Innovation, Conservatism, and Tradition – Lesson 4
This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- Halakhic rulings from within a situation versus rulings from afar
- The model of the Council of Torah Sages and dialogue between inside and outside
- Examples of immediate experience: Mary’s room, the elevator, Holocaust testimony
- Our father Abraham, blindness, and “Do not judge your fellow”
- A transgression for its own sake and halakhic judgment of extreme situations
- The example of women’s singing and the cultural gap of the halakhic decisor
- Saving an eye on the Sabbath, a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim), and emphasizing the value of experience
- Midrashic conservatism versus plain-sense conservatism and the problem of “there is no proof”
- Meiri and “bounded by the norms of the nations” as a halakhic revolution
- Rejecting the censorship claim about Meiri and analyzing Yaakov Katz
- Meiri does not claim that Christians are not idolaters
- Maimonides’ source for the moral basis: Bava Kamma 37 and the analogy to an animal
- Midrash without proofs versus “hidden reasons”
- Changes in scientific knowledge: terefot, lice on the Sabbath, and the Chazon Ish
- Critique of plain-sense conservatism: hidden midrashim and halakhic costs
- Closing questions: frequent change, the authority of a religious court, and when the reason lapses
Summary
General Overview
The text argues that halakhic ruling in exceptional situations requires immediate recognition of reality, and that ruling “from the outside” tends to be cold, detached, and sometimes mistaken, even though it has the advantage of being freer of interests. It presents an ideal model that combines those who live the reality on the ground with a more insulated halakhic authority, and demonstrates how direct experience changes one’s understanding of the concepts themselves. It then develops a distinction between midrashic conservatism and plain-sense conservatism, and presents Meiri as a clear example of broad conservative midrash that changes Jewish law without relying on formal “proofs.” Finally, it argues that a change in scientific knowledge is not a “change in circumstances” but the discovery of a factual error that undermines the validity of the ruling from the outset, and it criticizes the ways in which plain-sense conservatism produces speculative midrashim in order to remain conservative.
Halakhic rulings from within a situation versus rulings from afar
The text states that American rabbis said earlier than Israeli rabbis that there are situations in which it is right to be lenient regarding driving on the Sabbath to the synagogue in order to prevent distancing and assimilation, because they lived within a reality in which “people become detached and marry non-Jewish women or non-Jewish men” at a high rate. It argues that someone looking from the outside asks, “What is the basis for permission?” and frames the discussion in formal terms like “do not place a stumbling block” and “the two sides of the river,” whereas someone who lives the reality knows the practical consequences and what “is the right way to act” in the situation. It adds that immediate experience can also bias a person, but distant perspective has its own disadvantages, and therefore a combination is needed.
The model of the Council of Torah Sages and dialogue between inside and outside
The text presents the model of the “Council of Torah Sages” as embodying both sides: a body detached from the Knesset and from society that makes decisions with a “cleaner, less biased” perspective and without political interests, but that may fail to understand what is right if it does not experience the reality on the ground. It argues that there needs to be a “serious dialogue” between those inside the situation and those sitting in the “isolated and detached place,” and that proper decision-making emerges from combining the two perspectives. It emphasizes that a halakhic decisor who asks purely “halakhic” questions may miss the gap between a formal answer and what it “really means” inside reality.
Examples of immediate experience: Mary’s room, the elevator, Holocaust testimony
The text uses “Mary’s room” to argue that one can know all the equations and still not know “what the color red is” without experience, and likewise in understanding extreme halakhic situations. It gives the parable of a falling elevator, where the claim is that in a situation where everyone is about to die, “the concept of theft has no meaning” regarding a pen, and that someone inside understands that the ordinary legal definitions “fall away.” It describes his article on halakhic ruling during the Holocaust and cites Rabbi Gibralter from the Kovno ghetto, who claimed that “there are no monetary laws, there is no ownership of property in the ghetto,” including his refusal after the Holocaust to accept repayment of loans, and presents this as “testimony” from someone who experienced an extreme reality and not as a position to be heard from outside in ordinary terms of monetary law.
Our father Abraham, blindness, and “Do not judge your fellow”
The text argues that criticism of our father Abraham for not refusing the command “Take your son, your only one, whom you love, and offer him up as a burnt offering” does not even get off the ground, because someone who has not experienced revelation does not understand how it is perceived from within. It compares this to the gap between a sighted person and someone blind from birth, who cannot understand why people trust the sense of sight, and connects this to “Do not judge your fellow until you reach his place,” while expanding it: in extreme situations, not only should one not judge the person, but one should “not form an opinion about the case at all,” because someone who had been there would understand “that he is not sinning at all.”
A transgression for its own sake and halakhic judgment of extreme situations
The text uses the example of Lot’s daughters to illustrate a situation in which someone living inside the situation understands that the ordinary laws are not relevant, and it presents “a transgression for its own sake” as a model in which the decision is not necessarily meant for “the greatest halakhic decisors” but can be the decision of someone on the ground who understands the implications. It argues that in the end the decision should belong to the one who understands the reality well, even if he consults with a halakhic authority.
The example of women’s singing and the cultural gap of the halakhic decisor
The text argues that sweeping prohibitions against “listening to women sing” and attending a female singer’s performance sometimes arise from a cultural gap, when a halakhic decisor “does not know that culture” and necessarily assumes a context of sexual stimulation. It states that someone who lives in a reality where women’s singing is an everyday matter can experience it as aesthetic-artistic enjoyment “not at all on the plane of sexual stimulation,” and therefore the detached halakhic decisor “is mistaken because he does not know the situation.” It concludes that the interaction between those involved and an expert decisor should be genuinely “respectful or attentive,” rather than dismissive from the outset.
Saving an eye on the Sabbath, a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim), and emphasizing the value of experience
The text brings the example of violating the Sabbath to save an eye and explains that someone who has never experienced sight may not understand why “the Sabbath is violated to save an eye” while “the Sabbath is not violated to save a limb.” It notes a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim): one view grounds the permission in danger to life because of a connection between the eye and the heart, and another grounds it in the value of sight to the point that “a blind person is considered like one who is dead.” It sharpens the point that the example is meant to show how the meaning of loss depends on experience, but also clarifies that one cannot simply argue against explicit Jewish law by saying “I live the situation,” because there are cases in which the Sages and halakhic decisors understood the significance very well and still established a rule.
Midrashic conservatism versus plain-sense conservatism and the problem of “there is no proof”
The text returns to the move in which the “midrashic conservative” justifies halakhic change through an interpretive midrash showing that the new application is a continuation of the original Jewish law under new circumstances, unlike the Reform approach, which changes without such midrash, and unlike the “plain-sense conservative,” who clings to the bottom line. It presents a case where there is a “reasonable” midrash but no textual proofs for it, and quotes the feeling that “just because we imagine something, shall we act on it?” It then argues that this is not the correct position, and that if the midrash is reasonable, then there is good reason to follow it even without proofs.
Meiri and “bounded by the norms of the nations” as a halakhic revolution
The text presents Meiri as writing in dozens of places that the Talmudic attitude toward non-Jews is not relevant “because in his time the non-Jews are bounded by the norms of the nations,” and from this he derives the return of lost property, the prohibition against withholding repayment of a loan, and violating the Sabbath to save the life of such a non-Jew. It argues that this is a “conservative midrash” that creates broad change not because of “need” or “the ways of peace” or “because of hostility,” but from the outset and systematically out of the perception that the typical non-Jew has changed morally. It mentions the polemic: the claim that Meiri wrote out of fear of censorship, versus decisors and conservatives who minimize reliance on him, as against Rabbi Kook, who writes that “the law follows Meiri,” and liberal decisors who use him.
Rejecting the censorship claim about Meiri and analyzing Yaakov Katz
The text argues that writing out of fear of censorship is usually done as a major declaration at the beginning of a book, whereas Meiri returns again and again in every topic “consistently” and in systematic conceptual terms, and therefore this does not look like evasion of a censor. It cites Yaakov Katz’s article in “Jewish Law and Kabbalah,” which points out that Meiri does not systematically permit the laws regarding objects of worship, and concludes that this makes it harder to maintain that Meiri was merely “apologizing” to censorship. It argues that this very gap shows that Meiri was not trying to satisfy a censor mechanically, but was operating from a principled distinction.
Meiri does not claim that Christians are not idolaters
The text argues that it is a mistake to interpret Meiri as though he had determined that the Christians of his time are not idolaters, and it emphasizes that Meiri does not write that, but speaks about “the norms of the nations” and morality. It explains that Christians can be idolaters and still be “good people,” and therefore the sanctions aimed at “inferior” non-Jews do not apply to “enlightened” non-Jews, while prohibitions on deriving benefit from objects of worship remain because they are connected to idolatry itself. It adds that Meiri does not state that he disagrees with Maimonides on the subject of idolatry, which suggests that he is not disputing the definition of Christianity but the human-moral implication regarding non-Jews.
Maimonides’ source for the moral basis: Bava Kamma 37 and the analogy to an animal
The text brings a source from Maimonides in his commentary to the Mishnah on Bava Kamma 37b: “Do not be astonished at this matter… because one who does not possess human moral traits is not truly included within mankind, but the purpose of his existence is for the sake of man,” and interprets this as justifying discriminatory treatment of non-Jews because of the absence of “human qualities.” It argues that Meiri continues this line one step further: when the non-Jews of his time behave as human beings, then the laws of sanctions are no longer relevant and one should relate to them “like a Jew in every respect.” It adds a distinction of a legal presumption regarding the typical non-Jew, and places the change in that presumption between the period of the Sages and Meiri’s time.
