Innovation, Conservatism, and Tradition – Lesson 19

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In the last few sessions I wanted to discuss another mechanism of dynamism in Jewish law, a dynamism that doesn’t speak about changes but about conceptualization and further specification. Meaning, to take something that was more general and slowly break it down into more and more shades within it. That’s not supposed to be a change, only a sharpening of the existing state of affairs. The example I wanted to focus on in this context is the hermeneutical rules in general, and more specifically the rules of general and particular. So I’m going straight into the topic of general and particular, and basically the claim is what we saw in the different sources of lists of hermeneutical rules: that the rules of general and particular branch out or become more specified over the generations. It starts with the rule of general and particular in Hillel the Elder. In some versions it’s general and particular, and particular and general—that’s already two rules. In Rabbi Ishmael it’s three rules: general and particular, particular and general, and general and particular and general. In the Talmud in Nazir there appears another rule: particular and general and particular, which I think appears only there explicitly in rabbinic literature. There are other places where maybe that’s what is meant, but it’s not written explicitly. And the question is: what is the relationship between these different rules, and what is the meaning of this dynamic development? What happens over the generations? I mentioned that scholars tend to view the hermeneutical rules as a creation of the sages over the generations and not a tradition from Sinai, and the proof is that they undergo development over the generations. And I suggested that the development is simply conceptualization and elaboration of what existed earlier. It’s not the invention of new things, but a sharpening of distinctions between different things that had been grasped as one thing, and now suddenly we understand that this one thing actually breaks down into several sub-rules or several different shades of that rule. And the claim—I said this in broad strokes—my claim was that all the rules of general and particular were at first called general and particular. But by general and particular I do not mean what we today call the specific rule of general and particular, but rather interpretation through general and particular terms—which today we know includes at least four such rules. But all four of these were called the rule of general and particular. And the point of interpreting through general and particular is different kinds of expansion around the particulars written in the Torah. How much to expand—that’s what the rules of general and particular teach us. But in principle these are different radii of expansion around the particulars that appear in the Torah. And therefore all these things are called by the general name the rule of general and particular, or particular and general, it doesn’t matter, but the intention is not the specific rule of general and particular in Rabbi Ishmael, which is one out of three, but rather a type of interpretation of the general-particular sort, which is basically expansion around particulars. And therefore, for example, the expressions “you may infer only what is like the particular,” or “you have only what is in the particular,” or “the general adds to the particular” are different instructions, each of which fits one of the rules. Let’s say, general and particular—“you have only what is in the particular”—that’s the narrowest. Particular and general is the broadest—“the general adds to the particular.” General and particular and general is “you may infer only what is like the particular.” Like the particular—similar, but it doesn’t have to be completely similar. That’s something in the middle. Okay? So that already gives us a hint that we’re dealing here with different radii of inclusion around the particulars. Okay? So that’s the general picture. But now I want to go a bit more deeply into the meaning of this process, because that’s really the example I mean to talk about. So look. When a certain law appears in the Torah, we have the rule of binyan av, which is basically analogy in our language, and it tells us that the case appearing in the Torah is a paradigm case, but in fact every case similar to it will carry the same law. So when a certain law appears in the Torah, the rule we have is to expand it to all similar cases. That’s called binyan av. Now what happens if we want the Torah—the Torah wants—the example it gives us to be only itself, and not to expand it? Not even to things that are similar. It’s not clear how the Torah can do that. There is one example of a situation in which the Torah manages to do this, and that’s when it writes the law in two or three different contexts. What in the language of the sages is called: two verses that come as one do not teach. And according to the one who says they do teach, three verses that come as one certainly do not teach. In any case, you have to write it in several different contexts in order that we not infer from it. What is the idea behind this? When the Torah writes a law in context A and in context B—the same law—then the rule we have says that if the Torah wrote it in two—if the Torah had wanted us to expand it to all similar cases, it would have written it in one context, and then through binyan av I would expand it to all similar contexts. If the Torah writes it for me in two contexts, then one of them is redundant, because it would have been enough to write it in one and I would have learned from it to everything similar. If the Torah writes it in two and one of them is redundant, that means it wants us to apply this law only in these two contexts and not in all the other similar ones. That is the Torah’s way of restricting or limiting the rule of binyan av. One verse teaches—it teaches by way of binyan av. Two verses do not teach. For example, what happens in binyan av from two verses? Binyan av from two verses, or binyan av and two verses—there are different versions in the baraita. These are situations in which the Torah writes a certain law in two different contexts and we learn from those two contexts to all cases, because we do learn to all similar contexts. What’s the difference between that and two verses that come as one do not teach? Two verses that come as one do not teach means that when a certain law is written in two contexts, it is stated only regarding those two and not all similar cases. So what is binyan av from two verses, which teaches me about all similar ones? The difference between these two situations is the question of what the relationship is between the two examples appearing in the Torah. If the two examples appearing in the Torah are such that one cannot be learned from the other—each has its own special characteristic—then neither of the two is redundant, because if it had not been written, we could not have learned it from the other. So it is not redundant. In such a case, you can’t say that the Torah wanted to restrict it only to these two because it wrote a redundant law here. Why did it write it? To say that it applies only in these cases and not in others? No. If there is necessity between them, meaning if one cannot be learned from the other and vice versa, then when the Torah wrote both, it wrote them because it had to—that’s not redundant. I could not have learned B from A nor A from B. Therefore the Torah had to write it in both A and B. If that is so, then those two together constitute a binyan av; I learn from them to all the other similar places—those similar to both of them, not to each one separately. But in the case of two verses that come as one do not teach, that is when those two verses can be learned one from the other, and therefore it isn’t clear why the Torah writes them both. Let it write one, and I would learn the other from it. If the Torah writes both even though it’s redundant, it comes to tell me that the law applies only in those two contexts and not in all similar ones. That’s the difference. That’s what all the rule-books write. It’s simple: that’s the relationship between two verses that come as one do not teach and binyan av from two verses, in which two verses do teach—that is, they do serve as the basis for expansion. Everything depends on whether there is necessity between the two verses—meaning whether one could not have taught the other, in which case it is not redundant—or whether there is no necessity and one of them is actually redundant; either one could have been written and I would have learned the other from it. If there is necessity between them, then in effect those two verses are one verse, not two. Because in fact together they come to teach me that there is something shared by both that is the reason for the law. And from that shared thing I learn to everything similar to that shared thing, to a binyan av, which is found in both. Okay, all that is just an introduction. Why? Because now try to think: if the Torah wanted to write one law that exists only in one context, and we should not expand it to any other similar context, how could it do that?

[Speaker B] There’s no way.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There’s no way to do that, right?

[Speaker B] No, no way.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because if it wrote one law, the rule is binyan av, and I expand it to all the other contexts. If it writes me two laws and there’s no necessity between them, then it’s restricted—but restricted to two laws. But what happens if the Torah wants to restrict a certain law only to one situation? It has no way to do that.

