Study and Halachic Rulings – Lesson 15
This transcription was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- Bottom line, reasons, first-order ruling, and second-order ruling
- Maimonides, general-and-specific versus inclusion-and-exclusion, and the attitude toward sources
- Reasons versus sources and combining a majority in the Sanhedrin
- “We do not administer punishment based on logical derivation”: source, explanations, and the critique of “three methods”
- A scriptural decree, explanation, and “a son and not a daughter”
- “Do not murder,” morality, and Jewish law
- Sources and reasonings without a source, Torah-level law and rabbinic law
- A fortiori reasoning, exposition, and positioning Maimonides against the medieval authorities (Rishonim)
- “These and those are the words of the living God”: a pluralistic versus monistic reading
- One hundred and fifty reasons to declare the creeping creature pure, and Maharal
- The concubine in Gibeah in Gittin and “these and those” as an accumulation of reasons
- The chocolate example and weighing values
- Illusory correlations: Rabin and the Golan
- The conversion controversy as an example of bias and second-order thinking
- Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel, sharpness and accuracy in truth
- The paradox of capital cases and the prohibition against calculating by the result
- The importance of knowing the reasons for application in new cases
- Factual errors in the Talmud
Summary
General overview
The text argues that halakhic decision-making is supposed to be based on the correct reasons, even though in a practical dispute it is convenient to count a “majority of bottom lines,” and it connects this to the distinction between first-order ruling, which enters into the reasoning, rationales, and sources, and second-order ruling, which copies conclusions and precedents. It presents a possible disconnect between the conclusion and the path by which one arrives at it, distinguishes between reasons and sources, and criticizes the tendency to turn a “source” into an alternative to an “explanation,” as if these were different methods. It interprets “these and those are the words of the living God” as a claim about the correctness of the reasons on both sides, while the real dispute is about weighing and relative weight, and it warns against biased thinking that begins from the bottom line and recruits all the reasons to support it, as expressed in “illusory correlations” in public debates. It concludes by claiming that first-order thinking and ruling require straightforward discussion of reasons and sources before the decision, and that precisely in this way one gets closer to the truth.
Bottom line, reasons, first-order ruling, and second-order ruling
The text argues that the goal in halakhic discussion is to seek truth, and therefore the decision ought to follow the reasons; but in a situation of disagreement, in practice people do a “majority of bottom lines” as the simplest and most natural method. The text maintains that the use of majority does not contradict the fact that in the end one is supposed to rule on the basis of the reasons. The text defines first-order ruling as ruling that enters into the reasoning and rationales of the topic / passage and does not focus on precedents or external calculations of bottom lines.
Maimonides, general-and-specific versus inclusion-and-exclusion, and the attitude toward sources
The text describes two traditions of exposition: the school of Rabbi Yishmael uses general-and-specific, and the school of Rabbi Akiva uses inclusion-and-exclusion, and it argues that these are different ways of expounding the same textual structures in the Torah. The text says that in the Talmud there are many passages in which the halakhic implications change depending on the form of exposition, and it reports that when one checks Maimonides’ rulings, it turns out that he is not consistent in the method of exposition, even though he is consistent in the content of the rulings so that there will be no contradiction between them. The text concludes that Maimonides decides each passage according to his own methods of decision “while ignoring” the question of which form of exposition led to the conclusion, and presents this as an example of the disconnect between halakhic conclusion and the means of arriving at it.
Reasons versus sources and combining a majority in the Sanhedrin
The text distinguishes between justifications of the type of reasons and explanations and justifications of the type of sources, and determines that these are two types of justification with different functions. The text cites the Talmud in Sanhedrin, which distinguishes between combining opinions that arise from two different reasons and opinions that arise from two different sources, and states that when two opinions derive the same Jewish law from two different sources, they do not combine, because clearly one of them is mistaken. The text quotes Rashi, according to whom if the same Jewish law comes from two different sources then one of them is superfluous, and therefore one side is mistaken, and it emphasizes that this distinction sharpens the complexity of the relationship between the bottom line and the justifications.
“We do not administer punishment based on logical derivation”: source, explanations, and the critique of “three methods”
The text presents the rule “we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation,” and explains that one does not derive a punishment through a fortiori reasoning even if one derives the prohibition through a fortiori reasoning. The text describes the structure of Atvan DeOraita, which presents three methods for understanding the rule: concern that there may be a refutation of the a fortiori argument, the possibility that the punishment of the lighter case is insufficient for the more severe case, and a method of “scriptural decree” learned from the verse “his sister, the daughter of his father or the daughter of his mother.” The text argues that this is not three methods but rather “two explanations and a source,” and criticizes the common assumption that if there is a source then “apparently there is no explanation,” and therefore it is a scriptural decree.
