The Principles of the Melachot – Lesson 13

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

🔗 Link to the original lecture

🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] By the way, according to this, something very interesting comes out. It really sharpens the dispute between Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam and the medieval authorities (Rishonim) who speak about an inevitable result that one does not want as a labor not needed for its own purpose. He doesn’t accept that identification in the second answer. If an inevitable result that one does not want were a labor not needed for its own purpose, then there would be no need to get to the plug. Because this is an inevitable result that he does not want; he doesn’t need the hide. So this is an unintended act, right? Then you say: but it’s an inevitable result? The answer should have been: yes, it’s an inevitable result, and it’s an inevitable result that one does not want, so what’s the problem? Exactly what the Meiri said, right? Or what he said in the first answer. So the claim is that apparently he doesn’t accept this. He doesn’t accept the identification between an inevitable result that one does not want and a labor not needed for its own purpose. From his point of view, whether the inevitable result is desirable or undesirable is a different issue, but it doesn’t belong to labor not needed for its own purpose. The difference between labor not needed for its own purpose and an unintended act is Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam’s distinction. The question is whether there are two actions here or one action. What’s the criterion? The criterion is whether you can achieve one result without the other or not. If you can achieve one without the other, then it’s two actions; and if it’s two actions, then you’re in the realm of an unintended act. In the realm of the unintended act, once it’s

[Speaker H] an inevitable result, you’re liable.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Wow. A labor not needed for its own purpose is something else: you have one action and two results, and the forbidden one is not what you need—you did it for the permitted one. That’s a labor not needed for its own purpose. And he says that’s not the case here, because here it really is two actions; you can do one without the other.

[Speaker H] Not like digging a hole when all you need is the dirt. The actions are removing the sacrificial fats and skinning the offering. Right.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So the claim is basically—making an opening for the fats, if you like, yes. So the claim is that this really is, meaning, this distinction is exactly the distinction between Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam and Tosafot, who identify an inevitable result that one does not want with a labor not needed for its own purpose. And here, in the second answer, the Ritva is basically going in the other direction.

[Speaker B] Now, there’s also something here that he didn’t address regarding Rabbi Akiva Eiger: he still intended it. The thing that bothered Rabbi Akiva Eiger most is still true—meaning, this is still something he intended. And true, maybe it’s not a labor not needed for its own purpose, but it is still something that he did not—no, no, he claims that he didn’t.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Since he intended to remove the sacrificial fats, he did not intend the skinning.

[Speaker B] It’s true that he needed the sacrificial fats, but Rabbi Akiva Eiger comes and asks: didn’t he intend the skinning?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no—he didn’t intend it, no. That’s exactly the point. Rabbi Akiva Eiger himself, by the way, when we read him—if you remember—identified an inevitable result that one does not want with a labor not needed for its own purpose. He says: if it’s undesirable, then it’s a labor not needed for its own purpose. Either way, there’s no problem here. He belongs to the camp of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) who identify the two. But as I understand it—and the answer is that if you don’t go with those medieval authorities (Rishonim), if you go with Rabbi Abraham min ha-Har, then Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s question is incorrect. His question is based on that conception. Why? Because if you say there are two actions here, then it’s simply not true that he intended the skinning. He did not intend the skinning. He intended creating an opening in order to remove the sacrificial fats, not skinning. And these are two different actions, because each can be done separately. Not two results—two different actions. If they are two different actions, then he did not intend the second action. It’s not just that he doesn’t want the hide; he didn’t intend the skinning at all. He intended to make an opening for removing the sacrificial fats. If he did intend, then fine—making an opening by means of skinning, that

[Speaker B] means not by…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s not called skinning; that’s called making an opening. That’s the proof that one can do one without the other. That’s exactly what the Ritva says. If I’m

[Speaker B] understanding correctly, in the Ritva there’s some implication that he has to say not only that he can do it with a plug, but that every person who skins…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. If he couldn’t do it with a plug, then we wouldn’t see it as two actions. But if there’s no option of a plug…

[Speaker B] then you have to say that a person who skins a hide when he doesn’t really need that hide—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] he doesn’t intend it—

[Speaker B] and this isn’t really the labor of skinning at all?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s what he says; nothing is missing here. He says it explicitly, in the clearest possible way. Therefore these are two actions, and the Talmudic text itself says that he doesn’t want the hide. The hide can simply be left unskinned; you can pull the limbs out

[Speaker B] without skinning, just make an opening.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, you can’t—only with a plug. How will you get the limbs out? No, you can’t. You can do that only with a plug. If you could do that, you wouldn’t need this whole discussion. You see that when he explains that you can do one without the other, you can do one without the other because you can use a plug, not because you can do it without a plug. Only because of that can you do one without the other. And that