[Speaker B] Why not learn it the other way around, Rabbi? Let’s say when there’s one place, it’s only for that one, and when there are two verses, then the Torah has already opened the door, so there you can learn it to everything.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You’re proposing a different system of interpretive rules for the Torah.

[Speaker B] No, no, I’m saying how the sages—because they had such a tradition, or because…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s exactly what we’re talking about. The hermeneutical rules are a law given to Moses at Sinai.

[Speaker B] That that’s how you learn, okay.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So this lacuna basically means that the interpretive language is not complete. What is a complete language? That’s a mathematical concept. A complete language is a language by means of which I can do anything I want, I can express anything I want, right? A language that doesn’t allow me to express certain things is not complete. Now it turns out that the language of interpretation, in the description I just gave you, is not complete. Meaning, there is a certain halakhic instruction that there is no way to express in the language of interpretation. What is that? If, for example, there were a halakhic instruction that applies only to one halakhic situation and nothing else—there is no way to express that. And therefore I would expect there to be some other hermeneutical rule—not binyan av, because that doesn’t do the job, and of course not binyan av from two verses—some other hermeneutical rule from which either the Torah tells me to restrict the law only to the example brought in the Torah, or to restrict more than in binyan av, or something like that. In other words, different levels of restriction that are not the normal expansion of binyan av. For example, one possibility is that the Torah wants me not to make a binyan av, to take the example written in the Torah and only that one, not to expand it through binyan av. I’m looking for an interpretive tool that will tell me, that will give me the possibility of giving such an instruction. But there are other things missing in the interpretive arsenal. What about instructions to expand beyond binyan av? What do I mean? Even to things that are not completely similar to the example that appears in the Torah. Binyan av gives me what is completely similar to it. What about things that are not completely similar to the example in the Torah? I want to expand to a broader range of situations, not only to situations completely similar to the example in the Torah. I also have no tool for that in the interpretive toolbox, no tool that does that. And my claim is that the rules of general and particular cover those lacunae. Meaning, the purpose of the rules of general and particular is to give the Torah a way to instruct me to make inclusion beyond the examples that appear in the Torah, and to determine different radii of inclusion. Very narrow inclusion—that’s binyan av. Zero inclusion, meaning no inclusion at all, that’s even narrower than binyan av. Broader inclusion than binyan av means inclusion of places that aren’t even completely similar to the examples—that’s broader inclusion. Okay? Those, in my opinion, are basically the rules of general and particular. General and particular, particular and general, general and particular and general—they differ precisely in the radius of inclusion. Meaning, the rules of general and particular come to complete the interpretive language in the sense that they enable me to give different instructions of inclusion. Instructions of inclusion with different scopes or radii of inclusion. Do you understand that if, let’s say, the Torah tells me, regarding redemption of second tithe, to redeem the money only for cattle—okay? Meaning no, to redeem for cattle, not only cattle, to redeem for cattle. Now I ask myself, okay, what about sheep? Can I also buy sheep with second-tithe money, or does it say only cattle? So again, if I were doing binyan av, I would apply it to everything similar. Apparently sheep too. Okay? What about fruits and vegetables? Those are also similar to cattle and sheep, but not exactly the same—it’s not from the animal kingdom, it’s from the plant kingdom. Okay? So that’s already not completely similar. Should I expand there too? Binyan av won’t give me that. But maybe there is some instruction of general and particular that tells me, okay, go broader than binyan av. By contrast, there should be some more restrictive instruction of general and particular saying: don’t expand even to sheep. It says cattle, so only cattle. Not even to similar things. And therefore, what I’m talking about here is a collection of instructions that hint to me what the radius of the inclusion should be that I make around the examples written in the Torah. And what I want to argue is that that is exactly what the different rules of general and particular are about.

[Speaker B] According to the view that three verses do not teach and two verses do teach, that could somewhat solve the problem. The two verses aren’t exactly similar, but they can expand.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, therefore they teach their common denominator. De facto that’s one verse. Take the common denominator of the two verses.

[Speaker B] In the end yes, the common denominator, yes. Okay?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So the rules of general and particular basically tell me what to do with the example written in the Torah. And both binyan av and general and particular tell me what to do with the example written in the Torah. In that sense, what we have here is basically a collection of rules that speak about different radii of inclusion—from radius zero, not to include at all, just take the example and that’s it, to binyan av, which is everything similar, general and particular, which is something broader, general and particular and general, particular and general, and so on—we’ll discuss that further. Okay? This basically tells me to what radius to expand these examples. I want to clarify this a bit with an example taken from a philosopher of law named Hart, an example jurists use a lot.

[Speaker D] Sorry, Rabbi, before you continue. General and particular—“you have only what is in the particular”—that limits it. But it’s not just that only the particular was stated; there was a need for the general before the particular. So we still haven’t gained a complete language, as you call it. No, yes we have.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because if only the particular had been written, we would have expanded by binyan av.

[Speaker D] That would have been binyan av. So what do we gain from general and particular?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The moment they write a general term before the particular, they’re telling me: don’t do binyan av.

[Speaker D] But with two verses we would have gotten the same result.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m talking only about one verse. I want to restrict it only to one context.

[Speaker D] But general and particular isn’t only one verse, it’s two verses. No, it’s one verse. “And he fell there.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] General and particular as a whole is one verse.

[Speaker D] Oh, you mean one verse? It’s one verse?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. It’s written only about one context. Let’s say it says only cattle for redeeming second tithe. Okay okay. So I have one verse. If something else were written besides the cattle, if something else were written, maybe that could count as another verse. I’ll clarify this through Hart’s example. Hart talks about—think of a sign in a public garden that says: No vehicles may be brought into the public garden. Now you ask yourself: what is a vehicle? Is it permitted to bring in a little ride-on toy? A child’s plastic car. Or a monument with a disabled tank, a tank from previous wars, as a monument. Is it permitted to put that inside the… or is that also a vehicle? Bicycles, a moped, a scooter, a car, a truck, a bus. You can think of all kinds of different and varied things that could be considered vehicles. And how am I to determine which vehicles this sign intends to prohibit and which vehicles not? So usually, if they want to make it easier for me, they bring examples. They say: No vehicles may be brought into the public garden, for example a motorcycle, a car, and a tractor. Okay? So now they’re basically giving me a few examples from which I can understand the idea. But that also doesn’t help. Because those examples said the word “for example.” “For example” means it’s not only those examples, but those examples are supposed to teach me also about additional cases. Now I ask myself: which cases? Again—a tank, a little ride-on toy, bicycles—how far do I take the inclusion? Or maybe only those examples and nothing beyond those examples?

[Speaker B] According to the “for example,” whenever they say “for example,” it means examples that fit many other things too, like the example the Rabbi gave—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] that is, every vehicle—

[Speaker B] every motor vehicle, every motor vehicle.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What I’m saying is, if they say “for example,” I have a problem.