Midrash without proofs versus “hidden reasons”
The text argues that Meiri draws far-reaching halakhic conclusions without formal “proofs,” but rather from a conservative midrash that seemed reasonable to him, and it prefers this to the assumption of “hidden reasons” that nobody knows. It states that rejecting a reasonable midrash on the grounds that perhaps there is some other hidden reason is itself an ungrounded interpretive move whose purpose is to preserve the plain meaning.
Changes in scientific knowledge: terefot, lice on the Sabbath, and the Chazon Ish
The text distinguishes between a change in circumstances and a change in scientific knowledge, and argues that when reality has not changed but only our knowledge of it has changed, then a ruling based on a mistaken fact is “like a mistaken transaction” and is nullified automatically, without any need for “a matter decided by vote requiring another vote to permit it.” It gives examples: terefot, regarding which it is claimed that some animals live more than twelve months; and the permission to kill lice on the Sabbath, which rests on the claim that they do not reproduce sexually, whereas according to science this is mistaken, and the result is permitting “a stoning-level prohibition” on the basis of excuses. It cites the Chazon Ish, who argued that the binding halakhic science is that of “the two thousand years of Torah” and not “the two thousand years of the messianic era,” and presents this as a speculative midrash intended to preserve plain-sense conservatism.
Critique of plain-sense conservatism: hidden midrashim and halakhic costs
The text argues that there is no approach without interpretation, and that even a plain-sense conservative requires midrashim, and at times “far-reaching” midrashim, in order to justify clinging to Jewish law as it currently stands. It emphasizes that plain-sense conservatism has heavy costs, such as permitting the killing of lice on the Sabbath or causing monetary losses through stringencies concerning terefot, and therefore the claim that it “plays it safe” is mistaken. It concludes that the central question is not “burden of proof” but which interpretation is correct, and that fear of a slippery slope does not grant a decisor authority to permit or maintain a halakhic result against factual truth.
Closing questions: frequent change, the authority of a religious court, and when the reason lapses
The text responds to the concern that new research will cause frequent changes by saying that one must follow “the best truth known” and if the knowledge changes “we will change the Jewish law,” adding that only a religious court with authority can establish an enactment that limits such change. It rejects the possibility of justifying the permission of Torah-level prohibitions out of fear of changes when there is no Sanhedrin. It relates to the rule “when the reason lapses, the decree lapses” as something fundamentally belonging to rabbinic enactments, notes the dispute between Maimonides and Raavad regarding the need for a religious court, and refers to the last chapter in Neria Gutel’s book “Changing Natures” and to his own book “Paths Among the Stationary” as a storehouse of examples and tools for changing enactments when their rationale has lapsed.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Just as a kind of aside, by the way, in relation to the previous question about driving on the Sabbath to the synagogue—the difference between different places is quite illuminating. American rabbis said this much earlier than Israeli rabbis did. We’re talking about Orthodox rabbis, much earlier. Because sometimes when you’re inside a situation, you understand that this is the right way to act. Someone looking at it from the outside doesn’t experience the situation, so he looks at it in a cold, detached kind of way and says, “What do you mean? On what basis could this be permitted?” We talked about this in the past too. I once wrote an article on halakhic rulings during the Holocaust. And my claim was that in situations—at least in extreme situations, or situations very far from those familiar to us—here, I see in the chat there’s a quote from Rabbi Aviner—situations very different from those familiar to us, it is not correct to issue a ruling if you do not experience the situation yourself. Because you can’t really understand what the right thing to do is in that situation. It’s true that immediate experience can also skew a person, create bias, and there is some value, or added value, to a distant, cold, uninvolved perspective. But there are disadvantages too. Meaning, this needs… there’s some kind of combination here that it’s important to create. In this context I’m also always reminded of this model of the Council of Torah Sages of the Haredi parties, or the sages of the Torah, the great Torah sages, whatever you want to call it. At the conceptual level, that model contains exactly these two sides. On the one hand, the body making the decisions is detached; it is not involved, it doesn’t live in the Knesset, it generally doesn’t live within society at all, but in places relatively detached from general society. And that actually gives certain advantages for decision-making—not only in the sense that they have no interests, whereas members of Knesset have interests, but also in the sense that the perspective is cleaner, less biased. But on the other hand, there’s also a problem when someone doesn’t understand the situation or doesn’t experience it directly. There’s a problem when he makes decisions, because he doesn’t really understand how one ought to act. Therefore the claim is that there needs to be some kind of dialogue between those who are inside the situation and those who sit in the isolated, detached place. And this has to be a serious dialogue, one that truly listens, each side listening to the other, and then making a decision by means of some combination of those two perspectives.
[Speaker B] But someone who comes to issue a ruling looks at it purely halakhically, and he’ll ask all the questions he needs in order to get all the…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] These combinations—there’s a difference between a formal answer and what it really means. It’s worlds apart… I’ve often brought the example of Mary’s room. There’s a Wikipedia entry on Mary’s room; you can read it there. Mary is some physicist sitting in a room, an expert in optics. She knows everything there is to know about optics, the branch of physics that deals with light, light waves. But she lives in a black-and-white room. She knows all the formulas, she’s read all the books, she knows everything, everything. Does she know what the color red is? The answer is no. Or in other words, when she goes outside and sees a light wave of red, red-colored light—does she learn something new? The answer is yes. The optics, the rules, the equations—she knew all that before. But what red light is—what red light is, she doesn’t know until she experiences it herself. She understands where it comes from, she understands what it does, she understands how it interferes and diffracts and refracts—she understands all of it. But what red light is, that she doesn’t know until she sees it or experiences it directly. Yes, it’s like the example—the examples I think I wrote there in that article. If, say, two people are going down in an elevator from the Empire State Building, okay, the hundredth floor. Fine? The cable snaps, the elevator is falling at high speed downward, and within a few seconds it’s going to crash, and these guys are definitely dead. One hundred floors—they won’t survive. Okay, now while they’re plummeting down, one person asks the friend sitting next to him, “Give me your pen for a moment, I want to write a farewell letter to my family. I loved them.” Okay? The friend says to him, “No way. I don’t want to give you the pen.” So he takes the pen from him. The other says, “That’s theft.” And he says, “Yes,” and takes the pen and writes the farewell letter, and so on. So what’s the claim? The claim is that in such a crazy situation, the concept of theft has no meaning. What is theft? Is the pen yours or not yours? In another moment, both of us and the pen are going to smash into pieces. In such a situation, do the ordinary legal definitions of ownership and theft and taking without permission and things of that kind still remain in force? My claim is that only someone living inside the situation can decide that. And he doesn’t need sources. You need to feel the situation and understand what is right within that situation. Sometimes it is so obvious to the one living inside the situation, even though someone looking from outside will say, “What do you mean? It’s theft. So what if you only have ten more seconds to live? At the end of the day, this is theft, the property is his, and as long as he’s alive he’s the owner and you can’t take it from him.” An argument that, on its face, is certainly required by the ordinary rules of Jewish law. But someone can come and say, “Yes, but I am inside this situation—come on, it’s totally clear that here this doesn’t belong. It doesn’t apply, it has no meaning. The fact that you’re insisting on your pen is nonsense. You have nothing to do with that pen; that pen is going to crash along with us in a few seconds. It’s all nonsense. The entire concept of monetary ownership in a situation like this simply expires.” That’s basically the claim. Now, this is a claim that’s very hard to justify, but someone living inside the situation probably understands very clearly and directly that this is the right way to act. And in fact, when I wrote the article, there are two versions—it’s actually two articles.