[Speaker B] still isn’t called skinning, in the case of the plug?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but the opposite—it’s mentioned in the Talmudic text in the answer. He only complicates things for himself if he mentions it. Again—no, it’s not clear. No. He assumes not. Forget reality; he assumes not. No, he assumes not. You cannot remove the limbs by cutting. If he had assumed that you could, there would be no reason in the world to mention the plug in the first place, because then he’d just be complicating things for himself. Because then you ask yourself: so what is added by the answer, if already in the initial assumption I knew about the plug? No, no, that’s a bad example. If it were only an example, he wouldn’t have brought it, because it only complicates things. When you bring that example, you are basically saying, “So what was new in the answer?” Why did they answer that he did it with a plug if already in the initial assumption I knew about the plug? No, there’s a problem. Then bring a different example, bring a better example. Why an example that complicates things for you? Give me a plug example where the plug enters the topic only in the conclusion. Then I have to think, “Wait—so in the initial assumption did they already know the law of the plug?” I said it as an answer. Again, obviously. But I’m saying: you’re forcing me to explain further explanations. I have explanations; it’s not that it’s hard. But you’re bringing an example that forces me to add more explanations. Bring me something that doesn’t require further explanations. Say that you can remove it by cutting without skinning at all. What’s the problem? Much simpler. Fine, but the dispute isn’t fundamental. Meaning, okay, I think that according to his approach you can’t do it without skinning. You think you can, fine. He just brought an example. What difference does it make? In the end, what I want to say is that since one can do one without the other, he sees this as two actions. If it’s two actions, Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s question never gets off the ground. He did not intend the skinning at all. He did not intend that at all. He intended the removal of the sacrificial fats. That’s all. And therefore Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s question never begins. Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s whole question begins only according to those medieval authorities (Rishonim) who identify an inevitable result that one does not want with a labor not needed for its own purpose. And therefore I think this topic is a wonderful topic for summing up everything we’ve seen. Because you can see that each of our possibilities is basically reflected in how we read the topic here. Now look—this is only where the story starts. Now we have Rav Aharon Kotler here. Do you see him? Yes. Rav Aharon Kotler has a sort of collected volume of articles; it’s called Osef Chiddushei Torah by Rav Aharon Kotler. And there’s an article there about an inevitable result. I just saw it many years ago, and suddenly I remembered that he resolves this difficulty of Rabbi Akiva Eiger, and he has an approach that maybe fits into the Meiri, maybe into the Ritva’s first answer—I don’t know. It doesn’t seem that they literally meant this, but it’s a very interesting approach. And it also sharpens the relationship between an unintended act and a labor not needed for its own purpose. So let’s take a look at it a bit. Okay. “And according to our explanation above in the view of the Arukh”—the context doesn’t matter right now, it’s a long article. Whoever knows the quarterly Kol HaTorah knows. Rav Aharon Kotler would give lectures of four or five hours. People would sweat blood. Some would drop out after an hour, some after two. In the end he would remain with a few especially hardy fellows, and apparently also especially talented. The man was a genius—really brilliant. Very hard to follow his lines of thought; complicated and beautiful analyses. Anyway, so here too, a long and winding article with lots of contexts. But I’m taking two sections from the article, section 9 and section 10, which deal with this topic. “And according to our explanation above in the view of the Arukh, what Tosafot Yom Tov objected to him is resolved: on page 35 he wrote that the Arukh brought proof for his ruling from the chapter ‘All Sacred Writings’ on page 117, where he took it with a plug. He explains that this is an inevitable result that one does not want.” Right? The Arukh claims: what is “he took it with a plug”? Why does that resolve the issue of the inevitable result? So he says: what does “plug” mean? It means it is undesirable to him. So you see that an inevitable result that one does not want is permitted. Okay? The other medieval authorities (Rishonim) explain that a plug is not skinning at all—not that he showed it was undesirable to him, but that it simply isn’t skinning at all. What? Rabbinic?