[Speaker B] Because—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] because when they tell me “for example,” they’re saying I have to expand, it’s not only those examples. But then I ask myself: expand how far? What’s the criterion?

[Speaker B] After all, according to the examples, the examples speak about three vehicles that are motorized, with a motor, so apparently—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] so bicycles are permitted, you’re saying.

[Speaker B] What? Okay, yes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You say bicycles are permitted. Why? What’s the difference between bicycles and electric bicycles?

[Speaker B] Electric bicycles are also motorized, right?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] They’re motorized. Who said “motorized” is the important parameter?

[Speaker B] They gave three examples—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] that are vehicles with a motor. Who said “motorized” is the important parameter? How would you know? So notice that there’s a kind of distress here—we might call it—the distress of legal language. Because the legal world doesn’t really have a way to explain to the citizen what exactly the law means. That’s why in court they are always trying to interpret the law, and there are disputes about how to interpret it and so on, because interpretation is always something dependent on human reasoning. Meaning, there is no way for the legislator to convey to the citizen or to the judge how to interpret the law. The moment he says how to interpret the law, interpretive arguments will begin about that very rule of how to interpret the law. Yes, like Maimonides. In the introduction to the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides explains that he wrote the Mishneh Torah so that we wouldn’t have to argue over all the Talmudic discussions; he already gives us the bottom line. And then of course what do we do? We argue about Maimonides. Meaning, nothing helps. There’s no way to close these things off. The claim I want to make is that in this sense the system of hermeneutical rules is more sophisticated than the modern legislator. The system of hermeneutical rules says that we have different forms. It doesn’t of course shut things down and turn them into a mathematical algorithm, but it does give us more detailed tools to know what radius of inclusion the legislator intends. And the way to do that is through the different forms in which the examples appear in the Torah. And in principle we know four forms. In fact there are more, but four basic forms. One form is general and particular. What does that mean? It says: Do not bring a public vehicle into the public garden, do not bring a vehicle into the public garden—that’s a general term, right? Do not bring a vehicle—that’s a general expression, the principle. For example a motorcycle, a bicycle, and a tractor—that’s a particular, right? So we have general and particular. And after that I’ll continue with the next general phrase: and anything similar. And notice the structure of the sentence. Do not bring a vehicle into the public garden—that’s the general term. For example, bicycle, motorcycle, tractor—those are the particulars, that’s the particular. And anything similar—that’s the final inclusion. Now what does that mean? The moment you said “for example,” then obviously that means “and anything similar.” Those cases are brought as examples. If they tell you these are examples, you understand that you’re supposed to do the “and anything similar,” meaning it’s not only these cases, but they are paradigm cases, yes? They are examples from which I have to expand. But in the Torah, the final general term doesn’t come only to say vaguely “and anything similar”; it has a precise meaning. When the structure is general and particular and general, I understand from this that we are dealing with a certain radius of inclusion. If the Torah had wanted the narrowest possible radius of inclusion, maybe even no inclusion at all, it would have said general and particular. It would have said: Do not bring vehicles into the public garden, such as bicycles, motorcycles, and tractors. Then I would know that only those examples, or literally only what is sealed tightly to them, without the “and anything similar” at the end. Because that is the structure of general and particular—“you have only what is in the particular.” That’s as narrow as it gets. By contrast, if it had written: Do not bring bicycles, motorcycles, and tractors into the garden, and anything similar to them—what is that? That’s particular; there is no general term at the beginning, right? It starts with particulars, a particular followed by a general term. That structure tells me to make the maximum inclusion. “The general adds to the particular.” Meaning that from the point of view of plain linguistic meaning there really isn’t any difference among these three formulations, right? Do not bring vehicles, such as a tractor, etc.—that’s general and particular. Or do not bring vehicles such as… and anything similar—that’s general and particular and general. Or do not bring into the garden a tractor, bicycle, motorcycle, and anything similar—that’s particular and general. Three different formulations that in ordinary Hebrew don’t differ from one another. I give you examples, and generalize what is similar to them. In biblical language these are three different interpretive instructions. Particular and general is the maximal expansion—“the general adds to the particular.” And that tells you: make the widest expansion, anything that resembles the particulars in at least one respect, no matter which; it doesn’t have to be completely similar. As long as there is some similarity to the particulars, it falls within the law.

[Speaker C] But you have two ways to read it. You can say, “Do not bring a public vehicle”—what is a public vehicle? For example a tractor, a bicycle, what?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Also public vehicle. Do not bring into the public garden a vehicle like a bicycle. Ah, okay. So again, I have a structure of particular and general, and that is basically the Torah’s way of telling me: maximal expansion. I have a structure of general and particular—that is the Torah’s way of telling me: the narrowest possible expansion, less than that there isn’t. And I have general and particular and general, which tells me: this is an intermediate expansion. Not completely similar, but also not loose resemblance—something in between. In a moment I’ll define this more, but broadly that’s the picture. And now you understand that basically the rules of general and particular are rules that come to tell me, to help me extract from the Torah’s wording, what radius of inclusion the Torah expects me to make around the examples it brought, the example or examples it brought. Okay? That, broadly speaking, is the meaning of the rules of general and particular.

[Speaker E] But the modern legislator solves this problem, because in a regulation like “do not bring in vehicles,” he puts at the beginning a section of definitions, and then he writes “vehicle” blah blah blah blah. Now when he defines what a vehicle is, he also takes into account why he doesn’t want them entering the public garden, and then he defines it in a completely clear way. It’s the casuistic way of the Torah that creates the fog, and then you have to start creating rules.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, here I think that’s a bit naive. The moment the legislator defines, there will always be vehicles about which you’ll still be unsure even if there’s a definitions clause, and then you’ll have to…

[Speaker E] I agree, but it will be much narrower.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s true, but you’ll still have to ask yourself…

[Speaker E] It will be much, much narrower.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You’ll still have to ask yourself whether those vehicles are included or not included, and you’ll need some logical, rational instrument to understand whether the legislator intended this or didn’t intend this. Therefore there is no way really to close off the law completely. Meaning…

[Speaker E] Right, otherwise there would be no trials and no lawyers.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, but he says we’re taking care of it for you. The point is there is no way to close it off. Now, you can try to close it off, but Hart’s point is that even if you try to close it off, the problem still remains. Maybe it will be more limited, but in the end it will still remain. So there is some sort of logical problem here that needs an answer.

[Speaker F] Rabbi, isn’t it also possible that when the sages came, they weren’t like in modern law, where you approach interpreting the law as though you’re a blank slate and have no agenda and you’re just trying to understand the spirit of the law and what the legislator wanted. Today you certainly interpret it, and you interpret it very creatively. Couldn’t it be that the sages also went in that direction?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Everything is possible, everything is possible. But the tradition says that the hermeneutical rules are a law given to Moses at Sinai. And what I’m trying to show is how this business developed among the sages and eventually reached what we know as the rules of general and particular.