[Speaker C] The first article I wrote for Tzohar, based on…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] …a series of articles in Yated Ne’eman by someone called Rabbi Gibralter from the Kovno ghetto—never mind, his son wrote about things that happened there. He had some kind of conception that there are no monetary laws, no ownership of property, in the ghetto. That was his claim. A situation like that, where there is no law and no judge, and any Ukrainian child can shoot you in the head and take all your money—he says, in such a state there are no laws of acquisition. And therefore, for example, he had lent money to people, and they came to him after the Holocaust, and he said, “You don’t need to pay me back. During the Holocaust the money wasn’t mine. I didn’t give you money that was mine,” and so forth. Meaning, he had a very, very consistent conception in this matter. So afterward, there were some three articles, I think, or four—I don’t remember how many—a serialized series. At the end, after the last article, there was a response by a rabbi who is apparently an expert in monetary law, wrote books on the subject, and so on. He said, “Well, he didn’t have books there and all that, and obviously this isn’t correct. But I understand him, because he didn’t have books and he couldn’t really make balanced, carefully considered halakhic decisions,” and so on. Because to him it was clear that in terms of the rules of Jewish law this was incorrect. And I wrote there in the article why, in my opinion, it was correct. It was correct, and not only was it correct, but in my basic approach, my claim is that for me, what Rabbi Gibralter said there is not a ruling that I am weighing; it is testimony. It is testimony from someone who experienced that situation directly. I did not experience it; I do not understand what it means. And he tells me, as someone who lived inside the situation: “Listen, in a state like that it is obvious that there are no laws of acquisition, no ownership.” So for me that is testimony, not an opinion. It’s not that he says this and then I agree or disagree. He says, “Listen, if you had lived here, you would understand it. You didn’t live there; you cannot understand it.” It is a situation so extreme and so far from my experience that I simply cannot understand it. And therefore it is not right to judge it from the outside. It’s like—for example, as you go to… maybe I mentioned this also in the series on mysticism, I don’t remember anymore—with our father Abraham, yes, where there are all kinds of criticisms of him by some commentators: Why didn’t he refuse the Holy One, blessed be He? Why didn’t he think that it wasn’t the Holy One, blessed be He, that it was only a test? Why didn’t he refuse? Yes, all kinds of very, very good reasons to refuse there. And there are all kinds of answers, this answer and that one, but never mind. In any case, the question itself, in my view, doesn’t even begin. Because as long as you have not directly experienced a revelation of the Holy One, blessed be He, saying to you, “Please take your son, your only one, whom you love, and offer him up as a burnt offering”—if you have not experienced that, you have no idea how such a thing is perceived. From the comfort of the UN Secretary-General’s pocket, or from your comfortable living-room armchair, you can tell a person, “Wait a second, but maybe this is an illusion? Maybe it’s a mistake? Maybe someone is fooling you, some demon deceiving you?” Yes, Descartes’ demon. Our father Abraham tells you, “Listen, I was there, I’m telling you the Holy One, blessed be He, spoke to me. There’s no room here for doubt.” Now it may be that I, as someone who did not experience it myself, will not be convinced by that, but I can understand that if he was there, inside the situation, and experienced it, then I understand that probably when you are inside the situation you understand that it is real. It is not a deception. Like a sighted person who cannot explain to a blind person why he trusts his sense of sight. The blind person doesn’t understand what it is—blind from birth, he doesn’t understand what it means to see. So he says, “Who says? Maybe it’s just fantasy? Maybe it’s deceiving you?” And the other says, “What do you mean? Okay, you see—but maybe it’s a deception?” I can’t explain it to him. But I, as someone who experiences sight directly, know clearly that it is true, authentic, reflective. So I’m not troubled by the blind person’s questions, even though I can’t explain anything to him.
[Speaker D] Is this connected to “Do not judge your fellow until you reach his place”?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, absolutely, except that this is of course an even more extreme extension. In a situation like that, it’s not only “don’t judge your fellow”—don’t judge the case at all. Don’t form an opinion about the case at all. It’s not only a question of judging whether he was okay or not. Because with “Do not judge your fellow until you reach his place,” you can say: Look, maybe he sinned, but if you were in his place, maybe you too would have sinned, because it’s a terribly difficult test. I’m making a more far-reaching claim. If you had lived there, you would understand that he isn’t sinning at all. And that is stronger than merely saying not to judge until you reach his place. It’s an extension of that, of course—it’s the same idea, but more far-reaching. Okay, how did I get to all this? I’ve already lost it. Right—America and Israel. In America, where you live inside a community in which people become detached and marry non-Jews, women or men, and are completely lost at every step, all the time, and you know that maybe the only way you have to somehow keep hold of them is to say to them, “Come to synagogue,” even though they’ll come by car—then it is obvious that in a situation like that you don’t engage in the Israeli pilpul. We experience this less. Although you can also see it here among Jews—you don’t need non-Jews for that—the shift is not to becoming a non-Jew but to becoming detached from Torah and commandments, and that exists here too. But the transition to becoming a non-Jew, which is regarded as more irreversible, more problematic—that we don’t experience here. And therefore we discuss it in a detached kind of way: wait, is driving permitted, forbidden, “do not place a stumbling block,” “the two sides of the river,” would he have driven at that moment if I hadn’t invited him? Those are all perspectives of someone looking from the outside in a detached way. Someone who lives the situation from within can tell you, “Listen, I’m telling you: in this situation, this is the right way to act.” It’s like the sugya of a transgression for its own sake. We allow an ordinary person, someone who is not a Torah scholar, to violate severe Torah prohibitions, including prohibitions in the category of “be killed rather than transgress,” because the situation requires violating them. Without asking a rabbi, without anything. Lot’s daughters, who decided to have relations with their father. “Be killed rather than transgress,” in the area of forbidden sexual relations. Okay? But they understood that if they did not do it, no human being would remain. Humanity would be wiped out. Okay? So they understood that inside this story, right, that’s probably an extra-halakhic consideration. But the idea is the same idea. At the end of the day, they understood, as people living inside that situation, that here it cannot be that we should be strict about the laws of forbidden sexual relations, the most severe ones. And when Jewish law speaks about a transgression for its own sake, the instruction of a transgression for its own sake speaks about ordinary people, not the greatest halakhic decisors. You don’t ask questions. You understand that in this situation the laws are not relevant, so don’t keep them. If you understand very clearly, and the consequences are extremely unambiguous and far-reaching and grave, in extreme situations—then don’t keep them. Even though you didn’t ask anyone and you’re not an expert in Jewish law. There is something about the person who is inside the situation—ultimately, ultimately the decision has to be his. He can consult a teacher of Jewish law and so on, certainly if he himself isn’t knowledgeable. But in the end, the one who has to make the decision is the one who understands the situation well. That applies, by the way, to driving on the Sabbath and many other things. We look at situations from the outside and tend to judge them, and very often we don’t understand that someone living the situation from within simply sees the meaning of things and fully understands that we are talking nonsense. And no one will be able to convince me otherwise, because what—I’m an expert in Jewish law, I know all the sources and arguments and considerations. Even something less extreme—I think I spoke about this not long ago, I don’t remember in what context. Even something less extreme, like listening to women sing, going to a concert by a female singer. Okay? Ask almost any decisor, he’ll tell you it’s forbidden. Let’s say Rabbi Ovadia listened to Umm Kulthum, that I know, but I don’t think he went to a concert by Umm Kulthum. Okay? As for attending a female singer’s performance, I think almost all decisors would forbid it. Now, when you live in a world where this is an everyday occurrence, you hear women singing all the time, men singing, you hear singing, and slowly it is no longer perceived in a sexually stimulating context, but rather—a woman sings, a man sings, there are such qualities, other qualities, you go there because you like hearing her sing. That’s all. It’s beautiful art, you enjoy hearing it. It’s an aesthetic, artistic pleasure, and that’s why you go. It’s not on the plane of sexual stimulation at all, or all the things often connected to “a woman’s voice is nakedness.” Right? Now, the decisor sitting at home, who has never in his life heard a woman sing and doesn’t know that culture of going to concerts and listening to music and enjoying it and so forth—he sits and studies Torah all the time. So he won’t buy what you’re telling him. “What, are you fooling yourself? Obviously you want to stimulate the evil inclination and permit forbidden sexual matters to yourself, and you’re telling yourself stories.” He doesn’t believe you. Obviously it’s forbidden, and stop talking nonsense. But he is mistaken. He is mistaken because he doesn’t know the situation. He is judging you and the situation by the standards familiar to him, but these are completely different standards. And someone who knows the situation from within knows that it has a completely different meaning. It is not at all the sexual meaning that seems so self-evident to many decisors. As if it were obvious that it is terribly stimulating and people go only for that. They are completely convinced when they say that, because they simply do not know the situation. And they have solid theories and they won’t hear a thing from you, won’t accept anything from you. Therefore this interaction between someone involved in the situation and the detached decisor, or the detached expert, is often very important and needs to come from a perspective that is genuinely respectful or truly attentive. Meaning, when you hear someone who lives inside the situation, don’t dismiss him out of hand just because it doesn’t seem right to you. Listen carefully to what he is saying. Because sometimes the one inside the situation understands it, and you simply don’t have the tools to understand it. You haven’t experienced it; you don’t know what it is. Someone who has never seen—would he be able to permit violating the Sabbath to save an eye? He doesn’t understand what seeing is; he has always been blind. Fine, what’s an eye? He understands that there are people who see. So their eye is like my leg. We don’t violate the Sabbath for a leg, so why for an eye? The Talmud says that for saving an eye one violates the Sabbath, because of the tendons of the eye. So why do we violate the Sabbath? If he is blind, you won’t be able to explain it to him. But a person who sees understands how terrible it is to lose an eye. Now, there is a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim) here too, which may perhaps be connected to this point—what Rabbenu Tam wrote. Some medieval authorities say one may violate the Sabbath because if the eye is in danger, that threatens life. There is some connection between the eye and the heart, and if there is this eye problem it can affect the heart and you can die, so this is ordinary life-saving, straightforwardly—it is danger to life. That is one position among the medieval authorities. But another position says no, saving the eye is as important as, “a blind person is considered like one who is dead.” Saving the eye is regarded like saving a life, and one may violate the Sabbath for it. There is no verse for this. It’s simply because you understand what seeing means. Now, no decisor who had not seen that Talmudic passage would ever have accepted such a consideration. What do you mean? We don’t save—we don’t violate the Sabbath to save a limb. That’s the rule. Even that rule gets fudged a bit, because they do it with an unusual method and through a non-Jew and so on, but at its core one does not violate the Sabbath to save a limb. So why is an eye different? Someone who hasn’t experienced it doesn’t understand how an eye differs; someone who has experienced it does understand. There are many kinds of considerations like that that arise from direct familiarity with the situation, and only someone who has that familiarity can judge. Again, if the situation is unfamiliar to me but generally similar to things I have experienced, and I understand the situation, then there’s no problem—I can rule on it even without personally experiencing it. One of the key skills is really knowing whether my lack of familiarity with the situation is acute enough, or not acute enough, to allow me to issue a ruling, or whether it is too acute, and therefore I, as someone unfamiliar with the situation, should refrain from ruling on it. The decisor too has to make that decision. How significant is his unfamiliarity? And he won’t understand that either without hearing the opinion of someone who knows the situation and experiences it from within. Okay, let’s stop here, because all of this really was a parenthesis.
