatives. But I rejected that. I said both are conservatives. The whole question is what they are conserving. So who is the Reform person in this situation? From what—what model or what claim that someone might make deserves to be called a Reform claim? The first two claims are both conservative: plain conservatism, midrashic conservatism. What is a Reform claim? So this is maybe the place to say: I—I want to wear warm clothes because I’m cold. Not because that’s what our ancestors said, and no, I’m not interested, I’m not rationalizing. I’m cold and that’s it, leave me alone already, as they say. That’s it, I’m not giving you a rationalization. Maybe many people would regard such a thing as a Reform claim, but the truth is that’s not correct. That’s a heretic, not Reform. In other words, this is someone who is not committed to the tradition of his ancestors. He doesn’t—he doesn’t need to look for explanations whether it fits the tradition or how it fits the tradition, because he is not loyal to tradition. Someone who is not loyal to tradition is not Reform; he is a heretic. He simply does not recognize—he is not committed to the system of rules. The first two models are people who are committed to the system of rules; one interprets it plainly, one interprets it midrashically, but both are committed to it. The third model that I proposed here is not a model of Reform; it is a model of the heretic. Someone who is not committed to the system of rules—he is outside the game. The Reform person, at least the initial intuition is, is inside the game. He is inside the game, he just has some claim different from the first two models. Is there such a thing? It seems as though either you wear warm clothes because you’re cold, and then you’re a heretic, or you wear warm clothes because the rule you are preserving is to wear clothing suitable to the weather, and then you’re a midrashic conservative. Or you keep wearing a swimsuit and then you’re a plain conservative. Is there another option? What—what else could there be to define the niche of the Reform person? This is a question that bothered me quite a lot when I started dealing with this logic of conservatism and innovation. How do you define the Reform person on the theoretical level? In other words, what is the theoretical definition of a Reform claim? Where is he located between the heretic and the two kinds of conservatives? If none of the three models up to now is Reform, then what is Reform? What else could there be? Don’t these three models cover all the possibilities? What else could there be? So I thought maybe the Reform person is someone who accepts some of the rules but not all of them. The model I proposed was a model of a single rule: you have to walk around with a swimsuit or with clothing suited to the weather. But there is a system of six hundred and thirteen commandments or many rules, so maybe the Reform person chooses for himself some of the rules—some he keeps, some he doesn’t. Maybe that’s Reform. That also doesn’t seem right, because that basically means that he is simply a heretic with respect to some of the rules and a conservative with respect to some of the other rules—either a midrashic conservative or a plain conservative. It’s only a combination of conservatism and heresy; it’s not Reform. The feeling is that Reform is another model; it’s not a combination of the first two but something fourth. Not a midrashic conservative, not a plain conservative, and not a heretic. So what is it? What remains? Someone who keeps part of the system and not part of it—that is not the definition of Reform. So what is?

[Speaker G] Like what actually happened among the Reform people—they took from the European environment and adapted themselves, like, however they dressed, that’s how we’ll dress, but inside Judaism, like they made some kind of mix.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In words—tell me in our model. In what sense is that not a midrashic conservative, not a plain conservative, and not a heretic? What kind of claim is it? Talk in terms of the swimsuits.

[Speaker G] I don’t know. They just saw another public in the same area and somehow took from them, I don’t know, it’s hard to define.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It doesn’t matter where they took it from. I’m asking what they claim. What do I care where they took it from? What are they claiming now? They took it, okay, the gentiles wear warm clothing, not swimsuits, in this region. So now they want to wear warm clothes. But the claim is not that the gentiles dress this way. The gentiles dressing this way is a source of inspiration. But when they make a claim, they have to make it inside the system. What are you claiming? Why do I need to switch from a swimsuit to warm clothing? Because tradition doesn’t obligate me? Then you’re a heretic. Because you have a different interpretation? Then you’re a midrashic conservative. What other model could there be?

[Speaker H] That it’s despite the tradition.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I can’t hear?

[Speaker H] He could claim that it’s despite the tradition. In other words, because he’s hot—but despite the tradition. Like someone who—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He’s not a heretic because he is committed to tradition.