[Speaker B] Okay. And precisely because of that—maybe because the Torah is something eternal and needs to provide rules that will stand through the generations—in ordinary law you can change it from one day to the next, there’s no problem.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, if new vehicles arise, then the legislator can sit down over the matter and tell us what he means regarding them. That’s not entirely precise. You’re just too used to the pathological situation we’re in, where we have no Sanhedrin and we’re stuck with the rules created in that period and have no possibility really to do anything except interpret them. But in principle, if there is a Sanhedrin, then it can continue to legislate the way the Knesset does today.

[Speaker B] But it can’t do something against a law given to Moses at Sinai.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not against it, but it can interpret—

[Speaker B] interpret it this way or that way, but in the end they’re limited by a law given to Moses at Sinai.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, but can it interpret? Yes. Okay, so fine.

[Speaker B] But not create something new.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But in modern law you can create something new. No, it can tell me whether a law given to Moses at Sinai intends a vehicle like this or doesn’t intend a vehicle like this when a new type of vehicle arises.

[Speaker C] What is the advantage of the Sanhedrin in interpreting the hermeneutical rules?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Today even that is hard to do because there is no Sanhedrin. Yes, but you have to know that this is a pathological situation. Meaning, it is not the situation that really should have existed.

[Speaker C] Fine, but for our purposes then, what is the advantage of the Sanhedrin in interpreting the hermeneutical rules? What? What is the advantage of the Sanhedrin in interpreting the hermeneutical rules?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean, in interpreting the hermeneutical rules?

[Speaker C] After all, you said you have hermeneutical rules and from them you derive laws. Right. So what is the advantage of the Sanhedrin over us in these studies?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Only authority. We talked about that.

[Speaker C] Why were they given that authority?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why? Like in all of Torah. What do you mean? You need an institution that has authority, otherwise there will be chaos. You can interpret the Torah with all the hermeneutical rules exactly like the Sanhedrin. The difference is that when the Sanhedrin interprets the Torah, the result binds all of us—there is “do not deviate.” If I interpret the Torah, then I am obligated to keep what I understand the Torah to be saying, but that doesn’t obligate you.

[Speaker C] So what’s the problem with everyone interpreting for himself and observing according to what he derives?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Who said there’s a problem?

[Speaker C] Why do we need authority that includes all of us?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why do you need a Knesset? Let everyone decide what the law means for him, and everything will be fine. Why do we need the Knesset to establish one law for all of us?

[Speaker C] But according to the tradition, all the fine details were given at Sinai. There’s a Talmudic statement like that, saying that every fine detail was given at Sinai.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This Talmudic passage does not mean what it says. Okay? You don’t have to take it literally. These are facts. Anyone who insists on that is arguing with facts. Meaning, there are very many things that developed over the generations, and nobody denies that. The Talmud says they developed over the generations. We’re talking about Torah-level Jewish laws, not rabbinic ones. Okay? So it’s clear that when they say, “Whatever an outstanding student will one day innovate was already given— the Holy One, blessed be He, showed it to Moses at Sinai,” there are such interpretations and other interpretations, and I can offer you another interpretation too.

[Speaker C] But I wasn’t talking about that Talmudic passage. There’s a Talmudic passage that says that anyone who says that a fine point is not Torah from Heaven is a heretic, and so on.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Same thing, same

[Speaker C] thing.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I can bring you ten more sources like that, and all of them have to be interpreted the same way. The meaning is that it is binding as if it was given at Sinai. It’s not a factual claim; it’s a normative claim. You have to relate to this thing, even though it was not given at Sinai, as if it was given at Sinai. That is its authority. But it is not a historical assertion that it was actually given there. There is Tosafot in Bekhorot, I think. Tosafot brings a Mishnah in tractate Parah where it says “a law to Moses from Sinai,” and Tosafot says: but this is really a rabbinic law altogether. So how can they say about it that it is “a law to Moses from Sinai”? Tosafot mean to say that it is as strong as a law to Moses from Sinai. Expressions are often used this way by us, certainly when we’re talking about aggadic literature, and here it goes much further, because saying “a law to Moses from Sinai” is a halakhic statement. When we talk about things like the idea that a fine point was not given, or that “whatever an outstanding student will one day innovate,” all those things are aggadot. Aggadot certainly are meant to be interpreted in a way that can be metaphorical, or in a way that conveys the idea but is not telling you the fact. It is not a simple factual description. Okay? Maimonides, in the introduction to his commentary on the Mishnah, already talks about this—how to interpret aggadot, and so on. Here these are facts. Meaning, many argue about it, but they can argue with the wall. These are simply facts. Anyone who argues with this is arguing with facts. There are facts that the Talmud states: laws that developed over the generations, Torah-level laws. Disputes among sages about laws—yes, what could be a clearer sign than that? I don’t need—this is simple. Even—even with the principle I mentioned, even gezerah shavah, where “a person may not derive it unless he received it from his teacher,” and Rashi says, “and his teacher from his teacher all the way back to Moses at Sinai.” That is the most traditional hermeneutic principle there is, gezerah shavah. And about that Nachmanides and all his students say—you can see it in the Talmudic Encyclopedia under the entry “gezerah shavah,” they bring this, basic well-known things—Nachmanides says: but there are disputes in gezerah shavah. There are many disputes in gezerah shavah. The sugya of meitav, Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva in Bava Kamma, and there are many more disputes. So how can that be a law to Moses from Sinai? So no—the law really came from Sinai, but the meaning is that perhaps some hint was given to us at Sinai that here a gezerah shavah should be made, but it does not say what to do with it. Or the opposite: the law that is derived came from Sinai, but it does not say how they derived it, and we do it through gezerah shavah, and so on. All right? Even in those things that are supposedly the most explicit cases where it says they are a law to Moses from Sinai, you see that the medieval authorities (Rishonim) say it was not really transmitted there.