[Speaker E] Rabbi, specifically regarding saving a limb—it’s hard to say that the decisor doesn’t know what the significance of a limb is.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean? The decisor knows the significance of a limb and still forbids it. So you can’t…
[Speaker E] The rabbi wanted to say that Jewish law forbids it, but if they understood the significance of what it means to live with sight in the eye, then it would be permitted.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? The opposite. Jewish law permits it—you violate the Sabbath to save an eye. I’m only saying that if this question had come before a blind decisor, and he did not know that Talmudic passage, what would he have said? We don’t violate the Sabbath to save a limb. How is an eye different from a leg or an ear? But the Talmud says it is permitted. Why? Because the people there understand that sight is something different. On the contrary—I’m saying they understood because they experienced it, and therefore they permitted it.
[Speaker E] And for a leg?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] For a leg, no.
[Speaker E] So it’s also hard to say that the decisor would say a leg is something you can manage without.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, obviously you can. It’s hard, but you can.
[Speaker E] Same with an eye.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Obviously—but that’s exactly what I’m saying. The difference between an eye and a leg, on the face of it, is that this is a limb and that is a limb. All limbs are needed. There is something about the intrinsic value of an eye that the Talmud apparently regarded as essentially different from a leg or an ear. “A blind person is considered like one who is dead”; a lame person is not considered like one who is dead.
[Speaker E] It seems to me that today anyone who got into that situation, it would be like the rabbi’s previous examples—he would say, of course I want the leg, and I’m in the situation, and it’s obvious that this…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He can say it until tomorrow, but Jewish law forbids it. But—
[Speaker E] Jewish law is not standing in the situation where right now he is about to lose a leg.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course it is in the situation. All of us who have legs know what it means to lose a leg. That’s why I spoke about a blind decisor who has to decide about losing an eye. All the decisors who ruled that it is forbidden—not the decisors, this already goes back to the Talmud—who ruled that it is forbidden to violate the Sabbath to save a limb, these are decisors who knew what it means to lose a limb. It’s not a situation unfamiliar to them, and nevertheless they ruled that way. So you can’t say, fine, I live the situation, and to me it’s obvious that this isn’t right. That’s just pretending. Okay, fine.
[Speaker F] So—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Let’s go back for a moment to our line of thought; I’m closing this parenthesis. I spoke about the midrashic conservative, and I said that what distinguishes him from the Reform approach is that he uses conservative midrash. Meaning, he says women were disqualified because of lack of education; today women are educated, and therefore today women should be deemed fit for testimony. So the Reform person validates women as witnesses because he simply doesn’t want to disqualify women; it doesn’t fit his world. But the midrashic conservative says: I want to validate women as witnesses because I have some interpretive midrash that shows that in fact validating women as witnesses today is the correct application of the original Jewish law. I’m not disputing it, I’m not deviating from it—this is the correct application under today’s circumstances. That is conservative midrash. And the plain-sense conservative does not accept such midrashim; he clings to the instructions as they are, to the bottom line, not to the interpretive midrashim made about the instructions. Okay, we saw that. Last time I spoke a bit about what happens when we don’t have a midrash. So here there are two possibilities, two levels of “no midrash.” Of course, if there is no midrash at all of the explanatory kind, like with the woman example—if I have no explanation why a woman used to be disqualified and today should be fit, I just want to validate her—then we’re back to Reform. If you have no midrash, then this is Reform. I’m speaking about a situation in which I do have a midrash, the reasoning is definitely plausible, but I have no proofs for that reasoning. I haven’t found sources, or Talmud, or Torah, whatever it may be, that support my midrash. And the feeling many people have is that even if you have a midrash, if you have no proofs for it, then “just because we imagine something, shall we act on it?” Meaning, okay, so that’s what seems right to you—because of that you’ll change Jewish law? Therefore many people feel that no—without proofs you don’t make such midrashim. And I argued last time that this is incorrect. If the midrash is reasonable, then even without proofs there is a great deal of logic in following it, and there are no presumptive status rules here, and I explained all that last time. One of the examples—actually the example that made the whole analysis click for me, the whole move—is Meiri’s statements regarding the attitude toward non-Jews. Famous statements; I’ll say it only briefly. Meiri writes in many, many places—wait—Meiri writes in many, many places that the attitude toward non-Jews found in the Talmud is not relevant in his day, because in his day the non-Jews are bounded by the norms of the nations. That is his language, which he repeats in many places. And therefore, for example, one must return their lost property, withholding repayment of their loan is forbidden, one violates the Sabbath in order to save the life of such a non-Jew, and so on. Meaning, he even permits Sabbath violation—prohibitions punishable by stoning, not just rabbinic prohibitions or even ordinary Torah prohibitions, but actual stoning-level prohibitions.
[Speaker G] We’re eating popsicles. Enjoy.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Abba, that’s—
[Speaker G] Bye-bye.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Wait, I’ll mute the—
[Speaker G] everybody for a second.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So the Meiri’s claim is that since the gentiles are bound by the norms of civilized nations—you can already see the logic we saw regarding validating women—then because of that, the sanctions that the Sages imposed on gentiles back then, and by “the Sages” here I also mean Torah-level laws, what the Talmud is saying is that the sanctions imposed on gentiles are not relevant to the gentiles of his time. That’s what the Meiri writes, and apparently—or really, not just apparently—it very much looks like a conservative midrash, interpretive conservatism. Right? Because he’s basically saying: there are explicit laws in the Talmud that were ruled by all the halakhic decisors without dispute. Okay? And the Meiri says: yes, but that was for the gentiles of old, not the gentiles of today. Just like the disqualification from testimony applied to the women of old and not the women of today. Okay? It’s exactly the same logic. All right? So that’s what the Meiri says, and he says it in dozens of places, many dozens of places if not more than that. And this matter—since the Meiri, after all, wasn’t really known until, I don’t know, a hundred or a hundred and fifty years ago, when the manuscript was discovered—so it wasn’t all that well known. Since he was discovered and they found these statements, there’s been quite a major controversy around what he says. There are those who claim that he wrote this out of fear of censorship, but that it wasn’t really the Meiri’s actual view. And the truth is, there were things written out of fear of censorship regarding attitudes toward gentiles. It’s not some absurd claim. There were such things; it’s common knowledge. And therefore, a lot of conservatives claim—in fact most opinions claim—that one shouldn’t rely on this Meiri in Jewish law. Rabbi Kook does write that the Jewish law follows the Meiri. To say that the Jewish law follows the Meiri means: I think like the Meiri, right? I don’t know why people express it in that kind of language, that the Jewish law follows the Meiri. Rabbi Kook too, in short, agrees with the Meiri. And yes, among decisors nowadays this usually breaks down between liberal decisors and, let’s say, more conservative or closed-off decisors. Now, the conservatives and the closed-off ones argue that the Meiri is either wrong, or didn’t mean at all what he said, and the more liberal decisors do rely on the Meiri. Here we really find this kind of consideration in other medieval authorities (Rishonim) and in other contexts as well, in dozens of places. But there’s something about the Meiri that is much more significant for our discussion than in other places. For example, Tosafot in tractate Avodah Zarah discusses commerce with gentiles on their festival day. Is it permitted to sell them things on their festival day? Is it permitted to sell them animals or something like that? Selling an animal to a gentile—maybe he’ll breed it, or maybe he’ll use it for idolatry—various things; renting a house to a gentile; all kinds of things of that sort. Apropos, yes, the rabbis’ ruling from a few years ago about renting homes to a gentile. That’s from the simplistic, literalist, foolish conservatives. So the claim of those medieval authorities, for example Tosafot, is that nowadays one may sell animals to a gentile, because what the Sages prohibited—selling an animal to a gentile—was in a place where you had other options as to whom to sell it. But today, when we’re living, I don’t know, five Jews in some village, how are you going to find someone who wants to buy your cow? Most likely it’ll be a gentile. Now if you forbid me to sell it to a gentile, I run into serious livelihood difficulties. Now again, if this were life-threatening, you wouldn’t even have to say it. Then of course everything is permitted in a life-threatening situation. We’re apparently talking about something that isn’t literally mortal danger, but difficult living conditions. It’s a very difficult life, and Tosafot says it’s permitted to sell the animal to a gentile. Now why is this different from the case I mentioned earlier—the Meiri, validating women for testimony and the like? First of all, because this is a very local leniency. Meaning, a very specific law. The Meiri speaks in dozens of places about all the laws that concern gentiles. The second thing, and this is a more significant difference, is that in Tosafot what is driving the ruling is need. Tosafot says that one may violate this prohibition if it puts me into very serious economic hardship, say in exigent circumstances or in a case of great need. Now we know there are halakhic leniencies for certain prohibitions in exigent circumstances or where there is great need. Decisors find, or offer, leniencies for various prohibitions in exigent circumstances. So in that sense, Tosafot here does not provide a basis for drawing some very far-reaching conclusion about interpretive conservatism and the like. Tosafot says: here there is need, and this prohibition is permitted in a case of need. The Meiri is not talking about need. That’s the whole point of his approach. Saving the life of a gentile on the Sabbath is permitted by many decisors, but they permit it because of peaceful relations, concerns, enmity, because gentiles also won’t save us, they’ll kill us, abuse us, I don’t know exactly what—but these are all really leniencies because of need. Like Tosafot who spoke about selling an animal to a gentile. The Meiri systematically permits this matter ab initio, irrespective of need. Not because of need. He raises an argument that is not an argument of need, but rather an argument that is a conservative midrash. Exactly as I defined it. That is the Meiri’s argument. Meaning that the Meiri is really carrying out a halakhic revolution here not because there is need, but because the Jewish law today is different from what it once was. Because permitting something in a case of need is not some great novelty. That’s the claim. Now of course one can argue about this, as many try to do, and say that he didn’t really mean it, that he wrote it out of fear of censorship, and all kinds of things like that. To that I answer in two ways. First, in my view one can prove that he did not write this out of fear of censorship; maybe in a moment I’ll get to that. But second, who cares? So he wrote it out of fear of censorship. Then I’m saying it, not the Meiri. The Meiri wrote it out of fear of censorship, and I’m telling you this because that’s what I think. So I don’t have the Meiri. Fine, then I don’t have him, so what. In other words, there’s some assumption here that if the Meiri did it, then it’s legitimate, and therefore you have to prove that he didn’t do it, but
[Speaker H] If he didn’t do it
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] do it
[Speaker H] and I do it, then no,
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] then there’s nothing to discuss at all.