[Speaker B] According to

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] the Arukh it’s completely permitted, and according to other medieval authorities (Rishonim) it is rabbinically prohibited. Right, we’re getting there. So he says: “where he took it with a plug, he explains that this is an inevitable result that one does not want”—that’s how the Arukh explains it. So Rav Aharon Kotler asks: But this is difficult, because there in that topic it is proven that rabbinically it was forbidden, only that it is permitted because “The Lord has made everything for His own purpose.” And in principle there is a rabbinic prohibition here, like saving a case for a scroll together with the scroll. But according to the Arukh, an inevitable result that one does not want is permitted from the outset. An inevitable result that one does not want neutralizes the inevitability, and we return to an unintended act. An unintended act is completely permitted; it is not a labor not needed for its own purpose. And the medieval authorities (Rishonim) who disagree with the Arukh say that an inevitable result that one does not want is a labor not needed for its own purpose, which is rabbinically prohibited. But the Arukh says that if it is undesirable to him, then that neutralizes the inevitability and we return to an unintended act, which is completely permitted. And in this topic it is explained that it is a rabbinic prohibition. So in fact this goes דווקא like the medieval authorities (Rishonim) who say that an inevitable result that one does not want is a labor not needed for its own purpose, and is rabbinically prohibited. “And there is another difficulty: even regarding the Torah-level permission, that is, an inevitable result that one does not want is exempt on the Torah level—one cannot prove it from here, because every inevitable result that one does not want is also a labor not needed for its own purpose; for here explicitly we follow Rabbi Shimon, and he is exempt on the grounds of a labor not needed for its own purpose, and it is permitted because ‘The Lord has made everything for His own purpose.’” Yes, here the permission is because of labor not needed for its own purpose, which is rabbinically prohibited—again, according to his approach that every inevitable result that one does not want is also a labor not needed for its own purpose. The Arukh of course does not accept that, but he assumes it as self-evident. So he says: “And it appears, by way of introduction, from Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s difficulty in his novellae there on page 117, where he objected to the Talmudic text’s question: ‘But Rabbi Shimon admits in the case of an inevitable result—will it not die?’ For the category of inevitable result applies only to an unintended act, but here he intends to skin, as he performs the labor of skinning with his hand. Rather, the answer is that he does not need this hide, meaning that it is a labor not needed for its own purpose. If so, this does not belong to inevitable result, since he is not exempt because it is unintended, but because he does not need the hide. See there.” Yes, that is Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s difficulty there. Section 10. “And it appears in resolution of his difficulty, that behold, the definition of unintentionality is any case where he does not intend the prohibition, meaning the act of prohibition; and the definition of not needed for its own purpose is any case where there is no need for the labor in the way that the need existed in the Tabernacle. Like one who carries out a corpse in order to bury it, for he has no need for the thing that he carried out.” Right, he doesn’t need the corpse; he carries it out in order to bury the corpse—he doesn’t need the corpse for itself. “But there is a second mode of not needed for its own purpose, composed of not needed for its own purpose and unintentionality. There is another kind of labor not needed for its own purpose in which there is both unintentionality and labor not needed for its own purpose. Namely: in truth there is the need, the correction that existed in the Tabernacle”—the result that existed in the Tabernacle is here—“but he does not intend for the sake of that need.” In other words, since we require intent for the prohibition, therefore when he does not intend the corrective result, then there is again no intention for the prohibited labor, because labor without the need is not prohibited by the Torah, and this is considered a lack of intent toward the prohibited mode that the Torah forbade. “But this law of lack of intent is still considered only a labor not needed for its own purpose, for the labor itself he does intend, only he does not intend the need, and it is no better than if he had done labor without need, which is also rabbinically prohibited. And the fact that intent for the need is required is as though the need were not present in reality; but regarding the labor, he is considered intentional. Therefore it has the law of labor not needed for its own purpose. And the one who obligates for labor not needed for its own purpose—Rabbi Yehuda—of course obligates also where one does not intend the need. Even though we do not require at all the need of its own purpose, all this is simple and clear.” I’ll read his summary—it’ll be clearer. “And it follows from this that there are two modes of labor not needed for its own purpose: one, where the need is not present in reality; two, where it is present, but he does not intend the need. And because of the law of lack of intent, it is considered labor not needed for its own purpose.” What is he saying? He says there are two kinds of labor not needed for its own purpose. One kind: I do not have at all the need that the Torah prohibited. For example, carrying out a corpse—I don’t need the corpse at all. The need that existed in the Tabernacle was when I carried something out because I needed the very thing that I carried out. Right? Here I do not have that need. I don’t need the corpse. I carry it out in order to bury it. So here the need that existed in the Tabernacle is absent altogether; this is the ordinary labor not needed for its own purpose. There is a second kind of labor not needed for its own purpose. Here too there is the need that existed in the Tabernacle. For example, digging a hole when all you need is the dirt. Okay? There the hole was created. Sorry—digging a hole when all you need is the dirt; the hole was created, but I don’t need it. No, not that—not that. But I don’t need the hole. Exactly. If there are situations where I dig a hole and now there is a hole in my field, and I need the hole—it benefits me, it is desirable to me, let’s call it that. Okay? But I didn’t dig for the sake of the hole; I dug for the dirt. If you ask me what my motivation was, my motivation was the dirt, not the hole. In the end, in the end, there is a need here. The forbidden thing—the one that existed in the Tabernacle—is the hole. Right? There is another need here, namely the dirt. Okay? Now if I don’t need the hole but only the dirt, then that is labor not needed for its own purpose. Fine? But what happens if I do this in a situation where I did not intend to do it for the hole? I do need the hole—meaning, in principle, when a hole is created it also benefits me, it’s good for me, everything is fine. But if you ask what the motivation was, why did you dig? I dug for the dirt, not for the hole. He says that is an unintended act. That is an unintended act. Okay? And now he says: because of the law of lack of intent, this is considered labor not needed for its own purpose. Why? Because since I don’t intend it, then even though a need was created there—a need that I did have—if I do not intend it, it is as if it does not exist. Then it goes back to being like carrying out a corpse. In other words, the law of unintended action turns this situation into labor not needed for its own purpose. Okay? That is basically the claim. But if I had intended it—if I had indeed intended it—then this would also have been labor needed for its own purpose. Why? Because after all I do have the need for the hole, and that need exists, and I also intended it; that’s just ordinary labor needed for its own purpose. Okay? So there’s an interesting device here. He is basically saying that there is a situation in which the law of unintended action turns something into labor not needed for its own purpose. So what do I gain? Let’s read. He says as follows: “And now we come to explain the Talmudic text in ‘All Sacred Writings’: Is this comparable? There it is carrying, here it is labor”—that’s the Talmudic text’s difficulty. “And it answers: because he does not need the hide. And behold, the explanation of ‘he does not need’ cannot mean that he has no need for the hide at all.” What do you mean he doesn’t need the hide? He has a hide; it’s worth a lot of money, let him sell it. Meaning, what does it mean he doesn’t need the hide? “For certainly the corrective act has been done here, just as in any skinning, namely that he should have a hide.” After he skinned it, he has a hide. What does “he doesn’t need the hide” mean? You gained another thousand shekels here; you now have something worth a thousand shekels. What does it mean he doesn’t need the hide? Are you going to throw it in the trash afterward? Sell it. What do you mean? Obviously you gained