חדש באתר: NotebookLM עם כל תכני הרב מיכאל אברהם

Secular and Sacred — Rabbi Michael Avraham — Lesson 1

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This is an English translation (via GPT-5.4). Read the original Hebrew version.

This transcription was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.

🔗 Link to the original lecture

🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI

Table of Contents

  • Memories of computers at Tel Aviv University and the Technion
  • Opening to the question of holiness and the mundane, and competing conceptions
  • Theory versus practice, and the example of Religious Zionism versus Haredi Judaism
  • Megillah 26b: ritual objects of a commandment and ritual objects of holiness as separate categories
  • A hierarchy within the channel of holiness, and the claim that the difference is not quantitative
  • The Mishnah in Kelim, “ten levels of holiness,” and Leibowitz as a negation of holiness
  • Mapping categories: holiness, commandment, the mundane, transgression, impurity, and purity as zero
  • Bava Kamma 11 and Tosafot: impurity versus prohibition to her husband as two independent laws
  • The Sochatchover’s question via sotah, and the idea that impurity belongs only where holiness belongs
  • Kiddushin as consecration: “holiness spread through the whole of it,” Tosafot, and Rabbi Gustman
  • Avnei Nezer: misuse of consecrated property, “she committed a trespass against her husband,” and the impurity of sotah as an impurity that does not impart impurity to objects
  • Nedarim 2: a vow as an object-based prohibition and an oath as a person-based prohibition, and the connection to holiness
  • Association, a vowed matter and a prohibited matter, and the dispute about object-based prohibition in pork
  • Avnei Nezer and Rabbi Shimon Shkop: object/person as the rationale of the prohibition and not as metaphysics
  • Holiness as a reality, and the danger in attributing holiness to the mundane
  • A vow as reality without holiness, misuse in konamot, and “holiness is a term of separation”

Summary

General overview

The text moves from memories of the early days of computing and physical debugging into an opening lecture on the question of holiness and the mundane, arguing that many of the disputes in today’s religious world are rooted in different conceptions of holiness. The speaker opposes the widespread Hasidic-style view that there is holiness in everything and that a person’s role is to “extract sparks,” and instead sets up a sharp distinction between separate categories: holiness versus impurity, and commandment versus transgression, with the mundane standing as a neutral state. Through sources from Megillah, Bava Kamma, and Nedarim, he develops the claim that holiness is not “just another commandment” but a state of reality in an object or space from which laws follow, and that attributing holiness to things that are not holy creates a psychological reaction of ecstasy that can come to resemble idolatry.

Memories of computers at Tel Aviv University and the Technion

The speaker describes programming with punch cards and waiting in line a long time in order to “run everything again,” even because of a missing comma. He sketches the computer hall at the Technion, with cabinets all around and technicians in white coats, and emphasizes that the computing power back then was smaller than what exists in a phone today. He tells of physical debugging and of bugs that laid eggs on circuits and changed their properties, and suggests that perhaps this is the source of the term “debug,” though he is not sure.

Opening to the question of holiness and the mundane, and competing conceptions

The speaker presents the inquiry into the meaning of the concept of holiness as having halakhic, philosophical, and practical dimensions, and connects it to contemporary polemics in the religious world. He describes a conception that spread from the Hasidic world according to which there is holiness in everything, and the goal is to reveal the holiness and “sanctify matter” and everyday life. The speaker, who defines himself as “a rigid Litvak,” rejects the assumption that there is holiness in everything and seeks to clarify the practical implications of the claim “if there is holiness in everything.”

Theory versus practice, and the example of Religious Zionism versus Haredi Judaism

The speaker argues that there are theoretical distinctions that do not easily translate into practical implications, and gives as an example the difference between Religious Zionism and Haredi Judaism, from which, he says, it is hard to derive any single clear practical rule. He says that in practice it is obvious that the worlds do in fact look different, and therefore one must distinguish between seeking implications through philosophical logic and observing the differences that are actually produced. He mentions Rabbi Goldvicht in the context of “systems,” and stresses that the gap between a conception and a practical outcome may not be theoretically explained, yet still exists in reality.

Megillah 26b: ritual objects of a commandment and ritual objects of holiness as separate categories

The speaker cites the Talmudic text in Megillah 26b, which states: “Ritual objects of a commandment may be discarded; ritual objects of holiness must be stored away,” and details that a sukkah, lulav, shofar, and tzitzit are ritual objects of a commandment and may be thrown away, whereas book-bags for sacred texts, tefillin and mezuzot, a Torah scroll case, a tefillin case, and their straps are ritual objects of holiness and require genizah. He sharpens the point that there is also a distinction between the very object of the commandment and the very object of holiness, on the one hand, and their accessories, on the other, and places sacred scribal items as the clearest example of holiness. He argues that the Talmud creates a categorical separation: commandments are not “holiness,” and holiness and commandment are two different categories with a real legal consequence of storage away versus disposal.

A hierarchy within the channel of holiness, and the claim that the difference is not quantitative

The speaker cites Rava’s statement about a platform that was at first considered “an accessory to an accessory” but became forbidden once he saw that a Torah scroll was placed on it, and from this presents a meticulous hierarchy of accessories of holiness and accessories-to-accessories. He emphasizes that the difference between holiness and commandment is not a quantitative difference of degrees but a difference between two separate “channels,” while within each channel there can be an internal hierarchy. He compares this to hierarchies in impurity, such as first-degree impurity, second-degree impurity, and so on, and says he will later discuss the relation between holiness and impurity.

The Mishnah in Kelim, “ten levels of holiness,” and Leibowitz as a negation of holiness

The speaker mentions the Mishnah in Kelim, “There are ten levels of holiness,” and its progression to Jerusalem and the Land of Israel, and brings Leibowitz’s famous quote: “And what is its holiness? That they bring from it the omer and the two loaves.” He attributes to Leibowitz the position that there is no holiness as such, and that the holiness of the Land of Israel is only an expression of the fact that there are commandments dependent on the land, so that the hierarchy is basically just “how many commandments there are.” He argues that Leibowitz is wrong “against the Gemaras,” and suggests that the commandments are an indication of the holiness that exists in the land, not the definition of holiness itself, while mentioning Kaftor VaFerach and the question whether the holiness of the land means land-dependent commandments or an essential holiness in the object itself.

Mapping categories: holiness, commandment, the mundane, transgression, impurity, and purity as zero

The speaker sketches a structure in which there are holiness, commandment, and the mundane as positive/neutral categories, and opposite them transgression as against commandment and impurity as against holiness, defining “five levels.” He mentions Maimonides in his commentary to the Mishnah on Avot regarding five types of speech, and notes a dispute with Duties of the Heart, which claims there is no such thing as the optional or neutral realm, only commandment or prohibition. He explains that impurity is the opposite of holiness, while purity is a neutral state of “not impure,” and formulates it as holiness = 1, impurity = minus 1, purity = 0.

Bava Kamma 11 and Tosafot: impurity versus prohibition to her husband as two independent laws

The speaker cites a topic in Bava Kamma 11 about a placenta that partially emerged and the question of counting from the first day, and Tosafot’s discussion of the implications for doubt in eating and doubt in impurity. He presents Tosafot’s question: in the laws of impurity there is no difference between a doubt and a double doubt, because in a private domain “even a double doubt is impure,” and in a public domain even a single doubt is pure, so it is unclear how the topic distinguishes between doubt and double doubt. He cites Tosafot’s answer that the discussion is “with respect to forbidding her to her husband,” and therefore it is treated as a case of doubt in prohibition, where a Torah-level doubt is treated stringently and a double doubt leniently. From this, later authorities infer that the impurity and the prohibition to her husband are two independent laws.

The Sochatchover’s question via sotah, and the idea that impurity belongs only where holiness belongs

The speaker cites, in the name of the book Nefesh Yonatan and according to the publisher who heard it from “my great-uncle,” the Sochatchover, a question on Tosafot: the law of doubt concerning impurity in a private domain or a public domain is learned from sotah, and sotah itself is a case of “forbidding her to her husband,” so it seems that being forbidden to her husband is itself specifically impurity. He brings an answer in the name of the Sochatchover, also attributed to the Kuzari, that impurity belongs only where holiness belongs, and in the world of the mundane there are prohibition and permission and commandment, but no impurity. He expands that the sanctified bond between a woman and her husband is defined through the language of kiddushin, and therefore in sotah the prohibition to her husband stems from damage to holiness and is called impurity, whereas in the case of a woman after childbirth and a menstruant, the prohibition is a prohibition to the whole world and does not stem from damage to the holiness of kiddushin, and therefore it is treated as doubt in prohibition and not as doubt in impurity.

Kiddushin as consecration: “holiness spread through the whole of it,” Tosafot, and Rabbi Gustman

The speaker quotes the Talmudic text in Kiddushin 7b about someone who consecrates “the leg of this animal as a burnt offering” and the principle that “holiness spread through the whole of it,” and parallels this to a woman’s kiddushin as a holiness that takes effect on the whole. He cites Tosafot, which distinguishes between different formulations of kiddushin, and in particular that in “Behold, you are consecrated to me” a mechanism of holiness operates, whereas “Behold, you are betrothed to me” creates a bond from which holiness is a result, so the analogy to “holiness spread” applies specifically to the wording “consecrated.” He mentions an opening lecture by Rabbi Gustman on kiddushin that explains Tosafot and the practical difference between the formulations.

