The General Principles of the Melachot – Lesson 7

Table of Contents

• Two laws of unintended action: Rav Chaim on Maimonides
• The difficulty of deriving unintended action in the whole Torah from the Sabbath
• An inevitable result that is not beneficial to him: the Arukh, Tosafot, and benefit as the basis for liability
• Applying the exemption on the Sabbath and the distinction between Sabbath law and a general law
• Dragging a bench, the dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda, and distinguishing this from cases of doubt and unintentional violation
• “The name of the act” and the Chazon Ish: an act as an act of transgression versus a neutral act
• Shaarei Yosher: the absence of the “name of the act” in unintended action
• An inevitable result as attribution of an act: two understandings in Kovetz Shiurim
• Shaarei Yosher’s proof from sweeping and sprinkling: an inevitable result does not become psychological knowledge
• “Possible in another way” as neutralizing an inevitable result: Rashi, Merkavat HaMishneh, Or Sameach, Shiltei Giborim, Ritva, Rosh
• A practical difference between attributing the act to the doer and “including” it within one act
• Almost an inevitable result and the Sabbath: his intention was realized, stringently
• Tosafot in Yoma: we are witnesses that he intends it when he benefits
• An inevitable result in rabbinic prohibitions: a dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and an explanation through person/object
• Conclusion and continuation: a doubtful inevitable result

Summary

General Overview

The text adopts Rav Chaim’s proposal on Maimonides that there are two laws of eino mitkaven: a general law throughout the Torah based on will, and a special law for the Sabbath based on awareness from the perspective of melechet machshevet, so that on the Sabbath both will and awareness are in practice required, though not because eino mitkaven itself is defined as both. It then argues that it is difficult to derive the law of eino mitkaven for the whole Torah from the Sabbath, and presents Tosafot’s view that there is no scriptural source but rather reasoning, and therefore the general rule cannot be derived from “thoughtful labor.” After that, the Arukh’s exemption in psik reisha d’lo nicha lei is discussed as a general principle throughout the Torah, and a framework is constructed in which nicha lei is what creates liability, while psik reisha is a condition that makes it possible to attribute the result to the person. Finally, the text presents conceptual formulations for why psik reisha creates liability according to Rabbi Shimon, including an approach that emphasizes “the name of the act” (Chazon Ish and Shaarei Yosher), a discussion of cases of “possible in another way” that undermine the concept of psik reisha, and a proposed connection between the Torah-level/rabbinic distinction and the question whether psik reisha turns a person into someone who “intends,” or merely joins acts together.

Two laws of unintended action: Rav Chaim on Maimonides

Rav Chaim proposes that there are two laws of eino mitkaven: one for the whole Torah, which is lack of will, and one for the Sabbath, which is lack of awareness stemming from melechet machshevet, where awareness is required in order for “his intention to be realized.” The law of eino mitkaven for the whole Torah also applies on the Sabbath, because the Sabbath is part of the Torah, while the special law of the Sabbath applies only in the laws of the Sabbath. According to this, on the Sabbath it turns out de facto that both will and awareness are required—not because eino mitkaven is defined as both, but because on the Sabbath there is both the general requirement of “will” and the requirement of “awareness” from thoughtful labor.

The difficulty of deriving unintended action in the whole Torah from the Sabbath

Ritva, Kiryat Sefer, and others are presented as deriving eino mitkaven in the whole Torah from the Sabbath, and it is said that this does not fit Rav Chaim, because if the Sabbath is the source, then we are dealing with a law of melechet machshevet that cannot be extended to the whole Torah. It is argued that even without Rav Chaim there is a conceptual difficulty in deriving it this way, because if the source is thoughtful labor, that is a law unique to the Sabbath and cannot serve as the basis for a general law. Tosafot in Ketubot 6 explicitly says that one cannot derive eino mitkaven from thoughtful labor, because this is a law throughout the Torah. According to Tosafot, then, the law on the Sabbath does not stem from thoughtful labor, but from reasoning, and so the same principle exists on the Sabbath and in the whole Torah from the same source.

An inevitable result that is not beneficial to him: the Arukh, Tosafot, and benefit as the basis for liability

The Arukh is presented as speaking about psik reisha d’lo nicha lei as an exemption throughout the Torah and not only on the Sabbath, and proof is brought from Menachot 90, where someone sprinkles wine on the fire-offerings and in the process extinguishes, though he does not intend the extinguishing. According to the structure that identifies eino mitkaven of the whole Torah with lack of will, it is explained that benefit is what removes the exemption of eino mitkaven, and therefore benefit is what creates liability, while psik reisha is an additional condition that allows the benefit to be considered relevant only when the result is certain. The system is presented as an inversion: you begin with the exemption of eino mitkaven, add “benefit,” which removes the exemption, and only then do you need psik reisha in order to attribute this to an intentional act from the outset, and not as agreement after the fact.

Applying the exemption on the Sabbath and the distinction between Sabbath law and a general law

It is argued that an exemption that operates on the level of the general law of eino mitkaven can also exempt in the laws of the Sabbath, because it applies throughout the Torah, but an exemption of thoughtful labor can remain even after benefit has removed the general exemption. On the other hand, medieval authorities (Rishonim) are cited who limit psik reisha d’lo nicha lei to the Sabbath alone, and it is explained that this creates a view in which the Sabbath law itself is a law of will rather than a law of awareness, in direct opposition to Rav Chaim. It is emphasized that this limitation is not correct in the view of the Arukh itself, even if it can be attributed to the medieval authorities (Rishonim) who said so.

Dragging a bench, the dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda, and distinguishing this from cases of doubt and unintentional violation

In the example of dragging a bench and making a furrow, it is explained that the dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda is where there is no psik reisha, and the discussion takes place only after the fact, once a furrow has been made. It is argued that even Rabbi Shimon does not base the exemption on the level of doubt, inadvertent violation, coercion, or uncertain warning, but on a more fundamental level: whether there is an “act of transgression” here at all. Rabbi Shimon is presented as claiming that eino mitkaven means that an essential component is missing from the definition of the prohibited act, and therefore there is no transgression at all, whereas Rabbi Yehuda claims that this does not define the act, so the transgression exists, and only afterward can one discuss claims exempting from punishment, which are not the main issue of the passage.

“The name of the act” and the Chazon Ish: an act as an act of transgression versus a neutral act

The reasoning of the Chazon Ish is brought regarding an incident in which a driver swerved so as not to hit a cat and caused a death, and the Chazon Ish defines this as not being “an act of murder,” but an action under a different name. It is argued that many times what determines things is the “name” that people give the act: dragging a bench is not called plowing, and therefore even if a furrow is made, it is not an act of plowing. The style is described as a kind of common-sense reasoning that can be translated into a more analytical framework, and the idea is linked to mitasek, where the definition is asked in terms of “what is he engaged in,” and not in terms of the side effect that got dragged along with it.

Shaarei Yosher: the absence of the “name of the act” in unintended action

Rabbi Shimon in Shaarei Yosher, Gate 3, is formulated as explaining that in dragging a bench, the name of the act is “moving a bench” and not plowing, and therefore the name of the act of prohibited labor is missing. The question is then raised: if so, why does psik reisha change things? After all, even then he is still engaged in dragging a bench. The suggestion is that the absence of intention is not the reason for the exemption, but only a sign that the act is not attributed to him as plowing.

An inevitable result as attribution of an act: two understandings in Kovetz Shiurim

In Kovetz Shiurim on Ketubot, siman 18, two understandings are presented for why Rabbi Shimon agrees in a case of psik reisha. According to one understanding, certainty causes the person to be considered as “intending” the result, and therefore if it is lo nicha lei, one cannot say that he intends it, which leaves room for the Arukh’s exemption. According to the second understanding, the result is included within the planned act because “one cannot exist without the other,” and therefore intention for the primary act is enough to create liability also for the included result. In that case, lo nicha lei does not exempt, because no separate intention for the body of the labor is needed; intention for the act in which the labor is necessarily included is enough.

Shaarei Yosher’s proof from sweeping and sprinkling: an inevitable result does not become psychological knowledge

A dispute is cited in Sabbath 95a regarding one who sweeps and sprinkles water, whether pulling leaves is a case of psik reisha, and Shaarei Yosher suggests that the fact that there is a tanna who claims this is not psik reisha shows that psik reisha is not based on “clear to every person” in a psychological sense, because there is a Torah scholar who holds otherwise. From here it is suggested that liability in psik reisha may be based on attributing the result to the act, and not on turning the person into someone who “intends” it in the sense of necessary knowledge.

“Possible in another way” as neutralizing an inevitable result: Rashi, Merkavat HaMishneh, Or Sameach, Shiltei Giborim, Ritva, Rosh

In Rashi on Zevachim, regarding sprinkling wine, it says that it is possible to sprinkle in a thin way so that it will not extinguish, and therefore even if he sprinkled thickly, it is not psik reisha. Merkavat HaMishneh and Or Sameach bring this as a fundamental principle. Shiltei Giborim in the name of Rashba permits closing a door in a house that contains a deer, arguing that closing a door is not always trapping, because sometimes there is no deer there; therefore it is not psik reisha even when in practice there is a deer. Ritva on Sabbath 116, regarding skinning the Passover offering, brings the idea that he could do it in thin strips that are not a repair of the hide, and from here it is argued that ordinary skinning too is not considered psik reisha, because another possibility exists. Rosh in Pesachim, regarding benefiting from the smell of idolatry, argues that the ability to block one’s nose changes the definition of psik reisha even if in practice he did not block it, and the Chafetz Chaim in Be’er Mayim Chaim is brought in a similar context of “it is not possible otherwise and he does not intend it” in hearing malicious speech.