from it; you can’t say that you don’t need the hide. Right? “For here too, does he not indeed have a hide? And it does not make sense at all to say that he does not need the hide. Must every skinner need to make some actual use of the hide? The very need itself is simply that he should have the hide.” What is called labor needed for its own purpose? That he should have a hide. So he has a hide. Whether at the moment he has some use or other for the hide—and even if he does not need the hide, he will sell it. Must we say he derives no benefit from the hide? He does not currently need that specific use of the hide, so he’ll sell it afterward. Bottom line, this skinning has put a hide at his disposal; that is called labor needed for its own purpose. “Rather, the explanation of the Talmudic text is that he does not want the hide, meaning that he does not intend the hide. His intention in skinning is that the offering should not spoil. And since he does not intend the need, even though the need does exist, it is labor not needed for its own purpose, as above.” In other words, he says: in the end there is a need here; you can’t say this is labor not needed for its own purpose. So what is it? If you ask him why he is doing the skinning, he is doing the skinning for the offering, not for the hide. True, afterward it puts a hide at his disposal, but he is skinning for the offering, right? So basically this is an unintended act; it is not labor needed for its own purpose. It is an unintended act, because if you ask what his intention is, why he is doing the action—not for the hide. He is not doing the action in order to obtain the hide; he is doing it for the offering, so that the offering will not rot. Therefore he is really doing it for the offering, so it is an unintended act; it is not labor needed for its own purpose. But because this is unintended action, still—in the very end—there is a need here, right? You can’t say this is just ordinary unintended action and therefore completely permitted. This is labor not needed for its own purpose after the law of unintended action, and therefore there is a rabbinic prohibition here. Because in the end you did gain the hide; you did do something that really is skinning. You didn’t intend it, but a hide came out here, and you also need it—it serves you. True, because you did not intend it, it is considered as though it were labor not needed for its own purpose. Because you did this for that need and not for the need that was prohibited in the Tabernacle, and therefore in the end the exemption is by the law of labor not needed for its own purpose. But it is considered labor not needed for its own purpose because of the law of unintended action. And according to Rabbi Yehuda, for example, who says that unintended action does not exempt—well, not that unintended action doesn’t exempt; rather, if someone ruled—we talked about Rav and Shmuel, remember? Rav rules like Rabbi Yehuda regarding unintended action and like Rabbi Shimon regarding labor not needed for its own purpose, and Shmuel the reverse. So according to Rav, for example, that would be the practical difference. According to Rav, unintended action is not exempt, right? So according to Rav in such a case—but okay, it would be exempt by the law of labor not needed for its own purpose, because labor not needed for its own purpose he does exempt. No. Because if he holds that unintended action is like intended action, then it’s not labor not needed for its own purpose either. Then it is labor that is needed for its own purpose. The practical difference would be according to Rav. Where else is there a practical difference? In inevitable result. And that is what the Talmudic text asks on page 107. The Talmudic text says: you tell me it’s labor not needed for its own purpose, but Rabbi Shimon admits in the case of an inevitable result—“will it not die?” Rabbi Akiva Eiger asked: what does inevitable result have to do with this? You’re talking here about an exemption based on labor not needed for its own purpose. No—the inevitable result says that you are indeed considered intentional. Because with an unintended act, if it is an inevitable result, then it is considered intended. Ah—if it is intended, then it is labor needed for its own purpose. That is what the Talmudic text was asking. Rabbi Akiva Eiger says: what relevance is there in bringing in inevitable result when the exemption is based on labor not needed for its own purpose? No. The only reason this is considered labor not needed for its own purpose is because of the law of unintended action. But if there is no law of unintended action here because it is an inevitable result, then it will also not be labor not needed for its own purpose. That is what he says here. He says: “And they asked, for Rabbi Shimon admits in the case of an inevitable result—will it not die? For here it is an inevitable result in a constructive act, since he will necessarily obtain a hide. And an inevitable result is considered intentional. And just as an inevitable result regarding the body of the labor is considered intentional regarding the labor, so too an inevitable result regarding the correction makes him considered intentional regarding the correction, and consequently it is labor needed for its own purpose.” The inevitable result cancels the unintended action, and then that means you are in fact intending the correction, the skinning, the obtaining of the hide. And if so, this is labor needed for its own purpose. That is what the Talmudic text was asking. Meaning, there is an infrastructure here of unintended action, even though in the end the dispute over intention or non-intention would not lead to complete permission; it would lead to a rabbinic prohibition on account of labor not needed for its own purpose. But if there is an inevitable result here that neutralizes the unintended action, then the labor also becomes needed for its own purpose, and this becomes a Torah prohibition. And that is what the Talmudic text asks. And the Talmudic text answers: he took it with a plug. Why did he connect them? He didn’t connect them at the level of terminology; he found a situation where you need both in order to obligate. That is the claim. Yes. Meaning, we saw earlier above in the Meiri and the Ritva that the Ritva, in the first answer, wants to say that if there is here both unintended action and labor not needed for its own purpose, then even Rabbi Yehuda exempts. But it sounds from him that this is not two layers; rather, the same case itself is both unintended action and labor not needed for its own purpose. That is not exactly Rav Aharon Kotler’s move. Rav Aharon Kotler wants to say that these are two layers, one built on top of the other. It’s not that in the same situation there is both unintended action and inevitable result. First of all, it is unintended action. After you say he did not intend, why is he exempt? Because of labor not needed for its own purpose. Therefore this will be exempt, not permitted. Even according to Rabbi Shimon, this will be exempt. It’s not that the combination of the two is the point; we are not speaking according to Rabbi Yehuda, who says that when both things are present then it is permitted—or exempt, sorry. That is the Ritva’s innovation. Rav Aharon Kotler says no, no: this is speaking according to Rabbi Shimon. According to Rabbi Shimon, when you did not intend, then the result of the hide basically turns into something not needed for its own purpose, and this becomes a rabbinic prohibition. But if it is an inevitable result—that is what the Talmudic text asks—then you are considered as though you did intend the hide, and after all you do have a hide here, so it becomes needed for its own purpose. Then here, according to Rabbi Shimon, it would be a Torah prohibition, not according to Rabbi Yehuda. It resembles the Ritva a little, but it’s not really the Ritva. Okay? And it’s also not exactly the Meiri, although it could resemble the Meiri. Because the Meiri wants to say that this is only by way of borrowing the concept. Just as one is liable in an unintended act if it is an inevitable result, so too here we should really have been liable in the case of labor not needed for its own purpose. But when you read it literally, as I said above, it’s not clear what the borrowing is here—what is the analogy, what is the parable and what is the point, why inevitable result in unintended action does the same work as the case here regarding labor not needed for its own purpose. Maybe, maybe the Meiri means Rav Aharon Kotler, and then it isn’t a borrowed analogy; rather, he really means that there, because the inevitable result cancels the unintended action, it turns into labor needed for its own purpose. What? In the second kind of not needed for its own purpose. There is one kind of not needed for its own purpose that has nothing to do with unintended action, namely carrying out the corpse. Right? Or digging a hole when all you need is the dirt. There too, no. Because in those two cases, the result that the Torah forbids is something you do not want at all; it does not exist. The benefit that the Torah forbids is absent. With the hide, the benefit that the Torah forbids does exist—you have a hide. Therefore here, only if you are not intending the skinning in order to obtain a hide—only then do we regard this as labor not needed for its own purpose.