Avnei Nezer: misuse of consecrated property, “she committed a trespass against her husband,” and the impurity of sotah as an impurity that does not impart impurity to objects

The speaker cites the Avnei Nezer, who explains that a sotah becomes forbidden to her husband because “she committed a trespass against her husband,” and misuse of consecrated property is damage to holiness, so the prohibition is a result of damage to the holiness of the relationship. He says that the impurity of sotah is not impurity in the usual sense of Temple impurity and impurity of objects, but rather a term denoting the antithesis of holiness that was damaged, and therefore the laws of doubtful impurity are learned from it. He distinguishes this from a woman after childbirth and a menstruant, where there is no damage to holiness but ordinary impurity that imparts impurity, and the prohibition of intercourse follows from that impurity but is not specifically “a prohibition to the husband,” rather a general prohibition.

Nedarim 2: a vow as an object-based prohibition and an oath as a person-based prohibition, and the connection to holiness

The speaker cites the opening of tractate Nedarim and the Talmudic question about the order of substitute terms for vows, bans, and oaths, and cites the Talmud’s explanation that bans were placed before oaths because a vow and a ban are object-based prohibitions, whereas an oath is a person-based prohibition. He explains that a vow forbids the object to the person, while an oath forbids the person in relation to an object or action, and gives as an example an oath not to travel to Jerusalem versus a vow forbidding a loaf of bread. He illustrates the implication with Nedarim 15: an oath not to sit in a sukkah does not take effect because one is already sworn from Mount Sinai, whereas a vow forbidding the sukkah can take effect because the sukkah itself is not “already sworn,” and thus an indirect conflict is created.

Association, a vowed matter and a prohibited matter, and the dispute about object-based prohibition in pork

The speaker describes the mechanism of associative extension in vows through a vowed matter, including a sacrifice, and distinguishes it from a prohibited matter like pork, to which one cannot attach a vow according to some opinions. He notes that there is a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim) whether pork and other Torah prohibitions are object-based prohibitions or person-based prohibitions, and cites Kehillot Yaakov on Nedarim, section 15, summarizing two approaches: either vows/holiness are the exception as object-based and everything else is person-based, or the oath is the exception as person-based and everything else is object-based.

Avnei Nezer and Rabbi Shimon Shkop: object/person as the rationale of the prohibition and not as metaphysics

The speaker cites, in the name of Avnei Nezer and Rabbi Shimon Shkop, an alternative explanation according to which an object-based prohibition is a prohibition whose purpose is to protect the object, whereas a person-based prohibition is a prohibition whose purpose is to protect the person. He illustrates that pork is prohibited because of harm to the person and not because of “the holiness of the pig,” whereas prohibitions on the use of sacred things are meant to prevent damage to the holy object. He notes that according to this understanding, the topic in Nedarim need not teach us about a “reality” in the object but about the purpose of the prohibition.

Holiness as a reality, and the danger in attributing holiness to the mundane

The speaker proposes a definition of holiness as a state of reality in an object or a space from which prohibitions are derived, as opposed to commandment and prohibition as “norms” directed at the person. He says that holiness means a divine appearance in reality, and therefore the soul’s reaction to it is different and accompanied by ecstasy, whereas mistakes in commandments are halakhic mistakes such as adding to the commandment or subtracting from it, without a dimension of “bringing divinity in.” He argues that attributing holiness to something that is mundane is more dangerous and can approach idolatry, and gives as an example the flag dancing on Jerusalem Day as an experience that seemed to him like the ecstasy of nationalist idolatry, in which “they see the Holy One, blessed be He, in the flag.”

A vow as reality without holiness, misuse in konamot, and “holiness is a term of separation”

The speaker stresses that a vow is similar to holiness only in that it creates a reality of prohibition in the object, but it is not “holy” in the sense of special closeness to the Holy One, blessed be He. He mentions the question of the Mishneh LaMelekh as to how the Talmud says “there is misuse in konamot” without an explicit source, and suggests that the similarity to holiness as a reality in the object explains the relevance of the guilt offering. He connects this to Rashi on “You shall be holy,” that “holiness is a term of separation,” and explains that the separation regarding sacred things stems from defining the object as a distinct reality, whereas in ordinary prohibitions the separation is a command directed at the person and not a result of the holiness of the object.

Full Transcript

[Speaker A] Wonderful—there was a lab guy next to every one,

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You make one mistake, you have to run the whole thing again,

[Speaker C] stand

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] in line there, you know, outside the computer room at Tel Aviv University. We stood there for hours in line, and then it turns out you forgot a comma. You stand in line all over again, run all those cards again.

[Speaker C] A line for the computer—that was nothing. The machine I mentioned at the Technion had one whole hall in the entire Technion, a big hall with cabinets all the way up around the sides, lots of technicians in white coats, and you had to book your turn a month in advance, and there were punch cards—that’s how we programmed.

[Speaker A] Right, back in the days when debugging was physical,

[Speaker C] all those cabinets together had less computing power than what you have on your phone.

[Speaker A] And next to every cabinet there was this kind of spray pump for debugging, and the bugs would lay their eggs on the circuits, and then it would eat the circuit and change its properties, and instead of

[Speaker C] getting…

[Speaker D] And that’s where the name “debug” comes from? What? That’s where the name “debug” comes from?

[Speaker A] I don’t know whether that’s where the name “debug” comes from, but that’s what I saw with my own eyes.

[Speaker C] A bug is a pest. Think how old I am.

[Speaker A] Okay, I see I wrote, I—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] As I wrote, today I want to start dealing a bit with the question of holiness and the mundane, the meaning of the concept of holiness. It has halakhic, philosophical, and even current practical aspects. And I’ll actually start from the end, as a kind of teaser. I think that quite a few of the arguments, differences, and polemics in our religious world today are actually rooted in different conceptions of the concept of holiness. And so maybe this looks like some abstract theoretical discussion—what’s burning about some concept that doesn’t seem relevant to life—but I think it has a great deal of relevance to life. By the way, for some reason I had it in my head that we once spoke about the question of tzimtzum, but I looked through my list of topics and didn’t find it. Do you remember anything like that?

[Speaker E] A lecture like that on the site? Which one? What? A lecture devoted to tzimtzum?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Tzimtzum? But from here?

[Speaker E] I don’t think so.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Somewhere I definitely talked about it, but maybe it wasn’t here. I didn’t remember anymore. For some reason I had it in my head that I had, but I looked and no. Since it’s connected to the issue, maybe I’ll touch on that too at some stage.

[Speaker C] Even if we touched on it, we forgot. Okay.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The point—again, as part of the teaser—I’m just saying: there’s a certain widespread conception that started in the Hasidic world, but it seems to me that today it has spread far beyond that, except for some very rigid Lithuanians. It has penetrated much broader circles than just the Hasidic world: that basically there is holiness in everything, and the goal in life is somehow to expose the holiness, to extract sparks of holiness, in the language of the Kabbalists or Hasidim. But in less mystical language, the idea is to reveal the holiness that exists in everything—to sanctify matter, as they sometimes call it, to sanctify life, ordinary life, everyday life. And this conception basically assumes—maybe implicitly, but it assumes—that there is holiness in everything, and the holiness is hidden, and somehow our job is to reveal it, meaning to put an end to that hiddenness. In some places you can hear this described as almost the whole point of serving God. Now I, as a rigid Litvak, don’t agree with that conception, and I’ll try to define it a bit more, explain why, and then also get down to the implications—what it means in practice. Beyond the fact that it still sounds abstract, it also has practical implications. I’ll start—

[Speaker F] with: if there’s holiness in everything, what does that mean? What’s the significance of that? Okay, it’s holy—so what? What does that mean for your practical life?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, as I said, that’s part of what I want to demonstrate. Look, I’ll already tell you here: in principle, it means nothing. Meaning, there are—and I’ve already spoken about this—distinctions that are theoretical distinctions, and when you try to translate them into the practical plane, you won’t find anything. I once spoke about Religious Zionism versus Haredi Judaism. I said: where’s the implication? There’s no implication. The difference between Religious Zionism and Haredi Judaism—when you try to translate it, not in theory, in practice—take Religious Zionist theory and Haredi theory and try to explain to me how some implication follows from that theory. You won’t find one. This is a hobby of mine; I deal with it quite a bit, and I haven’t found anything unambiguous. Anything that characterizes Religious Zionism you can also find in the Haredi world. Less so—there are certainly correlations—but a sharp characteristic? Meaning, but in practice we do see that the Religious Zionist world looks different from the Haredi world. With all the shades that exist within each of those two worlds, it still looks different. So there clearly is some implication. And therefore many times you have to understand that when I look for implications of a dispute, there are two ways to look for them. One way is the theoretical way: to try to see, from the two conceptions, what implications follow—what the philosophical logic is. And there you can sometimes get to a point where you won’t find anything. But in practice you see that it does come out differently. How that happens is a very interesting question, theoretically too, but practically there is a difference. So we have to distinguish, when I talk about meaning, between these two things, because it may be that on the theoretical level I won’t know how to tell you why it comes out that way, but I’ll see that in practice it comes out very differently. Okay?

[Speaker G] Rabbi Zoldan talks about—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] this?

[Speaker G] Rabbi Zoldan, who was the rabbi of the systems. Yes, there’s a Gemara here—worth looking into.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, I don’t know it. Fine, so maybe I’ll begin with a Gemara, a Gemara in Megillah. I’ll start first of all with a halakhic discussion. A Gemara in Megillah 26b. The Gemara says there: “The Rabbis taught: ritual objects of a commandment may be discarded; ritual objects of holiness must be stored away.” Meaning, something that is a ritual object of a commandment can be thrown in the trash—you don’t have to place it in genizah. Ritual objects of holiness must be stored away; you don’t throw them in the trash. What’s the difference? And what are ritual objects of a commandment? What are the examples? Ritual objects of a commandment: a sukkah, a lulav, a shofar, tzitzit. Meaning, all of those can be thrown in the trash—you don’t have to put them in genizah. In practice people don’t generally do that, but according to the law you can throw them in the trash. That’s also ruled in Jewish law. Meaning, it’s not just Gemara; it appears in halakhic ruling. What?