[Speaker H] He is committed, he just decides against it. There is a difference between commitment—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, I’m not sure I mean the same thing—maybe, maybe it’s the same thing. I’ll try to define it in my own way; tell me whether we agree or not. Maybe a methodological introduction, yes, that whenever you get stuck in a tangle of this kind, then—

[Speaker H] It’s basically the Rama paradox.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. I don’t know if it’s the Rama paradox, but rather there is what’s called the third way. Yes, when you are inside—you are in some conceptual framework in which your feeling is that there is another option that is none of the options placed before me. But on the other hand, in the picture I see in front of me, it looks as though that covers all the possibilities; there is no other niche into which another conception can be inserted. That is basically the kind of tangle I described here. And we’ve already encountered a lot of examples of this in the history of this lecture, because for me usually in almost every argument I get into I have that feeling, that the two sides in the argument are both wrong. Now the question is: but how—what is there besides those two sides? Either you agree or you don’t agree, right? Either you’re Religious Zionist or you’re not Zionist, Haredi. Right? What else could there be? Either you are Zionist or you are not Zionist. Or all kinds of things of that sort, right? But my feeling all the time, in almost every argument this happens, is that no. Even though it supposedly covers all the possibilities, it doesn’t—there is another option. And so I developed a whole set of tools for shattering dichotomies. In other words, how to show that a picture presented to me as if it were complete is in fact not complete. The most basic thing in this matter, the most fundamental tool in this matter—I have several toolboxes—but the most basic tool is actually based on a principle that the Maharal loved very much. Usually when you see two opposing positions, they always have something in common. Otherwise they would not be opposed. In other words, I don’t know, a raven is the opposite of a dove, because the raven is black and the dove is white. But a chair is not the opposite of a dove. Why? Because the raven and the dove are both birds, only this is a black bird and that is a white bird. Okay? A chair is not in the game. In other words, when you see two opposing things, it is always an opposition based on something shared. When there are two opposing things they belong to the same axis. It is the same scale: this measures one and that measures minus one, but they belong to the same scale. But something that is not on the scale is not opposed to either of them. That means that when you see two positions fighting, or two positions that are opposites of one another, usually—or maybe always—there will be something shared by both. And then what? That means you can attack that shared thing. If you attack that shared thing, then suddenly you will discover that other options start appearing besides the two that were put before you. Yes, for example, Religious Zionism or Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) ideology. Okay, so what can there be? I am a religious person, so either I am Zionist or I am not Zionist—what else could there be? What other option is there? So the answer is that there is another option. What do you mean? Because when you look at Religious Zionism, what is shared by Religious Zionism and Haredi society is an imperialist conception of religion, and therefore everything in the world is either part of religion or heresy. In other words, if Zionism is part of my religious faith, then I am a Religious Zionist. But if it is not part of my religious faith, then someone who is Zionist is a heretic, so I am Haredi. But there is a third option. The option that does not see the religious outlook as imperialist in the sense that it is