A scriptural decree, explanation, and “a son and not a daughter”
The text argues that very few things are called a scriptural decree in the Talmud, and that even then it does not necessarily mean “a law without a reason.” The text explains that sometimes an explanation by itself is not sufficiently unambiguous to ground a law without a source, but once there is an exposition or a verse, one can see in the explanation the rationale behind the law. The text cites the Talmud’s exposition in the chapter about the wayward and rebellious son: “a son” and not “a daughter,” notes that the Talmud calls this a scriptural decree, and brings the Sefer HaChinukh, Maimonides, and medieval authorities (Rishonim), who offer the reason that “it is not the way of a daughter to become a bandit,” while Meiri asks how one can offer a reason if this is a scriptural decree. The text concludes that this explanation is not sufficient to establish the law without the exposition, but after the exposition it is a reasonable answer to the question “why.”
“Do not murder,” morality, and Jewish law
The text argues that there is no “reasoning” in “do not murder” in the halakhic sense, because its primary explanation is moral, whereas the verse comes to add that murder is also a religious transgression. The text presents its own view that Jewish law and morality are two independent categories, and that in commandments that overlap with morality, the Torah teaches a religious prohibition beyond the moral knowledge itself. The text cites Cain as an example that the Holy One, blessed be He, made a claim against murder even before there was an explicit command.
Sources and reasonings without a source, Torah-level law and rabbinic law
The text says that in the Talmud and among halakhic decisors there are laws that are established without an explicit source, but rather by force of reasoning, and it presents the possibility that the source was lost or that the reasoning was seen as sufficient. The text states that reasoning can interpret an existing law and add details, but it is not sufficient to create a new Torah-level law without command and source; therefore a law newly created from reasoning would be rabbinic. The text cites “why do I need a verse? It is logical reasoning” as the context of interpreting an existing law, and illustrates this with “the burden of proof is upon the claimant” as part of the rules of “judge your fellow justly.” The text cites the passage about blessings over enjoyment, the question of the Pnei Yehoshua why it is not Torah-level if it is logical, and the answer of the Tzelach that reasoning alone does not turn a novel rule into Torah-level law because a command is missing.
A fortiori reasoning, exposition, and positioning Maimonides against the medieval authorities (Rishonim)
The text notes that Maimonides says that something derived from exposition is of rabbinic status, but that “all the medieval authorities (Rishonim) disagree” and hold that something derived from exposition is Torah-level, because the interpretive principles are tools for deriving conclusions from verses. The text explains that a fortiori reasoning is not just logic but an interpretive principle, and therefore “one does not expound a fortiori from Jewish law,” and it distinguishes between a conclusion of “it would be fitting” and a Torah-level prohibition. The text quotes that Maimonides himself writes in the second root that he does not mean to say that expositions are “untrue,” but that they are true while belonging to a category that is not Torah-level.
“These and those are the words of the living God”: a pluralistic versus monistic reading
The text presents the Talmud in Eruvin about the dispute between Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai, and the three years until a heavenly voice said, “These and those are the words of the living God, but the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel,” and it brings the question of Ritva: how can it be that both sides are right? The text describes a pluralistic reading, according to which there is no single halakhic truth and the ruling like Beit Hillel is technical, but it adopts a monistic reading, according to which the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel because they are right. The text determines that according to the monistic reading, “these and those” refers to the reasons of both sides, which are correct, whereas “the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel” refers to the bottom line, where only one side is right because it weighed things correctly.
One hundred and fifty reasons to declare the creeping creature pure, and Maharal
The text cites the requirement that a candidate for the Sanhedrin know how to offer “one hundred and fifty reasons to declare the creeping creature pure,” the question of Rabbeinu Tam, “what do we need with empty casuistry?”, and the answer of Maharal that there are “one hundred and fifty correct reasons” to declare it pure, and likewise to declare it impure. The text determines that the creeping creature is impure because the reasons for impurity are “more significant” than the reasons for purity, not because the reasons for purity are false. The text explains that someone being tested for the Sanhedrin needs complex thinking that is not captive to the bottom line, and that Beit Hillel merited to have the Jewish law follow them because they first considered the reasons of Beit Shammai.
The concubine in Gibeah in Gittin and “these and those” as an accumulation of reasons
The text cites the dispute between Rabbi Evyatar and Rabbi Yonatan over whether there was “a fly in the dish” or “a hair in that place,” and Rabbi Evyatar’s meeting with Elijah the prophet, who is asked what the Holy One, blessed be He, is doing. The text quotes Elijah’s answer, that the Holy One, blessed be He, says, “My son Evyatar says this, and My son Yonatan says that, and these and those are the words of the living God,” along with the question, “Can there be doubt before Heaven?” The text explains Elijah’s solution, “he found a fly and was not particular; he found a hair and was particular,” as meaning that the anger was built in stages and the causes combine, so both sides are partially right and the full truth is the combination of the reasons.