[Speaker A] You throw out the s’khakh too?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The s’khakh too. People who are especially scrupulous try not to throw it away, but to do something with it that isn’t degrading. Even after the holiday. Fine, but according to the law there’s no such rule. And what are ritual objects of holiness? Book-bags for sacred texts, tefillin and mezuzot, and similarly sacks for books, tefillin, and mezuzot, a Torah scroll case, a tefillin case, and their straps. And then the Gemara goes on and brings various other things that are ritual objects of holiness. By the way, there’s the very object of the commandment and the very object of holiness, and then there are ritual accessories of a commandment and ritual accessories of holiness. Meaning, here when we speak about ritual objects of holiness, we’re talking about bags for books, straps of tefillin. What about the tefillin themselves and the books themselves? That’s the very object of holiness. The passages are the holiness, no?

[Speaker C] Also in tefillin themselves I think there’s holiness, it seems to me. I’m not sure, but I think so.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In any case, the passages certainly are, yes. Sacred scribal items are basically the clearest examples of holiness. So the Gemara makes a halakhic distinction here between ritual objects of a commandment and ritual objects of holiness. Now what’s the difference? If there’s holiness in the whole world, then in commandments there’s certainly holiness. Commandments increase holiness in the world—that’s the meaning of commandments. No, the Gemara says that’s not so. The category of holiness and the category of commandment are two different categories. We speak in the language of holiness, but you have to understand that even when people speak in the language of holiness, maybe it’s a metaphor, maybe it has some meaning that I’ll discuss later—but in the simple sense, it’s not true. Meaning, commandment and holiness are two different categories. It’s not true that commandments express holiness. No. There’s no holiness there; it’s a commandment. And there’s a halakhic consequence: genizah, throwing in the trash. Meaning, there’s a difference between these two things. The Gemara then continues and really turns this into a very precise hierarchy. The Gemara says—Rava said, yes, right after what I read before: “At first I said that this platform was an accessory to an accessory and was permitted; once I saw that they place a Torah scroll on it, I said it is an accessory of holiness and is forbidden.” The platform is a wooden stage, yes. On that wooden platform they would place a cloth, like this platform here, they’d put a cloth on it, and on that the scroll. So if that’s how it is, the platform is really an accessory to an accessory, like a support of a support in sukkah. Meaning, it doesn’t directly serve—the Torah scroll is the very object of holiness. Now the platform doesn’t serve the scroll directly; it serves the cloth, and the cloth serves the scroll, so it’s an accessory to an accessory. Meaning, there’s a whole hierarchy here of relation to holiness, but everything connected to holiness is a completely parallel track to everything connected to commandment, with all the implications. And this isn’t—the point I want to clarify here is that this is not a quantitative difference. It’s not that if you’re not a direct accessory but an accessory to an accessory, that’s what’s called a ritual object of a commandment, and a direct accessory, first degree, yes, is a ritual object of holiness. No. These are two different channels and two different categories. There is holiness, accessory of holiness, accessory to an accessory, accessory to an accessory to an accessory, whatever you like, as much as you like—but that’s all on the channel of holiness. And there’s a parallel track on the channel of commandment. All right? Meaning, the difference is not quantitative; it’s categorical. These are two different things. Yes, the same is true with degrees of impurity. Not like impurity, say—what? Not like impurity, where there are various levels too? So it is like impurity—why not? In impurity there’s a whole hierarchy: first-degree impurity, second-degree impurity. There’s a whole hierarchy in impurity too. We’ll still talk about the relation between holiness and impurity. So basically the Gemara—we’ve read it, and this is also ruled in halakhah—clearly gives us two different categories. As usual, the Gemara doesn’t give a theoretical definition. What defines the concept of holiness, what defines the concept of commandment. But it does determine, very sharply, that these are two different categories. Based on the examples the Gemara gives, what is called holiness here seems to be what’s connected to sacred scribal items—books, tefillin, mezuzot—things of that sort, that’s what is called holiness. I think it doesn’t appear here because maybe it isn’t relevant, but sacrifices are also holiness. And things connected to Temple vessels, meaning things from the Temple, things connected—“there are ten levels of holiness,” the Mishnah in Kelim, yes? There are ten levels of holiness. But here the examples brought are basically sacred scribal items. Ordinary commandments—that’s commandment. All the commandments, whatever they are. By the way, since I mentioned the Mishnah in Kelim, the Mishnah in Kelim says: “There are ten levels of holiness,” and in the end it reaches Jerusalem, the Land of Israel. And then—yes, Leibowitz, this is always the quotation Leibowitz used to bring—“The Land of Israel is holier than all other lands, and what is its holiness? That they bring from it the omer and the two loaves.” So he says: Leibowitz basically denied the concept of holiness. Meaning, he did not accept the concept of holiness. For him, holiness is only a rhetorical, metaphorical expression. Basically it means something connected to the service of God. And therefore he said that even when one speaks about the holiness of the Land of Israel, this means nothing other than saying that there are commandments dependent on the land. Meaning, it’s a land regarding which certain commandments are defined; there is an obligation to do them—that’s called holiness. He didn’t accept the concept of holiness as such. He very much loved the Meshekh Chokhmah—which Shmuel also likes—on the portion of Ki Tisa, there on the breaking of the tablets. And in that context he also brought this Mishnah in Kelim. But basically according to that, you can take the whole hierarchy that appears in the Mishnah in Kelim of the ten levels of holiness, and basically say that what is holier than something else just means that there are more commandments regarding it. In the Land of Israel there is a certain number of commandments; in Jerusalem there are more—eating sacred foods and things of that sort, second tithe. So Jerusalem has more, the Temple obviously has more, and so on. So the whole hierarchy, in Leibowitz’s conception, is only a question of how many commandments there are. But I think he’s mistaken; it goes against the Gemaras. Meaning, regardless now of the philosophical question—we still need to think about that—but the Gemaras… The Gemara says here, for example, the Gemara I just brought: there are two separate categories, the category of holiness and the category of commandment, two different things. And what is the definition? Fine, slowly, slowly. But I’m saying: it could be that what is written there in the Mishnah—and this is an interesting comment of Leibowitz on the Mishnah—meaning, “And what is its holiness? That they bring from it the omer and the two loaves”—well, that’s a commandment, so why is that holiness? It could be that the claim is that because the land is holy, therefore commandments apply to it, unlike other lands that are not holy. But the holiness of the land is not the fact that there are commandments about it; rather, the fact that there are commandments about it is an indication that the land is holy. The Tashbetz already talks about this, Kaftor VaFerach talks about this—the question whether the holiness of the Land of Israel means that there are commandments regarding it, or whether there is actual holiness in the object itself of the land, a holiness in its essence.

[Speaker D] You could argue that it’s specifically the omer and the two loaves, and not gleanings, forgotten sheaves, pe’ah, and the rest of the commandments, because as you said, these are sacrifices, and sacrifices are a different kind of holiness than commandments.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Those commandments are an indication of the holiness that exists in the land; by contrast, there are other commandments that I didn’t mention.

[Speaker D] Not because it’s a commandment, but because it’s something brought near—meaning, they’re sacrifices, the omer and the two loaves.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But the fact that it’s brought near means that the omer and the two loaves are holy—why does that mean the land is holy?

[Speaker D] Because it produces that holiness.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Those commandments that contain holiness are only an indication that there is holiness in the land, and therefore what comes from it can be brought as an offering. Other commandments that also apply in the land are not an indication of holiness in it; they’re simply commandments, and that may indeed be why they specifically brought those examples. That’s certainly possible. Okay, so that’s basically the point of departure. There are two different categories here; you mustn’t mix them. And I already mentioned two kinds of mixing—I’m just drawing your attention to them. Mixings, or mistakes. Leibowitz doesn’t mix them; he simply claims there is no holiness, only commandments. And those who do mix them basically say that all commandments are some kind of expressions of holiness. And I think they’re both mistaken. These are two categories, and neither comes close to the other. Two alien categories—they simply do not touch one another. Is there some connection? We’ll still talk—I don’t know. At the moment it looks completely different, separate. Of course, beyond all that, there is also the category of the mundane, and we’ll talk about that too. So there is holiness, there is commandment, and there is the mundane, let’s say in terms of our actions. There are actions we are obligated to do or forbidden to do—that is the halakhah, the commandment. And there are actions that are optional, meaning you may do them or not do them. Regarding those actions, they’re not even in the category of commandment—they’re mundane. Or objects that are not objects of commandment and not objects of holiness—a stone in the street or a house, whatever. They’re not objects of commandment and not objects of holiness; they’re mundane objects. That’s also a category. Of course, now we can continue into the negative side of the axis and speak about impurity. Right—there’s holiness, commandment, the mundane, transgression, and impurity. Transgression corresponds to commandment, and impurity corresponds to holiness. Basically there are five levels. It’s somewhat parallel to what Maimonides, in his commentary to the Mishnah in Avot chapter 1—we’ll return to it—says about there being five kinds of speech. There is speech that is a commandment, speech that has value, speech that is optional, speech where there is value in not doing it, and speech that is forbidden—meaning forbidden kinds of speech. There are five levels. Some later authorities note that there is a dispute here, and that’s why I’ll return to this Maimonides, because there is a dispute between him and Duties of the Heart, since Duties of the Heart claims that there is no such thing as the optional realm. Everything is either a commandment or a prohibition.