A practical difference between attributing the act to the doer and “including” it within one act

A distinction is proposed that explains the phenomenon of “possible in another way” through the two earlier understandings: if psik reisha merely “connects the result to me” because in practice it is certain to follow from my actions, then the theoretical possibility of doing it differently should not matter. But if psik reisha works because the result is considered an inseparable part of the primary act, then only when there is always no one without the other can they be seen as one act. If there are cases in which the primary act is done without the result, then they cannot be combined into one, and so this is not psik reisha in the liability-creating sense.

Almost an inevitable result and the Sabbath: his intention was realized, stringently

It is said that some later authorities (Acharonim) view an “almost certain” result as psik reisha, and it is suggested that on the Sabbath there is more room to impose liability in such cases because of melechet machshevet and “his intention was realized,” similar to winnowing, where the wind assists him and the Sabbath still imposes liability even though completion of the result depends on an external factor. It is argued that this structure can explain why on the Sabbath even a doubt that is very close to certainty may be more liability-generating than in the rest of the Torah.

Tosafot in Yoma: we are witnesses that he intends it when he benefits

Tosafot in Yoma is presented as explaining that in the case of someone gathering twigs on his own land, even if he does not intend to improve the land, since he benefits, “we are witnesses that he intends to improve it,” and therefore this creates liability according to Rabbi Shimon in psik reisha. The explanation is presented as capable of being read either as a psychological claim—that he really does intend it—or as a halakhic category of “it is considered as though he intended it,” even if there is no psychological intention in the ordinary sense.

An inevitable result in rabbinic prohibitions: a dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and an explanation through person/object

A dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) is brought regarding whether psik reisha is prohibited in rabbinic prohibitions, with Rashba forbidding it while Ritva and Meiri permit it, and Magen Avraham in the name of Terumat HaDeshen adds that leniency is common in psik reisha d’lo nicha lei on the rabbinic level. It is argued that if psik reisha really “turned me into someone who intends,” there would be no reason to distinguish between rabbinic and Torah-level prohibitions. Therefore the distinction makes more sense if psik reisha does not create intention, but only a stricter form of attribution that was established on the Torah level and not enacted on the rabbinic level. Then an explanation is presented that rabbinic prohibitions are prohibitions of compliance placed on the person, and not an object-level prohibition in the act itself, based on Netivot in Choshen Mishpat 234 and the use of reasoning about doubt in rabbinic law being treated leniently. From this it is argued that when psik reisha operates on the level of “joining acts together” and the object-status of the prohibition, it is less relevant to rabbinic prohibitions, whose center is the breach of commanded obedience with awareness.

Conclusion and continuation: a doubtful inevitable result

The text concludes by announcing that the continuation of the study will deal with a doubtful psik reisha and with completing the clarification of the relationship between labor, thoughtful labor, and the criteria of certainty that define attribution of an act in cases of unintended action.

Last time we finished with two possible ways to understand the rule of unintentional action—knowledge or will, intention, motivation, whatever you want to call it. “Intention” is a confusing term because everything here is intention; the question is what “intention” means. In the end we saw that Rabbi Chaim, on Maimonides, suggests that there are two laws of unintentional action. The unintentional action of the whole Torah, which is about will, and the unintentional action of the Sabbath, which is about awareness, because it comes out of “purposeful labor,” and in purposeful labor what you need is awareness that one’s plan be carried out. And the law of unintentional action for the whole Torah of course also exists in the laws of the Sabbath, because the laws of the Sabbath are part of the whole Torah. The law unique to the Sabbath exists only in the laws of the Sabbath and not in the whole Torah. Therefore, bottom line, if I ask myself—say, after all we spoke about the three possibilities for understanding unintentional action: awareness, will, or both, meaning that you need both things for it to count as an intentional act, it has to be both awareness and will—so according to Rabbi Chaim, what comes out is that the unintentional action of the whole Torah is will, and the unintentional action of the Sabbath is both. It is both because you need the unintentional action of the whole Torah, namely will, and the unintentional action of purposeful labor, which is awareness, so practically, bottom line, you really need both. But you need both not in order for it to count as intentional—that’s not a conception of unintentional action—because for the unintentional action of the whole Torah, will alone is enough. It’s both de facto because on the Sabbath you need, first, the intention required by the whole Torah, and second, it has to be purposeful labor. So therefore you really need both, right? It’s not really parallel to that approach I mentioned, that unintentional action itself means both awareness and will.

Now, a few comments on this picture of Rabbi Chaim. I said that Rabbi Aharon Kotler as well, and several later authorities, go in this direction. A few comments on this whole matter, some of which I actually already noted earlier. We saw that there is the Ritva, Kiryat Sefer, and others who derive unintentional action in the whole Torah from the Sabbath. That certainly doesn’t fit with Rabbi Chaim, because what happens on the Sabbath, if at all you learn the Sabbath as the source, is a law of purposeful labor, and the law of purposeful labor can’t be learned for the whole Torah. And the general law of unintentional action has no better source in the Sabbath than in the rest of the Torah. So either way—meaning, if you learn it from reason, then learn it from reason for the whole Torah; and if you learn it from the Sabbath to the rest of the Torah, then from where do you know it in the Sabbath? If it’s from reason, then that reason exists in the whole Torah. If it’s not from reason, bring me a source. The source is purposeful labor—but that’s the other law. I’m just saying: the Ritva and Kiryat Sefer are problematic in any case. Even aside from Rabbi Chaim—how do you explain that it is learned from the Sabbath to the whole Torah if it’s a special law on the Sabbath learned from purposeful labor? How can it be learned to the rest of the Torah? So we talked about the fact that this is a very problematic thing anyway.

Indeed, Tosafot in Ketubot 6b—we saw that Tosafot says you can’t derive unintentional action from purposeful labor because unintentional action is a law in the whole Torah; that’s the other side of the same coin. And therefore Tosafot says that the unintentional action of the Sabbath also cannot belong—sorry, yes—that the unintentional action of the Sabbath also does not belong to purposeful labor, and then there is no problem. You say that it exists on the Sabbath and in the whole Torah, but of course you do not say that it is learned from the Sabbath to the whole Torah, because on the Sabbath and in the whole Torah it has the same source, meaning both come from reason, not from a verse. We also saw in the Talmud that it can’t be a verse; the Talmud says there is no verse, meaning at most it is reasoning. That is one thing.

A second point concerns the exemption of “it is not desirable to him” according to the Arukh—an inevitable result that is undesirable to him. So when you look at the Arukh himself, he speaks about the whole Torah: an inevitable result that is undesirable to him is exempt. He speaks about the whole Torah, not specifically the Sabbath. And this—if we take Rabbi Chaim—it operates on the plane of the unintentional action of the whole Torah, not the unintentional action of the Sabbath. It’s obvious that for Tosafot, for example, who ties an inevitable result that is undesirable to him to labor not needed for its own sake, that is irrelevant, because that is a law specific to the Sabbath; only on the Sabbath is there an exemption for labor not needed for its own sake. But if you say, like the Arukh, that an inevitable result that is undesirable to him is exempt in the whole Torah, as we saw in the case of sprinkling wine on top of the flames, yes, in Menachot 90, where the Talmud says that if you sprinkle wine on the altar, then you extinguish the altar-fire, even though your intention is to sprinkle the wine, not to extinguish, but in the unintentional act there is also extinguishing, and this is also an inevitable result. So the Arukh asks: then why isn’t it forbidden? After all, this is an inevitable result, so what if it’s unintentional? So he says: because it’s an inevitable result that is undesirable to him there—not to extinguish the fire on the altar; “a fire shall burn upon it; it shall not be extinguished.” So if you say that the exemption of undesirability is an exemption within the unintentional action of the whole Torah, then that is fine, it fits very well. Why? Because if indeed the exemption of inevitable result—sorry—if indeed the exemption of unintentional action is rooted in lack of will, because the unintentional action of the whole Torah is lack of will, as we said, right? Then why do you need the inevitable result? Or why, in the case of an inevitable result, do you make him liable? After all, the fact that it is inevitable does not mean that I want it. So why does that obligate? But the fact that it is undesirable exempts; but that desirability is required—that is clear. Because the moment there is desirability, that means you want it, and that exactly cancels out the unintentional-action exemption of the whole Torah. And therefore I said that according to this approach, desirability seems to be the condition that creates liability, not inevitability. There is only a condition that it be an inevitable result.

Meaning, if this is something that you did unintentionally, then even if after the fact, when it happened, you are pleased with it, that is not enough to turn you into someone who acted intentionally unless it was an inevitable result. And then it comes out that the whole arrangement of the system works the other way around. Meaning, fundamentally, unintentional action is exempt. If it is desirable to him, then we do not proceed as “unintentional action, inevitable result, and desirability.” It works the other way: unintentional action, desirability, and then inevitable result. And then I say: unintentional action—you are basically exempt because you do not want it. If there is desirability, then you do want it. So there is no exemption—but only if it is an inevitable result. Because if it is not an inevitable result, then the after-the-fact desirability is not enough to turn you into someone who truly intended it. There has to be a will from the outset to do that thing. Right? For example, dragging a bench and making a furrow, and let’s say it is an inevitable result. This is loose soil such that when you drag the bench, a furrow will clearly be made. Okay? Does that mean I intended it? No. Because even if intention means will, even if the unintentional action of the whole Torah is will, that still does not mean I wanted it. “I wanted it” depends on how we interpret that. “I wanted it” means that from the start this was my plan. I did it for that purpose. Therefore after-the-fact desirability does not really turn me back into intentional. The fact that after the fact it happened and I’m comfortable with it does not mean I wanted it. Because the will here is not some hidden inner desire, such that if I had asked you what you would answer. Rather, it is conscious will. Meaning the question is: what do you intend, why are you basically doing this action? Therefore it may be that there is a condition that even if it is desirable to you, you still won’t be liable unless it is an inevitable result. Okay? That’s the point.