The chocolate example and weighing values
The text uses the chocolate example to illustrate that reasons on both sides can be correct simultaneously, while the practical decision requires weighing their relative weight. The text argues that in most real arguments there is no dispute over the correctness of the values or reasons, but over the question of which prevails when there is a clash, and it illustrates this as well in the tension between equality and freedom in social discussions. The text determines that “these and those” belongs to the level of reasons, but at the bottom line only one side is right in the weighing.
Illusory correlations: Rabin and the Golan
The text describes how it saw a sticker reading, “Rabin has no mandate to return the Golan,” and noticed that there are two independent questions here: whether such an agreement is politically and strategically worthwhile, and whether morally a leader may act against his election platform without a renewed mandate. The text argues that combinatorially there should have been four different public groups, but in practice there were only two groups, each of which gave the same answer to both questions. The text explains this as a failure of thought in which people begin from the desired conclusion and recruit all the considerations to support it, and thus an “illusory correlation” is created between questions that have no connection.
The conversion controversy as an example of bias and second-order thinking
The text describes the invalidation of conversions performed by the Rabbi Druckman system by a judge from Ashdod, on the grounds that the judges were “wicked” and therefore not a valid religious court, the approval of that by the Great Rabbinical Court, and Rabbi Amar’s intervention to validate them. The text states that it substantially agreed that there is a problem with conversion without acceptance of commandments, but rejected the declaration that the judges were wicked. The text describes how it identified at least thirteen independent questions required in order to formulate a position, so there should have been “two to the power of thirteen” groups, but in practice there were again only two camps, which answered uniformly according to social affiliation. The text determines that this is the result of crooked thinking that begins from the bottom line, and sets up as an alternative the way of Beit Hillel: examining the reasons on their own merits before deciding.
Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel, sharpness and accuracy in truth
The text says that Beit Shammai were “sharper,” but Beit Hillel came closer to the truth, and attributes this to the fact that Beit Hillel “presented the words of Beit Shammai before their own words.” The text argues that one who subordinates all reasons to the bottom line is prone to error, and presents this as a human disease of black-and-white thinking. The text connects this directly to the distinction between first-order thinking, which approaches the reasons and questions before the conclusion, and second-order thinking, which begins with the conclusion and seeks justifications for it.
The paradox of capital cases and the prohibition against calculating by the result
The text presents the rule in capital cases that if all the judges convict with the death penalty, the defendant goes free, and raises a scenario in which the last judge might be tempted to vote the opposite of his true view in order to achieve the desired result. The text determines that this is forbidden, and that one must state one’s true opinion, because the Torah itself determines that in a state of total agreement there is concern that the judgment “stinks” and that there has been mutual influence, and therefore manipulative voting will lead to an incorrect verdict. The text concludes that one is obligated to first-order thinking that speaks truth about the reasons and the position before weighing the outcome.
The importance of knowing the reasons for application in new cases
The text explains that knowing “one hundred and fifty reasons to declare it pure” alongside “one hundred and fifty reasons to declare it impure” is important in order to deal with new cases that have no explicit source, such as a “new creeping creature,” where the weight of the reasons may change. The text determines that someone who copies precedents in a second-order way may miss the correct law, whereas someone who understands the reasons can weigh them מחדש in other situations and arrive at a different result when necessary. The text concludes that the principle of first-order thinking applies in every field of thought, not only in halakhic ruling.
Factual errors in the Talmud
The text is asked about a factual mistake in the Talmud and answers that a factual mistake is not “the words of the living God,” because lack of knowledge can lead to error, and the sages are not angels. The text clarifies that the claim that the reasons of Torah scholars are usually correct does not rule out the possibility of error when the factual data are wrong.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, let’s begin. Last time I spoke a bit about the question of the relationship between the reasons and the bottom line, and about the question of why, when we examine things or follow the majority, we follow the majority on the bottom line, even though the goal of halakhic discussion is really to seek the truth. And if the goal is to seek the truth, then seemingly we should have decided according to the reasons and not according to the bottom line. And in the end the conclusion was that yes, the ruling is really supposed to be based on what the correct reasons are, but when there are disagreements, the simplest and most natural way is still to go by a majority of bottom lines. But that doesn’t contradict the fact that in the final analysis we are really supposed to rule on the basis of the reasons. And that connected to our discussion about first-order ruling and second-order ruling, where one of the characteristics of first-order ruling is really entering into the reasoning and rationales of the topic / passage, and not focusing on precedents or on what we might call external calculations from the bottom lines. I