[Speaker D] Why is impurity the opposite of holiness? Isn’t it the opposite of purity?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll talk about that too. In the simple sense, impurity is the opposite of holiness. Say, in the language of opposites—we once talked about opposites, I think, right? That we did talk about. So impurity is minus one, holiness is one, and purity is zero. Purity isn’t holiness, it isn’t impurity—it’s simply pure. “Pure” has a positive connotation, but no—pure just means not impure, that’s all. Holy is already something positive. Fine, but I’ll get to that. But this too ties into the maps I’m drawing here—maps where there is a breakdown of the positive side, a breakdown of the negative side, and some neutral state in the middle. Okay, and this is a categorical division, and generally categorical divisions are sharp, meaning they are separate sets; there is no relation between these things. Now I want to bring another example, another Gemara—the Gemara in Bava Kamma 11: “And Ulla said in the name of Rabbi Elazar: If a placenta partially emerged on the first day and partially emerged on the second day, we count for her from the first day.” It doesn’t matter now—the question is from when we count the days of impurity of the woman after childbirth. The Gemara continues: this teaches us that there is no partial placenta without a fetus. Because there is no partial placenta without a fetus, and the moment part of the placenta came out, some part of the fetus is already outside as well. The Gemara says: But we already learned this—if a placenta partially emerged, it is forbidden to eat. They already taught that. Fine, not important now. The Gemara goes on to discuss it. Tosafot asks there: “If a placenta partially emerged, it is forbidden to eat”—and because of a limb taken from a living animal?

[Speaker A] What? On the grounds of a limb from a living animal?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If a placenta partially emerged, yes. Meaning, it wasn’t slaughtered. If you slaughter the animal afterward, that doesn’t help anymore, because it already came out. If something is still inside, then the slaughter of the mother helps. So he says: the explanation is that it is forbidden even what is still inside, because perhaps with that part that emerged, the fetus’s head emerged, and once its head emerged it is considered entirely born, and then the verse “You may eat any animal” no longer applies to it. Yes? For if there could be a partial placenta without a fetus—if there were such a possibility—we should permit it on the basis of a double doubt: maybe the part of the placenta that emerged was not significant, and even if it was, maybe it did not include the head. Okay, so there’s a double doubt here. Tosafot asks: it’s difficult, because our sugya here proves that Rabbi Elazar permits, in the case of a placenta that partially emerged, if there is a double doubt regarding eating. Sorry—the previous Tosafot: “There is no partial placenta without a fetus.” And if you say: Rabbi Elazar, who says that we are concerned because there is no partial placenta without a fetus—but if there could be a partial placenta without a fetus, then you would not be concerned, because it would be a double doubt. Meaning, if there’s a single doubt, that’s a tannaitic dispute. But according to Rabbi Elazar, if there’s one doubt then we are concerned. If it were possible for there to be a partial placenta without a fetus, then it would be a double doubt, and then we would not be concerned. So Tosafot says: What exactly is the case? If it is in a public domain, then even in a single doubt we rule pure. And if it is in a private domain, then even in a double doubt it is also impure. For we learned in a Mishnah in Tohorot: all doubts that you can multiply in a private domain—even a double doubt—is impure. What is Tosafot asking? How can this be? We’re dealing here with the impurity of a woman after childbirth. The question is whether we are concerned that she is already impure or not. So he says: if it’s a doubt, we’re concerned; if it’s a double doubt, we’re not concerned. Tosafot asks: what kind of case is this? If we’re talking about a private domain, then in a private domain doubtful impurity in a private domain is impure. That’s a law given to Moses at Sinai—well, not that, it’s learned from sotah: doubtful impurity in a private domain is impure. Doubtful impurity in a public domain is pure. But the Mishnah in Tohorot says more than that: even if you add more doubts—so it’s not one doubt but a double doubt—even that in a private domain is impure. And in a public domain even a single doubt—which in principle, for a Torah-level doubt, we’d rule stringently—but in a public domain even a single doubt is pure. Meaning that whether in a private domain or a public domain, there is no difference between a doubt and a double doubt. If it’s in a private domain, then whether doubt or double doubt, it’s impure. If it’s in a public domain, then whether doubt or double doubt, it’s pure. Tosafot asks: Rabbi Elazar here distinguishes between doubt and double doubt, but we’re dealing with the laws of impurity. How can there be a difference between doubt and double doubt in the laws of impurity? If it’s in a private domain, then both doubt and double doubt should be impure. If it’s in a public domain, then both doubt and double doubt should be pure. So where exactly do you have a case where if you have a doubt it’s impure, and if you have a double doubt it’s pure? Tosafot says: one can answer that our sugya is dealing with forbidding her to her husband. It’s not talking about the impurity of the woman after childbirth; it’s talking about her being forbidden to have relations with her husband. So this is not impurity but prohibition, and therefore there is a difference between doubt and double doubt. Because in prohibitions the rule is that a Torah-level doubt is treated stringently, but a double doubt is permitted. And if the discussion is about prohibition—a prohibition of intercourse, yes, a prohibition on marital relations—then that prohibition doesn’t belong to impurity. So many later authorities infer from this Tosafot—people make a whole feast out of this—that you can see from here that a woman’s prohibition to her husband is not a result of the impurity. They are two independent things. The question whether she is impure and the question whether she is forbidden to her husband are two independent things, two independent laws. So for example, if this were in a public domain, then even in a single doubt she would be pure, but she would still be forbidden to her husband because a doubt regarding prohibition is treated stringently. So it comes out that the woman would not be impure, but she would be forbidden to her husband. And in a private domain, if it’s a double doubt, then regarding impurity she would be impure, but regarding the prohibition to her husband she would not be. Right? That’s what comes out from Tosafot. So it turns out that a woman’s impurity—the impurity of childbirth—and her prohibition to her husband are two independent things, two independent laws. Now on that—there is the Kli Chemdah, which isn’t really pilpul, but it’s more serious than pilpul. But then there are the books of Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz, which are really pilpul, with no connection to truth at all—but absolutely wonderful, a real delight, true Sabbath pleasure. Anyone who doesn’t know them, I highly recommend them. Ya’arot Devash? No, Ya’arot Devash is homiletics. He has pilpul books on the Torah. There are quite a few. I had an edition of two volumes; there are editions of five books, arranged by the weekly portions. But there’s more—there are all the writings of Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz. I don’t know how many books are there, six, eight, I don’t know, ten books, then another edition. In any case, in the book Nefesh Yehonatan—Divrei Yehonatan is his best-known one. And there is a book Nefesh Yehonatan on the portion of Chukat. There it discusses “This is the law: when a person dies in a tent,” “This is the Torah: a person when he dies in a tent.” So there it deals with corpse impurity. And there, in a footnote below—the one who brought it to print was the grandson of a brother of the Sochatchover, Rav Mualem. Down there in a footnote he writes—not important now in connection with which pilpul of Rabbi Yonatan—but he writes there in a footnote: “I once heard from my great-uncle,” meaning from the Sochatchover, “that he asked on this Tosafot.” He brought this Tosafot and asked on it. Rabbi Zevin, by the way, also brings this in his book Ishim VeShitot, I think—somewhere in Rabbi Zevin I also saw this. He asks on this Tosafot. Tosafot says that if we are discussing forbidding her to her husband, then it has the parameters of doubt regarding prohibition, not doubt regarding impurity. Where do we learn that doubtful impurity in a private domain is impure and in a public domain is pure? From sotah. And sotah too is a case of forbidding her to her husband. So we see that forbidding a woman to her husband is not just a prohibition—it is impurity. So why does Tosafot here say that since we are discussing forbidding her to her husband, it is not treated as doubt regarding impurity but as doubt regarding prohibition? Meaning, the entire law of doubtful impurity—its very source, where do we learn it from? From the prohibition of sotah to her husband.

[Speaker E] And in the language of the Torah, it says “she became defiled.” What? The Torah’s wording is the language of impurity.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, even so, the question is not how this is derived from a sotah. The question is why Tosafot says here that if it is to prohibit her to her husband, then it is not impurity. After all, the entire source for the law of doubtful impurity in the public domain and in the private domain is learned from the prohibition of a woman to her husband. That is how he asks it, and it is a good question. So he brings—he brings that he heard in the name of his great-uncle, the Sochatchover, who says that impurity applies only where there is holiness. Here, I am bringing this idea. Here. Very יפה—very nice, I enjoyed that insight. Meaning, impurity belongs only in a place where there is holiness. He brings it in the name of the Kuzari, never mind, or maybe it is just an obvious idea. Meaning, with a gentile, impurity does not really apply so much, because holiness does not apply there. Many have already discussed this, even though there are forms of impurity that do apply to a gentile, but never mind, that is of course more subtle. Right now I am speaking in general terms: impurity is the antithesis of holiness. And wherever holiness applies, impurity applies; and wherever holiness does not apply, impurity also does not apply. There may be prohibition and permission, but not impurity. Impurity is the antithesis of holiness. So wherever holiness is relevant, impurity is relevant; wherever it is not, it is not. Meaning, in the ordinary, non-sacred world there is no impurity. In the ordinary world there is the ordinary, there is prohibition, there is permission, there is obligation—but not holiness and not impurity. Holiness and impurity are a separate category. I am expanding what I said earlier: if holiness is the opposite of commandment—or not the opposite, but rather a different category from commandment—then within the category of holiness, the opposite of holiness is the category of impurity. It too belongs to that conceptual world of holiness. The opposite of holiness, the minus one of holiness, is impurity.

And then he says like this: a woman is consecrated to her husband. The language of kiddushin, betrothal, says that there is holiness there—specifically there, but not with every commandment. In the relationship between a woman and her husband there is holiness. How do we know that? The Talmud already says in Kiddushin 7b. The Talmud says there: “The leg of this one is an עולה…” Someone who consecrates half a woman—she is not betrothed. The Talmud asks: but didn’t we learn, “The leg of this one is a burnt offering”—at least if it is a limb on which life depends; never mind, afterward the Talmud adjusts it—then holiness spreads to the whole of it. With an animal, if I consecrate only the leg of the animal, or the heart—you need a limb on which life depends—if I consecrate the animal’s heart, meaning that it will be holy, then the whole animal becomes holy. Holiness spreads through all of it. If it is just an ordinary limb, then no. But if it is a limb on which life depends, then the holiness extends throughout the whole thing. The Talmud says that the same should be true of a woman. If someone betroths half a woman, or certain limbs of the woman, the holiness should spread to all of her. So you see that the Talmud views the concept of kiddushin as parallel to the concept of consecration. So kiddushin does not use the language of holiness for nothing. There is holiness there.