[Speaker D] It’s even worse when the student disagrees with his teacher about a gezerah shavah—Reish Lakish disagrees with Rabbi Yohanan’s gezerah shavah.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, right. So in the end the claim is—and I’m returning to our line of argument—that the principles of general and particular are meant to tell us how far to extend the examples that appear in the Torah. Okay? That is basically the meaning of these principles of general and particular. Now, I won’t get into it at the moment—the Talmud says that basically, what are the principles of general and particular? Maybe let’s just take an example so it’ll be concrete. I’ll share the verses with you for a moment just so you get an impression of what we’re talking about. Look, these are the verses about second tithe. “You shall surely tithe all the produce of your seed that comes out of the field year by year. And you shall eat before the Lord your God, in the place that He shall choose to cause His name to dwell there, the tithe of your grain, your wine, and your oil, and the firstborn of your cattle and your flock, so that you may learn to fear the Lord your God all your days.” You have to separate a tithe—say, second tithe. This second tithe has to be eaten before the Holy One, blessed be He, in Jerusalem. That’s the rule. What you set aside as second tithe, you have to take to Jerusalem and eat there. That’s basically—one can eat it, it doesn’t have intrinsic holiness, but it has to be eaten in Jerusalem. “And if the way is too long for you”—what does that mean? I can’t carry my second tithe all the way to Jerusalem, it’s too hard for me—“because you are not able to carry it, because the place that the Lord your God will choose to place His name there is too far from you, and because the Lord your God has blessed you.” He blessed you, you have a lot of tithe, you can’t carry it to Jerusalem—it’s far, and you have a lot of tithe. So what do you do? The Torah says this: “Then you shall turn it into money and bind up the money in your hand.” Take the second tithe, sell it, redeem it onto money, and take the money to Jerusalem. “And bind up the money in your hand, and go to the place that the Lord your God shall choose.” What do you do with the money in Jerusalem? “And you shall give the money for whatever your soul desires.” You take that money, buy food with it, and eat it in Jerusalem in place of the original second tithe that you had been supposed to bring to Jerusalem and eat there. That is called redeeming second tithe. Now the Torah specifies what one does with this money. So it says: “And you shall give the money for whatever your soul desires.” Up to here, what would we understand? A general statement. A general statement: whatever you want, whatever your soul desires. Now the Torah says: “for cattle, or sheep, or wine, or strong drink.” Ah—so it’s not just whatever your soul desires; there are examples. The examples presumably come to say that it is not absolutely whatever your soul desires, but still the examples are fairly varied. Wine, strong drink, cattle, sheep—meaning, there’s some room for flexibility here, but it’s already not as broad as “whatever your soul desires,” rather something more limited. So in effect we have a general statement—whatever your soul desires; a particular—cattle, sheep, wine, and strong drink. The particulars, by the way, can be one example or several examples. And note also that the example itself—notice that everything is relative—because cattle and sheep are general terms. There are many kinds of cattle and sheep. So is that general or particular? Relative to “whatever your soul desires,” which is the general statement, cattle and sheep are a particular. It’s relative. So we see that in the Torah there is a structure here of a general statement followed by a particular or particulars, but notice—it continues: “and whatever your soul asks of you.” What is that? Again a generalization returning at the end. Why is that needed? If you want to tell me “everything,” you already said at the beginning “whatever your soul desires.” So clearly, such a structure calls out for interpretation. The Torah writes something general here, brings several examples, and then goes back to a generalization. Remember? “No vehicles may be brought into the public park,” a general statement, yes? “Such as cattle, sheep, wine, and strong drink”—yes, tractor, bicycle, motorcycle—“and anything of that sort,” “and whatever your soul asks of you,” that’s the general statement at the end. “And you shall eat there before the Lord your God, and rejoice, you and your household.” After defining what I may buy with the money, I am to eat in Jerusalem what I bought, and rejoice, I and my household. That is what has to be done. So in this whole sequence we have a verse that is basically built in the form of general-particular-general. That is the structure of the verse. Once we see such a verse, we understand that it needs to be interpreted by the rule of general-particular-general. And that means extending beyond the examples of cattle, sheep, wine, and strong drink within a radius determined by this structure of general-particular-general. If it had only said, “whatever your soul desires, for cattle and sheep, and wine and strong drink,” period—“and you shall eat there before the Lord your God, and rejoice, you and your household,” without the final generalization, “and whatever your soul asks of you,” then it would have been general and particular. Then I would need only things really similar to cattle, sheep, wine, and strong drink, and that’s it, because that would be general and particular—“you have only what is in the particular.” If it had said, “for cattle and sheep, and wine and strong drink, and whatever your soul asks of you,” without “whatever your soul desires” at the beginning—just the particulars and then the general statement—then it would be particular and general. And there are examples of this in the Torah of all types. There are verses formulated as general-particular-general, verses formulated as general-particular, verses formulated as particular-general, and verses formulated as particular-general-particular. Each one of these structures is an instruction for a different radius of generalization. That is basically the meaning of general and particular. And now this is very interesting, because a great many expositions based on general and particular are defined as such only by the medieval authorities (Rishonim). In the Torah itself an exposition is brought—or in the Talmud, sorry—and the Talmud does not explain that it is expounding here by general and particular. In some places yes, but in quite a few places no. And Tosafot or the medieval authorities explain that what was happening here was really an exposition of general-particular-general. In principle we now have a tool with which we can go through the Written Torah, and in every verse where we discover this kind of strange repetition, but one that changes the wording from general to specific and back to general, we understand that we really need to do a general-and-particular exposition here: take the particulars that appear—one always starts from the particulars—and make some sort of generalization around them. How far should the generalization go? That depends on the structure of the verse. Is it general and particular, or particular and general, or general-particular-general, or particular-general-particular, okay? That will determine the radius of the generalization. This is, broadly speaking, the decoding that I’m suggesting—or that we are suggesting—for the principles of general and particular. Now let’s see for a moment—let’s return for a moment to the move of general and particular. Look, in Rabbi Ishmael’s baraita, the section that deals with general and particular is the section blackened here: “and from general and particular, from particular and general, from general and particular and general—you judge only according to what is similar to the particular.” “A general statement that needs a particular, a particular that needs a general statement”—that is already something else, less relevant to us. So in these three principles—general and particular, particular and general, and general-particular-general—“you judge only according to what is similar to the particular.” According to what is similar to the particular. Now something here is very strange, because the baraita—this is Rabbi Ishmael’s baraita that we read every morning at the beginning of Sifra—the baraita formulates three hermeneutic principles here, but only regarding the third does it give me the instruction of what to do. “General-particular-general—you judge only according to what is similar to the particular.” What am I supposed to do with general-and-particular, or particular-and-general?

[Speaker G] Doesn’t that apply to all of them? Apparently not.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Look, for example, at the scholion. The scholion is what is called the “baraita of examples,” the baraita that appears after Rabbi Ishmael’s baraita at the beginning of Sifra, which gives examples of the implementation of each of the hermeneutic principles. There we already find three instructions. General and particular—only what is in the particular. Particular and general—the general becomes an addition to the particular. General-particular-general—you judge only according to what is similar to the particular, which is what appears in the baraita. You see? “According to what is similar to the particular.” Where are the first two instructions? Why were they omitted? I want to argue what I said at the end of the previous class.