And then we also spoke about the fact that desirability creates liability, and not that undesirability exempts. Desirability creates liability, and therefore desirability is what creates the liability, and inevitability is a condition. According to that, of course, undesirability—what does it exempt in the laws of the Sabbath too? It is undesirable to me, an inevitable result that is undesirable to him. What do you say? Certainly yes. It does not exempt the unintentional action of the Sabbath, but the unintentional action of the whole Torah also exists on the Sabbath. The special law of the Sabbath exists only on the Sabbath, but the law of unintentional action of the whole Torah exists in the whole Torah, and certainly on the Sabbath. So if there is an exemption that is an exemption in the unintentional action of the whole Torah, then it also exempts on the Sabbath. The reverse is not true. Meaning, if there is desirability, that still does not mean you will be liable, because desirability may remove the exemption of the unintentional action of the whole Torah, but there may still be an exemption of purposeful labor. Therefore that is a separate issue, if you didn’t know. And therefore you need the inevitable-result element. What? Yes, yes, that is Rabbi Chaim’s view.

By contrast, there are medieval authorities (Rishonim), and I said I think they probably did not see the Arukh inside, who claim that an inevitable result that is undesirable to him is exempt only on the Sabbath, not in the whole Torah. Then it comes out that this is only on the Sabbath. If it is in the whole Torah, then it is both on the Sabbath and in the whole Torah. If they say it is only on the Sabbath, then it is clear that they attribute this only to the law of unintentional action of the Sabbath—to purposeful labor—not to the law of unintentional action of the whole Torah, which is really a completely different approach. It is not correct in the Arukh. The Arukh himself says it about the whole Torah. Just to be clear: that is not the Arukh’s intent, but there are medieval authorities who say it, so I can say that this is their opinion even if it is not the Arukh’s opinion. So what stands behind their opinion? They probably hold that desirability is what creates liability, and undesirability exempts only in the laws of the Sabbath. Meaning they understand that the unintentional action of the Sabbath is unintentionality of will, not of awareness. And that is directly against Rabbi Chaim. Right? Because they are basically saying that the unintentional action of the Sabbath is will, and specifically of the Sabbath, and therefore they say that desirability plays a role only in the laws of the Sabbath. But in the unintentional action of the whole Torah, I do not care whether it is undesirable to you or not; it makes no difference to me, you still will not be exempt. That is exactly the opposite of Rabbi Chaim, one hundred and eighty degrees opposite. But I’ll say again: in the Arukh itself he is right.

Now a question. When I drag a bench and a furrow is created—let’s use for the moment the example the Talmud brings—Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda disagree. We are talking about a case where it is not an inevitable result, because if it were an inevitable result, then even Rabbi Shimon agrees. We are talking about a case where it is not an inevitable result, right? So basically I do not know whether a furrow will be formed or not, right? Now why then does Rabbi Yehuda obligate? What does “obligate” mean? I dragged the bench and no furrow was formed—does Rabbi Yehuda obligate even then? After all, a furrow may be formed and a furrow may not be formed. I dragged a bench over ground where it is not certain that one will be formed, and no furrow was formed. Certainly not. There is nothing for which to obligate; I did nothing, right? The whole discussion is only on the ex post facto question, meaning that a furrow did happen. It was not certain in advance that it would happen, and it happened. Now the question is whether I can say: look, but I acted unintentionally. So Rabbi Yehuda says no. Rabbi Yehuda says that you are liable. If a furrow happened, you are basically liable. The question is why. But I didn’t know. We are talking without inevitable result. With inevitable result, fine, then both Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Shimon agree. I am talking about a case where there is no inevitable result. I knew it might happen. Why is this not a case of doubt? These are the laws of doubt. There is a side that even in doubt—I have a piece of meat, maybe kosher, maybe not kosher—and I eat it. There is a side that it is not kosher; I knew that. It is still the laws of doubt. At most there would be a provisional guilt-offering if we are talking about a sin-offering, it doesn’t matter, and if not then it is just ordinary doubt, but it is a doubtful prohibition. So why is this not defined as doubt? Why, according to Rabbi Yehuda, is he liable? Why would you prefer, yes, to move the bench from one place to another? Let me put it differently: why does Rabbi Shimon, who exempts, not exempt simply because he says it is a doubt? Forget the disagreement about unintentional action.

Meaning, what do we see from Rabbi Shimon? Rabbi Shimon also is not talking here on the plane of whether this is doubt or not doubt. I spoke about this at the beginning when we started discussing unintentional action. Unintentional action is not an exemption from the family of doubt, inadvertence, coercion, or things of that sort. Rabbi Shimon is basically claiming that unintentional action means a state in which you did not do the prohibited labor at all. There is no prohibition here. It is not a problem of lack of guilt; it is a problem of absence of an offense. There is no offense here at all—you did not do the offense—since your intention is an essential component in defining the act of transgression itself. These are not arguments for exemption because I wasn’t deliberate, I didn’t know, I was inadvertent, I was in doubt, or whatever. Those are arguments for exemption. But here we are saying no: there was no offense at all. These are not arguments for exemption. That is Rabbi Shimon. And what does Rabbi Yehuda say? Rabbi Yehuda says: no, this is not an argument for exemption. Right? It is not an argument for exemption. So what if you didn’t want it? Intention is not an essential component in defining the offense. Fine—but still, even according to Rabbi Yehuda, at least there is the claim of doubt. An offense was committed here; I cannot say that no offense was committed. In that sense he disagrees with Rabbi Shimon. But I still have arguments to exempt myself. So here it may indeed be that this is true. I don’t know; it is not mentioned anywhere. I think that in such situations, yes, maybe that is true: you can claim an argument to exempt yourself on the basis of coercion. That is not the discussion. You can say: true, I was in doubt. We are discussing only the question whether there was an offense here at all. We are not discussing arguments for exemption from punishment, mitigation of punishment, or saying I was coerced or inadvertent or whatever. First of all, Rabbi Yehuda himself, according to many medieval authorities, is not liable—on the Sabbath it is only rabbinically prohibited. No, it says that it is prohibited. But again, that is on the Sabbath; in the rest of the Torah it will probably really be liable. So I’m saying: I think their discussion—even if there had been warning there—even if there had been warning, that would have been a doubtful warning. Right? A warning where you are not sure it will happen; you are only saying: know that there is a possibility it will happen. A doubtful warning does not create liability. Therefore I think that on the level of arguments about punishment there is still room to discuss this, but that is unrelated. Our discussion in the topic of unintentional action is not a discussion on that plane. It is a discussion on the plane of whether there was an offense here at all.

Yes. Obviously not—you were inadvertent; there would be a provisional guilt-offering. So if he had intended—if he had dragged the bench for the sake of the furrow—right, but it may well be that even according to Rabbi Shimon there would still be room for arguments, right, and then indeed one could say what I answered regarding Rabbi Yehuda could perhaps be said also regarding Rabbi Shimon. Yes. Yes.

Now here it really gets a bit delicate. There might have been room to say, let’s say, that I really do intend it; I drag the bench in order to create the furrow, but it is undesirable to him and so on. No—I intend that, what do you mean? I move the plow and I’m not sure I’ll manage to plow. Is there such a thing? Yes, absolutely—that’s exactly what I’m doing, why not? I tossed the grain upward in winnowing and the wind assisted; I tossed the grain upward hoping a wind would come, and no wind came. That can happen, right? I don’t know beforehand whether the wind will stop or arrive or something like that, but that is how people act in the world. You make plans. Therefore, at least in the laws of the Sabbath, such a thing can come out stringently, as we saw in “one who winnows and the wind assists him,” because on the Sabbath, even if in the end you do not know whether the wind will come, but if you planned for the wind to come and for the wind to separate the chaff from the grain, that is called “his intention was fulfilled.” And once his intention was fulfilled, then even if from the outset it was not clear that he intended, plainly it may be that this is actually, literally, a prohibition. Specifically on the Sabbath there is more room to obligate, because on the Sabbath “purposeful labor” in this case is said stringently, in the case of one who winnows and the wind assists him, not leniently. Okay. And in the rest of the Torah there is room to discuss it.

So for our purposes, what I brought here is really the basic idea that the discussion of unintentional action is not a discussion on the plane of exemption due to coercion, or doubt, or inadvertence, and the like. The discussion is whether there is an act of transgression here. And the claim is that if you do it unintentionally, there is no act of transgression here. If awareness is missing, intention is missing—but no, those are already disputes—but in principle, why are you exempt? You are exempt because this simply is not called an act of transgression.

Now, if that is so, it may be that this distinction we made between awareness and will is really not substantive. Meaning, what I basically need is that your action be an action of transgression. What defines an action as an action of transgression? We can argue—maybe awareness, maybe will, maybe both—it doesn’t matter. But the basis of the exemption is that this is simply not an action you can call an action of transgression. There are several Chazon Ish passages in various contexts where he says this kind of thing in different places. For example, there was a well-known story, I think on Petachya Street in Bnei Brak, if I remember correctly, where someone was driving a car, some cat passed in front of the vehicle, he swerved to the side, and he ran someone over on the sidewalk and killed him. Okay? He simply reacted instinctively, and that is what happened. About that the Chazon Ish claimed that this is not murder, even though it is inadvertent—there is no act of murder here at all. It is simply not called an act of murder at all, because he basically swerved in order not to hit the cat. It is not that he murdered unintentionally. Okay, you would say: I swerved in order not to run over the cat, and unintentionally I also killed the person on the sidewalk. He says no, that is not even called unintentional action at all; I am engaged in an act of saving the cat—that is, an act of rescue, not an act of killing. And many times what determines things is the name of the action. I ask: what are you engaged in? No one will say that I am plowing when I drag a bench and a furrow is created. What do people say? Are you plowing? No, I’m dragging a bench. True, a furrow might be formed here, maybe even in an inevitable-result case, it doesn’t matter, but you can’t say that what I am doing here is an act of plowing. And therefore this is a conception of the Chazon Ish in many contexts—this kind of very commonsense intuition.