[Speaker H] Why? If the Meiri was allowed to do it, then I’m not?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What’s the difference? It’s the Meiri’s interpretive reading. Right. No, regarding the Meiri—that he did it because of… What? No. Meaning, we today, when we interpret the Meiri as to why he did it, we are doing an interpretive reading of the Meiri. I don’t think that’s an interpretive midrash; I think it’s a completely straightforward reading. I have indications as to why he did it; I’ll mention them in a moment. But at the level of…
[Speaker H] Those who said he did it out of fear and things like that.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, that’s… You’re saying that’s an example of interpretive… we’ll get to that in a moment, simplistic midrash. Yes, simplistic midrash.
[Speaker H] Simplistic midrash. Yes.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s already on my website, so some of this can already be read there. The recent columns deal with this. In any event, the claim that the Meiri said this because of fear of censorship and didn’t really hold that way is implausible for a few reasons. First reason: usually when someone writes something out of fear of censorship, he writes it as a big disclaimer on the first page of the book: know that all references to gentiles in this book concern only the ancient gentiles, not the gentiles of our own day, who are all righteous, by permission of the emperor, may his glory be exalted, and so on. Those are the apologies written out of fear of the censor. Because you need to put it in big letters on the first page so everyone sees it. But the Meiri doesn’t do that. He writes it in small Rashi script, in tiny print, in each and every passage he reaches, he notes: this applies only to the ancient gentiles and not to the gentiles of today. In every place he repeats it again and again and again. If he only needed to appease the censor, this is not how it’s done; there’s a standard way to do it. Nobody did it the way the Meiri did. I don’t think there’s anyone who did it like the Meiri. Rather, you make a big declaration on the first page and write: everything here about gentiles refers only to the ancient gentiles. But he comments in every single passage, without letting up, without compromise. In every passage he goes back to it again and again and again. What is written here applies only to the ancient gentiles, not to the gentiles of our time. Many dozens—at least many dozens—of places, if not more. So that does not sound like writing out of fear of the censor. Okay? Also his terminology—you can see he formulated some kind of conceptual argument here. He should have written: this was not said about the gentiles of today, only about the ancient gentiles. But the Meiri raises an argument; he makes a conservative midrash. He says: the gentiles of old were such-and-such, and therefore the attitude toward them was such-and-such; the gentiles of today are different, and therefore that former attitude no longer applies. Those are already explanations. When you write out of fear of the censor, you don’t write explanations. You say: what is written here was said about the ancient gentiles, not about you—leave me alone, basically. Get off my back. Okay? The Meiri does not say it that way. He elaborates; sometimes he elaborates at length, sometimes it’s just a brief note in a few words. Sometimes he spells it out at length. He explains his conservative interpretive move. This doesn’t look like writing out of fear of the censor. More than that: Yaakov Katz wrote an article on the Meiri, on the Meiri’s method, in Halakhah and Kabbalah, I think, in his collection of essays called Halakhah and Kabbalah. And there too he notes—that is, he asks, he is puzzled by the Meiri, and he asks: why did the Meiri systematically permit all the prohibitions regarding gentiles? Of course not intermarriage. He didn’t permit marrying gentiles. Okay? But all the laws that stem from the gentiles’ moral defects—yes? Of course intermarriage is not because of moral defects; it is forbidden to marry gentiles. So that’s not related. But Yaakov Katz says: regarding ritual vessels, systematically he does not permit them. In passages that deal with the prohibition on the ritual objects of gentiles, there the Meiri does not add notes saying that for the gentiles of our time it is permitted. He himself doesn’t understand why. This difficulty leads him to the second half of his article, where he gives psychological, philosophical explanations, all sorts of things of that kind. He really strains to explain what exactly the Meiri wanted here. He didn’t dare say it; he really thought even those objects should be permitted, but he didn’t dare, because the Meiri thought they were not idol worshipers, but he didn’t dare say so, and therefore he left it vague. Fine, a very dubious explanation. I think the explanation is much simpler. First of all, but before I get to the explanation, notice: if he wanted merely to placate the censor, then he also would have had to say it regarding the permission of the ritual objects. What’s the difference? After all, this isn’t a substantive discussion. He just needs to apologize so that the censor won’t hang him. Okay? So he would also have to say, in the passages that prohibit the gentiles’ ritual objects, there too he would have had to say that this refers to the ancient gentiles, and then we would understand that it was all just to appease the censor. No—there he does not write that. Why not? The censor wasn’t angry there? No, because there the reasoning is different. Meaning, you can see that he is not writing these things for the censor, but because he truly thinks this. And in terms of his actual view, there is no permission for ritual objects. Why not? And here we come to a common mistake that many make regarding the Meiri’s words. Most commentators or decisors who deal with him interpret the Meiri as if he decided that the gentiles of his time, the Christians there in Provence in his time, in the fourteenth century, were not idol worshipers. And then Yaakov Katz says: so why don’t you permit their ritual objects? And then he strains with all his explanations. I claim that that is a mistake. That is not the Meiri’s intention, and the Meiri also does not write that anywhere. The Meiri says that they are bound by the norms of civilized nations, that they behave morally. What does that have to do with the question of whether they are idol worshipers? They are idol worshipers who behave morally. In biblical times, and maybe also in Talmudic times, idol worshipers were also morally inferior human beings, or often were. So there was some natural link between being an idol worshiper and being on a lower human level. But that need not be so. For example, the Christians of our own day—even if we accept the opinion of the decisors that they are idol worshipers, at least the Catholics. Most decisors think they are idol worshipers; an overwhelming majority think they are idol worshipers. Does that mean there are no good people there who behave morally? There are many good people. In my opinion no fewer than among Jews. So you can see there is a disconnect between being an idol worshiper and having a good human level—that is, being a moral person, a normative person. I think what the Meiri means to say is that there was a change in the gentiles’ moral state or in their moral behavior. But that doesn’t mean they are not idol worshipers, the Christians. The Christians of his time, of course, were before the Reformation, before all that; we’re talking about the fourteenth century, in Provence, so they were Catholic. And in France too, generally Catholic even after the Reformation. But in his time it was only Catholic; there was nothing else. So the Meiri does not claim that they are not idol worshipers; he claims that they are enlightened idol worshipers. And therefore all the sanctions that the Sages impose on them—or the Torah, the Sages, both Torah-level and rabbinic—are imposed because of their human behavior, not because they are idol worshipers. And that changed. That’s the Meiri’s claim. That is really a conservative midrash. Because one could have said that the sanctions are because they are idol worshipers, and that has not changed, so there would be no need to change the Jewish law. Here there is even a simplistic conservative midrash, yes? A midrash—a reading—that one can basically preserve, one that leads to simplistic conservatism. But the Meiri adopted the interpretive-conservative reading, and he changed the Jewish law. To the point of even Sabbath desecration. I have several proofs, of course, that this is the Meiri’s intention. First, quite simply, he never writes anywhere that they are not idol worshipers. He writes that they are bound by the norms of civilized nations, that they behave in a humane manner. Second, the Meiri generally always brings Maimonides. In the Meiri, Maimonides’ commentary to the Mishnah and also Maimonides’ halakhic rulings are always brought, and sometimes he disagrees with him, but he always cites him. So I would expect him to say: but Maimonides thought they were idol worshipers, and I disagree with him. The Meiri always cites Maimonides, and when he disagrees with him he says: I disagree with him. Here he did not cite Maimonides and did not say he disagrees with him anywhere. Even though in many dozens of places he writes this principle, why don’t you note that Maimonides thought otherwise and you disagree with him? In order not to anger the censor, perhaps? No—because he does not disagree with Maimonides. He does not disagree with Maimonides; he too agrees that they are idol worshipers, the Catholic Christians. He merely claims that the people around him—he looks at them empirically—are good people. So why should I care, in this sense, that they are idol worshipers? I care because it is a prohibition. But regarding the sanctions imposed on them, what matters is that they behave well, not whether they are idol worshipers or not. Idolatry is a severe prohibition, but it is an ordinary prohibition. It does not make you no longer human. Therefore the fact that he does not say he disagrees with Maimonides is one proof. The fact that he nowhere writes that they are not idol worshipers, but rather says they are bound by the norms of civilized nations. The fact that he does not permit ritual objects. Yaakov Katz is left needing further inquiry: why doesn’t he permit ritual objects? Answer: obviously he would not permit ritual objects, because it is the ritual of idolatry. There is a prohibition of deriving benefit from ritual objects of idolatry. He is not saying they are not idol worshipers; they are idol worshipers, just enlightened ones. So anything that relates to the prohibition of deriving benefit from idolatry remains unchanged, because they are idol worshipers. But anything that relates to one’s attitude toward them as human beings—they are good human beings, like me and like you—so the attitude toward them should be like the attitude toward me and you. He writes explicitly: the attitude toward them should be like toward a Jew in every respect—loans, returning lost property, everything, like toward a Jew in every matter. This is an enormous revolution in dozens and hundreds of laws, Torah-level and rabbinic, everything, without batting an eye, without bringing proofs, nothing. Simply