just want to complete a few more important points on this matter. First of all, there’s an interesting observation that I discovered quite a few years ago. Maimonides—in several places in the Talmud we find that there are two forms for expounding the Torah: the school of Rabbi Yishmael expounds by general-and-specific, and the school of Rabbi Akiva expounds by inclusion-and-exclusion. And this goes back to Rabbi Nechunya ben HaKanah and Nachum Ish Gamzu. Meaning, this is an interpretive tradition that passed down through the generations and in the end apparently crystallized with Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Yishmael or their students. And, say, the thirteen principles by which the Torah is expounded, which we recite in the morning prayer, are really Rabbi Yishmael’s thirteen principles, where it appears there as general-and-specific, specific-and-general, general-and-specific-and-general. Under Rabbi Akiva it basically becomes inclusion-and-exclusion, exclusion-and-inclusion, and inclusion-and-exclusion-and-inclusion. And that is a different way of expounding the same textual structures in the Torah. It turns out that throughout the Talmud there are various passages where the halakhic implications come out differently depending on whether we expound it through general-and-specific or through inclusion-and-exclusion, in quite a few places in the Talmud. And when you check Maimonides’ rulings, you discover that Maimonides is actually not consistent. Meaning, in some passages he can rule according to the law that comes out of the exposition of general-and-specific, and in other passages he will derive the laws that come out of inclusion-and-exclusion. He does not maintain consistency on the question of the method of exposition. He does maintain consistency in the substantive sense, meaning that there won’t be contradictions between the rulings themselves, but in the path by which we arrived at the rulings, there he is not consistent. Meaning, in some places it goes with general-and-specific and in other places it is inclusion. So if I ask a question like: whom did Maimonides rule like—Rabbi Akiva or Rabbi Yishmael? Do we expound general-and-specific or inclusion-and-exclusion? There is no answer to that. Maimonides has no consistent method regarding the form of exposition. Apparently he doesn’t enter that question at all—how one expounds—but rather he decided each passage according to his methods of decision, with complete disregard for the question of through which form of exposition we arrived at that conclusion. So that’s another interesting example of the disconnect between the halakhic conclusion and the ways by which we arrive at it. Except that there it’s not about reasons but about sources. Meaning, there are certain justifications of a law that are reasons for that law or for how one rules the law, and there are justifications that are a source. I can justify a law through the logic behind it, and I can justify a law through an exposition showing that it emerges from the Torah, through interpretation and exposition or whatever. Yes, and I think Maimonides does maintain consistency on the level of reasons, but not on the level of sources. And that’s interesting, because the Talmud in Sanhedrin that I mentioned last time—the Talmud that discusses majority based on different reasons, whether different reasons combine—there the Talmud distinguishes between reasons and sources. It says there that if there are two opinions in a court based on two different sources—not two different reasons, but two different sources—they really do not combine. They don’t combine because if two people derive the same law from two different sources, clearly one of them is mistaken. So there is only one correct opinion out of those two. Because the Talmud assumes throughout that, say, if a verse says something in a certain way, then you can’t derive something else from that same verse. Or alternatively, if that conclusion comes from one verse, then it cannot also come from another verse; the other verse probably teaches something different. And that basically means that if you derived the same law from two different sources, one of the two sides is mistaken. The same law cannot come from two different sources, because otherwise one of them would be superfluous. That’s what Rashi writes there on the Talmud in Sanhedrin. And therefore they really make a distinction there: if the majority accumulates from two different reasons, then I count the majority, but if it comes from two different sources, then no. And that really sharpens another aspect of the distinction I talked about between the bottom line and the justifications. Because now we see that there are two kinds of justification. There are justifications that are logical reasons or explanations, and there are justifications that are sources. These are two different types of justification, and they may have different roles. And when we speak about first-order ruling, we are supposed to enter into both the justifications and the sources; we have to examine all of it, of course. In this context there’s an interesting point that I think I mentioned in other series in the past. There’s a rule that says: we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation. What does that mean? If I learn a certain rule by a fortiori reasoning, then I cannot also learn the punishment for it from that same a fortiori reasoning. Say I learn: if A is forbidden, then all the more so B is forbidden. So I learned the prohibition on B through a fortiori reasoning from A. Now A carries a punishment—lashes, death, whatever, some punishment. So I say, okay, if B is more severe than A, and that’s why I made the a fortiori argument and learned the prohibition, that still doesn’t mean I also get the same punishment for B. The punishment is not learned that way. We do not administer punishment based on logical derivation. Okay? Now concerning this rule, Atvan DeOraita discusses it, and it says that there are three methods here. The Talmudic Encyclopedia copies this, everybody copies it—it’s become this standard structure that whenever people discuss “we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation,” they bring this structure