Tosafot there says even more than that. Tosafot—Rabbi Gustman has a very nice introductory lecture to Kiddushin, long in his usual way, terribly long, but he writes very clearly, so you can move through it quickly. He explains there—he brings this Tosafot on 6b; Tosafot is on 6a. Tosafot on 6b says that basically there are three formulations of kiddushin: “Behold, you are consecrated to me,” “Behold, you are betrothed to me,” and “Behold, you are to me as a wife,” or something like that there—the Talmud brings these three options several times regarding kiddushin. So he says that each of these formulations works in a different way. “Behold, you are consecrated to me” contains holiness. “Behold, you are betrothed to me” creates some kind of bond between the man and the woman, and the holiness is only a result. Once the bond is formed, holiness takes effect there. But “Behold, you are consecrated to me”—I am consecrating her—that is a mechanism of holiness. And “Behold, you are to me as a wife” is yet a third thing.

And then Tosafot says there is a practical difference: what happens if I say, “Behold, half of you is consecrated”?

[Speaker C] In kiddushin, that is not a distinction—isn’t it holiness? No, no, that’s what I’m saying.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The Talmud there does see it as the same thing. The fact that the Talmud applies “holiness spread to all of it,” saying the same thing should apply to a woman’s betrothal—the Talmud understands a woman’s betrothal as like consecration. And Tosafot says more than that. Tosafot says: all of this is if you said to the woman using the formula “Behold, you are consecrated to me.” Tosafot says it here. But if you said, “Behold, half of you is betrothed to me,” not “half of you is consecrated to me,” but “half of you is betrothed to me,” then she is not betrothed in any case. Why? Because “betrothed” does not work through a mechanism of holiness, so it makes no sense to derive it from “holiness spread to all of it” in the case of sacrificial offerings. The holiness comes after the betrothal. If the betrothal takes effect, then holiness will take effect too. But already at the stage of betrothal, you do not manage to make it take effect, because to betroth half a woman does not work. In contrast, if you consecrate half a woman, then holiness spreads to all of her and she is entirely consecrated. So here there is a practical difference, that is what Tosafot says. There is a practical difference between saying “Behold, you are consecrated” and saying “Behold, you are betrothed.” So this sharpens even further the fact that when I marry a woman through kiddushin, it is like consecrating something. The relation to kiddushin is like holiness.

Now the Avnei Nezer says: if a woman is a sotah, why is she forbidden to her husband? It says, “for she has committed a trespass against her husband.” She is forbidden to her husband and to the adulterer because she committed a trespass against him. What is me’ilah, trespass? Me’ilah is harm done to holiness, right? Me’ilah is when I misuse something holy. In unwitting me’ilah it goes out to the ordinary sphere, never mind—but me’ilah is damage to holiness. And what the Torah says is, “she has committed a trespass against her husband.” Meaning, why is the woman forbidden to her husband? Because she damaged the holiness of the bond between them. Kiddushin is like holiness, and when the woman harms that holiness—yes—then she becomes forbidden to her husband. Therefore, says the Avnei Nezer, this is impurity, because it is damage to holiness. The result is a prohibition of the woman to her husband, but it begins with the question whether she became impure or did not become impure, or whether that act of trespass took her out of holiness and made her impure or not impure. Because “she became defiled while under your husband”—the Torah itself uses the language of impurity, as someone here mentioned earlier. So all of that is true for sotah.

But what happens with a woman after childbirth? A woman after childbirth is like a menstruant. It has nothing at all to do with her husband. It is just ordinary impurity. Meaning, let us say someone has relations with a woman who is not his wife and she is menstruating, or she has given birth—then he transgresses a prohibition. It has nothing at all to do with “my wife.” A woman in that state is simply forbidden for intercourse. There is a prohibition. It has nothing to do with the holiness of kiddushin; it is completely unrelated. It is not because of damage to the bond of kiddushin between us. It is a prohibition. Therefore, Tosafot says here, when we are talking about the impurity of a woman after childbirth and her prohibition to her husband, that is not a prohibition to her husband—it is a prohibition to the whole world. It is true that if she has a husband, only her husband could be with her, but in terms of the impurity of a woman after childbirth, if she were to get divorced while still in that state of impurity, everyone would be forbidden to have relations with her, not only her husband. Like a menstruant, like a zavah. Right? Meaning, it is not a prohibition connected to kiddushin at all. Therefore, this prohibition is not in the category of impurity. That is what Tosafot means. “We learned it for the purpose of prohibiting her to her husband”—the whole discussion here is about prohibiting her to her husband, and therefore the category here is a category of prohibition, not a category of impurity.

The Avnei Nezer asked: but after all, the whole law of doubtful impurity in the public domain and in the private domain is learned from sotah, and there too it is a prohibition to her husband. No—because there it really is a prohibition only to the husband, not to the whole world. Because there the prohibition is fundamentally rooted in damage to the bond of kiddushin. So a prohibition of that kind, which is damage to holiness—that is impurity, not just prohibition. The prohibition to be with her is the result of the fact that she became defiled. Defiled in the sense that she no longer bears the holiness of marriage. That is impurity. A sotah, for example, if she touches something, she does not render it impure. A woman after childbirth does, because this is not impurity in the sense we are used to in the regular laws of impurity. The impurity of a sotah means damage to the bond of kiddushin she had with her husband. When she strayed, she harmed the holiness of the bond, and therefore she enters the category of impurity. And then there is a difference between the private domain and the public domain, because it all falls under the laws of impurity. And once you decide that she is impure, she is automatically also forbidden to her husband, because the entire practical consequence of her impurity is only the prohibition to her husband. There is no impurity there in the ordinary sense—entry into the Temple and things of that sort. The impurity there is only prohibition to her husband; that is the whole impurity. Therefore, the concept of impurity there is not the ordinary concept. So why do they use it? Because it is the opposite of holiness. Damage to holiness is therefore called impurity, even though it is not impurity in its ordinary legal definitions.

In contrast, the prohibition of a woman after childbirth and of a menstruant is not a prohibition that has anything to do with damage to holiness. What damage to holiness happened here? A woman gives birth, she fulfilled “be fruitful and multiply,” she helped her husband fulfill “be fruitful and multiply,” she violated no prohibition, she damaged no holiness. It has nothing to do with that. Her prohibition is because she is impure, and therefore intercourse with her is forbidden—not only to her husband, but to everyone. That is already much closer to the ordinary concepts of impurity—first degree of impurity, second degree of impurity—and a woman after childbirth is one of the forms of impurity, menstruant, woman after childbirth, all of these are ordinary impurities. But if so, then there the prohibition to the husband is a completely different law. It is not connected at all to impurity, because it is not really a prohibition to the husband specifically; it is a prohibition to the whole world. So there it is not because of damage to holiness. There, Tosafot says, these are the rules of doubtful prohibition, not doubtful impurity. Therefore here he says, “we learned it for prohibiting her to her husband,” and that is really under the category of doubtful prohibition. And with doubtful prohibition there is a difference between a single doubt and a double doubt: an ordinary doubt is ruled stringently, while a double doubt is treated leniently. Those are the rules for prohibition. With impurity, there really is no difference between a single doubt and a double doubt: if it is in the private domain, both are impure; if it is in the public domain, both are pure.

To my mind that is a brilliant answer. I do not know whether Tosafot intended it, but on the other hand Tosafot really is difficult here—this is a very difficult question. I do not know another answer to Tosafot. A number of later authorities said this, and I do not know a good alternative answer to this Tosafot. It is a bit of pilpul, because none of this is in Tosafot; there is not even a hint of it in Tosafot’s words. So I would not stake my life on saying that this is what Tosafot intended. But the explanation itself is undoubtedly brilliant. We once talked about pilpul—what is pilpul? This explanation is brilliant and correct; I just do not know whether it fits into Tosafot, whether this is what Tosafot meant.

[Speaker A] Tosafot would accept it, yes, that’s it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Once Tosafot hears it, I’m sure he’ll agree. I do not know if that is what he meant, but if Tosafot had thought of it, he would certainly have agreed.

So what is relevant for us? What do we learn from here? What we learn from here is that the category of holiness expands. Meaning, the category of the antithesis—impurity—also really belongs to the world in which holiness belongs; where holiness belongs, impurity belongs too. Transgressions are not impurity. “To prohibit her to her husband,” as Tosafot says, is doubtful prohibition, not doubtful impurity. So once again, just as we saw in the Talmud in Megillah regarding burial and throwing away, here too we see the same thing: these are two categories that do not speak to one another. They are independent. There are categories of commandments and prohibitions, and there are categories of holiness and impurity. They have different consequences—for example in the laws of uncertainty. There is a difference between a doubt and a double doubt; with impurity there is no difference, but with prohibition there is. Okay. This is another sharpening of the point that we are dealing here with two independent categories.

Now let us begin moving a bit toward the question of what this means. So there is a passage in Nedarim. The Mishnah says as follows at the beginning of tractate Nedarim, the first Mishnah: “All substitute terms for vows are like vows, and for dedications are like dedications, and for oaths are like oaths, and for naziriteship are like naziriteship.” Meaning, when you make a vow using language that is not the standard language of a vow—these are called substitute terms, and handles and substitute terms; there are various ways of making a vow that are not the usual formulation of a vow or a dedication or something like that. So the Talmud says that someone who vows using a substitute term, it is also a vow, meaning the vow takes effect.