[Speaker B] Expansion.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “According to what is similar to the particular” is an instruction for all three principles, not only for the third. Because, let me remind you of the whole line of thought. The line of thought was that expositions of general and particular were at first all called “general and particular.” What does “general and particular” mean? It means this whole category of expositions dealing with general and specific formulations. That includes general and particular, particular and general, general-particular-general, and particular-general-particular. All of these were called “general and particular,” or sometimes they called it “general and specifics.” It was the whole set of expositions and principles of general and particular. Now what did they do there? What do all these principles have in common? That you take the examples, the particulars that appear in the Torah, and you generalize around them. Right? That is what you had to do. And that is what they did in the earlier periods. Until the later tannaim came and understood that there are actually three or four different principles here, each one making a different type of generalization. All of them generalize around the particulars that appear in the Torah, but with different radii. But little by little the sages suddenly started noticing that in each biblical instance there is a different kind of generalization. If the instance is general-particular-general, then the generalization is one way. If the instance is general and particular, then the generalization is different. If the instance is particular and general, then the generalization is different, and so on. And they saw that one can consistently see that this is indeed the case. Meaning, they suddenly noticed that what the earlier sages called “general and particular” was actually a heading for four different sub-principles. And for each of them, true, all make generalizations around the particulars, but each has the generalization appropriate to it, determined by the structure of the verse: general and particular, particular and general, general-particular-general. And then what happens once the sages understood this? They continue the process of Othniel ben Kenaz, and essentially the principle of general and particular, which had been considered one principle—and what was its instruction? “You judge only according to what is similar to the particular.” What does that mean, “according to what is similar to the particular”? Generalizations around the particular, without yet entering into what radius. The sages understand, because they speak the language. Remember the language example? They speak this language not formally, with rules of grammar. They have some intuition for what to do with each kind of verse. But little by little, as we lose that intuition, we try to track what the earlier sages did, and we suddenly discover that in verses of this kind they did this, and in verses of that kind they did that, and in still others they did something else. Then we break down what they called the principle of general and particular—“you judge only according to what is similar to the particular”—we break it down into four different principles and give a practical instruction for each principle. And then this instruction, “according to what is similar to the particular,” which once had been a general instruction for all principles of general-and-specific formulations, becomes the instruction for the principle of general-particular-general. And the instruction for general and particular now has to be formulated differently, because it comes to tell me something narrower: “only what is in the particular.” Only that and no more. And the instruction for particular and general has to be broader, not narrower: “the general becomes an addition to the particular.” Add as much as you can beyond the particular. I’ll explain more later, but I want to show the logic of the matter. So you suddenly see that the same terms which in earlier generations served in a general sense, once we broke them down into sub-principles and different instructions for each sub-principle, those same terms suddenly acquire a specific meaning. Say, when we say “according to what is similar to the particular,” once, in the earlier period, the meaning was: extend beyond the particulars, of course; in each verse everyone understood what to do, but there were no separate names for it. So you say “similar to the particular,” expansions around the particular. Once we already distinguish between three different sub-principles, then “according to what is similar to the particular” gets a specific meaning—it is no longer some general instruction. It becomes an intermediate expansion appropriate to the structure of general-particular-general. There is the broadest expansion—“the general becomes an addition to the particular”—appropriate to the biblical form of particular and general. There is a very narrow expansion—“only what is in the particular”—appropriate to the biblical form of general and particular. But none of this is an invention of the later generation. The earlier generations did exactly the same thing; they just didn’t need, and didn’t require, different names for these principles, because intuitively it was clear to them when to do what. They learned it like a mother tongue. We, who have moved farther from the source, have lost the intuition, so we try to formulate rules that will help us follow what the earlier ones did. And that is why we suddenly need three different rules for three different principles, and that is how this specification of the principles of general and particular is created. As I said in the previous class, once you read things this way, a huge number of difficulties that the medieval and later authorities, and scholars too, struggle with simply disappear. Many ask about places where the Talmud expounds “according to what is similar to the particular,” but this is not regarding the principle of general-particular-general; it is regarding the principle of general and particular. How can that be? “According to what is similar to the particular” is said only about general-particular-general. If it is general and particular, then it should be expounded as “only what is in the particular,” not “according to what is similar to the particular.” My claim is that this is simply an ancient text. The ancient text speaks of “general and particular” in a broader sense, and the instruction “according to what is similar to the particular” is also something general—expand within some radius around the examples that appear in the Torah. In the later generations, already with Rabbi Ishmael and in the baraita of examples—which is later still—that expression already receives a specific meaning. There you will no longer find “according to what is similar to the particular” for an exposition that is particular and general or general and particular, only for general-particular-general. It all depends on the question of which generation we are in, and therefore all sorts of difficulties and contradictions between places—a certain exposition, for example, that is clearly general-particular-general in the verse, there are tannaim who expound it as general and particular, ignoring the fact that there is a general statement at the end, and everyone is puzzled: how can you expound it as general and particular when by the structure of the verse it is general-particular-general? And in other rabbinic texts it really does appear as a general-particular-general exposition. There are many such examples, by the way, many examples, not just one or two. And again, my claim is: these are simply texts from different periods. The earlier texts called every biblical instance of this type “general and particular.” They did not mean specifically general and particular, but rather an instance of a general statement turning into particulars and vice versa—generalities and particulars. In later generations the term “general and particular” is already a specific term; it means a general statement followed by particulars, full stop. But in earlier generations every instance of this type was called an instance of general and particular. They didn’t really expound it as general and particular; they did “according to what is similar to the particular,” just as the later generations did, only they called it differently. The names were not yet as clearly distinguished as they became in later generations. Now before I move on to show you how this works in practice, or how I actually understood this whole story—

[Speaker D] Sorry, just sorry, if you’ll forgive me—it’s a little hard to load into the phrase “according to what is similar to the particular” the meaning of “general and particular—only what is in the particular,” because “only what is in the particular” sounds very narrow, and “according to what is similar to the particular” sounds a bit broader.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I can’t get into all that detail here, because we wrote a whole book about it. But I’ll just say briefly: even when it says “only what is in the particular,” there is still a generalization here; it’s just the narrowest possible generalization. Because otherwise the whole thing is unnecessary. Why did you write the—why did you write the general statement at the beginning? Just write: there is only what is in the particular, and that’s it.

[Speaker H] When it says “according to what is similar to the particular,” how do you know how to work with it? In what way is it similar to the particular?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll get to that in a moment. I’ll get to that in a moment—what does that mean in practice? What is an intermediate generalization, a narrow generalization, and a broad generalization? How do you do it? What is the significance of the matter? So I’ll get to that in a moment. But first I want—that’s already details. I want you first of all to understand the structure. You see? What I’ve described now basically completes the demonstration of the dynamic of tradition through general and particular.

[Speaker B] Isn’t it similar, Rabbi, to the rule the Talmud often says, that even when it says “except for,” there are still a few other things too?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] How is that connected to this? It isn’t connected.