because the gentiles of his time seem different to him, period. Apropos all those conservatives who explain that human nature never changes, and if the Sages said it is better for a woman to dwell with any man than to dwell alone, then that is always true. Yes, that is an eternal view of the Sages that cannot change. Well, here the view about gentiles changed, so there is no reason to assume it cannot change regarding women. In any event, therefore I think it is clear that the Meiri here is making a rather far-reaching conservative midrash, even though in my eyes it is very reasonable. When you see sanctions against gentiles, it is very reasonable to attribute them to their moral level and not to idolatry in the formal sense. There are other severe prohibitions besides idolatry; why single out idolatry? Therefore the Meiri says no, this is not connected to the formal transgression; it is connected to whether they are human beings or animals. If they are animals, treat them like animals. But if they are human beings, then they deserve human treatment. By the way, apropos Maimonides, whom the Meiri generally follows, or at least notes when he disagrees with him, the source for this is found in Maimonides himself. Maimonides himself, on page 37 in Bava Kamma, writes explicitly—in fact this is written in the Talmud, not in Maimonides. The Talmud says: He stood and saw the nations and permitted their property to Israel—the Torah saw that they do not observe the seven Noahide commandments and permitted their property to Israel. So the Talmud itself says that the reason we permit the property of gentiles—do not return lost property, canceling their loan obligations and all things of that sort—is because they do not observe the seven Noahide commandments, because they do not behave properly. Now one could say: fine, but if they are idol worshipers then they still do not observe the seven Noahide commandments. The Meiri argues that the issue here is not the formal non-observance of the seven Noahide commandments. One who does not observe the seven Noahide commandments simply does not behave like a human being. But if he behaves like a human being and violates one of the seven Noahide commandments—the commandment against idolatry—he still deserves humane treatment. That is an interpretation of the Talmud. And that interpretation is basically found in Maimonides. Therefore in this case the Meiri certainly follows Maimonides. Maybe I’ll read you his wording.
[Speaker I] Here, Maimonides in his commentary to the Mishnah on Bava Kamma, on page 37b—look here.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This is from my article; I just brought it up quickly from the internet. “Do not wonder at this matter, and let the discriminatory attitude toward gentiles not trouble you. Just as it does not trouble you that one slaughters animals even though they have not sinned, because one who lacks human moral qualities is not truly included among human beings; rather, the purpose of his existence is for the sake of the human being.” Maimonides says: do not be surprised by the issue of discrimination against gentiles in the halakhic attitude toward them. Just as you are not surprised by the halakhic attitude toward animals, which is not like the attitude toward human beings. We slaughter animals in order to eat them. We do not slaughter a person in order to eat him. Maimonides says: gentiles behave like animals, therefore the attitude toward them is not like the attitude toward human beings but like the attitude toward animals. And he hints at this at the end of his words, saying: “because one who lacks human moral qualities”—if he does not have human moral qualities—“is not truly included among human beings,” so he is not really a human being, “rather, the purpose of his existence is for the sake of the human being.” That is already a very far-reaching sentence. He is speaking about a gentile, not an animal. He says that the purpose of the gentile’s existence is for the sake of the human being—the human being is us—just as the animal exists for the sake of the human being. In effect, one could slaughter the gentile and eat him, if he were kosher. Okay? That is basically what Maimonides is saying here—not in completely explicit words, but almost. But for our purposes, here one can really see a very clear source for the Meiri’s approach. Because Maimonides here explicitly says that this whole discriminatory and harsh halakhic treatment of gentiles is because they lack human moral qualities. Well then, the Meiri does not disagree with Maimonides; on the contrary. He takes his method from Maimonides. And now he goes one step further and says: fine, but if there are gentiles who do have good human moral qualities, then of course all these laws do not apply to them.
[Speaker E] What would the Meiri say about Jews who do not have these human moral qualities?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So first of all, commandments between one person and another were indeed said only regarding one who acts as your fellow, even among Jews. And second, in general, of course there are presumptions. You can’t examine every gentile and see what his character traits are. So one makes some general determination about what is true of the average gentile, the typical gentile. In the time of the Sages, the typical gentile was apparently not really human. In our time, the typical gentile is human, and the typical Jew was human. There were exceptions here and there. But that is the presumption; that is the default attitude. But if it becomes clear that he is not acting as your fellow and all sorts of known things, then indeed, the commandments between people do not apply regarding him either. And today, says the Meiri—today meaning the fourteenth century, in his time—the presumption has changed. There were always good people, but today the presumption has changed. The average gentile, the typical gentile, is a good gentile, a normal person, a normal human being, with reasonable human moral qualities. Certainly, certainly if we’re talking about today, I assume it’s better than the Catholics of the fourteenth century. At least I assume so. Yes, those Catholics—apropos the Catholics in France—those were the people who persecuted the Huguenots there; they were not exactly the pinnacle of human virtue. Although when I see the laws instructing us how to treat idol worshipers, I’m not sure we’re any better.
[Speaker E] Rabbi, “gentile” is a very broad generalization. Right? Nowadays you can’t say “the gentiles are such-and-such.” There are gentiles who are very, very immoral, and gentiles who very much are moral.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So I’m saying, the question is what the presumption is. When a gentile comes to you and you don’t know what he’s like, you have to go with presumptions, right? So the presumption says that today he’s fine, unless proven otherwise.
[Speaker E] I’m saying, it depends what kind of gentile. If an American comes to you, you’ll say he’s probably fine. If someone comes from some tribe of cannibals, then we’ll say he’s not fine.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But a tribe of cannibals won’t come to me, and if one does, it’ll be one in a million. That’s exactly the point. I don’t create presumptions based on a tribe of cannibals.
[Speaker E] So then it’s not about gentiles, it’s about Americans and Frenchmen, and cannibals are something else.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s about all of them. It’s about the general category of gentiles, unless you know something concrete that says this one is not like that. That’s exactly the… that’s how a presumption works. Just as it’s also not true of all Jews, but the presumption is that Jews are like that.
[Speaker E] But why make the division by… You’re generalizing about gentiles. You could generalize by nations, by continents, because applying it to all gentiles is too broad a generalization.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You want to produce a halakhic D.S.M.—that is, a list like the list of continents and values in the Sabbatical year. So we’d have to issue updated editions every year: what’s the status of the wild tribe in Brazil, have they improved yet? Can we return lost property to them now? You understand that this is not how it works. It doesn’t work that way. You say: gentiles are human beings today, in the world. That’s it, that’s the general outlook. If something exceptional shows up? Fine, we’ll discuss him, I don’t know. But gentiles are human beings overall. There are also plenty of Jews who aren’t human beings. So conversely.
[Speaker E] Right, but there are also groups, not only individuals. There are groups that do not behave like human beings. So maybe one should create presumptions by groups? Because it’s not really just individuals.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, it doesn’t matter that it’s not individuals. You don’t create presumptions by groups when there are tens of thousands of groups in the world, hundreds of thousands of groups. What, are you going to produce a book of presumptions, a telephone book of presumptions? That’s not how it works. Nothing works that way. You look roughly. And again, if someone appears before you and you know he belongs to some tribe of murderous cannibals or I don’t know exactly what, and you know that—then indeed, he’s not included in the presumption. Fine.
[Speaker J] No need to go to cannibals—what about Hamas members?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, although you know, even regarding Hamas members I’m not sure that’s right. Hamas members are fighting us. I’m not sure to what extent I see them in such a thoroughly anti-moral way. Maybe ISIS, I don’t know. Fine, that’s already a different discussion. Obviously one needs to defend oneself from them. I wouldn’t return their lost property; I’d shoot them in the head. That’s unrelated—not because they’re immoral, but because I don’t want them to kill me. Yes, fine, right, let’s say they also do problematic things. I don’t know, one could discuss it. Fine, let’s get back to our issue. So what I basically want to argue is that the example of the Meiri is a very clear example of interpretive conservatism. Because he systematically, comprehensively, broadly—speaking both about Torah-level laws and rabbinic laws and a huge number of laws, something really sweeping, really a broad and major and deep reform—bases everything on a conservative midrash for which the proofs are quite dubious. The Talmud itself says that they did not observe the seven Noahide commandments. The seven Noahide commandments include idolatry. So how does the Meiri decide that if they are enlightened, that’s fine even though they are idol worshipers? Maimonides is not a source, because that itself needs explanation. Where does Maimonides get what he says? It doesn’t help that the Meiri relies on Maimonides. The question is where Maimonides got it from. That too is his interpretation. In this case, even a philosophical interpretation. Okay? The Meiri drew a halakhic conclusion from it. So in Maimonides, for example… Maimonides… that move is made by the Meiri; I don’t think Maimonides has that. Ritual objects are something else, because that’s not about idolatry—so there is no prohibition of benefit there; that’s not connected to the Meiri’s revolution.