[Speaker B] Right, exactly—it’s similar to desirable and undesirable. Exactly. Okay. Could there be a case of an unintended act that is not an inevitable result, and still

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] would be—meaning, from what we said, in a case like

[Speaker B] skinning the hide, could there be a situation where it wouldn’t be an inevitable result?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay. And then what? If it’s not an inevitable result, then it remains labor not needed for its own purpose. I’m trying to imagine some example. I didn’t understand—what do you mean? You’re saying there is such a labor not needed for its own purpose. Say, like the example you gave earlier, someone drags a bench and a furrow is made in his ground. Fine?

[Speaker B] Now I want it not to be an inevitable result.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Wait—without inevitable result. I drag a bench and a furrow is made in my ground, and it’s not ground where this is inevitable; it’s ground where the furrow did not have to be created. Okay? Without inevitable result. Now I say: it depends. If I intended the furrow, then it is labor needed for its own purpose. If I did not intend the furrow, but it’s in my own ground, then the benefit exists; I just didn’t do the dragging for the sake of the furrow but for the sake of dragging the bench. That would be labor not needed for its own purpose. No, not in his own ground. According to this, not in his own ground. In his own ground it would be labor not needed for its own purpose.

[Speaker B] That’s

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] not written there—I’m saying, that’s what follows according to his approach, that was your comment earlier. The point is

[Speaker B] that if at some level it’s not an inevitable result, then it falls apart and goes back to being a regular unintended act, because this whole reasoning works only when it is indeed one action.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, then you go back to the Ritva’s second answer: that if it can be done separately—

[Speaker B] But structurally he has to explain how this is the labor at all. Meaning, for labor not needed for its own purpose, it still has to be one action; he can’t have it completely fall apart.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why not? Even think of it as two actions, but he didn’t intend the second action. That’s all. But if it’s an inevitable result, then he is considered to have intended the second action too, even though he did not want the result, so then it can be labor not needed for its own purpose. One action versus two actions—we talked about that. It could be that an inevitable result connects two actions and turns them into one action—Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman, remember. Fine, so that’s the point.

[Speaker B] That’s his innovation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You’re saying that basically

[Speaker B] every unintended act from which some benefit emerges is labor not needed for its own purpose. He simply means to say only in cases where they’re connected. Meaning, he will still need some kind of reasoning.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know what counts as “connected,” because dragging a bench isn’t connected? One action—what does “one action” mean? How do you define one action or not? That brings us back to the ambiguities of Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam. I don’t think so; it doesn’t seem to me that he means something like that. Fine, not important. In any case, for our purposes this is an interesting line of thought, and we also see here among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and in Rav Aharon Kotler all kinds of interesting relationships between unintentional action and a labor not needed for its own sake. Meaning, each one draws some distinction of a different kind. For the Meiri it’s almost like an analogy: just as unavoidable consequence is to unintentional action, so too a labor not needed for its own sake—which is very strange, because it’s not similar. Okay? The first answer in the Ritva—so maybe that could be what Rav Aharon Kotler means—but the big novelty is that according to Rabbi Yehuda, a labor not needed for its own sake plus unintentional action, even Rabbi Yehuda agrees that one is exempt. Okay? And then what comes out is that he sees this case of skinning the hide as something that is both a labor not needed for its own sake and also unintentional action. And then Rabbi Yehuda doesn’t disagree. Why is it both? He didn’t explain. I don’t know how we’re supposed to understand why he thinks it’s both.

The second answer of the Ritva talks about the idea that if these two things can appear separately, then it’s two actions. And if it’s two actions, then if you didn’t intend the second one, that’s unintentional action; it’s not a labor not needed for its own sake. And Rav Aharon Kotler takes it one step further and says: even though it’s two actions with two outcomes, if you didn’t intend the second action, the second outcome still exists, but you’ll be exempt under the rule of a labor not needed for its own sake. But if you did intend it, and the second outcome exists, then it’s a labor needed for its own sake and intentional—you intended it, or it’s an unavoidable consequence, which is also like intending it, right? It’s the same thing. So then it basically becomes a labor needed for its own sake, and that will be a Torah prohibition. So there are all sorts of possible combinations between unintentional action and a labor not needed for its own sake. They can appear together, they can appear one after the other and create some sort of complex made of two links, or it may just be the same term being used in different ways. In that sense, this passage is an interesting passage.

Now that’s the first part. In the second part I want to bring you an interesting source, a certain view among the halakhic decisors, a view I didn’t know. I came across it in the responsa Mima’amakim by Rabbi Ephraim Oshry. These are responsa about events that happened during the Holocaust. Some pretty horrifying responsa, all kinds of horrifying situations. It was written after the Holocaust; he collected it and published it as a book after the Holocaust, but the responsa themselves he gave during the Holocaust, in the Kovno Ghetto. The Dvar Avraham was also there at first, and afterwards the Dvar Avraham died in 1940, I think. And after that there was all sorts of very significant Torah creativity in the Kovno Ghetto, as became clear later. How did Rabbi Oshry stay alive? No idea, I don’t know.

And one of his questions is a question dealing with work in the kitchen in the ghetto. Okay, so this is siman 5. There are many responsa there; this is siman 5. We’ll go through it very briefly because we don’t have much time, but it’s still interesting to see the context.

Question: “These I remember and pour out my soul within me, for in the days of those accursed wanton sinners we had no revival, and every single day they would take out of the ghetto more than a thousand people to work them mercilessly at the airfield and to torment them with their burdens. And my student Aryeh Yaakov, may God avenge his blood”—yes, in the end apparently he too was killed—“came before me, his soul burdened with a question. Since he has the possibility of entering work in the kitchen, in place of cooking the black soup made of beans that the Germans would distribute to the Jews together with one hundred grams of bread per day. However, here is the problem: there he would be forced and compelled to work at the labor of cooking even on the Sabbath. Yet by doing so he would be saved from the hard forced labor at the airfield, which destroys the soul and breaks the body. Perhaps this also involves saving life, since by being spared hard and exhausting labor and being able to eat and satisfy his hungry soul with the black soup as much as he desires, he thereby becomes stronger and his body more resilient, and he will be able to endure so that he not be overcome by the hunger and deprivation prevailing in the ghetto. And he further asks whether he himself may eat on the Sabbath from the black soup that he cooks on the Sabbath.”

Meaning, he says basically: first, it saves him from hard labor at the airfield, hard physical labor, because he’ll be working at cooking, which is easier. Second, in the kitchen itself he can also eat more. So there’s really a question here of saving life. I’ll already say: I’m not going to read the whole responsum. He begins with Hullin 15a, a tannaitic dispute about something produced on the Sabbath—whether it’s this way or that way: forbidden to him that same day, forbidden to others until after Sabbath, or permitted that same day; a three-way tannaitic dispute, as is well known. And there’s also a dispute over how to rule among those three tannaim there in siman 318 in the Shulchan Arukh.