This is the Chazon Ish. I once told the maggid shiur I had in Bnei Brak—I told him that I have difficulty with the Chazon Ish. I was a young guy then. I said: I have difficulty with the Chazon Ish; he’s kind of a layman, not a conceptual Talmudist. I said: this is a bit more, this is a bit less, this seems right to me, this doesn’t seem right to me—where are all the systematic conceptual structures of Rabbi Chaim, of Rabbi Shmuel, of all the conceptual analysts? So he told me that a lot of it is a matter of translation. Meaning, he speaks in that style. The Sema is the same, by the way—the Sema too, to me, is a layman. The Sema, incidentally, is the author of the saying that “the mindset of a homeowner is the opposite of the mindset of Torah.” That’s siman 3 in Choshen Mishpat, I think: “the mindset of a homeowner is the opposite of the mindset of Torah.” He himself is really a total homeowner. I don’t know—when he writes, he sounds like a homeowner, not like a conceptual Talmudist. Like the early later authorities. But very often it really is a matter of translation. You can formulate that commonsense intuition in a conceptual-analytic mold, and suddenly it looks very impressive. But in this case, there really is some kind of commonsense reasoning here. Meaning, this isn’t fancy conceptual analysis. It says: ask people—tell me, is he doing an act of plowing? He isn’t, so that’s it, he isn’t plowing. That’s all. In Tosafot you can find this kind of distinction too: ah, it’s less, it doesn’t count, it’s a bit, it’s small—without the kind of sharp definition that the conceptualists like to make. But sometimes it really is like that. Sometimes you tell yourself that the definition of an action depends on how people see it. And if people see this action as an act of dragging a bench, then you did not do an act of plowing. And perhaps that itself is Rabbi Shimon’s reasoning, and therefore you don’t need to get into questions of awareness or will or things like that. All those are just indications, or attempts to conceptualize why people do not see such an action as an act of plowing. So you try to conceptualize it—maybe it’s intention, maybe it’s will, maybe it’s awareness. Forget all that; free yourself from all these things, they’re just externals. In the end, tell me: is this an act of plowing or not? If it is an act of plowing, yes. If it is not an act of plowing, then you are exempt, because you did not plow. It is not called plowing, even if it happened.

In a certain sense, this is similar to acting without awareness. In acting without awareness, that is usually how they explain it. If I am acting without awareness—I walk in the street and somehow tear off leaves as I walk. I tear off leaves. So why am I exempt? This is not unintentional action. Although I am walking and unintentionally I tore off leaves, that would seemingly belong to the category of unintentional action. No. Because I am walking; I am not tearing off leaves. Leaves got torn off, okay, but when you ask me what I’m doing, I’m walking in the street. That’s what I’m doing. What does that mean? On the other hand, in reality we do not relate to the fact that a person does not intend; we look, as it were, at what he really means to do. So clearly if someone wants to plow with a bench, you won’t say, ah, he’s not plowing with a bench. No, I would say that too. No, but I can say that if it isn’t an inevitable result, then I can’t say he plowed with a bench because it isn’t… No, I asked about that under the laws of doubt because there is no inevitable result. Why did I say it is doubt? Because there is no inevitable result. And if there is no inevitable result, you can still ask: wait, but it is a doubt. True, he intended to plow. He intended it, but in practice it is not certain that he’ll succeed. Or: you are not plowing if it is not clear that plowing will happen. But the person tells you: I am plowing. What does “plowing” mean? He is doing plowing-like actions. And if I eat a piece of meat that is maybe pork and maybe not pork, you can make the same argument there too. It depends; the person who eats will also agree with you that it depends on what it is. He will just tell you: I think it’s this, I think it’s that. No, he doesn’t think anything; he is in doubt. We are all in doubt. But in a doubt, when a person says: I am plowing—what does that mean? But he is still in doubt because he doesn’t know whether a furrow will emerge or not. But “I am plowing”—someone who plows, not every plowing is perfect. And if a person says: I want to eat pork even though I’m not sure whether it is pork or not, then there would be no laws of doubt? But doubt is something with… it doesn’t depend on his mind at all. Why? I want to eat pork; I performed an act of plowing. It turned out to be cow. The question of whether this is pork or not doesn’t depend on him. He doesn’t affect what… Plowing also doesn’t depend on him; it depends on the ground. What do you mean it doesn’t depend on him? He moves the bench—either a furrow will come out or it won’t. The way you define it already assumes the conclusion. So also with pork. What he eats, what he wants to eat—that’s the act of eating. Why? What I want to eat doesn’t turn it into… Of course. And what I want to plow also doesn’t turn it into plowing, because maybe it won’t happen. No, it depends on the ground. It depends on people. The person can do the same thing and you’ll tell him: he’s not plowing; and if he tells you that he is plowing, ah… No, that side I understand. But I’m talking about the opposite side. Let’s say he does want to plow, but from the standpoint of the ground, it isn’t clear he will succeed. I don’t see how that differs from pork—from maybe pork maybe beef. Because in plowing you are liable for an action. In pork you are liable… the doubt is not in the action; the doubt is in… Here too the doubt is in the result. You don’t obligate me for the action; you obligate me for an action that produced a result. Because you’re only trying to create some clarity about how people look at it. In pork you are not interested in how people look at it. Because in pork you know that the doubt is… Like in plowing, the doubt is in the ground. You’re repeating the same thing as a reason, but it’s not a reason; it’s just formulating the same thing. The doubt is not about how people look at it. In pork, my doubt as a halakhic decisor in pork… I want to know what this object is, in order to obligate the person for eating pork. In the end, eating pork is the prohibition, not the pork. It is what defines this thing as doubtful. I don’t see a difference. But you yourself said that the action is what defines it. Of course—I’d say the same thing about pork. No, that doesn’t turn it into… No, and this turns it into eating pork. Why should I care about the pork? But eating the pork is the prohibition. No, but eating the pork is the prohibition. Here too my prohibition is plowing, and my doubt is whether plowing will come out. It’s the same thing. The prohibition… I just don’t see why. We’re repeating the same thing. I don’t see the difference, but okay, fine.

So there really are some later authorities who formulate it this way. Rabbi Shimon in Sha’arei Yosher, Gate 3. He says that when a person drags a bench and creates a furrow, it is because the very name of the act is missing, and when one acts for the purpose of moving the bench, the name of the act is “the labor of moving a bench,” and it is not called plowing. You see—that is exactly the formulation, even though Rabbi Shimon is not a layman. But yes, that is how he formulates it. Meaning, the exemption of unintentional action is an exemption—it is not a formal requirement of awareness or intention. Just ask the person: what is the name of the action this person is engaged in? What? No, no, yes, that’s unintentional action. What? Again. If it is under purposeful labor, where the person… okay, that may be, but no, I think he says it, yes, he says it in a… What? That’s it.

Now the question is: then what difference does it make whether it is an inevitable result or not? Meaning, let’s say it is an inevitable result—still I am engaged in dragging a bench and not in making a furrow. After all, here I am going against the prohibition. After all, in essence I’m killing the chicken. So what, don’t we already have something that contradicts these ideas? You are killing a chicken here. Fine, but then you’ll say: who cares that you are engaged in dragging a bench? In practice, you are plowing. That is the question. What… We are proposing here a new mechanism. We are saying no—every person who looks at an inevitable result, it’s just like a cloud—any person who looks at it knows that if you cut off the chicken’s head, it dies. There is no room for question. Meaning that in a place where everyone knows that a furrow will definitely be created, say like in an inevitable-result case—no—then it means I do see him as someone doing an act of plowing, even though in practice he really is not doing it. Meaning, he is still unintentional; this does not neutralize the state of intention. So what does it do? Apparently intention—and this is exactly the point—apparently intention is not…the absence of intention is not the exemption. The absence of intention is a sign that I am not engaged in an act of plowing, and that is the exemption. Meaning, it is not that the absence of intention…

Now, if that is so, it may be that an inevitable result really does not turn me into someone intentional, but that doesn’t matter, because the problem of intention is not required in order to obligate me when I intend—that is not the point. Rather, if I do not intend, I simply am not doing an act of plowing. So if there is another parameter that turns me into someone defined as doing an act of plowing, that will obligate me even if it does not cancel out the absence of intention. And this is the deeper meaning of this explanation of Rabbi Shimon: until now we kept discussing whether unintentional action is awareness, so I understand the inevitable result because it gives me awareness; I don’t understand what desirability is doing. If the inevitable result is will, I understand desirability because desirability handles… but I don’t understand why I need inevitability. All these stories assumed that inevitability and desirability come to solve the problem of intention. I lack intention, and the question is whether there is something that turns me back into being considered intentional, okay? But if I understand—no, because the problem of intention itself is not the issue. The absence of intention only means that when people look at me, I am not considered someone engaged in plowing, and therefore I am exempt. Fine—but then there can be other things that can make me count as someone engaged in an act of plowing, even though in the normal definitions of intention I truly do not intend it. It doesn’t matter, because intention is not an essential thing; it is a sign, not a cause. It is a sign of exemption, okay? Therefore I can cancel it even in a situation where the absence of intention itself is not canceled. I still do not intend, and nevertheless I can be liable, because the act is attributed to me despite the fact that… because we are not looking for what will cancel the absence of intention—that’s how I proceeded until now. Okay? The absence of intention is not the thing itself; it is just a sign.