from Atvan DeOraita. What does it say? There are two explanations—well, he says there are three methods for understanding this rule. One method: why don’t we administer punishment based on logical derivation? Because maybe there is a refutation of the a fortiori argument. Meaning, I can learn the prohibition through a fortiori reasoning, but to punish on the basis of that a fortiori reasoning—I won’t take that risk, because maybe there’s a refutation of the a fortiori argument and I was mistaken, and I don’t want to punish if I’m not sure. So one possibility is that perhaps there is a refutation of the a fortiori argument. A second explanation is that maybe the punishment for A, the lighter case, is not enough for B. After all, if I learned B from A through a fortiori reasoning, that means B is more severe than A. So if A is forbidden, then certainly B is forbidden. But if A incurs lashes, I can’t give lashes for B, because maybe B, since it is more severe, requires a more severe punishment. Maybe the punishment of lashes is not enough for B. So that’s another explanation of why we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation. And a third explanation—a third method—he brings is that we learn it from a verse; it is a scriptural decree. Because it says, “his sister, the daughter of his father or the daughter of his mother.” And the Talmud there says that if—meaning, if I know that the daughter of his father alone and the daughter of his mother alone is considered his sister, then of course if she is both the daughter of his father and of his mother, she is certainly his sister. That is a fortiori reasoning. And if the Torah writes it explicitly, that means that… the Torah wrote it in order to teach that we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation. And every time I see this, it kills me—that they present this as though it were three methods. But it isn’t three methods. It’s two explanations and a source. The source is from “his sister, the daughter of his father or the daughter of his mother.” And for the law learned from that source, there can be two explanations. One explanation is that maybe there is a refutation of the a fortiori argument, and the second explanation is that maybe the punishment for the lighter case is not enough for the more severe one. But why make that into three methods? Why is a source considered an alternative to explanations? You see how this connects to what I said before, right? There are two types of justification: explanations and sources. And suddenly we see that among the later authorities (Acharonim), in the yeshivot, they usually put them on the same platform. Meaning, if I have two explanations and a source, that’s three methods. But I would say that’s only two methods. I have a source that says we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation, and when I look for an explanation of why we do not do so, I have two possible explanations. Why are a source and two explanations three methods? So the assumption here—the common assumption among the later authorities (Acharonim) and in the yeshivot—is that if there is a source, apparently there is no explanation. Meaning, if there is a source, then it is a scriptural decree. Because if there were an explanation, then why would I need a verse? It’s logical reasoning. So there would be no need for the source. I have an explanation, I have reasoning. And therefore, once they bring a source for it, apparently this is something without an explanation—it is a scriptural decree. And therefore that’s a third method. The first two methods make it depend on certain explanations, and the third method says it is a scriptural decree—there is no explanation, rather it is learned from some source. But that is, of course, nonsense.
[Speaker B] I would maybe say that it’s not really an official source, meaning it’s not like there’s some verse, “we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation.” It’s an inference from a verse, so in other words it’s some kind of logic that you see in the Torah. So it’s more an explanation of how we understand the Torah than an official source and… I didn’t understand—what do you mean by an official source and a non-official source? We learn
[Speaker D] it from the… meaning if it says in the Torah, “Do not murder,” then that really is a source.
[Speaker B] And then you can bring all the… you could maybe say you don’t need reasoning. But if I say that this is my inference from a verse, then in the end that logic of the daughter of his sister, the daughter of his mother, right?
[Speaker D] So then it’s like we learn from the verse
[Speaker B] why it said that, we ask, and then we say okay, apparently the Torah’s logic is that we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation. It’s not an explicit statement of the Torah.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not the Torah’s logic. The Torah writes it in order to teach us that we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation. Otherwise it would not have needed to write it; it would be superfluous.
[Speaker E] The Rabbi started explaining why it’s nonsense.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, one second, there was just a simple question here. My claim is this: look, there are certain things that are written in… that the Talmud says about them that they are scriptural decrees. But these are extremely few things. Meaning, most things that are learned from exposition or from a verse or something like that are nowhere defined as a scriptural decree. And it’s also not correct to see them as a scriptural decree. More than that: even the things that are scriptural decrees do not really mean “a law without a reason,” contrary to what people think. But things about which it is not even said that they are scriptural decrees, but are simply learned from a verse or an exposition—there is certainly no reason to assume that they are scriptural decrees. You’ll ask, after all, if it were reasoning, then the verse would be superfluous—why do I need a verse? It’s logical reasoning. And if there is a verse, then apparently the reasoning does not teach it. So the answer here is… there are several answers, but one of them is that sometimes