This whole story is completely bizarre. Why? Because in the end he says, look, this is saving life—so what do I care about all these considerations, something produced on the Sabbath and all that? Why are you making this whole move, all your discussions and all this pilpul, if in the end you say this is saving life and everything is permitted? So what’s the problem? I wanted to argue that really, true, you don’t actually need all that. But in practice, if you answer the responsum that way, you completely eliminate halakhic discussion from the world. Do whatever you want; you need to stay alive, so it’s saving life. Apparently he had some interest in preserving this dimension—that we still take Jewish law into account and make halakhic considerations and so on, and not declare everything ownerless. If you live for years inside such a situation, then nothing of Torah will remain.

Afterwards I said there’s another way to answer it, once in a discussion about the Holocaust in classes I gave. Another possibility, if you think about it, is that these people lived for years in that situation. From our perspective, this situation is something inconceivable. It’s like living inside a blazing fire. You’re constantly in mortal danger, and obviously when we hear such a question it sounds absurd: do whatever you can to survive—what kind of question is that? But there were people there who lived for years in that situation, day after day after day, for months and years. They lived there; that was their life. For them, that was normal life—meaning, that’s how life was. And therefore you look at it as a halakhic question and discuss it in halakhic terms, because that’s your life. We, when we look at the situation from within normal life, say: wait, what are you talking about? You’re living inside a blazing fire; there’s nothing here, the entire Shulchan Arukh is null and void. Okay—but from their perspective, no. That’s how they lived, and for them that was life, and one had to deliberate and maneuver within it. And therefore it’s a question.

A lot of times, when someone looks from outside the Land of Israel at life here, people think that anyone living in Israel is in the Wild West. They think they’re shooting here all the time and all that, everyone living here is literally under constant fire. You hear from people abroad what they think goes on here—people don’t come here. Or people living, say, inside the Green Line are sure that someone living in some community beyond the Green Line is an Indian, meaning he’s constantly fighting duels with terrorists around him and there’s gunfire every moment. But it’s not like that. You live a normal life there, an ordinary life, everything is fine. Meaning, the question is whether you look at the situation from outside or from inside. If you look at it from inside and you’ve been living it for years, then that is your situation, that is your life. And when that’s your life, you discuss Jewish law the way anyone discusses Jewish law in his own life. We, looking at the situation from outside, say: what is there even to discuss? These are insane conditions; it’s not life at all. Okay, so that’s just an interesting sociological or psychological lesson.

In any case, after he finishes this whole discussion of something produced on the Sabbath, he says as follows: this was answered live, but written after the Holocaust. What? Yes, he says, “Yaakov, may God avenge his blood,” meaning: my student Yaakov, may God avenge his blood, came to me. So he’s clearly speaking retrospectively, meaning after this questioning student had already been killed. What? He describes the answers he gave there; he says he only collected the answers he had given there. He wrote it later because he had no paper and no pen, maybe he also didn’t have sources, no matter—but this is the answer he gave, that’s at least what he writes there.

“However, in the book Ashei Yosef on tractate Shabbat 72b it is written that if they force a person to choose one thing—either to desecrate the Sabbath or to eat forbidden carrion—he should choose desecration of the Sabbath,” even though of course desecrating the Sabbath is much more severe than the prohibition of carrion. Yes, this is the well-known Raavad in Baal HaMaor. Remember that case: if there is a sick person on the Sabbath who needs to eat meat, and we have only non-kosher meat, but we could slaughter. The question is what’s preferable—to give him non-kosher meat or to slaughter. Once I wrote a column about this; I said it’s litmus paper for laypeople. Laypeople will say, obviously slaughter—what, desecrate the Sabbath? Obviously slaughter—what, let him eat pork, Heaven forbid, eat pork? Eating pork is a prohibition. Desecrating the Sabbath is a capital offense. And one who publicly desecrates the Sabbath is treated like one who rejects the entire Torah. So the first instinct is obvious: pork. Obviously he should eat pork and not desecrate the Sabbath. Now among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) it’s a dispute, doesn’t matter; there’s a long Rosh there who brings many views. But for our purposes here, same thing. Basically they force him either to desecrate the Sabbath or to eat forbidden carrion, otherwise they’ll kill him. Fine? So the question is which is better. Obviously he’s allowed to commit the transgression, because it’s saving life. The question is: which of the two is preferable?

So he says: desecrating the Sabbath is preferable, even though desecrating the Sabbath is punishable by stoning and carrion is only a prohibition. And he says: “For desecrating the Sabbath is under coercion, and it is a labor not needed for its own sake, and is only rabbinic.” If he desecrates the Sabbath, he is doing it under coercion. If he’s doing it under coercion, that’s a labor not needed for its own sake, so it is really only a rabbinic prohibition. But if he eats the carrion—regarding carrion prohibitions and all Torah prohibitions, the rule of a labor not needed for its own sake does not exist. The rule of a labor not needed for its own sake was said only about the labors of the Sabbath. So in the rest of the Torah, when you eat pork, even if it’s under coercion, there is benefit. It’s not mere accidental involvement and nothing else, and there is no category of labor not needed for its own sake there at all. Since he does derive benefit, he transgresses a Torah prohibition. So he says: better the rabbinic Sabbath prohibition—a labor not needed for its own sake—than the Torah prohibition of eating carrion. And therefore, if those are the two options, better that he desecrate the Sabbath.

“Whereas if he eats carrion, he will transgress a Torah prohibition, for he derives benefit from this eating. And furthermore, the Rosh Yosef brings that the Pnei Yehoshua disagrees with the words of Tosafot there, who wrote that one who performs labor on the Sabbath because of suffering is liable. But the Pnei Yehoshua holds that because of suffering and the like, it is a labor not needed for its own sake. And he also brings what the Maharsha wrote in Bava Batra 119 regarding the gatherer of wood, that he intended for the sake of Heaven, and that it was a labor not needed for its own sake.”

Remember that midrash? Tosafot brings a midrash saying that the gatherer intended for the sake of Heaven. Because the Jewish people, once it was decreed that they would remain in the wilderness and not enter the Land of Israel, thought they were now exempt from the entire Torah, because they weren’t entering the Land of Israel, the story with the Holy One, blessed be He, was over, and we’re no longer obligated in commandments or anything. The gatherer, for the sake of Heaven, in order to educate them, decided to gather wood so that they would execute him, and then they would see that one is liable to death for desecrating the Sabbath even though it had been decreed that they would remain in the wilderness. Yes, he was a righteous man.