And on that the Talmud asks: “All substitute terms for vows are like vows”—what is different about Nazir that it does not teach all of them there, and what is different here in Nedarim that it does teach all of them? It adds dedications and oaths and naziriteship. The Mishnah in Nazir, the first Mishnah in Nazir, also speaks about substitute terms for naziriteship, but there it does not expand into oaths and vows and all the other things. So why are they all brought here and not there? The Talmud answers: because vow and oath are written together, it teaches two; and since it teaches two, it teaches all of them. Vow and oath are written together, and when it brings the law regarding vows, it already brings oaths. And once it has already brought oaths, it also brings all the rest. In Nazir, not so.

Now the Talmud continues: then let it teach substitute terms for oaths right after vows. And the Talmud says: “All substitute terms for vows are like vows, and dedications are like dedications, and oaths are like oaths.” If the motivation was that once I bring vows, oaths should come immediately after, because vows and oaths always come together, and afterward I add all the rest, then the order in the Mishnah is not like that. In the Mishnah it should have been vows, then oaths, then dedications. But in the Mishnah it is not like that. First vows, then dedications, and only afterward oaths. Why?

The Talmud says: since it taught vows, which prohibit the object upon him, it also taught dedications, which prohibit the object upon him, excluding an oath, where he prohibits himself with regard to the object. What is it saying? What is the difference between an oath and a vow? An oath is a situation in which I prohibit myself with respect to the object. I prohibit myself from doing some action. A vow is when I prohibit the object to myself. For example, if I swear not to travel to Jerusalem— is that a vow or an oath? Even in the language of the Talmud they sometimes say “oath” and mean vow, or say “vow” and mean oath. The Talmud switches between these terms, and the medieval authorities (Rishonim) note that the Talmud switches the terminology. But in principle, when I prohibit myself from traveling to Jerusalem tomorrow, that is by definition an oath and not a vow, because I prohibited myself from doing an action. There is no particular object here that I turned into an object of prohibition. I prohibited myself from the act of traveling to Jerusalem, so by definition that is an oath. Even if I use the language of a vow, according to most of the medieval authorities (Rishonim), it is really an oath, not a vow. There are some medieval authorities (Rishonim) who claim that it would not take effect at all, because it should have been an oath and you expressed it in the language of a vow, so in effect you did nothing. But the Ran and other medieval authorities (Rishonim) at the beginning of the tractate here argue that no—if you said it that way, it is essentially considered like a substitute term or something like that for an oath, and it will count as an oath.

In contrast, if I prohibit, say, a loaf of bread to myself, that is a vow. Because the bread itself becomes an object of prohibition, like pork. Okay? That is the definition of a vow. So the Talmud says: why—after all, we asked why they inserted dedications after vows and before oaths. Really it should have been vows, oaths, and afterward dedications, because vows and oaths always come together—that was the whole idea—and only after that did they add dedications and the rest and naziriteship. So why do dedications cut in between vows and oaths? The Talmud says because dedications are also a law of prohibiting the object upon him, some type of vow. Therefore it says: substitute terms for vows are like vows, substitute terms for dedications are like dedications, and only then it goes on to oaths. Because oaths are a different category: oaths are to prohibit myself with respect to the object. Basically, vows are about the object, and oaths are about the person. Okay?

Now, both in the Talmud and in the medieval authorities (Rishonim), this was expanded even more. It is clear that the fundamental Torah law that takes effect on an object is holiness. A vow is basically a secondary law. Therefore, for example, one can analogically impose vows from something holy. There are two ways to make a vow. One way is to say, “Konam, this is upon me,” applying a vow to this loaf of bread, for example. Another possibility is to take something that was vowed, or something that was consecrated and is holy, and say, “This should be like that,” meaning to transfer the holiness that exists, or the prohibition that exists, in that object onto the other object. This is called comparison by analogy. I analogically transfer the prohibition from here to there.

Now, to what can one make such an analogy? To something that is vow-generated. What does that mean? A sacrifice is also something vow-generated. If one vows and consecrates something as a sacrifice, that is called something vow-generated, and it is something whose prohibition is in human hands. And not only is its prohibition in human hands, it is also a prohibition on the object. The object itself has a prohibition upon it, so naturally you can take the prohibition that exists on that object and transfer it to another object and generate a prohibition on that second object. But something that is simply prohibited rather than vow-generated—for example pork—with pork I cannot make such an analogy. I cannot say about this thing, “let it be like that,” if that other thing is pork. Because pork is not something vow-generated; it is something prohibited. And only with something vow-generated can one make the analogy.

Now here there are some disputes, but several of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) write: why? Because with a vow the prohibition is a prohibition on the object. And when you want to analogically impose it, you basically have to take an existing reality of prohibition and transfer it to the second object. But with pork, this is not a prohibition on the object. Only vow and holiness are prohibitions on the object. Nazir is a prohibition… pork is a prohibition on the person. I am forbidden to eat pork; the pork in itself does not have a legal status of prohibition resting on it. And therefore one cannot analogically impose using pork. There may be others who disagree—a dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim).

[Speaker D] But it says about pork that it is impure. What? I mean, it says there are pure animals and impure animals.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You mean, is it forbidden to make use of it?

[Speaker A] Is it permitted to use pigskin? What? Is it permitted nowadays to use pigskin?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, it is only a prohibition of eating. You can even make use of the meat. It is only a prohibition of eating; there is no prohibition of benefit with pork. The distinction needs…

[Speaker H] It seems to me maybe differently: with something vow-generated, the mouth that prohibited is the mouth that permits. Meaning, I am the one who vowed it, so now I transfer it to the other side.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, to transfer does not mean to remove it from there and move it here.

[Speaker H] Ah, it stays there?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It stays there, yes. “Transfer” means it applies to this as well, like in temurah, where “it and its substitute shall be holy.” In temurah too, when I make a substitute, the sacrifice remains—

[Speaker H] holy, and I can do that.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why not just vow directly? There are two ways. You can vow in this way, and you can vow in that way. There are apparently certain differences; sometimes these are disputes among the medieval authorities (Rishonim). But in principle, why not? These are just two ways of making a vow.

[Speaker D] In Noah’s time, he brought into the ark pure animals and impure animals. Yes. Now, at that stage neither prohibition nor permission was relevant, so I’m saying, what remains? Only holiness and impurity, no? I understand. Meaning, there was a reality of impurity and purity in Noah’s ark, but a reality of prohibition and permission with respect to animals did not seem to exist.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “Impure animal” there means an animal that is forbidden to eat, where impurity exists in an extended, borrowed sense. There is no impurity there really in any ordinary sense, in the regular laws of impurity and purity. There it is used in a borrowed sense. It is actually an interesting question: there are places where the concept of impurity apparently, at least as I understand it, is used only in a borrowed sense. It does not really represent actual impurity.

[Speaker E] So then what was the difference? Why bring this one in and not bring that one in? What? Why bring this into the ark and not that, if prohibition and permission do not apply there?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He brought in both of them, there was just a difference in number. In number? Why bring that? I don’t know, they wanted… pure animals are generally animals used by people, so they brought in more. Maybe that, I don’t know. Symbolic? No, it was not so that the ark would not be made impure by an impure animal. An impure animal does not impart impurity to anything. It is not… it is not…

[Speaker E] There was such a category as pure animal and impure animal. What? In that period, at that time, there was not such a category.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There was no prohibition yet.

[Speaker E] There was no prohibition,

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] and therefore they used the language of impure animal and pure animal, but not because there really was impurity and purity there. And this is actually foreshadowing—with a tet, yes?—foreshadowing the later period when there would already be a prohibition. This is Maimonides in his commentary on the Mishnah on the sciatic nerve. I mentioned it once. Maimonides brings that there is a dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and the Sages in Chullin, in chapter seven. There is a dispute over to what the prohibition of the sciatic nerve applies. Rabbi Yehuda says it also applies to an impure animal. Rabbi Yehuda says it applies only to a pure animal, I think—I do not remember exactly at the moment. And the Sages argue against him… no, Rabbi Yehuda brings proof that it applies even to an impure animal. Rabbi Yehuda says that the prohibition of the sciatic nerve also applies to an impure animal. So if you eat the sciatic nerve of an impure animal, you have violated two prohibitions: you also ate an impure animal and you also ate the sciatic nerve. And the Sages say it applies only to a pure animal.

So Rabbi Yehuda argues against the Sages: after all, the prohibition of the sciatic nerve was said to Jacob, that was before the giving of the Torah. At that stage there was no difference between pure animals and impure animals. So if the sciatic nerve was already prohibited then, there is no reason at all to assume that it would be prohibited only in a pure animal—there was no such distinction yet. So the Sages say that it was said to Jacob, but it was repeated at Sinai. And we observe it only… Maimonides explains there in his commentary on the Mishnah—there is a very fundamental Maimonides there—that everything we observe is not because of what happened to the sons of Jacob, but because of the command at Sinai. But there you really do see, at least in Rabbi Yehuda’s opinion, that the concept of impure and pure did apply even earlier; only the practical consequences did not yet apply. At least that is how I understand his statements. And in that sense it really does resemble this terminology in the Noah story, and maybe that actually explains what Rabbi Yehuda says. The term impure animal and pure animal is used there precisely because the prohibition of eating did not yet exist. So if the prohibition of eating did not yet exist, you cannot say “forbidden animal” and “permitted animal.” How are you going to make the categorical distinction? So they make the distinction in language that speaks about the things themselves. And when we speak about the things themselves, we speak in terms of holy and pure and impure. I think holy and impure speak about the things themselves.

[Speaker H] Noah—

[Speaker E] offered sacrifices when he came out of the ark, from the pure animals only. Okay, so there is a practical consequence.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ah, he did that, but who says he was obligated to do that?