the explanation by itself would not have been enough for me to base the law on. It is not sufficiently clear and certain for me, or not sufficiently unambiguous for me, and therefore I do not base the law on it by myself, just out of reasoning that I would have thought of. But after I see in the verse that this law exists, and I ask myself what the explanation could be, and I arrive at such-and-such an explanation, then apparently that is the explanation for the law that comes from the verse. Why do I need the verse if there is an explanation? Because the explanation alone would not have been enough to infer that conclusion. It is not clear-cut enough to infer that conclusion. I’ll give you an example. The Talmud says this about something that it does call a scriptural decree. In the chapter on the wayward and rebellious son in Sanhedrin, the Talmud derives “a son” and not “a daughter.” Right? A wayward and rebellious son—and the Talmud expounds: a son and not a daughter, meaning that with a daughter they do not apply the law of the wayward and rebellious son. So several… yes, Sefer HaChinukh and several of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) offer reasons for this. The Talmud says about it that it is a scriptural decree. Now Sefer HaChinukh and Maimonides and other medieval authorities (Rishonim) offer explanations for it. They say: it is not the way of a daughter to become a bandit. After all, a wayward and rebellious son is someone who in the end will become a robber of people, as the Talmud explains. And a daughter is not the kind of person who reaches that, and therefore the passage of the wayward and rebellious son is not applied to her. In Meiri it is even sharper, because Meiri offers that explanation right there on the spot, but afterward he asks: wait a second, but the Talmud says this is a scriptural decree, so how can I offer explanations for it? And all the others offer explanations and move on. Meiri gives an explanation and then asks, wait, but the Talmud says this is a scriptural decree, so how can that be—after all, I have an explanation for this matter? Meaning, he apparently takes this explanation seriously, unlike others where, you know, they offer reasons for commandments—reasons for commandments are an area where people say whatever they want; in any case it doesn’t change anything. So there’s no reason to take the reasons for commandments given by medieval and later authorities too seriously. But here Meiri is not bringing it as a reason for commandments; he is explaining it, and then he asks why the Talmud says it is a scriptural decree. Meaning, he understands that this is apparently really the explanation underlying the law. And I think the answer—I don’t remember his exact wording there right now—but as I understand it, the answer is as follows. Suppose there were no verse, no exposition of “a son and not a daughter,” and the Torah had simply presented the passage of the wayward and rebellious son. Would any of us say, well, this applies only to sons and not to daughters, without there being an exposition? The reasoning exists—that daughters are less likely in the end to become bandits who rob people. But is that reasoning enough for me to derive a halakhic conclusion that such a law applies only to a son and not to a daughter? I think not. What about, I don’t know, good boys? What about gentle people, gentle children? So he stole a tartemar of meat and drank a log of wine, but it turns out he’s a gentle kid; apparently he’s not going to become a gang leader in the future. So should I also not apply the law of the wayward and rebellious son to him? How far do I take this? Therefore I think that this reasoning by itself, if there were no exposition, would not lead us to say that the law of the wayward and rebellious son applies only to a son and not to a daughter. Rather, what happens is that we have an exposition, and the exposition says it applies to a son and not to a daughter, and now I ask myself: okay, but why? Why really does it apply only to a son and not to a daughter? Then I have an explanation: because daughters do not in the end become bandits who rob people, or the chance is much smaller that they will. As an explanation after I already have this source from the Torah, that is a perfectly fine explanation. But that does not mean that the explanation by itself would have been enough to found the law on it. I won’t now ask, wait, so the verse is superfluous—I have an explanation. There is a difference between a reasoning that makes a verse unnecessary—that is, a simple reasoning, where it is obvious that this is how it should be—and then yes, it really does make a verse unnecessary, and a situation where the verse tells me a law, or the exposition tells me some law, and afterward I think about what the reasoning behind the law could be, and I find some kind of reasoning. That is perfectly fine. It can even be a reasoning that is not completely unambiguous in my eyes; as long as it is the best explanation, I assume that it is probably the explanation of the law. But without the Torah, I would not take that explanation and derive a conclusion from it. Okay?
[Speaker D] So what about “Do not murder,” for example? So why is that expounded—why is that called “it’s logical reasoning”?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes? Again, I didn’t understand?
[Speaker D] “Do not murder”—why, for example, would we also ask—after all, we would have arrived at that on our own?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not connected to what I’m saying, you’re just asking.
[Speaker D] Why don’t we ask there, “why do I need a verse? It’s logical reasoning”? Maybe they do ask?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not connected to what I said; you’re asking a general question. When the Torah says that if there is reasoning, the verse is superfluous—there are various places where the Talmud says this. It’s not connected to me, it’s not my innovation. The Talmud says, “why do I need a verse? It’s logical reasoning.” You’re asking: if the Talmud already assumes that reasoning is a substitute for a verse, then why doesn’t it ask that about all sorts of things that are obvious from reasoning?