Fine, so let’s leave that for the moment, because the difference between these two approaches—we need to study labor not needed for its own sake, and we will deal with it there. No, that’s negligence. I don’t think you can say that that is an act of murder. It’s negligence, but that does not mean there was an act of murder here. No, I didn’t intend to murder; I’m not driving fast. If you really would say that he drove properly. Okay. You can’t say he drove like a normal person… Fine, but you can’t say he murdered. Right? If he was driving properly—if, say, he had run a red light and swerved because of the cat and killed the person, even then you would say: you were not driving… No, and I’m also not a murderer. No. If you want this to count as an act of murder, I don’t think it can be seen as an act of murder. There is criminal negligence here, and perhaps for that you can sue him. You cannot say that he was engaged in murder; he did not intend to kill anyone. The fact that I am not driving properly does not mean that I am a murderer; I’m reckless. So what? But I’m not a murderer. Yes, he is doing something else—he is behaving wildly. No, he’s behaving wildly, not murdering. It’s something else. It’s not… a murderer he is not. You can say he is not driving, but there are other things to do besides driving. It’s only a question of guilt. It’s all questions of guilt; it’s not connected to defining the action. But I’m speaking now about the definition of the action, not about how guilty he is. Because he is inadvertent. Well, then he’s no longer chopping wood. No—not because he’s no longer chopping wood; because he is guilty. His negligence—he can’t… Arguments of inadvertence are arguments for lack of guilt. Why doesn’t that determine the definition of what he is doing? He’s not driving; he’s doing something else—the man chopping wood. That’s irrelevant, because the exemption of inadvertence is not based on this logic at all. In the case where the Talmud says he is liable, and this is just an ordinary exemption, just a mere deferral—an inadvertent person is not exempt—why then does no one say: no, he should be exempt; he’s chopping wood, he drove, he’s not driving. Ah, no, because once the person is negligent he is no longer chopping wood; he’s a murderer. Ah, no, that is not true. What do you mean? He is not a murderer. He is chopping wood; he just has negligence vis-à-vis the killing. There is no logic in that whatsoever. That is called a different action. I am waving axes around, but I am not murdering. I didn’t intend to murder anyone. No—fine, okay.

I want one more comment. We will talk about doubtful inevitable result later. But within this discussion, doubtful inevitable result—Sha’arei Yosher brings a proof that an inevitable result does not turn him into someone intentional, and yet he is liable. What is the proof? He says: there is a dispute in the Talmud on 95a regarding sweeping and sprinkling. Someone who sweeps the ground, he sweeps the ground with a palm branch. A palm branch is their broom, okay? So now… there is a concern that leaves may get detached from the palm branch, and then it is prohibited. Okay? So there is a tannaitic dispute over whether this is an inevitable result or not. Whether when you sweep, a leaf will necessarily fall off—be detached—or not. A tannaitic dispute. Therefore the question is whether one is liable or exempt… exempt and permitted, in any case. What is the dispute? One tanna says this is an inevitable result, and the other tanna says it is not an inevitable result, right? Now the tanna who says it is an inevitable result—how can he obligate? Opposite him there is a tanna who says it is not an inevitable result. And if the point is that every person has to know that if you sweep, a leaf will get detached—here you have in front of you an intelligent person, a Torah scholar, and he tells you no, a leaf won’t get detached. He is wrong according to your view, fine. You think he is wrong. But you cannot say that every person, when he does this, it is clear to him in advance that a leaf will get detached. That simply is not true. So how can you say that this is an inevitable result? Here is proof that an inevitable result does not turn you into someone intentional; it is not that you are liable in the sense that the inevitable result turns you into someone intentional or turns you into someone who knows. So this is an example of a proof—we will get into this—but this is an example of a proof that Rabbi Shimon brings for a situation where you see that an inevitable result does not turn you back into someone intentional, and yet it may still obligate you. Why? Because the inevitable result apparently connects the action to you in some way.

Now, what does it mean that this inevitable result connects the action to you? This can be formulated in two ways. We will see practical differences later. One formulation is what I said before. Meaning, basically, when you do not intend it, then the act of making the furrow in the ground is not connected to you. You are engaged in dragging benches, not in making a furrow. The furrow got made here, but you did not do that; it is not connected to you. Okay? That is not an action that you did. Now, if it is an inevitable result, then the inevitable result does connect it to you. It does not turn you into someone intentional. You still do not intend it. You did not do it for the sake of plowing, for the sake of the furrow. But this action is still considered your action—it counts, it connects the action to you because it results inevitably from your deeds. Then basically, true, you did not become intentional, but you do not have the exemption that the action is not connected to you, because it is connected to you. That is how I formulated it earlier.

There is a second way to understand it. In Kovetz Shiurim on Ketubot, siman 18, he says this: in the dispute between the Arukh and Tosafot regarding an inevitable result that is undesirable to him, apparently it would seem that the reason for this dispute depends on the reason Rabbi Shimon concedes in the case of an inevitable result. Yes? This dispute depends on the question why Rabbi Shimon concedes in the case of an inevitable result. There are two ways to explain it. One: for example, a Nazirite may shampoo but not comb, because combing is an inevitable result. Yes? If the Nazirite combs, he pulls out hairs, and a Nazirite is forbidden to cut his hair. One can say that since he knows that by combing he will pull out hairs, he is considered as intending the pulling out. But where it is undesirable to him, perforce he does not intend it. Yes, he is not doing it for that if it is undesirable to him. This is very similar to what I said before—it basically means that he is considered to intend it. The inevitable result turns him into someone intentional. A second possibility: since combing is an inevitable result of pulling out, it turns out that the pulling out is included within the combing, and it is enough that he intended the combing even though he did not intend the pulling out, because the pulling out is included in the combing. If so, even if the pulling out is undesirable to him, he is not exempt because of unintentional action, because one who intends the combing—the pulling out is included in the combing, since it is impossible to have one without the other. That is, one does not need intention for the body of the labor itself; it is enough that he intends the act within which the labor is necessarily included.

Notice, this formulation is very similar to what we said before, but it is not the same thing, and in a moment we will see the practical differences. I said before that the inevitable result basically connects the act to you. He says no. What is an inevitable result? If when I drag a bench it is inevitable that a furrow will be made, then making the furrow is part of dragging the bench—not that it is connected to me, but that it is connected to dragging the bench. Now when I intend dragging the bench—yes, when I intend dragging the bench—I did not intend the furrow. But that does not matter, because the furrow is included in dragging the bench. So my intention for dragging the bench is also considered intention for making the furrow. Not because I truly intended it—notice—so this means that the inevitable result does not really turn me into someone intentional. I did not intend making the furrow. But it is enough that I intended dragging the bench to make me count as intentional. Why? Because we see making the furrow as part of dragging the bench, because of the inevitable result, because one cannot exist without the other, so from our standpoint this is one act. And if I intended dragging the bench, then de facto it is considered as though I also intended making the furrow.

Where is the practical difference? This is what he says. Suppose it is undesirable to me that the furrow be made. Then he says: according to the Arukh, I am exempt. Why am I exempt? Because in the end they tell me: listen, if it was an inevitable result, then don’t tell me you didn’t intend the furrow, because you intended the furrow. You knew in advance this would happen, and it was certain that it would happen, and so on. No—but it is undesirable to me. You can’t tell me that because it is an inevitable result, I intended it. That’s not true. Therefore that is the Arukh’s approach. The Arukh understands that undesirability exempts. Right? What do Tosafot, who disagree and say that undesirability does not exempt, say? They say: that’s fine. The fact that the furrow is undesirable to you is absolutely fine; you did not intend the furrow. You do not need to intend the furrow. But making the furrow is part of the act of dragging the bench, and dragging the bench—you certainly intended that—and your intention for dragging the bench extends to all the aspects included in it, including making the furrow. There, lack of desirability does not exempt you. It is not relevant, since from the outset the liability in inevitable result is not because inevitable result shows that you intend. That is not the point. Rather, inevitable result does the work in place of intention. It connects the act to you in place of intention. So in such a case I do not care that it is undesirable to you. Okay? So there you have a practical difference. We will see another practical difference later.

And even if he makes a furrow, this is not his labor; rather, it happened by itself. These are the Chazon-Ish-type ideas I mentioned, and here he says it explicitly too. And according to this, it should have been permitted even in a case of inevitable result. For what difference does certainty make as opposed to doubt? In practice, he is not engaged in making a furrow but in dragging a bench. So what difference does it make whether it is an inevitable result or not? He says: after all, even a doubtful prohibition is treated stringently by Torah law. So perforce the reason that an inevitable result is prohibited is because it is considered as if there is intention here, since the result of his action is certain. So it is considered that he intends. And the Arukh holds that this is only where it is desirable to him that it is considered as if there is intention here. But where it is undesirable or he does not care, there is no human action here at all, even in an inevitable-result case. Is this like Kovetz Shiurim? How do you understand it? He definitely says that the inevitable result turns me into someone intentional—the opposite of the Kovetz Shiurim’s second side; it is the first side of the Kovetz Shiurim. Meaning, he says that the inevitable result turns me into someone intentional. So then of course the question arises: what about if it is undesirable to me? Then he says: it is only where it is desirable to him that it is considered as if there is intention here. But if it is undesirable to me, then what difference does it make that it is an inevitable result? I still do not intend it. This is exactly the first side of the Kovetz Shiurim, right? The second side of the Kovetz Shiurim says: I am not considered intentional because of the inevitable result. That is not the point, because otherwise, indeed, undesirability would not exempt. Rather, I simply intend dragging the bench. Making the furrow, because it is an inevitable result together with dragging the bench, is part of it. And if I intend dragging the bench, then I also intended the furrow. So why does it matter that the furrow is undesirable to me? It is of no interest. But they are not really claiming that I intended the furrow, so the fact that it is undesirable to me does not matter. It only proves that I did not intend it, but no one is claiming that I did.