[Speaker C] No, according to Maimonides, according to Maimonides, in the forced conversion they wanted to impose on the Jews of Yemen, he also says that because the Muslims are not idol worshipers and all that, one doesn’t need to give one’s life.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s a different discussion. I said that in laws of idolatry there will obviously be a difference between Muslims and Christians. Christians’ ritual objects will be forbidden because they are ritual objects of idolatry; Muslims’ ritual objects won’t be forbidden because they are not objects of idolatry. That’s obvious; it’s not related to the Meiri. But I’m asking whether Maimonides says that one must return lost property to a Muslim but not to a Christian. He doesn’t write that.
[Speaker C] If he defines him as an idol worshiper, maybe that’s the law.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Wait, but not the Muslim. A Muslim is not an idol worshiper. Right. Okay, so I’m saying the Meiri drew conclusions from this statement of Maimonides, but Maimonides did not draw halakhic conclusions from it. It may be that Maimonides agrees with the Meiri, and simply in his time the Muslims also did not behave like human beings, so there was no practical difference regarding these laws between Muslims and Christians—I don’t know. But in any event, in Maimonides there is not that extra step of halakhic conclusions from the reasoning he writes here. That is found in the Meiri. Okay, so this Meiri is an excellent example and—Rabbi?
[Speaker F] Yes.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I wanted
[Speaker F] to ask: according to the Meiri, is food cooked by gentiles also permitted, or not? I can’t hear. Cooked food by gentiles according to the Meiri—what’s the law?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t recall at the moment a statement like that. It depends: if it’s because of intermarriage, then it would be forbidden.
[Speaker F] And to heal a gentile?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I can’t hear.
[Speaker F] To heal a gentile.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, certainly it’s permitted. One must, not merely may.
[Speaker F] No, but I think doesn’t the Talmud say that it’s because she is raising a son for idolatry?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So according to the Meiri, that would not be the case.
[Speaker F] But if the Meiri says it’s because of civilized norms, then what does that have to do with it? How does he explain the Talmud’s reasoning?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, “raising a son for idolatry” does not mean the formal worship of idolatry, a formal transgression. In that period “idolatry” meant not being a human being. That is exactly the whole Meiri’s claim. Otherwise the Talmud also says that they do not observe the seven Noahide commandments. If they are idol worshipers, then they still do not observe the seven Noahide commandments. So why does the Meiri claim that the law changed?
[Speaker F] No, I mean, if he says you may get a haircut from a gentile and not worry that he’ll slaughter you, then I can understand the Meiri saying: listen, they don’t slaughter every person who gets a haircut from them, so you can get a haircut from him. Or get treatment from a gentile doctor. That really is connected to civilized norms.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but the reason for the prohibition of medical treatment—getting a haircut from a gentile who doesn’t endanger me is no problem, because the whole issue with getting a haircut is that he endangers me. That is written explicitly; it’s not an interpretive move. The Meiri makes an interpretive move about something not written. He claims that all sanctions toward gentiles are founded on their immoral behavior. That is written nowhere.
[Speaker F] Which sanctions, for example?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not returning lost property, being allowed to cancel their loan obligation, not desecrating the Sabbath in order to save them, and many dozens more. So the claim is that the Meiri basically made a conservative midrash here and changed the Jewish law. And notice: he had a midrash, but the proofs for the midrash are rather shaky. Without proofs, as I said in the previous lesson—because if you have a sensible interpretive reading, then even if you don’t have proofs for that reading, I certainly prefer that interpretive option over an option that says: okay, but maybe there are hidden reasons that neither I nor you know. Maybe—but uncertainty does not override certainty. If I have a good reason, I have no reason to suspect that maybe that isn’t the real reason and there are other hidden reasons that I don’t know. And therefore even without having proof for my conservative midrash—that women were disqualified because of education, or that the sanctions on gentiles are because they were wicked, or things of that sort—even without proof, if the reasoning is sensible, I go with it and draw the conclusion. The halakhic conclusion. Now I want to go one step further. Let’s see what happens when there is a change in scientific knowledge. Yes, today we have accumulated knowledge that in the time of the Sages they did not have. For example, in the laws of animals with fatal defects, it’s a common question: an animal with a fatal defect does not live more than twelve months. Today we know that at least some animals with such defects do live more than twelve months. Maimonides already knew this. You don’t need to get all the way to modern medicine. Maimonides also knew it. And the question arose already for him and for other medieval and later authorities as to what to do with this. Now here I want to sharpen an important point. If I decide that these fatally defective animals live more than twelve months and therefore they are not really such animals with fatal defects, because an animal with a fatal defect is one that does not live more than twelve months—that decision is not a change in circumstances. Those were the circumstances even in the time of the Sages; they just didn’t know. That is not the same thing as changed circumstances—people became different, gentiles became different, wine became different, whatever. In changed circumstances, in the time of the Sages the situation was X, and now it changed and the situation is Y. But in a change in scientific knowledge, reality has not changed. My knowledge of reality has changed. That difference is very important. Why? Because my claim—say there is something about women that the Sages did not know, not that female nature changed, but something that today we know and the Sages did not know—in the biology of women, in female physiology, whatever. Okay? In such a case, when I change the halakhah of the Sages, I am in fact claiming not that it is changing today, but that it was already incorrect back then. On the one hand that is of course much more frightening to conservatives. So you are not even claiming that you are continuing the Sages; you are simply disagreeing with them directly. On the other hand, precisely here it is much easier to change. Because essentially I am claiming that from the outset it was like a mistaken transaction. The ruling was based on a mistake. Once the mistake becomes clear, the ruling is automatically nullified. I am not disagreeing with the Sages at all; they simply made a mistake. Just like a court that issued a certain ruling—if that ruling was based on a clear error, once the error becomes clear, the ruling is annulled.
[Speaker C] Like lice on the Sabbath. Can’t hear? Like lice on the Sabbath according to Maimonides.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. In this case it’s a stringency, so let’s say that makes it easier. But the claim is that in a place where the change is not a change in reality but in our knowledge about it, like scientific knowledge, in such a situation, in my view, even though it’s more off-putting to conservatives, because it means that the Sages were mistaken—not that I’m continuing them in a different way, but I’m still faithful to their approach; that’s what conservative midrash does—here I’m claiming that the Sages were mistaken. But on the other hand, if the Sages were mistaken, then the ruling was not valid from the outset, so I don’t need to change it. When the ruling was valid from the beginning, I need to change it, and then the question is whether Jewish law can be changed; that’s our whole discussion here. But here I’m claiming that from the outset the Jewish law was never like that. I’m not changing anything. And therefore I claim that in such a case you don’t even need a religious court; a matter established by a count requires another count to permit it. But where it becomes clear that there was a mistake, you don’t need another count to permit it. You don’t need anything; all the laws about nullifying rulings don’t apply here. Because it simply turns out to have been an error. So in the case of a different scientific understanding, this is not conservative midrash. Because I don’t need conservative midrash. It’s also not a halakhic change at all. A change needs midrash to support it. But I’m not making any change at all. The Jewish law from the outset was mistaken. The Sages were living with a mistake. Now here, this doesn’t contradict their formal authority, because they have formal authority over correct rulings, not over incorrect rulings. A ruling made in error—formal authority is like acquisition. We signed a contract or I bought something, okay? So I performed an act of acquisition, and now it’s mine. Now if it turns out that this acquisition was made in error, do you need to buy it back from me for it to become yours again? No. My acquisition is automatically void because it was an acquisition in error. The same with a ruling of the Sages: if it was a ruling made in error, then their authority has no significance here. They have authority over correct rulings, not over mistaken rulings, or at least over rulings that aren’t mistaken, but not over rulings that are factually mistaken. Therefore, even though many halakhic decisors recoil even from… even from being stringent against the Sages—for example, in the permission to kill lice, where the Talmud says that it is permitted to kill a louse because it is not generated through sexual reproduction. Today we know that this is not so, or at least that is what science teaches us, and therefore it is quite clear that the Sages were mistaken on this point. Now, the mistake here ought to lead us to be stringent, not lenient. The Sages permitted killing a louse on the Sabbath; in light of new scientific knowledge, we should prohibit it. Now most decisors, a very large majority of decisors, continue to permit it to this day with all kinds of excuses: maybe those lice are not these lice, I don’t know, all kinds of strange excuses. The Sages knew things, science is wrong, we have no authority—various odd excuses. And here I’m talking about—they’re basically using those excuses to permit me a prohibition punishable by stoning. Taking a life on the Sabbath is a primary category of prohibited labor. So assuming the louse has life, meaning that killing it is taking life, then this is a prohibition punishable by stoning. And because of all sorts of excuses, this one and that one permit prohibitions punishable by stoning. And in my view this apparently stems only from these anxieties, this fear of change and of Reform and of all sorts of new winds. It’s really very strange. There is no doubt that today it is forbidden to kill a louse on the Sabbath. It’s simply an error.