[Speaker B] No, because there the Talmud says that when it says “except for one thing,” it doesn’t mean only one thing, but there are some other things too. So here too you see there’s some kind of range like that.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s not related. “One does not derive from general statements, even where it says ‘except’”—that refers to rabbinic texts, not to the Torah. When the sages said the law follows Rava against Abaye in YAL KGM, and then we suddenly find other places where they rule like Abaye—what, “one does not derive from general statements, even where it says ‘except’.” But when it says in the Torah a general statement followed by particulars, that has nothing to do with this. This is a question of how to interpret verses. I understand, fine. In any case, this is general language and particular language. They are not “rules” in the sense that the Torah writes a rule; rather, it writes general wording and wording of particulars, specific examples. So what I only want to remain with you is an understanding of how the dynamism of tradition works. You understand that what I want to claim is that the later generation—Rabbi Ishmael—did not invent the new principles of general and particular. With Hillel the Elder there is only the principle of general and particular, and with Rabbi Ishmael there is general and particular, particular and general, general-particular-general. So the scholars tell us: ah, so apparently they are gathering more principles from the environment. This is an invention of the later generations. My claim is: not true. The earlier generations did exactly the same thing. They just didn’t call it that. They didn’t even distinguish among these three principles, because from their perspective it was all the same thing. They see examples in the Torah, they understand that one has to generalize around them. How to generalize? Intuitively, when they read the verse, they understand: this is a narrow generalization, this is a broad generalization, this is a medium generalization. The later generations have already lost that intuitive sense. They see a verse and don’t know what to do with it. So they try to do what Othniel ben Kenaz did. They go to the examples from what the earlier generations did and try to see how they operated on each type of verse. And they discover that every verse with the structure of general-particular-general was given an intermediate generalization. Every verse with the structure of general and particular was given a narrow generalization. Every verse with the structure of particular and general was given a broad generalization. And then they understand that the rule of the earlier ones, which they called general and particular—the principle of general and particular—is actually the name for three or four sub-principles that can be distinguished, each with its own specific instruction. And now I can already know what to do with each type of verse, even though I no longer have the natural intuition by which, when I see such a verse, I understand how it should be generalized. What the earlier generations had, I do not have. But because of that I use rules. The rules come to compensate for the decline in our intuition. That is why we create more and more principles all the time as the generations pass, and as we increasingly refine distinctions out of what the earlier generations did. But again, none of this is invention. It is simply conceptualization and definition—scientific work on what the earlier generations did, and an attempt to distill from what they did rules that will help us too to follow them and act as they did. That is basically the claim.

[Speaker I] Why do we lose the intuition?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Can you hear?

[Speaker I] Why do we lose the intuition?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because we get farther from the source. Mount Sinai is the source. I described this in the previous class. And the farther we move away… But this is a living language.

[Speaker I] It’s a living language; it’s not that people stopped speaking it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, it’s not that much of a living language. Certainly not—not that of Moses, which was forgotten. That’s exactly the point. There were many elements of forgetting. This is not a language spoken constantly the way an ordinary language is. There is some skill here that gets forgotten. I gave the example of Stradivarius violins, right? Stradivarius’s apprentice learned from him in the workshop but didn’t know how to make violins like he did. And the apprentice of the apprentice was already even less good. We lose the natural feel for how to do it. And to compensate, we try to understand from what the master does—yes, Stradivarius—we try to understand: with this kind of wood one must do this, with that kind of wood one must do that. Then, even though we have no intuition, we somehow manage to get closer, to imitate a little what he did, despite not having the intuition. Sometimes after we do that, the intuition returns and awakens in us anew. That is the hope—that in the end that is what will happen. But it has to pass through rules of grammar, like in ulpan. In ulpan one learns the language through rules of grammar. The goal in the end is that someone who finishes ulpan will not keep going back and making a mechanical calculation according to the rules of grammar before he starts speaking. He won’t be able to speak that way. Rather, he will acquire the natural feel of how to speak correctly. But he has to use the rules in order to develop that intuition within himself. Okay? So why does the law follow the later authorities? Can you hear?

[Speaker H] Why does the law follow the later authorities if the earlier ones are closer to the truth, so to speak?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because the later authorities know what the earlier ones knew, and on top of that they also have their own reasoning, which the earlier ones did not hear.

[Speaker H] But they don’t have the intuition of the earlier ones.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In exegesis there is no rule that the law follows the later authorities. On the contrary. In exegesis—and scholars have already noted this—in the Talmud there are no truly innovative exegeses at all. Only in the Mishnah. In the Talmud these are exegeses that come to reconstruct laws written in the Mishnah. In the Talmud you will almost never find an exposition that creates a new law. In the medieval authorities, not at all. We lost this. And therefore, for example, in the work I did on the hermeneutic principles, I treat the words of the medieval authorities with very limited confidence. Because the medieval authorities themselves say they do not know how to work with these principles. So the fact that they offer various suggestions—one explanation here, another there—these are shots in the dark. They themselves admit that they do not understand this. So if I have some good sense that I understand something, I am not troubled that it goes against all the medieval authorities.

[Speaker H] And if, say, the later authorities take some custom that became widespread in Israel in the centuries before them and anchor it in some verse or something like that—is that a kind of innovative exposition?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that is a supporting exposition.

[Speaker H] The custom was already there before that. A custom that didn’t exist in the period of the sages. All right, so—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It doesn’t matter. Then it is support. I also brought this in the previous class, from the Netziv in the introduction to the She’iltot, in Kedmat Ha-Emek. The Netziv there distinguishes between “a law to Moses from Sinai” and “they learned it as a received teaching.” “A law to Moses from Sinai” is a tradition passed from Sinai down to us. Here I am already explaining that this is a dynamic tradition, but never mind; in principle it descended from Sinai and is passed from generation to generation until it reaches us. “They learned it as a received teaching”—Rashi writes that “they learned it as a received teaching” means “a law to Moses from Sinai.” But in Maimonides, he shows that “they learned it as a received teaching” means: we received it from our teachers. But not necessarily from Sinai. It may be that our teachers innovated it through some exposition or through one reasoning or another. We have already lost the source; we don’t know how they innovated that law, and we support that law by an exposition or a reasoning that we ourselves come up with. So that is a supporting exposition in the methodological sense. The law was known earlier. The exposition did not create the law. But this is not a law that came from Sinai. It is a law that was created by an innovative exposition a few generations ago. We lost the exposition that created that law, and we are trying to reconstruct it, and either we succeeded or we did not succeed. Okay?

[Speaker F] So how did we preserve the ability to expound for hundreds of years, to the point that Rabbi Akiva says against Ben Petura, “and your brother shall live with you”—until Rabbi Akiva came and said, “and your brother shall live with you,” meaning, your life takes precedence over your fellow’s life. That sounds like he innovated it. And then afterward we suddenly lost it—after fifteen hundred years we suddenly lost the ability to derive exegeses through the power of our own intellect.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] How do you explain it? Why is that a question for me? We forgot—that’s the fact. What can be done? Apparently once they didn’t use it enough, it was forgotten. That skill was lost to us. What can you do?