supposed to cover the whole space of reality. It may be that there are areas of reality that are indifferent to the religious issue. Secular domains, yes—domains about which you can say whatever you want, even domains that have value, not just neutral domains that really don’t matter, but even domains of value—sometimes they are a lacuna within religious thought. Religious thought has nothing to say about it. Okay? And therefore you can be Religious Zionist, but your Zionism is not part of your religiosity. Like the famous joke. They always told me this with great pride, how the Rabbi of Ponevezh, Rabbi Kahaneman, the Rabbi of Ponevezh—the one who founded Ponevezh—he hung—he said, he did not recite Hallel on Israel Independence Day, but he also did not say Tachanun. So they asked him: what are you, Zionist or not Zionist? Meaning, if you are Zionist then you should both say Hallel and not say Tachanun. If you are not Zionist, then you should both say Tachanun and not say Hallel. What does it mean not to say Tachanun but also not to say Hallel? So he said: I’m Zionist like Ben-Gurion. Ben-Gurion also didn’t say Hallel and didn’t say Tachanun on Independence Day. So that’s a joke that the people of Bnei Brak really enjoy. What they don’t understand is that it’s not a joke. It’s a completely true statement. What the Rabbi of Ponevezh meant to say was that he was Zionist like Ben-Gurion. He was a secular Zionist. His Zionism was secular. But he was Zionist—he was not anti-Zionist, and he was not Religious Zionist. He was Zionist and religious, but his Zionism was not religious. That’s why he put a flag on the roof of the yeshiva on Independence Day every time. The journalist Gankhovsky once told me—I was with him on the Sabbath—that he once sat with the Rabbi of Ponevezh on the roof of the yeshiva to guard against the students so they wouldn’t steal it; they used to play the flag game there. They guarded the flag all day so the students wouldn’t steal it and take it down. He hung a flag on the yeshiva on Independence Day, and Rabbi Shach continued this, by the way. That was the tradition in Ponevezh. It seems to me that today they’ve already stopped doing it. Rabbi Shach was still strong enough to maintain that tradition; after him there were no figures strong enough, I think. In any case, what he basically meant to say was that the dichotomous picture presented to us—either Zionism is part of Judaism or it is against Judaism—that is not true. It can be outside Judaism, not part of Judaism, but not anti-, rather a neutral domain. Be a Zionist and at the same time be religious, and everything is fine. That is a third option that is opposed to both sides, because both sides advocate religious imperialism. In other words, there cannot be any domain toward which religion is indifferent. Either it supports it or it opposes it. There can’t be a domain that is religiously neutral. You can decide there according to your best understanding, okay? And I attack this agreed-upon dimension shared by the two warring sides, and suddenly I discover that there is also a third option. The map is not covered by the two options that are usually presented to us. And this is a model for many areas. This is what in political science is called the third way. The third way is always—there is right and there is left. There once used to be a party here by that name, but really it’s a concept in political science. The third way is always when they present you with two options: either you’re right-wing or you’re left-wing. Today people already know there is a center, but exactly how to define it isn’t clear. The claim is that in the dichotomy between right and left there is something shared that I reject, and then entirely different paths can open up. And so on. There is a whole toolbox of ways to shatter dichotomies. And one of those tools is what someone here mentioned earlier: the heap paradox. The heap paradox is a logical tool for shattering dichotomies. What does that mean?