[Speaker E] There was no difference then. Also for him, what?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That is what I am saying: there was a difference even though the prohibition did not yet exist. So therefore they mark that difference using the language of impurity and purity. Because if you want to tell me a difference of prohibition, then you say forbidden and permitted, forbidden animal and permitted animal. But if there is not yet prohibition and permission—all these animals are permitted—then how are you going to indicate the difference between a pig and a cow? So you say impure and pure, because impure and pure is language that refers to the objects themselves, not to the person in relation to the objects, but to the objects themselves. Now you want to make the distinction…

Maybe—I just thought of this possibility now—maybe that is the explanation for why borrowed language of impure and not impure is used when in fact it is not really speaking about the category of impurity. It is true that the Torah itself uses this language even after the giving of the Torah—“and these shall be impure for you”—because the Torah itself speaks about impure animals and pure animals. Fine, maybe that is just a residue from what existed before the giving of the Torah. I do not know, but it looks like borrowed usage in the Torah. “Impure for you” means that you are supposed to keep away from them.

In any case, in the Talmud here in Nedarim they make a distinction between a vow and an oath: a vow is a prohibition of the object upon me, while an oath is a prohibition on me to do an action, or a prohibition of myself with respect to the object. Therefore, for example, the Talmud on page 15—several medieval authorities (Rishonim)—the Talmud on page 15 in Nedarim makes… actually the Mishnah makes a distinction between someone who swears not to sit in a sukkah and someone who prohibits the sukkah to himself. Someone who swears not to sit in a sukkah—the oath does not take effect, because he is already sworn from Mount Sinai to sit in a sukkah. But someone who prohibits the sukkah to himself—the sukkah was not sworn from Mount Sinai to be my sukkah, the sukkah is not obligated in anything. So if I turn the sukkah into an object of prohibition, which is what a vow does, then it becomes an object of prohibition. And now I am stuck: I have a commandment from Mount Sinai to sit in a sukkah, but on the other hand the vow took effect and I cannot use the sukkah. So now the question is what to do in such a case, but the vow does take effect. An oath regarding a sukkah does not take effect. And the Ritva there on page 15, and other medieval authorities (Rishonim), explain that the difference is exactly because of what the Talmud says here on page 2: vows are a prohibition of the object upon me, and an oath is a prohibition of me with respect to the object. One can make a vow not to sit in a sukkah—any sukkah—or in my sukkah.

[Speaker A] No, you can make a vow regarding a specific sukkah. No, I can make a vow not to sit in all the sukkot in the world.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If you make a vow, if you prohibit something to yourself, you can prohibit even something that isn’t yours. That’s in a vow. No, I mean: if you prohibit something to yourself, you can prohibit even objects that aren’t yours. In principle, a person can’t prohibit an object that isn’t his—I can’t prohibit your object to you—but I can prohibit your object to myself. For example: “Konam, I am forbidden from deriving benefit from you.” I prohibit to myself any benefit from you in general. No problem—that works. As long as I’m dealing with myself, I can do that. And then when I do that, I’m actually prohibiting the object—that’s because it’s a vow. I can of course swear not to sit in a sukkah, and that means prohibiting myself from the sukkah, not prohibiting the sukkah to myself. Okay, so are you already bound by oath from Mount Sinai? Right—bound by oath. It takes effect? Therefore with regard to sukkah that won’t help, because regarding sukkah I’m already under oath. But if I prohibit myself from, I don’t know, going into various houses, fine, then that’s prohibited to me. Okay? In the specific case of sukkah, because I’m already bound by oath from Mount Sinai, such an oath won’t take effect. So why, in my view, might the vow also perhaps not take effect if it applies to all sukkot in the whole world? It takes effect on the sukkot themselves. Now I’m stuck, because I don’t actually have any sukkah to sit in, okay? But the sukkah does become prohibited, because it doesn’t clash head-on with my commandment to sit in a sukkah; it creates a clash only indirectly. Once the sukkah itself becomes prohibited—and there’s no barrier to prohibiting the sukkah, because the sukkah isn’t obligated in commandments, I am obligated in commandments—so the sukkah becomes prohibited. And now that the sukkah is prohibited, I’m stuck because I can’t sit in it. And when you say “konam,” do you have to point, as if… I can point to all sukkot in the world—what’s the problem? “Konam, all the breads in the world are prohibited to me”—no problem, anything in front of you. You just have to define the objects you’re talking about. If you say, “Konam, this is upon me,” then it’s by pointing. “Konam, this is upon me,” not “konam, all breads” or “the bread.” Fine, but if you say “the breads of the world,” fine, that also works.

So what does that actually mean? It gives us an initial opening for understanding this concept called holiness, because in the simple and basic explanation of the difference between a vow and an oath—that a vow applies to the object and an oath applies to the person—the claim is really an ontological one. Ontology is the study of being. Meaning, when I say that I vow benefit from something, “konam, this thing is upon me,” or when I consecrate something, I have actually created a new reality that didn’t exist before. A person has the ability to create a reality of prohibitions. Okay? By contrast, if I swear, then I haven’t created any reality; I’ve only prohibited certain actions to myself, but I haven’t introduced any new reality. A prohibition on the object means a reality in the object, so the fact that I’m prohibited from eating the object is only a result of the fact that the object is an object of prohibition. By contrast, in an oath there is no reality in the object at all; the prohibition is on me. It is not the result of any reality. It’s simply forbidden for me to eat—I prohibited an action to myself. That’s the difference.

So if that’s so, it means that holiness—and here we see that a vow joins this issue as well—is distinguished from other things, or from an oath; let’s leave other prohibitions aside for a moment—it is distinguished from an oath in that it creates reality. Holiness is a kind of reality. But a prohibition or a commandment or at least an oath is not a reality; it applies only to the person: you’re forbidden to do this, you’re obligated to do this, you’re permitted to do this. But that has nothing to do with the objects themselves—they are nothing, okay? In holiness and in a vow, it is in the object itself.

True, what I’m saying now depends on a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim). There’s a Kehillot Yaakov on tractate Nedarim, section 15; he brings disputes there following this Talmudic passage here on page 2. The Talmud says that vows are a prohibition on the object and oaths are a prohibition on the person. What about pork? What about the other Torah prohibitions? The accepted view is that the other Torah prohibitions are prohibitions on the object. All Torah prohibitions are prohibitions on the object. By contrast, rabbinic prohibitions—let’s say—there are some later authorities (Acharonim) who argue that rabbinic prohibitions are prohibitions on the person, whereas Torah prohibitions are prohibitions on the object. Pork is an object of prohibition.

The way I presented it earlier—that’s not correct. The way I presented it earlier, really only vows and holiness are in the object; the rest of the Torah prohibitions are prohibitions on the person, like oaths. And in fact the Kehillot Yaakov brings a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim) on this matter. There are medieval authorities (Rishonim) who claim that the distinction the Talmud makes here between vows and oaths means that vows are the exception. So vows are in the object, and holiness of course is like a vow—they are the exceptions; they are in the object. All the other Torah prohibitions, including oaths, are on the person. So vows are the exception. And there are medieval authorities (Rishonim) who say the opposite: oaths are the exception. Meaning, vows, holiness, and all Torah prohibitions are in the object; oaths are unique in that they are on the person. So the question is: which one is special? Are vows the special case, or are oaths the special case? That is a dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim).

Now if I say, like the first camp of medieval authorities (Rishonim), that all Torah prohibitions are prohibitions on the person except for vows and holiness, then we already have a good definition of what distinguishes the concept of holiness from commandments. Holiness is a kind of reality, and the halakhic consequences are consequences of that reality. The fact that I’m forbidden to make use of a sacrifice is not because there is a prohibition of use upon me, but because the sacrifice is prohibited for use. Naturally that means I’m forbidden to use it, but it starts with the object. By contrast, with pork there’s nothing in the pork itself. I’m forbidden to eat pork—according to those medieval authorities (Rishonim), I’m saying. It’s like an oath.

But there are medieval authorities (Rishonim) who don’t say that. There are medieval authorities (Rishonim) who claim that all Torah prohibitions are prohibitions on the object, and only oaths are prohibitions on the person. So then there’s nothing unique about vows and consecrated objects. So how do we explain it there? Here you have to pay close attention. In Avnei Nezer, and also Rabbi Shimon Shkop in his novellae on tractate Nedarim—Chiddushei Rabbi Shimon Yehuda on Nedarim—and also the Avnei Nezer, I don’t remember in which responsum; if you want, maybe I wrote it down somewhere, I’ll find it—they both explain the difference between a prohibition on the object and a prohibition on the person differently.

They say that a prohibition on the object means a prohibition for the sake of the object—that the purpose of the prohibition is to protect the object. And a prohibition on the person is a prohibition whose purpose is to protect the person, to prevent damage to the person. Let’s give an example. When I’m prohibited from eating pork, why am I forbidden to eat pork? Because we’re concerned for the sanctity of the pig, and therefore I may not eat it? No. Obviously, somehow, in some sense, it harms me, defiles my soul, causes some spiritual damage—I don’t know exactly what. Okay. But the concern is concern for the person eating, and therefore it’s called a prohibition on the person. By contrast, in holiness, when I’m forbidden to make use of a sacred object, is that because I’ll be harmed by this use? No. It’s because of the object—it is an injury to the sacred object. The purpose of the prohibition is the object, not me. That’s called a prohibition on the object.