[Speaker D] Yes, yes, not asking against the Rabbi, not asking against the Rabbi.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So I’ll answer you briefly, because it really is another topic. I spoke about it when I discussed Jewish law and morality. I claim that there is no reasoning at all in “Do not murder.” The reasoning in “Do not murder” is moral reasoning—that it is immoral to murder. But when the Torah says, “Do not murder,” it means to say that murder is also a religious transgression, besides being a moral transgression. And that I would not know without a verse. And that fits my position that Jewish law and morality are two independent categories that do not speak to each other. And even in these laws that overlap with morality, like “Do not murder,” “Do not steal,” and so on, I argue that Jewish law does not come to say that it is immoral to murder or immoral to steal. It comes to say that besides the fact that it is immoral—that is the meaning of “Do not murder” or “Do not steal.” And therefore there is no question as to why this thing is written. Yes, you see it with Cain. The Holy One, blessed be He, comes with a complaint against Cain for murdering Abel, and there had not yet been a command of “Do not murder,” nor the command “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed.” And still the Holy One, blessed be He, came with a complaint against Cain. Meaning, it was obvious that murder is immoral; you don’t need verses for that. But the verses come to say that it also harms religious values and not only moral values. Okay, that’s just briefly. In any case, what I basically want to say is that I think sources and explanations, or reasons, are not on the same plane. Meaning, those who think that when you bring a source it is an alternative to bringing an explanation are mistaken. No—the source simply says where the law comes from. Once I have a source, I can still ask what the explanation for that law is and find one explanation or several explanations for the law. And it’s not three methods of why we do not administer punishment based on logical derivation, but two. There are two different explanations for a law that emerges from an agreed source. That source is the source of the law. The explanations can be two. In my opinion neither of them is correct; the correct explanation is something else altogether. But never mind, that really is a topic for another lecture. So, for our purposes, in short, what I want to say is that at the foundation of Jewish law—if we were talking about the essences that lie at the foundation of Jewish law—then at the foundation of Jewish law there really sit two kinds of things. One kind is explanations, reasoning, rationales, and the second kind is sources. Now in Maimonides, for example, he is careful about consistency of explanations and reasons, but I think—that’s at least the assumption—he is not careful about consistency of sources. In general, Maimonides’ attitude to sources is very liberal. There is a rule in the books of methodological principles about Maimonides, that when Maimonides brings a source, it does not necessarily mean that he thinks this really is the source of the law. Rather, many times he brings the verse that fits the law best because, I don’t know, it sounds best, it helps remember it, I don’t know exactly why—but not necessarily because that is the actual source of the law. There are various examples in Maimonides where the Talmud rejects certain sources, and Maimonides brings those very sources in his book as the source for the law that he rules. And the authors of the methodological rules say that when the source is not… meaning Maimonides does not mean to say that this is really learned from there, but that it is some kind of illustration, or something like that. So once again we see that in Maimonides the attitude toward sources is, let’s say—I don’t know whether to call it dismissive or not—not taking the issue of sources too seriously. I don’t know why, but that’s what comes out. And therefore—not therefore, rather I bring this in order to say that when I speak about first-order ruling, I mean that we need to go down into both the sources and the reasons when we rule, and not make a calculation of methods—an external calculation, what I spoke about in previous times. I want maybe to go a little more deeply into… Rabbi, a question.
[Speaker F] What? A question—is it possible to rule Jewish law without any source at all, supposedly? Is that possible?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean, without any source? Without entering into sources, can I rule Jewish law?
[Speaker F] No—does the Talmud, for example—do we have halakhic rulings in the Talmud or in Maimonides where he rules Jewish law with no source at all, only based on a logical explanation?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course, many times. According to what
[Speaker F] is that—what is he relying on in order to determine it?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Good question. Either there was some source that has been lost to us, or “why do I need a verse? It’s logical reasoning,” and the reasoning appeared sufficient to them to establish that law. Yes, there can be various explanations. But as a matter of fact, in many passages there are laws without a source. Yes, the law of “this one benefits and that one does not lose”—as far as I remember, no source is brought anywhere for it. Just an example that comes to mind now. Right, what is the law—liable, exempt—nobody brings a source, they don’t speak there about sources. Not to mention acquisitions; acquisitions are entirely passages without sources. Lifting, acquisition through possession, a document—various things of that sort. Passages without sources.
[Speaker F] So maybe they proceed from the assumption that it’s like a law given to Moses at Sinai that was transmitted orally, no?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not necessarily. No, they also don’t write that it is a law given to Moses at Sinai. Sometimes when there is a difficulty and the medieval authorities (Rishonim) can’t find a source and feel there ought to be one, then they declare it to be a law given to Moses at Sinai. On the basis of reasoning, meaning they say: apparently there was a law given to Moses at Sinai here, because otherwise it is unclear how the Talmud inferred this law. Meaning, that is a conjecture, yes? But many times not. If the feeling is that this law is sufficiently understandable on the basis of reasoning, then there is no need to assume that it was a law given to Moses at Sinai if we have no source. If there isn’t one, then there isn’t one; there is reasoning. Okay, again, that too requires a lot of discussion. Reasoning—the statement that reasoning is interchangeable with a source—one has to be a little careful with it. Meaning, when we are interpreting an existing law, then reasoning is a substitute for a source. But if we are creating a new law—not a detail in an existing law, but an entirely novel law on the basis of reasoning—that is not enough. It is not equivalent to a source, because for a law to be Torah-level law it needs a source. Reasoning can interpret a law that has a source, add definitions to it or various details—that can be done by reasoning. But to create a new law on the basis of reasoning, that would not be Torah-level law.