It reminds me of this: why doesn’t a migo help validate testimony by relatives? Two relatives come and they have a migo. Is that okay? Why not? I’ll tell you. What does the migo say? The migo says: if I had wanted to lie, I would have made a better claim. Therefore you have proof that I am not lying, right? That is the argument. Right. But with relatives, the whole problem is not at all that we suspect them of lying. It is a scriptural decree, according to Maimonides and the Shulchan Arukh, the Talmud in Bava Batra. Right? So what does the migo help? The migo proves that they are not lying, but I did not disqualify them because they lied. In any case where someone is suspected of lying, and you do not accept his testimony because he is suspected of lying, if he has a migo you can say: okay, now I have no suspicion that he is lying. But with relatives, from the outset the problem is not suspicion of lying, so what good is the migo? It proves they are not lying—I know they are not lying.

The same here. I say: what does lack of desirability for the furrow help—that I do not desire the furrow? My exemption is not because I do not intend the furrow. So you proved to me that I do not intend it—so what? Even if I do not intend it, I am liable. Why? Because it is included in the act of dragging the bench. Yes, migo also doesn’t help, for example, where there is concern of confusion. Someone comes and says something that permits a woman to remarry, yes? He saw that her husband died. He comes to testify in order to permit the woman to remarry. Now sometimes we are concerned that he is confused. Meaning, it is not that he is lying; he thought that this was the woman’s husband, but he may not be right. In other words, that is what he thought. You understand that in such a situation a migo will not help? Because migo only proves that he is not lying: if he wanted to lie, he would have lied better. But my suspicion of him is that he sincerely believes this is the woman’s husband. I have no suspicion that he is lying. It’s just not certain that he is right; he could be imagining it. So migo will not help in such a case. Okay?

Now there are some later authorities who want to claim—and this actually starts already with medieval authorities, but later authorities formulate it—that they want to make the following claim. Maybe I’ll start with the example. There is the Talmud in Zevachim about sprinkling wine over the flames. So Shmuel permits sprinkling wine over the flames. We spoke about this. After all, this is an inevitable result, yes? Unintentional action. This is an inevitable result. So the Arukh, for example, says this is an inevitable result that is undesirable to him. That is one of the proofs he brings that an inevitable result that is undesirable to him is permitted. Rashi there says something else, not like the Arukh. He says: why indeed does Shmuel permit it there even though it is an inevitable result? He says because you can sprinkle wine over the fire without extinguishing. If you sprinkle in a fine spray, then it will not extinguish at all. Only a thick spray extinguishes the fire. The assumption doesn’t matter for now, but that is Rashi’s assumption—sorry, the Talmud according to Rashi. So since one can sprinkle in a way that does not extinguish, then even when I sprinkle in a way that does extinguish, I am exempt because it is not an inevitable result. What does that mean?

So the Merkavet HaMishneh says in chapter 1 of the laws of the Sabbath, and the Or Sameach also speaks about this—several later authorities bring this principle—they want to claim the following. Right now, when I sprinkle, I sprinkle in thick drops. That certainly extinguishes; it is an inevitable result. But I could have sprinkled in thin drops, and then maybe it would not extinguish. Ah? I don’t know if this creates liability, but at least not exemption—meaning, it is no stronger than an ordinary case and also no weaker. Why? Why did I sprinkle thickly? Okay, I understand. In any case, the claim is this: if there is another way, when I performed the action now I performed it in a way where the prohibition clearly comes out as an inevitable result, meaning there is no way the prohibition will not result, but there is another way to perform the action where the prohibition would not necessarily occur—that is enough for this not to be called an inevitable result. That is what Rashi says here. That is how the Merkavet HaMishneh and the Or Sameach and others explain it.

They bring additional examples. For example, in Shiltei HaGibborim he also brings such a principle, and brings Rashba, who permits closing the door of a house that has a deer inside it, even though he traps the deer as an inevitable result. I close the door in order to close the door, and inside there is a deer, and closing the door traps it. Now I am not doing the act of trapping; I am closing a door, like dragging the bench. It is unintentional action. Right? So the Rashba says: therefore exempt. What about inevitable result? If you close it, the deer will definitely be trapped. So the Shiltei HaGibborim claims that closing a door is not always trapping; if there is no deer there, then it will not trap, right? Therefore even in a place where there is a deer inside, if I close the door, this is not an inevitable result. So again the Shiltei HaGibborim says the same principle as the Merkavet HaMishneh, like the Or Sameach—the same principle: if I do a permitted action, and unintentionally I also perform a prohibited action, and the prohibited action necessarily results from the permitted action, this is an inevitable result—but not always. Meaning, there can be other ways to perform the action—not in this way. In this way it definitely happens, but there can be other ways to do the action so that the prohibited result will not occur. That is enough to exempt me even if I did it in a way where it necessarily would occur. Very strange. It’s not the same action. Exactly—that’s the point I’m bringing.

Meaning, the claim is that perhaps—there is another example too. There is a Ritva in Sabbath 116. The Talmud discusses skinning the Passover offering. Skinning—removing the hide from the offering. Now skinning is one of the primary categories of labor on the Sabbath. What happens when Passover eve falls on the Sabbath? There is a discussion there whether one skins the offering or does not skin the offering, because the slaughtering and the offering can be done even without skinning, but part of the post-sacrifice preparation for eating and so on is the skinning. Now the question is whether skinning overrides the Sabbath or does not override the Sabbath. So the Talmud says that skinning in principle does not override the Sabbath, but one can remove it in strips. “In strips” means that he peels the hide off in thin strips, okay? And if he peels the hide off in thin strips, then there is no issue of skinning here, because the point of skinning is to improve the hide, so that I will have usable leather. Now if I make it into strips, then I don’t have a hide. Right. So if I do it in strips, then there is no improvement of the hide, and therefore there is no Torah prohibition here. So now the Ritva basically claims that the case is not that he skins it in strips; he skins it normally. But since he could have skinned it in strips, then even if he skins it normally it is permitted. Even though when he skins it normally now, that is a Torah prohibition, and it is necessarily also skinning—he is doing it to prepare the meat, not because he needs the hide, but in practice he also skinned it. Okay? So it comes out that he did an unintentional action with an inevitable result. But yes—he could have skinned it in strips, in thin strips, so even if he skins it in thick strips, that will not be called an inevitable result. The same principle again, right?

You see this in all sorts of other places too. The Rosh in Pesachim, for example, regarding benefit that comes to a person against his will. If someone walks on a road and there is an odor of idolatry, he could stop up his nose, yes? So the Rosh says that if he went and did not stop up his nose, and smelled it, that is still permitted. But what—this is unintentional action; he is not… he does not intend that; he goes there not in order to smell. He goes because he wants to go. So one says: but once he came there, he cannot walk there without smelling; it is an inevitable result. He says yes, but he could have stopped up his nose. He didn’t stop it up. And when he went, he went without stopping up his nose. Since he could have stopped up his nose, then even if he does not stop up his nose, that is not an inevitable result. This is the well-known Chafetz Chaim in Be’er Mayim Chaim, where he says that in a case where it is unavoidable and he does not intend—someone who comes to a place where people are speaking malicious speech. He has a long Be’er Mayim Chaim on this. Someone who comes to a place where people are speaking malicious speech—the question is whether he has to stop up his ears. He says that if he came there for other reasons, then no. He will necessarily hear malicious speech, fine, but he did not come there for that. Ah, is that an inevitable result? Yes, but he did not come there for that. But no—if they are not speaking malicious speech, then there is no prohibition of hearing. Fine, let’s leave that in parentheses, so to speak. The hundred shekels—the ignorant masses do not lie on the Sabbath, yes? He does it in a way where sometimes it comes out as small pieces, sometimes as large pieces. And that was the intention? Meaning that he is not particular, and sometimes usable pieces result and sometimes not. Right—but then that is not an inevitable result by simple definition, so you don’t need innovations for that. By the simple definition of unintentional action, it is not an inevitable result. He wants to claim no—even though I do it in a way where it is an inevitable result, if I could have done it in a way where it was not an inevitable result, then it is nevertheless permitted.

Now what do all these things mean? They mean that when I talk about unintentional action and inevitable result, it does not depend only on what happens in the specific way in which I did the action. It depends on how this action is generally done. Is there another way to do the action such that the prohibition will not result from it? In that situation, even if in the way I chose to do the action the prohibition necessarily results from it—an inevitable result—even then it is not considered an inevitable result. How can one understand such a thing? It seems to me that this is exactly the practical difference between the two formulations I gave above.

Above I gave two formulations for how I understand why inevitable result obligates according to Rabbi Shimon. One possibility is that inevitable result, according to Rabbi Shimon Schkop—so what does Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai say according to Rabbi Shimon Schkop? Yes, so the claim is: why does inevitable result really obligate me? I still am not doing that action. So he says no: if I do it as an inevitable result, then basically that connects the action to me even without my intending it. And basically all that is needed is to connect the action to me; I do not need to intend it. So if it is connected to me, then I am liable even if I did not intend it. Okay? I think that according to this approach there is no room to say this principle. If now I did the action in such a way that it necessarily results from my deed, then it is connected to me. What difference does it make that I could have done it differently?