Now, regarding non-kosher conditions, there is a very interesting statement by the Chazon Ish on this matter of non-kosher conditions. I didn’t bring it here, but I’ll say it orally. The Talmud in tractate Avodah Zarah 9 divides history into three parts: the world exists for six thousand years—two thousand years of chaos, two thousand years of Torah, and two thousand years of Messiah. It’s a kind of aggadah; one can discuss what exactly it means, but that doesn’t matter right now. The Chazon Ish argues, because of this difficulty about the non-kosher conditions—that today we know it’s a mistake and in fact they live more than twelve months—he makes a very interesting claim. He says that the relevant science that determines halakhic instruction is the science of the two thousand years of Torah, meaning in the time of the Sages, and not the two thousand years of Messiah, which is our time. And notice, the Chazon Ish is not denying that today science knows things the Sages did not know, that today science is right and the Sages were wrong. But he claims that the science relevant to halakhic instruction is the ancient science, even though it is mistaken. Well, this is completely absurd, of course, needless to say, and it’s also pretty clear why he says it, but it is utterly absurd.
But the fascinating phenomenon here is what I wrote in the column: we are usually used to asking what the difference is between a plain conservative and a midrashic conservative. A plain conservative simply keeps going with the practice of his own time; he doesn’t do midrash. Yes? Meaning, he doesn’t do midrash, but rather acts the way Jewish law says to act, continuing with the practice of his own time. The midrashic conservative does do midrash, does this kind of interpretation, digs into Jewish law to check what its foundation is, and from there concludes that it needs to be changed. It turns out that sometimes the plain conservative produces midrashim that are no less speculative in order to remain a plain conservative. The Chazon Ish wants to say that we must continue treating non-kosher conditions according to the Sages’ list of such conditions even though it is not correct. And what pilpul is used to support this? It is based on that aggadah about the two thousand years of Torah, even though there is not the slightest hint of this in the aggadic text of the Sages itself. I’m not even talking about how the Sages knew this, but even in the aggadic text itself it does not appear at all in this context. It’s just some aggadic statement whose meaning can be discussed. But the Chazon Ish was looking for a midrash that would allow him to remain a plain conservative. That is fascinating, because it very much sharpens the claim I made last time. This feeling that somehow the burden of proof lies on the midrashic conservative—why? Because the plain conservative follows the plain meaning, while the midrashic conservative does interpretive acrobatics. Prove that you’re right before I change the Jewish law. So what did I say against that? That the plain conservative, too, actually needs interpretation. There is no such thing as plain conservatism—using Jewish law without interpretation. Sometimes maybe you don’t notice that you’re interpreting, but you are always interpreting. In the case of the Chazon Ish it is even more obvious, because here the interpretation is very, very speculative and far-reaching. Much more so than the conservative midrashim I brought earlier to validate a woman as a witness and things like that. There those are sensible and reasonable midrashim. Whether they have proofs or don’t have proofs is a different discussion, but the midrash itself is reasonable. Here this is an invention from the land of inventions; it has no root or branch. This is the midrash of the plain conservative. It’s fascinating.
And for me this really sharpens what I said: there is no such thing as someone approaching the text itself without interpretation. There isn’t. A plain conservative also interprets. Just as the midrashic conservative interprets, all of us are offering interpretations. And the question is which interpretation is the correct one. Not strength, and not burden of proof, and nothing of the sort. The question is who is interpreting correctly. That is the important question. And the existence of midrashim by the plain conservative sharpens this very much, because it shows us that not only does the plain conservative rely on interpretations, but sometimes he relies on very speculative and far-reaching interpretations—not less, and maybe more, than the midrashic conservative. Except that he feels he’s playing it safe because he is preserving Jewish law as it is. The list of non-kosher conditions stays as it is, the law of lice stays as it is, everything is excellent, so I have no problem, I’m not paying any price. Wrong—you are paying prices. Because you are permitting a prohibition punishable by stoning, killing a louse on the Sabbath. And you are forbidding non-kosher conditions even though they are not actually non-kosher. You are causing people enormous financial loss. There are huge costs to continuing Jewish law as it was. This feeling that there are no costs has no basis. There are heavy costs. And then to build all these heavy costs on some strange and baseless midrash, and after that to accuse the midrashic conservative of being speculative—that is really going too far.
As I wrote in the column, the claim about hidden reasons is also a kind of midrash of the plain conservative. The plain conservative wants to defend himself against my claim that women should be validated as witnesses, so what does he say? Maybe the disqualification of women is based on some obscure reason, not the reason you are proposing. That itself is a midrash. How do you know? Why assume such a thing? I found you a sensible interpretation. Why assume there is another interpretation, and not this sensible one, without even pointing to it? You are doing midrash here in order to allow yourself to remain a plain conservative. Meaning, in every kind of plain conservatism, if midrashic conservatism offers a sensible midrash, then all forms of plain conservatism can be seen as based on a midrash—the midrash that says that the midrash of the midrashic conservative is not correct, but rather there is some other hidden interpretation that none of us knows. And on that I am supposed to build all the costs that plain conservatism leads to. Not reasonable. Okay, I’ll stop here. Any comments or questions?
[Speaker F] Rabbi, I wanted to ask regarding non-kosher conditions. Are there significant gaps between Jewish law and current medical knowledge about non-kosher conditions today, or…?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know, I haven’t checked. But there are gaps. How much, I don’t know. You’d have to go through the entire list of non-kosher conditions and check with experts what happens in those cases. I don’t know. But it’s significant enough that even the Chazon Ish had to deal with it
[Speaker I] in his time.
[Speaker E] Rabbi, but we need to establish some kind of clear line, because otherwise every week a new study will come out and then we’ll say no, if there’s this disease then it’s like this. Fine.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There’s no such thing as what we want. The question is what is correct, not what we want. If a study comes out and I rely on that study because that is the best truth known to me at the moment, then indeed Jewish law has to follow that study, and if it changes a week later, then we’ll change the Jewish law. Perfectly fine—what happened? We always have to do the best we can; the Torah was not given to ministering angels. There are situations in which the Great Court, for example, may be concerned about this jumpiness—maybe people won’t absorb it well, they’ll lose loyalty to Jewish law, and so on—and then it can establish some decree or ordinance not to change laws even though they are not correct. But for that you need the Great Court to enact a decree or ordinance; it would have the authority to do that. A decisor cannot permit me a Torah-level prohibition, a prohibition punishable by stoning on the Sabbath, just because he is worried about slippery slopes. That’s absurd. On what basis are you permitting this? Or a prohibition of theft when you disqualify women as witnesses. In every such case there are heavy costs. Agreed—so Jewish law will change; we shouldn’t be alarmed by that at all. Science changes, so Jewish law will change too, perfectly fine. It has to respond to accumulating scientific knowledge, and if we learn quickly, then Jewish law will also change quickly.
[Speaker E] Wait, so when does a religious court have the power to do something like that?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A religious court always has the power to do it. But for that, there has to actually be a religious court. And when it decides that it is justified and does it, then fine, there is “do not turn aside.” But today we don’t have a religious court. Today decisors are doing this based on their own reasoning because they decided to. And in my view that’s outrageous.
[Speaker E] And you can’t say that the Talmudic law is itself a decision of a religious court?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, because the Talmud didn’t say not to change it; the Talmud only stated the law itself. And I ask: fine, I understand that the Talmud thought that this was the law, but today I have different scientific knowledge. If the Talmud had said not to change it, fair enough, perfectly fine. What’s that called in law? Limiting clauses? Yes, there are laws that contain limiting clauses. So if the law had added a limiting clause—don’t change this even if scientific knowledge changes—fine, then that would be an ordinance of the Great Court or of the Talmud; there is some sort of authority there, “do not turn aside” or whatever it may be, maybe that would be okay. But if that didn’t happen, then even if the concerns are correct—I’m not arguing right now about whether the concern is correct—you simply cannot permit a Torah-level prohibition even if your concern is valid. You are not the Sanhedrin. On what basis are you permitting me to violate a prohibition punishable by stoning? Besides, the concerns are often exaggerated. Fine, we should go with scientific knowledge, and from time to time it will change. It’s not going to change—every law is not going to change every day. This is not some apocalypse now; it’s not that apocalyptic. Yes, laws will change from time to time according to advancing scientific knowledge. Nothing terrible has happened. Rabbi? Yes.
[Speaker F] So how, where does this enter into what the Rabbi is saying, the issue people talk about—if the reason is nullified, the decree is nullified; if the reason is nullified, the decree is not nullified?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So first of all, that applies only to rabbinic ordinances. For Torah law there is no such rule. Okay? And even there, there is a dispute between Maimonides and the Raavad whether you need the Great Court when the reason has fallen away, or whether you do not need the Great Court when the reason has fallen away. And something established by a count still requires a count even when the reason has fallen away, in a rabbinic ordinance. And still, even the medieval authorities (Rishonim) changed many ordinances whose reasons had fallen away. If you want a list, I always refer people to the last chapter in Neria Gutel’s book, The Changing of Natures. In the last chapter there you’ll see many examples of this. I also collected more examples there, both from him and others, in my book Between the Pillars, and I showed there and tried to build a kind of toolbox for changing ordinances when the reason has fallen away. And there are possibilities within Jewish law, with clear precedents, to change laws when the reason has fallen away in different situations, despite the halakhic rule that when the reason has fallen away, the ordinance does not fall away. Okay. But those are already details. Anyone else? Okay then, goodbye, Sabbath peace.
[Speaker I] Thank you very much, Sabbath peace.