And Tosafot asks about that—Tosafot was Lithuanian, not Hasidic. Hasidim are impressed by the righteousness of the gatherer. Tosafot—yes, it’s like Yonatan ben Uziel—Tosafot asks: wait, but if that’s the situation, then this is a labor not needed for its own sake, so why did they execute him? After all, he desecrated the Sabbath in order to educate the Jewish people, not because he needed those sticks he was gathering and so on. So this is a labor not needed for its own sake, so he isn’t liable to death at all, right? That’s what Tosafot asks.

So okay, what’s the simple answer? The simple answer is of course that nobody knew this. Because if they had known, they wouldn’t have executed him, and then the educational effect wouldn’t have been achieved. The whole point is: true, he really wasn’t liable to death, but he hid it. So once he hid it, the religious court executed him. What? Right, there’s a tannaitic dispute about what the prohibition was—whether it was gathering into piles, or depending on whether he gathered sticks, or plowing, or something like that. In any case, that’s what…

The Pnei Yehoshua says that it’s not only life-threatening coercion; even suffering counts. He disagrees with Tosafot. He says that even suffering makes it a labor not needed for its own sake. This is what someone here pointed out earlier: once you understand that when you do something under coercion it is a labor not needed for its own sake, then the coercion doesn’t have to be cardinal coercion—meaning mortal danger. Even if I just want to escape suffering, still, if you ask me why I did it, I did it in order to escape the suffering, not for the labor itself. So it’s a labor not needed for its own sake. This is not the usual license of coercion because of saving life. Understand? Here coercion isn’t playing the normal role of an exemption due to coercion; it’s simply giving you an alternative reason why you did it, and therefore it’s a labor not needed for its own sake. So the coercion could be the mildest coercion in the world.

By the way, one of the common misunderstandings in the passage in Pesachim 25: the passage there speaks about where it is not possible and one does not intend. Yes? If someone is going to a certain place, and on the way there is a shop with the smell of idolatrous incense—which is forbidden, perhaps even in the category of “be killed rather than transgress,” as an accessory to idolatry; in any case it’s a severe prohibition. Okay? So he shouldn’t go there. Now what if he has no other route? Then it’s permitted. Why is it permitted? Yes, because he doesn’t intend it. He doesn’t intend to smell it. He wants to go somewhere; he just has to go there in order to get to the place, so it’s permitted. Not only is it permitted—apparently he doesn’t even have to hold his nose, because he is violating the prohibition unintentionally. Okay? Since he benefits, maybe—that’s another matter. There are conceptual issues here that still need clarification. But that’s the plain meaning of the Talmud.

But the medieval authorities (Rishonim) there bring that the “not possible” here doesn’t mean literally impossible. What does “not possible” mean? If there’s a second route to get to the same place, but it’s ten meters longer—still he is allowed to go, and he doesn’t have to hold his nose. He’s not under compulsion. Take the other route—ten more meters, big deal. The point is that the “not possible” here is not a license of coercion. It’s not that it’s so hard that we don’t require you to withstand such hardship. No—that’s not what it is. Rather, once you take this route and not the other one, not in order to smell the incense but because it’s ten meters shorter—because of that you go there. So the reason you are going there is not because of the incense, but because it’s a shorter path. So there is the license of “not possible and one does not intend.” The “not possible” here doesn’t have to be “not possible” in the sense of impossible, of coercion. Rather, “not possible” just has to provide you with an alternative motivation. Once there is an alternative motivation, it is unintentional action. That is what “not possible and one does not intend” means. Okay? Because if it is possible—what happens then? If it is possible, if the two routes are equal—then if you went this way, you do intend it. Basically the license is a license of unintentional action. You just need it to be “not possible” in order to ensure that it really is unintentional. Because if you go along this route when you have an equally good alternative, then apparently you do intend it. Don’t tell me you don’t. But if the second alternative is slightly worse, then you don’t intend it. Because you went here because it’s shorter. That’s all.

The same thing here. And that’s the claim of the Pnei Yehoshua: the coercion doesn’t have to be coercion of death, or very severe coercion. Even suffering, or something that bothers you. Why? Because then the reason you are doing it is a reason other than the prohibition. Therefore it is a labor not needed for its own sake. Okay?

“And based on the words of the Rosh Yosef above, the Maharsham wrote in Orachot Chaim, in the laws of Sabbath, that one can find justification for Jewish soldiers, that their labor is only rabbinic.” Right? People were snatched into the army, cantonists or something like that, and they commit Torah prohibitions there because they are forced to. They can’t avoid it; otherwise it’s refusal of orders, there will be serious consequences. One second. So he says: by that same reasoning, it is only a rabbinic prohibition, because it is a labor not needed for its own sake, even though they are committing a full Torah prohibition. They are really doing a Torah prohibition. But since they are doing it because of coercion, then it is a labor…

And again, I don’t know whether this means specifically mortal coercion, but they are doing it because of the military setting and not in order to violate the prohibition, so it is a labor not needed for its own sake. Right? I didn’t understand. The question is: it is more similar to a labor not needed for its own sake than to unintentional action. And then the question is whether unavoidable consequence is relevant at all… I didn’t understand. Except that this isn’t Sabbath law, so the question is how the category of a labor not needed for its own sake applies. I’ll leave that aside. There are many conceptual entanglements there beyond this.

And then he derives it carefully from the Jerusalem Talmud, raises an objection from the Jerusalem Talmud—doesn’t matter—and rejects it, and then brings more medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) who bring this reasoning: that basically, when you do the prohibition because of some coercion—not necessarily severe coercion, but for some other reason—then it is a labor not needed for its own sake.

So that’s what I wanted to discuss. I can send this later too, if you want—I’ll upload it to the site as well. But I want to talk a little about this reasoning. On the face of it, first of all, this ruling seems strange. For example, because of the question someone asked earlier—I don’t remember who asked it—so what happens to all these discussions about saving life versus Sabbath? Once you do it because of saving life, then it’s not a Torah prohibition; it’s a rabbinic prohibition, it’s a labor not needed for its own sake. So what’s the problem? What are all these discussions for? And I would say, beyond that, this needs to be resolved somehow. But it does seem strange.