But if I understand it like the formulation of Kovetz Shiurim, the second formulation—this is the Chazon Ish—if I understand according to the second formulation of Kovetz Shiurim, then it means: after all, I did not intend the act of making the furrow. But making the furrow is considered an inseparable part of the act of dragging the bench, and therefore my intention for dragging the bench also rises to the level of intention for making the furrow. Right? Here one could say: that is only if they always come together—dragging the bench and making the furrow. If every time you drag a bench, a furrow is also formed, then that is one thing, one action. So if you intended dragging the bench, don’t tell me you intended only dragging the bench and not the furrow. But if there are situations where you can drag the bench and no furrow will be formed, then in such situations you cannot say that it really counts as one action. And then even if you intended dragging the bench, that is not necessarily considered intention for making the furrow. Because you cannot consider making the furrow to be an inseparable part of dragging the bench, because in fact sometimes it appears together with it and sometimes without it. A bit like Maimonides in the Guide, where Maimonides says that if there are two things such that one can come without the other, then the other can also come without the first. I think that’s not true, but that’s what he says there.

Maybe when walking I have the option not to walk there. No—walking itself is in any case no problem at all; the problem is the smelling. I smell the prohibited odor; no one is obligating me for the walking. No, that’s obvious. But one cannot… I’m talking about the smelling. Why don’t they obligate me for smelling idolatry? Not for the walking. The question is whether I am allowed to walk. If there is an odor of idolatry there, then I am forbidden to walk there. I have another option: stay at home. What do you mean there’s no option? Is this life-saving? Stop up your nose, stay home, whatever—I have another option. Breathe through your mouth. Breathe through your mouth. Breathe through your mouth, right. “Stop up” doesn’t necessarily mean literally like this—breathe through your mouth and not through your nose. But if I already went and arrived there, then the question is whether the inevitable result no longer exists? Why wouldn’t it exist? You can still stop up your nose. Why? Stop up your nose; what’s the problem? This is not an exemption of coercion; that is exactly the point. “Unavoidable and he does not intend” is not an exemption of coercion. Nobody is asking you not to get there; they are asking you not to smell. You got there permissibly—so what? I also ate breakfast permissibly. And right now I am doing a prohibition. What is my permission? No, there that is a different question. There the question is whether the prohibition is to become impure or to be impure. That is the question. Fine, that is a separate discussion. Like with mixed fibers—whether the prohibition is to wear the mixed fabric or to be clothed in mixed fabric.

So in short, my claim is that this whole collection of these later authorities, and also the medieval authorities, is exactly a practical difference between the two formulations I gave earlier. If the formulation is that making the furrow, because of inevitable result, returns and is connected to me even though I did not intend it, that would happen even if there is another way in which it would not happen. But if the formulation is that, from my perspective, making the furrow is considered part of the act of dragging the bench—you cannot separate them into two actions; it is one action—if that is indeed the case, then here, I can consider them one action only if there is never one without the other. They always go together. So if I have other ways in which I can do one without the other, then you cannot say this is one and the same action. Therefore, if I want to connect the actions, then one can understand the logic. Again, that is still not compelled, but at least one can make the argument that this is only if it always happens.

Now, of course, this raises difficult questions, because when is it not so? It is always so. When I drag the bench and create a furrow, that is an inevitable result, right? About that the Talmud says: Rabbi Shimon concedes in the case of “cut off its head and won’t it die?” What—you cannot drag a bench in a way that does not make a furrow? Lift it up, or I’ll drag it on hard ground instead of loose soil. Yes, he concedes on that dispute, but that was the dispute. It doesn’t matter, their dispute is there, in that very sugya, and about that the Talmud says: Rabbi Shimon concedes in the inevitable-result case. Obviously that is what is being discussed. It appears in the medieval authorities too, but it is obvious. So what is the question? That is the case of inevitable result. No, not obvious—why? If the ground is not loose, then it won’t make a furrow. No, hard ground is a different situation; it is not another way of doing the same action. So when is it this and when is it that? Not a simple question. Why is that different from sprinkling wine in thin drops or thick drops? That is called another way of doing the same action. Why? Why is that another way of doing the same action, whereas dragging a bench on hard ground is another action—it is not another way of doing the same action? Fine, I can understand the issue, but the criterion is far from sharp, okay?

So there are cases of inevitable result—I don’t know—the classic case of cutting off the head is the one you’re talking about. Right, there it is certainly one thing, impossible to separate. There I would say more than that: there, this is not unintentional action at all, not just inevitable result. What action did I do? I only did an act of killing a chicken. Did I do an act of “taking a head”? No, I did an act of killing a chicken. So not because of inevitable result; it is much deeper than inevitable result. Just look at such a case: someone cuts off a chicken’s head and gives it to his child to play with. Ask people: what is he engaged in now? In killing chickens—what do you mean what is he engaged in now? It’s obvious. That is deeper than inevitable result. There I really don’t understand how this belongs to the category of unintentional action at all, even before the dispute and “Rabbi Shimon concedes in inevitable result” and so on. Yes, they understand the inevitable result like that, but there it is so blatant that I wouldn’t even connect it to inevitable result at all. Maybe it is labor not needed for its own sake. Meaning, I am basically killing the chicken. True, I do not need it dead; I need its head as a ball, like one who digs a pit and needs only the dust. The point is that in the Torah, after all, the definition of labor that we find on the Sabbath is purposeful labor. And on the Sabbath, once we see in the result the result of the labor the Torah prohibited, then that becomes the central thing. And if we can see it as purposeful labor, then we ignore the “you could have done it differently.” But why do we see it as purposeful labor? It may be that these factors—“you could have done it differently”—define what purposeful labor is. No, what interferes with purposeful labor, to my mind, is that I do not intend. The fact that I could have done it differently only neutralizes the inevitable result. Basically, after all, there is the law of purposeful labor. The fact that you could have done it differently—does that itself make it purposeful labor, or does it negate the labor altogether? But the question is not only whether this is labor, but also whether this inevitable result is certain or less certain. Let’s try to organize this and see whether we already have some principle, a more developed principle to work with, about labor or non-labor, and purposeful labor or non-purposeful labor. I don’t know.

I would say a similar distinction, for example, about something I’ll mention in a moment. What happens in a situation where it is almost certain that it will happen, but not completely certain? Yes—almost certain, but not certain. After all, even with thick drops maybe it won’t happen, I don’t know. With thin drops it probably won’t happen. So cutting the windpipe? The brainstem apparently remains. No, but he needs the windpipe for breathing somehow, doesn’t he? And the brainstem isn’t exactly… No, no, certainly that’s not what he’s doing in the case there. Okay, not from the windpipe. I also meant the brain. Because in fact that is how it is with slaughtered chickens: when you cut the chicken, the head can run around for ten minutes. It keeps running? Yes. Full of energy. No, I mean the stump. Right, but with a person too I would say that could happen. Maybe the head also doesn’t function when attached, but okay. Yes.

Anyway, in a situation where, say, it is almost certain that the prohibited result will occur, but not 100 percent certain—would that be called an inevitable result or not? So later authorities discuss this. There are quite a few later authorities who say that this too is called an inevitable result. Meaning, if it is almost certain that this will happen. Here I can indeed understand that on the Sabbath it is more plausible that this is so. Because what happens on the Sabbath? After all, purposeful labor on the Sabbath, as we said in Bava Kama 60, is that “his intention was fulfilled.” Meaning, if you made a certain plan, and the plan eventually materialized, then from our perspective it is called that you did it; it doesn’t matter whether it happened with the help of the wind, or through indirect causation, or whatever. Here too I can understand something similar in the case of an almost-certain inevitable result. If it is almost certainly an inevitable result, you basically planned to plow. True, there was some doubt whether you would succeed, but after all, you did this for the purpose of plowing. And in the end you did plow; your intention was fulfilled. So in such a case I can understand that in the laws of the Sabbath it is easier to obligate you for such a thing than in the rest of the Torah. Because in the rest of the Torah you would say: fine, but still this is not an inevitable result. But on the Sabbath, since your intention was fulfilled, and after all that is why you did it, then just as assistance by the wind does not exempt, so too the possibility that it might not happen does not exempt. There I think I see this distinction between Sabbath and non-Sabbath more clearly. What? About the mechanical devices today that operate through indirect causation. Ah, yes—but there it is indirect causation, not lack of intention. Yes, right, I completely agree. I think those permissions are highly questionable. There are pamphlets by Rabbi Yitzchak Brand—not Yitzchak Brand from here, from the law faculty—no, another Yitzchak Brand. Some strange sort of fellow, yes. But he has some interesting pamphlets on this, and I fully agree with him, against all those permissions of the Tzomet Institute and the halakhic institute. Yes. Because in the end you activate this thing, and that is what happens. Why should I care that inside it happens this way? No one sees that and it is of no interest. But that is especially true in the laws of the Sabbath, where “his intention was fulfilled,” where purposeful labor is really the determining parameter.

So how exactly does inevitable result turn me back into someone intentional, or connect the action to me? Look, for example, at Tosafot in Yoma. Tosafot in Yoma says: even though in the chapter HaBoneh it says that one who picks chicory—if for eating, the amount is the size of a dried fig; if to improve the ground, any amount. And it asks: aren’t all of them for improving the ground? And it answers: this was needed only according to Rabbi Shimon, who says that an unintentional act is permitted. And it asks: but didn’t Abaye and Rava both say that Rabbi Shimon concedes in the case of “cut off its head and won’t it die”? And it answers: this was needed where he acts in his fellow’s field, where he gets no benefit at all. And nevertheless it is forbidden ab initio, as will be explained shortly; it is only that he is not liable to bring a sin-offering. And it implies that in his own field he is liable to bring a sin-offering, even though he does not intend to improve the ground, since it is an inevitable result and he benefits from it.