[Speaker G] According to that, is, say, a British Zionist a Reform person in this sense? I didn’t get it. Say a British Zionist like Balfour—is he sort of Reform in this terminology? Why Reform?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I haven’t yet arrived at the definition of Reform. No—he’s Jewish and he’s not religious.

[Speaker G] I didn’t define it—isn’t that Reform?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t define myself as Reform, but I do define myself as a secular Zionist. No, I don’t identify that with Reform. I only used it to demonstrate the logic; now I’m getting to Reform. Okay? That was just an example of the logic, not—now I’m going to apply the logic to our case. What happens in the heap paradox? The heap paradox is actually a whole series of paradoxes like this, which say: one pebble is not a heap. If there is a collection of stones that is not a heap, and you add one stone to it, that does not change its status. But a million pebbles are a heap. Now these three claims seem reasonable, but together they are a paradox, right? In other words, if one pebble is not a heap, and adding one stone doesn’t change the status, then how does it become a heap at a million? Starting from one, add another stone—it’s still not a heap because adding one stone doesn’t change anything. What, is there some number—seven hundred and one thousand three hundred and forty-two? From there on it’s a heap? That makes no sense. Clearly that’s not right. So what is happening here? Or yes: from when is it afternoon? My children’s million-dollar question. Right? In the afternoon you’re allowed to go play in the yard, but at noon you’re not—the neighbors are resting, you’re not allowed to make noise. Okay? From when is it afternoon? For Americans, afternoon is twelve oh one. But in Israel, “afternoon” is an amorphous concept. Why? Because obviously if you add one second to noon, that doesn’t turn it into afternoon. But on the other hand, five o’clock is already afternoon. Twelve is noon, five is already afternoon. Adding one second doesn’t change the status, so when does it become afternoon? Or when does a certain color on the spectrum change from one color to another? From red to yellow. When do you pass from red to yellow? It’s some continuous transition. Adding half an angstrom to the wavelength won’t change the color. So how does the color nevertheless change in the end? And so on. For any concept you want, I can formulate a heap paradox. From when is someone bald? How many hairs count as bald or not bald? Okay? A person with one hair is bald. A bald person to whom you add one hair does not change his status. But a person with a million hairs is not bald. I don’t know how many there are—many, okay. He is not bald. So when does that happen? And so on. The answer to this is that this collection of paradoxes basically assumes a dichotomous view: that a pile of stones is either a heap or not a heap. But that’s not true. A pile of stones is a heap at some level, on a continuous scale of heap-ness. Say between zero and one. Its degree of heap-ness is zero, zero point one, zero point twelve, zero point three, zero point forty-four, zero point fifty-six of heap-ness, up to one. One means a complete heap. In other words, heap-ness is measured on a continuous scale, not on a scale of zero or one, binary. And then I simply say: adding one pebble changes the degree of heap-ness. It makes it a little more of a heap. That’s all. Then everything is fine; that solves all the heap paradoxes. What do the heap paradoxes actually assume? They assume that our conceptual system is dichotomous. Either it is noon or it is afternoon. Either he is bald or hairy, either it is a heap or it is not a heap. But no—our conceptual system is measured on a continuous scale. And assuming the binary picture is a failure, yes? Various dilemma arguments. There is no point in giving exams. Why? Because a lazy person won’t study even if there is an exam, and a diligent person studies even without an exam. So what’s the point of giving exams? It doesn’t help anyone. Where is the failure here? That there are people in the world who are not pathologically diligent and not pathologically lazy. They are somewhere on the spectrum between diligence and laziness, and there the existence of an exam will motivate them to study more than they would study without an exam. It is true that at the extreme level, absolutely diligent people study even without an exam, and absolutely lazy people don’t study even with an exam. But there is a continuum of levels of laziness or diligence between zero and one, and on that continuum an exam can definitely motivate. And so on. For any concept you want, dilemma arguments, which have a kind of charm—they always sound terribly persuasive—but they all fail because of the dichotomous assumption. The dichotomous assumption is probably not correct in most cases. Why am I saying this? Because in this context—it’s a tool for cracking dichotomies, yes? It’s another tool from the toolbox I talked about earlier. My claim is that when we looked at the picture of a midrashic conservative, a plain conservative, or a heretic, we were basically assuming a dichotomous logic, binary. Either you accept the system or you don’t accept the system. But if someone comes and says, look, I am committed to the rule of our ancestors—never mind right now whether in its midrashic form or its plain form. You know what? In its plain form. I’m a plain conservative. I say that the tradition of our ancestors is to walk around in a swimsuit in all weather. But as far as I’m concerned there are other considerations or interests or values, it doesn’t matter, but another kind of consideration. And sometimes those considerations will override my commitment to tradition, because my commitment to tradition is not absolute. I am not a heretic. A heretic is someone for whom tradition does not matter, he is not committed to it and doesn’t care. He is not conservative in the sense that tradition is not the only thing in his world. He is committed to tradition—it is one of his values—but he has other values as well. He is not totally committed to tradition, not at any price, whether a price in values or a price in comfort or whatever it may be. Each person according to his own definitions—his commitment to tradition is not full. That is the Reform person. The Reform person is someone whose commitment to tradition is neither zero nor one. If it is zero, he is a heretic; if it is one, he is a conservative—plain or midrashic.

[Speaker C] So are we all Reform then?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Sometimes there is—if it’s something in the middle, then he is Reform.

[Speaker C] No, but if that’s the case then we’re all Reform. There are sometimes conflicts, like you talk a lot about Jewish law and ethics / morality, and about between Jewish law and ethics / morality, and we accept values that are outside tradition.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, there is no such thing as values outside tradition.

[Speaker C] Is there only Judaism in the world? In my world at least there is Judaism and there is life and there is ethics / morality and there is—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not in mine.

[Speaker C] What does that mean?