[Speaker H] But even in Moses’ time it was forgotten, so what—why were they better than him?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So no, I’m saying, in fact they weren’t better. So Othniel ben Kenaz reconstructed the hermeneutic principles from the exegeses that remained after the mourning for Moses. That’s what I explained in previous classes. And we are basically continuing that enterprise, reconstructing and reconstructing and reconstructing, exactly as I demonstrated here regarding the exposition of general and particular. In the exposition of general and particular, we reconstruct from the exegeses of the earlier ones and suddenly see that there are actually four principles of exposition here and not just one. You called it general and particular, but it’s not one—it’s four. Othniel ben Kenaz took a fortiori reasoning and gezerah shavah and created from them still more principles of exposition—maybe thirteen, I don’t know how many he created from that. And so on. Meaning, this keeps going all the time; even the thirteen is not the end of the process. But my claim is that the creation of these new principles is not invention. It is not something that arose now because we borrowed it from the ancient Near East, from other cultures. Maybe we used tools from other cultures, but ultimately we are trying to conceptualize and distill from what the earlier generations did that which is transmitted to us. And therefore my claim is that all thirteen principles of Rabbi Ishmael are a law to Moses from Sinai, even though if you had said to Moses our teacher, “general and particular, particular and general, general-particular-general,” he would have stared at you blankly. He wouldn’t have understood what you wanted from him. Because Moses our teacher expounded these exegeses; he just didn’t call them general and particular. Othniel ben Kenaz—or whoever it was, Hillel the Elder—already called them expositions of general and particular. With Rabbi Ishmael it is already general and particular, particular and general, general-particular-general, particular-general-particular, and more. Doesn’t matter—right now let’s suffice with these four. It goes through refinement and conceptualization and separation and specification all the time, but when Moses our teacher hears that people say this is a law to Moses from Sinai, his mind is put at ease, like in that midrash we discussed. Why? Because he understands that these are conceptualizations of what he himself transmitted to us. We are not inventing. We are simply distilling more and more principles out of the exegeses that we received from him.

[Speaker H] But in the aggadah in Menachot he didn’t understand anything of what he said. That’s exactly the point. He didn’t understand the conceptualizations; he didn’t understand what was being said there.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Then in the end it says “a law to Moses from Sinai,” and his mind is put at ease.

[Speaker C] No, you said they use the same tools, only in different concepts. Right. But he didn’t even understand what he himself had said—the tools themselves.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Who told you that?

[Speaker C] That’s what it says in the aggadah, that he didn’t understand a thing.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, what it says there is that he didn’t understand what they were talking about. What does it mean, he didn’t understand what they were talking about? That he didn’t understand their Hebrew? He didn’t understand what “general-particular-general exposition” means. What is that? How does that come out? But then suddenly they say to him: wait—do you agree that this result comes out of this verse? After all, we got that from you. And he says: yes, of course. But “general-particular-general”—that I didn’t understand. And that is our conceptualization of your intuitive way of expounding. That is what we call this tool that you used intuitively. And then his mind is put at ease. This is a law to Moses from Sinai—this is the law we received from you when we inserted it into our language, our terminology, our logical tools. Then his mind is put at ease. That is exactly the meaning of what I am reading there; I explained this in the previous class.

[Speaker H] This intuitive advantage—is it an advantage because of closeness to Sinai, or because of the people themselves?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no—maybe that too, but it doesn’t have to be. Plainly, closeness is enough. When a baby learns language from his parents, clearly he will know it better than someone who learned it in ulpan. The farther you are from the source, the harder it is to grasp things. But I said there are disadvantages too. Someone who uses intuition in places where he has no intuition won’t know what to do. Someone who developed rules will be able to use them even in places where there is no intuition and get at least a not-bad answer. Not certain to hit the mark necessarily, but he’ll get close to the right answer. That is the advantage of those who use rules over those who use intuition. It’s that way in language too. Children who learned language intuitively may come to a point where there is something they want to express and can’t. Then someone who learned in ulpan will come, use the rules he learned, and manage to express something the children couldn’t express.

[Speaker H] Is this the idea that the law was hidden from Moses?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, one can say that. Another possible interpretation. And then what—the Holy One, blessed be He, does not teach him rules? He tells him what the law will be. What will Othniel ben Kenaz do with it? Othniel ben Kenaz will try to understand what rules generate that law, how it is connected to the verses. Then if you can distill rules—what I called the grammar of the language of exposition—then you can use those rules also in places where you have no intuition. That is the advantage of using rules. But in a place where a person says to me: look, I have a clear intuition—this is how one should speak—then I’ll throw the rules in the trash and listen to him. Don’t be right, be wise—no, rather: don’t be wise, be right, to be more precise. Meaning, that is the advantage; that is the decline of the generations. Therefore that is the advantage of the medieval authorities over us, because they work from intuition. Usually, when they have intuition, they are right. But in a place where they don’t have intuition—what I said earlier—when the medieval authorities say something about a hermeneutic principle and I have reached a different conclusion by a very systematic method, then it is clear to me that I am right and they are wrong. Because they themselves say they do not understand this. So here I apply my logical rules, which are more sophisticated than the logical rules of the medieval authorities, and I manage to reach answers that they were not able to reach. Therefore I claim that I understand this better than they do. Because they are in the dark; they have no intuition, and the sophisticated logical rules we have did not exist for them. Therefore I claim that in those areas where one is in intuitive darkness, there the use of logic can give you an advantage over the earlier generations. Here there is no decline of the generations. Okay. So I see that I’m not going to manage to get all the way to the end today, but that is the big picture. That is what I wanted to emphasize through the hermeneutic principles. I do want to go into the sugya in Eruvin and try to show you how this works in practice, and how I distill these things and bring them to a higher level of precision. We won’t get all the way there—it’s a whole book—but I’ll try to show you the beginning of the path. All right. That’s it for now.

[Speaker D] May I just ask one small question, please, a small one? Instead of speaking about intuition, that the sages’ intuition was greater than ours—because in fact what separates them from Moses our teacher is close to fourteen hundred years, and us more—but isn’t it more a matter of mentality, perhaps? Mentality? Like, the way they grasp things.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Distance is a function of distance. The shorter the distance, the more—yes, yes, yes—therefore yes.

[Speaker D] By the way, you mentioned the Talmud in Menachot. Do we have even one law left from the heaps and heaps of laws that Rabbi Akiva derived from the tags, the crowns on the letters—one law left from those tons of laws?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Something derived specifically from the tags—I don’t remember. Maybe yes and I don’t remember. I’m not sure. But of course Rabbi Akiva is unique in that he expounds extra vavs and letters—that certainly exists. Expositions from letters, which Rabbi Ishmael does not do and Rabbi Akiva alone does. Tags—that’s something subtler—I don’t remember at the moment; it needs checking. I’m not sure there aren’t any, but I don’t remember. Okay, thank you. Okay, so for now I think that’s it. Until Yom Kippur we basically don’t have another class. A good year, may you be sealed for good. Regarding Thursday—wait, what day does Yom Kippur fall on? Wednesday.

[Speaker B] So—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The Thursday after Yom Kippur—is there a class with Yitzhak? Yes? Okay, then we’ll have one more class. I’ll try to finish the topic of tradition in that class, and then after the holiday we’ll start a new series.

[Speaker B] More power to you. A good year, may you be sealed for good.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A good year, may you be sealed for good. May you be sealed for good.

[Speaker B] Thank you very much.