What is he saying? Someone collects sticks from the ground. Collecting the sticks is basically plowing, because you improve the ground and that is part of plowing. So it says: if you do this in your fellow’s field, then you are exempt, because it is unintentional action. I didn’t understand? Exactly. This is one of the proofs for the Arukh regarding undesirability. There is a dispute whether this really is undesirability here or not, but it is one of the Arukh’s proofs. So the Talmud says that since it is in his fellow’s field, then no—he is exempt, because in his fellow’s field he does not need that, it is not for him. Not desirable or he does not care—it’s… yes, in plain terms he does not care, not that it is undesirable to him. And further it is similar to one who stirs coals in order to warm himself and they burn more strongly on their own, which is labor not needed for its own sake, and Rabbi Shimon exempts, since he gets no benefit at all from this kindling, because even without the added burning there are already enough coals to warm himself. Thus it is clear that he did not intend to kindle. But in the case in HaBoneh—this is the key sentence—but in the case in HaBoneh, since he benefits, we are witnesses that he intends to improve it.

What does that mean? He collects sticks in his own field, not his fellow’s field—yes? In his own field. So Tosafot explains why in inevitable result Rabbi Shimon concedes that he is indeed liable. Rabbi Shimon says: it is unintentional action; he still is unintentional; he is doing it to collect the sticks, not to improve the ground. He says yes, but if he benefits, then we are witnesses that he intends to improve it. Right? Meaning, Tosafot understands that in the end what makes him liable is that I tell you that he indeed does intend. Don’t tell me that you do not intend—you do intend. That is not like the formulations I gave above. The formulations I gave above said that it does not make you intentional, but just as intention connects the action to you, there are other ways to connect the action to you even if you do not intend. Here Tosafot says: it is like intentionality, and that is why you are liable. A different conception of inevitable result—or of desirability, yes, he is speaking here about both.

But this too can be understood in two ways. It can be understood in the simple way—“we are witnesses,” meaning he really does intend. Exactly. The question is how… Deep down he really does intend; don’t tell me he does not intend. A second possibility is: no, it counts like someone who intends. Not that he really intends, but from my standpoint he is considered like one who intends. If it is green on the outside, red on the inside, and has watermelon seeds, then it’s a watermelon. What do I mean? It is not certain that it is a watermelon, but it is basically a watermelon. Meaning, I am not claiming that it truly is a watermelon, but it is effectively a watermelon. Okay? Meaning, if you want this, and this labor was done basically intentionally, and this is not acting without awareness or anything of that sort, and in the end of the whole story it is desirable to you, then true, you do not intend in the conceptual sense, but this is called like intentionality. Okay? That is basically the claim. And if one understands it that way, then this can connect to what I said earlier—that really it is only a question of whether the act is connected to the actor, and not whether the unintentionality here was truly neutralized. Yes? That is basically the question.

There are cases of deriving benefit in forbidden fats and sexual prohibitions, prohibitions of benefit, where there is a rationale of “he benefited.” There is some way to connect it to him more strongly. And why? You could say it is connected to him because of the watermelon. Meaning, because overall he wants this and he did it intentionally, so practically it is the same as intending—not that it is really intentional in the psychological sense. And that is what I said earlier in the second possibility.

Fine. So basically, one more point I still want to get in today. There is a dispute regarding inevitable result in rabbinic prohibitions. Rashba in Sabbath says that someone who closes a door—there is concern that he may extinguish a lamp, and therefore this is an inevitable result in a rabbinic prohibition, and it is forbidden. And Ritva and Meiri there write that with rabbinic prohibitions they did not prohibit inevitable result. Magen Avraham brings in the name of Terumat HaDeshen as well that they did not prohibit inevitable result in a rabbinic prohibition—an inevitable result that is undesirable to him. Because in practice we rule not like the Arukh, that undesirability exempts, but in rabbinic prohibitions, yes. In any case, what is the difference between rabbinic prohibitions and Torah prohibitions? If inevitable result basically really turns me into someone intentional, then what difference does it make whether this is a rabbinic prohibition or a Torah prohibition? In practice I intend it. The original prohibition is still there now too.

Meaning, if you distinguish between a rabbinic prohibition and a Torah prohibition, then you are saying that even in Torah law it did not really turn you into someone intentional; it is just that in Torah law it is prohibited. In rabbinic law they did not enact that stringency. Again, I would not have said this from the outset, but if you already distinguish between rabbinic and Torah law, it seems to me much more reasonable to do so on the side that inevitable result does not turn you into someone intentional. If it turns you into someone intentional, then what is the point of distinguishing between rabbinic and Torah law?

What really is the difference between rabbinic and Torah law? In plain terms, rabbinic prohibitions are prohibitions on the person, not on the object. Right? Like the Netivot in Choshen Mishpat, siman 234. The Netivot says there that someone who inadvertently ate something rabbinically prohibited for benefit does not need to repent. He does not need to repent. Why not? Since with rabbinic prohibitions, if you did them inadvertently, that is not an offense. Why not? He brings proof from a passage in Eruvin, I think. The Talmud says there that someone who sees his teacher standing about to commit an offense must stop him and say, “Our teacher taught us that such-and-such is the law,” because maybe he didn’t notice. But that is with a Torah prohibition. With a rabbinic prohibition: first let him act, and only afterwards raise the difficulty. Ask your questions afterwards. First let him do it, and in the end sit quietly and ask him in order to learn—ask him why such a thing was permitted. So he asks: what is the difference? Why don’t you need to prevent him from doing a rabbinic prohibition? Why only a Torah prohibition? So he says: because with rabbinic prohibitions, if done inadvertently, he does not violate a prohibition. Only ab initio you need to know what to do, but if he violated this prohibition inadvertently, then it was no prohibition at all. Therefore he concludes from this that one also need not repent if one violated the prohibition. What is the idea here?

So several later authorities explain this. They say the same thing regarding a doubt in rabbinic law being treated leniently. Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Shlomo Zalman on Shev Shmatta explain why in a doubt concerning rabbinic law we go leniently. They say that in rabbinic law—say, according to Maimonides—the source of the force of rabbinic authority is “do not deviate.” Then when the sages tell me not to eat poultry with milk, they are basically telling me: there is no problem in this. Poultry with milk itself is not a problematic act, were it not that the Torah commanded regarding it. So from the side of the act itself there is no problem with it. I have an obligation to obey the sages. The sages told me not to eat poultry with milk lest I come to eat meat with milk, whatever, but the act in itself is not problematic; one simply must obey the sages. This is unlike all the other prohibitions in the Torah, where the act itself is problematic, and therefore the Torah also commands it. In rabbinic prohibitions, the act is problematic only because the sages commanded; it is not that the sages commanded because it is problematic. Yes, it’s like in a marker pen. Yes. In Torah law, the thing is prohibited, and the Holy One commanded because it is prohibited. In rabbinic law, it is prohibited because the sages commanded. Therefore the claim is that rabbinic prohibitions are essentially prohibitions of the duty to obey, or prohibitions of rebellion if you like.

Now in a place where I did not know the sages prohibited it—if it is Torah law and I did not know it was prohibited, I ate something without knowing it was pork, but it is pork—then there is a problem. What is the problem? Not that I rebelled against the Torah’s command; I did not know there was a Torah command here. But in practice I ate pork. The problematic result for which the Torah prohibited it occurred here. I ate pork. But in rabbinic prohibitions—if I did not know there was a command—there is no problem of rebellion on the personal level. I did not know there was a command, so yes, that is the claim. That is also said regarding doubt, and that is how they explain the Netivot regarding inadvertence as well: if I did not know there was a command, then there is no offense at all, because from the side of the thing itself it is not problematic. And from the side of the obligation to obey the sages—I did not know they were commanding, so there is no rebellion against their command. Maimonides? No, because the obligation to be stringent in a doubtful Torah prohibition is itself rabbinic. But why did the sages establish that obligation? Because there is some possibility that you are in fact doing a prohibited result. That does not necessarily contradict what I just said. The question is whether the conclusion I reached—is it rabbinic or Torah-level? And it is the same conclusion.

Fine, if that is really so, then it comes out that the forbidden act itself—in rabbinic prohibitions, there is no prohibition in the act itself. There is a problem in the concept that you went against the command of the sages. Now if that is so, then maybe we can understand the difference between inevitable result in rabbinic prohibitions and inevitable result in Torah prohibitions. If I understand the last formulation I gave, what happens with inevitable result? Inevitable result basically joins the two acts—dragging the bench and creating the furrow. So if I intended dragging the bench, then making the furrow is included in dragging the bench, and therefore the intention is also intention for that. So inevitable result basically joins the two acts into one act, fuses them into one act. Now this is where there really are two acts and the act is a forbidden act, and I join it to the permitted act. But in rabbinic prohibitions, the problem is not that I did the act—only incidentally; the problem is that I did not heed the voice of the sages. So there is no prohibition-object here in itself. So what difference does it make that you join the two acts for me by means of inevitable result? This all works on the plane of the object, not on the plane of the person, if you formulate inevitable result that way. It joins the acts, like the Kovetz Shiurim—it joins the acts to one another. In a place where the forbidden act is an object of prohibition, then you tell me that when it is joined to something else, the object of prohibition is that something else, and if you intended that, then you intended the prohibition. But if the whole law is on the personal level, and there is nothing in the forbidden act itself, then so what if you joined that act to this act? Why is that relevant? I am not speaking about what happened in the world; I am speaking about what was in the consciousness of the offender—did he violate the sages’ command or not? In such a case it is not relevant to say “inevitable result.” So someone who distinguishes between inevitable result in rabbinic prohibitions and inevitable result in Torah prohibitions—I think the natural explanation of that distinction according to his view is the explanation of the Kovetz Shiurim, that inevitable result basically joins the acts to one another and thereby removes the need to intend them.

I mentioned earlier the case of almost-inevitable result, where there is near certainty that the act will occur, and that I already said. Okay, let’s stop here. Next time I’ll begin with doubtful inevitable result.