On the other hand, when you think about it—what’s the difficulty? He really is doing the act for another purpose, like trapping a snake in order to save himself, right? And not because he needs the snake. So it’s a labor not needed for its own sake. That’s true. What’s the problem? Why does this strike us, at first glance, as a novelty? On the face of it, it sounds obvious. Does anyone disagree with this?

[Speaker I] Here the person is exempt?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, I understand the implications. But in terms of the definitions themselves, why really isn’t this so? Why doesn’t Tosafot accept the Pnei Yehoshua? Because Tosafot says suffering doesn’t help. Why not? It’s a labor not needed for its own sake. You’re doing it in order to escape the suffering, not in order to violate the prohibition. What’s the problem here?

It seems to me that the relevant point here is the point we saw in Rav Aharon Kotler. What did Rav Aharon Kotler say? Rav Aharon Kotler said: look, if you have the light, what do I care why you did it? If you need the light, whatever you do with the light—you got the light, you have light—that is a labor needed for its own sake. What does that mean? The claim is this: if indeed the labor—say, you’re cooking this soup, in Rabbi Oshry’s question. You’re cooking this soup because of coercion, because you’re afraid they’ll kill you or that you’ll die from hard labor or something like that. But practically speaking, when you cook this soup, you have soup, and you eat it. How can you say that this is not needed for its own sake? You cooked it for the soup, and now the soup is there for your use. That’s exactly like the light, right? So why is it a labor not needed for its own sake? The fact that you did it because of coercion is not interesting. That’s the context, the general motivations. When you ask yourself about the act itself—do you need the result of this act for its own sake or not? The answer is obviously yes. Of course you do. The fact that I need that result because I’m in a difficult situation, under coercion, and all the general motivations why I do it—that’s all very nice. But when I examine the question of what I did, and what the products of what I did are, and whether those products serve me or not, the answer is obviously yes. They obviously do serve me. So why in the world should this be called not needed for its own sake?

I think that’s the reasoning that bothers us. Therefore, what Rav Aharon Kotler said earlier is really the reason why this view is a novelty. Maybe one can say it, but it’s a novelty. It’s a novelty because when you look at the act itself, he cooked soup in order to have soup to eat. What difference does it make that he needs it because of saving life? So what? The act of cooking and the products of what you did—he needs them completely; he did it for that; he also intended it; and it is also needed for its own sake, and everything is fully present here. What relevance is there to say “not needed for its own sake”?

Suppose a person does business and makes money, right? He wants money because he likes being rich. Fine—so does that make the work “not needed for its own sake,” because the work is to make money and I like being rich? Obviously that’s why I want the money. But practically speaking, I want the money. It’s common sense.

[Speaker H] Really simple, common sense. No, I don’t know whether it’s common sense or not, but I’m saying: that’s a second-order motivation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, first I ask whether I need the products. Now you’re moving to the question: but why do I need the products? What difference does it make why? If I need the products, then it is needed for its own sake. That’s the point. So the reasoning of Rav Aharon Kotler, it seems to me, is exactly what creates the resistance to the words of those decisors. They won’t accept Rav Aharon Kotler, okay, and he won’t accept them. That’s the point.

You can also see this in the case of “they hanged him until he sold,” for example. In the passage of “they coerced him and he sold”—someone forced you to sell. In such a case, a sale is a sale. Meaning, the sale is valid even though they forced you. The usual explanation given is: what difference does it make that they forced you? If financial pressure forced you, and that’s why you’re selling things because you need money—practically speaking, you sold with full intent because you need the money. In the case of coercion and sale, you sold in order to escape the coercion, because they threatened you that if you didn’t sell they’d kill you. Fine. But practically speaking, because of that threat I now really do want to sell. So I want to sell. The fact that there are second-order motivations that explain why I want to sell—there are always such motivations. And if financial pressure is also a second-order motivation, then what makes it different from a threat?

[Speaker B] So what about “they coerced him and he gave”?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, I’m not getting into all those passages right now. Even in “they coerced him and he sold” there’s discussion whether yes or no and when. But I’m just saying: this kind of reasoning appears there too. There too, the question is whether to treat the second-order motivation as a relevant motivation. There I examine the act itself. If you don’t want the sale and don’t want the money that results from it, then fine, that’s really not a valid sale under coercion. But if you carry out the sale and want the money, and what brought you into it is some kind of distress or threat or something like that that you want to escape—fine, so what? That’s always what brings you into transactions. You always enter transactions because you have some interest; you need money; your son is sick; you need money to pay the doctor. So what, is that also “they coerced him and he sold”? You sell something in order to get money.

No, there is—I’m saying, clearly there is a public interest in preventing such threats, no question. But once such a threat already exists, you ask yourself: someone who gave in to that threat and sold—does his sale have legal force? They say yes. Why not? It has force, because in the end he really did want to sell. Why did he want to sell? Because they threatened him and he wanted to escape the threat. But practically speaking, he wanted to sell.

Now what I’m basically saying is that the threat is on a different level than the desire to sell. The desire to sell exists; the threat only explains why there is a desire. The desire to sell is not an alternative. The threat does not mean: there is no desire to sell, there is only a desire to escape the threat. No. The threat is only the explanation for why there is a desire to sell. Therefore the threat is second-order, not on the same level as the question whether you want to sell or not.

And the same thing here. Therefore I think this view among the later authorities (Acharonim) is problematic because of Rav Aharon Kotler’s reasoning. A reasoning that says: look, you have light. The fact that you’re doing this now for all sorts of other reasons—what do I care? Bottom line, you did an act that created light here, and you need the light. So don’t tell me that you don’t need the skinning for its own sake. Of course you do. The question of what your motivations were for doing the skinning—that’s already a second-order question. And what determines whether it is needed for its own sake or not is how we look at the act itself. If the act itself yields a product that you want, then it is a labor needed for its own sake. That is basically Rav Aharon Kotler’s reasoning.

Okay, let’s stop here. That’s considered a good point to end the…