And the Avnei Nezer and Rabbi Shimon Shkop do not explain this in the ontic sense the way I did earlier—that a prohibition on the object means it exists in reality, while a prohibition on the person does not exist in reality but is only a prohibition on the person himself. No. They say it may be that everything is on the person, or everything is on the object—I don’t know—but the distinction the Talmud makes between a prohibition on the object and a prohibition on the person concerns the reason for the verse: why was this done? Was it done in order to protect the object? That is called a prohibition on the object. Or was it done in order to protect the person? Then it is a prohibition on the person. In other words, it’s a question of how one understands the essence of the prohibition. It has nothing to do with its character—whether there is some reality here or no reality here. Okay? That’s not the accepted explanation, neither among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) nor among the later authorities (Acharonim). But that’s what the Avnei Nezer and Rabbi Shimon Shkop say.

So now there is already room to discuss it. Meaning, the topic here is not dealing at all with the question of what happens in the object itself. It may be, according to their view, that all Torah prohibitions really are prohibitions on the person because they are intended to protect the person or prevent harm to the person. And prohibitions of vows are prohibitions on the object, or prohibitions of holiness are prohibitions on the object, because they are intended to protect the object. Okay? But it could still be that from the standpoint of reality, maybe in all of them there is a reality of prohibition—or the opposite, in none of them is there any reality. In other words, the topic here is not dealing with the question of which prohibitions are grounded in reality and which prohibitions are only on the person. The topic here is dealing only with the question of what the purpose of the prohibition is. And therefore one cannot learn anything from this topic here. I’m saying that according to the other medieval authorities (Rishonim), or according to other explanations, I can understand the essence of holiness. Holiness is basically some kind of reality from which the prohibitions are derived. By contrast, an ordinary prohibition has nothing to do with reality at all. It’s just a prohibition.

That sharpens even more what I said earlier about why animals were called impure and pure. Because before there was a prohibition on me, how would you mark the difference between the animals? If you want to speak about the animals themselves, then you use the language of holy and impure, or pure, holy, and impure, because that is the language used to deal with objects themselves. The language of prohibition and commandment is language that speaks about me, about the person. Okay? So that sharpens what I’m saying now even more. Meaning, the essence of holiness—and also of a vow, as the Talmud says here—is really that there is a reality. And that is the difference between holiness and commandments. Commandments are a matter of definition; they are not in the thing itself.

Again I say: it could be that when I eat pork, there is something in the pork that causes problems for me. That is not called a prohibition on the object. A prohibition on the object means that a legal prohibition takes effect on the pork—not that the pork causes spiritual problems, but that a prohibition takes effect on the pork. My not eating the pork is a consequence of the fact that a prohibition has taken effect on it. So it’s something abstract like that. Okay? By contrast, a prohibition on the person means that no prohibition takes effect on the thing; rather, I am forbidden to do the act, or I am forbidden to eat the thing, or whatever it may be. It could be, according to Rabbi Shimon Shkop and the Avnei Nezer, that this distinction is still correct; it’s just that the topic here is not dealing with it. Okay? And therefore I want to use this definition.

So basically, that is the difference between holiness and prohibition. Holiness is grounded in reality. Prohibition is grounded in the person—they tell you: forbidden. It’s a law. A prohibition is a law. A prohibition or a commandment is a law: what you need to do, what you are forbidden to do, what you are permitted to do. It speaks to me; it has nothing to do with the world. Okay? Holiness, by contrast, is grounded in the world. And the great novelty in a vow is that a vow too acquires a meaning like holiness, in that when a person makes a vow he actually creates a reality. It isn’t really holy, but he creates a reality, and therefore they compare it to holy objects. Not because a vow actually has holiness—in a vow there is no holiness. At bottom it is a prohibition. In that sense it has nothing to do with holiness. It resembles holiness only in the sense that in a vow too, the prohibition is grounded in a reality in the object, exactly like the reality of holiness.

And that’s an interesting point, because the Mishneh LaMelekh asks—and maybe I once spoke about the guilt-offering, I surely spoke at some point about the meaning of the guilt-offering, I spoke about doubts, I don’t remember, maybe I’ll mention it later on—the Mishneh LaMelekh asks: the Talmud says that there is misuse of consecrated property with konamot. Meaning, someone who violates a vow has to bring a guilt-offering, a guilt-offering for misuse of consecrated property. There is no source for this—not a verse, not an exposition, nothing. I’m not such a great expert; the Mishneh LaMelekh was a great expert. And he says there is no source at all; he doesn’t understand where this comes from. It seems to me that it comes from here, from the fact that the Talmud compares a vow, which is a prohibition on the object, to holiness. What it is really saying is that in a vow, as in holiness, there is a reality in the thing itself—not a reality of holiness, but a reality in the thing itself.

And there is such a principle regarding guilt-offerings: the essence of a guilt-offering is when you intrude into a place that is other, that lies outside your domain—when you enter into a realm that is in a different reality, where there is some kind of different reality there. In that sense, a vow is like holiness. It isn’t holy in the sense of being more connected to the Holy One, blessed be He, than other things are—not in the sense of closeness to the Holy One, blessed be He. But it is holy in the sense that I am supposed to be separated from it. What Rashi says on “You shall be holy”—sorry, not Nachmanides. Rashi there, not Nachmanides. Rashi there says: “You shall be holy”—holiness means separation. And you have to separate from the thing. Not holiness in the sense that the thing is close to the Holy One, blessed be He, but rather that you must separate. What does it mean that you must separate? That it is something defined in such a way that its very definition entails that I must separate from it. As distinct from pork, from which I also have to separate, but that is not because of something in the pork itself; rather, I myself have a prohibition against eating pork. In that sense, a vow is like holiness. Okay? Meaning, it begins in reality itself, and that depends on how one understands the guilt-offerings. Maybe I’ll talk about that later.

So that is basically the definition I’m proposing here for the concept of holiness: that the concept of holiness at its root begins with some sort of reality, and the prohibitions derived from it are consequences or offshoots of that reality. As opposed to ordinary prohibitions, which are just prohibitions; in reality itself there is nothing. I may go back to the point with which I opened, so you can see why these things also connect to practice. For now this has been a pretty purely abstract discussion of the essence of prohibitions and the like.

When people see holiness in things, they’re not merely saying that I have obligations to do something with those things, or that I’m forbidden to do something with those things. They are saying something beyond that. They’re saying that the object itself is a different kind of object. There is some divine manifestation in it, a manifestation of holiness; something of the Holy One, blessed be He, is there. That is why this comes very close to idolatry if it isn’t done properly. If you say about something that is not holy that it is holy, there is a problem here of idolatry, or something bordering on idolatry. If you say there is a prohibition where there is no prohibition, or there is a commandment where there is no commandment, that is a halakhic mistake—“do not add” and “do not subtract,” fine. But it is not idolatry. It is not inserting divinity where there is no divinity.

And many times you can see practical expressions of this—in reality it appears differently. Meaning, when I attribute holiness to things that are not holy, it appears with completely different intensity in reality than when I say there is some obligation to do something even though there is no obligation. Fine—there is an obligation, there isn’t an obligation, you can say I’m mistaken. But the ecstasy that attaches to the concept of holiness does not appear in the context of commandments. Ecstasy—yes, now I’m already talking about the psychological implications, the emotional implications. Ecstasy appears when we encounter holiness. It does not appear when we encounter a commandment or a prohibition, because there there is some feeling that I am meeting the Holy One, blessed be He. Meaning, there is something different in the air. It activates me.

If all this is psychological explanation, I’m trying to clarify why indeed in reality—and we’ll see, I’ll bring examples of this, and I once spoke here about the flag dance, I don’t remember in what context anymore—the flag dance on Jerusalem Day, where they dance there and all that, I got a fever when I saw it once and never went near it again. It was really idolatry in my eyes. Like Haredim say “idolatry” about flags and so on—that’s nonsense, I don’t mean that. But there, it really was a kind of ecstatic nationalist idolatry—not holiness in the usual sense, but the flag as an alternative to the Holy One, blessed be He. No, they see the Holy One, blessed be He, in the flag. But it’s a kind of seeing holiness in something mundane. I’ll come back to this; I’m only trying to explain why this abstract discussion I’m having here is important: holiness is a kind of reality, while a prohibition or a commandment is only a matter of what one should do, what is permitted, and what is forbidden. These are norms; they have nothing to do with reality. Holiness means that the Holy One, blessed be He, is moving around here. When the Holy One, blessed be He, is moving around here, we have to walk either on tiptoe or I don’t know what—our whole soul reacts differently to divine presence. And therefore it is much more dangerous to attribute holiness to something that is not holy than to call something permitted forbidden, or something forbidden permitted, or a commandment—because the ecstasy that accompanies this takes us very close to idolatry.

[Speaker A] There’s also ecstasy, meaning if I say, “I prohibit myself from eating bread,” which is an oath, and if I say—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “The bread is konam to me”—with the bread. Here there’s ecstasy and here there isn’t ecstasy? What? In a vow you won’t find that. That’s why I’m talking about holiness, not about a vow. In a vow there is a legal effect of prohibition. But I’m saying that this legal effect of prohibition is not an expression of God, not an expression of the Holy One, blessed be He. There is a reality of prohibition, so it resembles holiness, but it is not actually holiness. When I spoke earlier, I was speaking about holiness—only holiness. Not everything that has some reality. This different reality is basically some manifestation of the Holy One, blessed be He, in that place. That is what is called holiness, and the prohibitions or commandments are an outgrowth of the fact that the Holy One, blessed be He, is present there. Now we have to discuss where He is present, where He is not present, what kinds of holiness there are, where He is present more and where less. Those are already discussions one can have afterward. But first of all, this is the basic definition of the concept of holiness. The basic definition of the concept of holiness is that it begins with reality and the prohibitions are a consequence. And the concept of commandment—and we saw that these are two completely separate categories, there is no connection—holiness and commandment are two categories that do not speak to one another at all. Okay? It has nothing to do with divine manifestation. It’s a question of what you need to do, what is permitted or forbidden, that’s all. Okay? That’s the summary up to here, in short.

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