[Speaker C] Every time there’s no source, is it necessarily rabbinic?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. If it’s a novel law. And when the Talmud says, “Why do I need a verse? It’s logical,” that’s always when we’re coming to interpret a law that already has a source. For example, the Talmud says, “The burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract money from another,” right? So why? There’s a verse, “Whichever party has the claim shall approach them,” but the Talmud says, “Why do I need a verse? It’s logical.” So why? Because the laws of evidence, “the burden of proof is on the claimant,” that’s procedural law, or evidentiary law; it’s part of “Judge your fellow with justice.” The Sages say: what does “Judge your fellow with justice” mean? Part of just procedure is that “the burden of proof is on the claimant.” So that explains an existing law that has a source, and that explanation I could have derived by logic. But you can’t create a wholly new law just from logic. That’s the Talmud in Berakhot regarding blessings over enjoyment, the blessing before eating. The Talmud asks: how do we know that we bless over food beforehand? Afterward, there’s “You shall eat, be satisfied, and bless” — that’s Grace after Meals. But before eating, how do we know to bless? So the Talmud ultimately concludes: it is forbidden to benefit from this world without a blessing, and anyone who benefits from this world without a blessing is as if he has misused sacred property. So the Pnei Yehoshua asks: if this law of blessings over enjoyment really comes from logic, then it ought to be Torah-level. And then in cases of doubt about blessings we should rule stringently, not leniently, because the obligation to bless would be Torah-level. Why? Because the Talmud says, “Why do I need a verse? It’s logical.” Something derived by logic is a substitute for a verse, a substitute for a biblical text; it has the same status. So if the law of the blessing before eating came from logic, then it should be Torah-level. So the Tzelach there says on the spot: what are you talking about? That’s only true if the logic is interpreting an existing law. But when the logic creates a new law — and blessings over enjoyment are a new law, not a detail within an existing one — then logic by itself doesn’t make it Torah law. It makes it reasonable, but for it to be Torah law there also has to be a command. After all, we talked about the fact that every Torah commandment needs both a command and a substantive content. So logic shows that there is substantive content, but if the command is missing, it can’t be a Torah-level law. In any case, for our purposes, what I want to say is: do people also say about an a fortiori inference that it isn’t Torah-level? When we don’t derive from an a fortiori inference?
[Speaker H] Maimonides says it’s not Torah-level.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maimonides says that something derived from an interpretive exposition is rabbinic, but all the medieval authorities (Rishonim) disagree with him. Maimonides says that something derived from an interpretive exposition is rabbinic, but all the medieval authorities disagree, and something derived from an exposition is Torah-level, because an a fortiori inference is one of the hermeneutic principles by which the Torah is interpreted. So once you make an a fortiori inference, it’s basically a legitimate way of drawing conclusions from the verse. And therefore it’s as if it’s written there; it’s not mere logic. And that’s why, for example, there’s a rule that you do not derive an a fortiori inference from a law given to Moses at Sinai. Meaning, if you have a halakha le-Moshe mi-Sinai, you can’t derive another law from it by means of an a fortiori inference. Why not? The logic is there too. Because an a fortiori inference is not just logic; there is logic behind it, but it isn’t only logic. An a fortiori inference is a hermeneutic rule, and hermeneutic rules are tools for interpreting verses. They are not tools of logic; they are tools of interpretation. So if they are tools for interpreting verses, then what you can interpret with them is verses, not a law given to Moses at Sinai. Obviously logic exists everywhere, including the logic of the a fortiori inference, but not its authority as a source, as a hermeneutic tool. And with an a fortiori inference you have that as well, not just the logic. Let’s say you were to derive an a fortiori inference from a halakha; then obviously it would be proper to behave that way. Even when we don’t derive an a fortiori inference from a halakha, it’s still clear that it would be proper to behave that way. But it would not be Torah law. Because the hermeneutic principle of a fortiori inference cannot be applied to a law given to Moses at Sinai. The fact that it has a logical structure or is a rational consideration is true, and we apply logic to everything. Okay, so therefore I can conclude from here that it is not proper to behave this way; I cannot conclude from here that it is forbidden to behave this way. Those are two different things.
[Speaker E] Rabbi, Rabbi — what the Rabbi asked about Maimonides, phrased as a question, about his apparent dismissiveness toward exposition — maybe that could be said with an exclamation point rather than a question mark? That’s one question. And second, as I understood it, according to Maimonides, everything derived by exposition is in general rabbinic, right? So the whole idea of Torah-level law is greatly reduced in importance.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, that’s obvious, but I didn’t understand the first question.
[Speaker E] No, I mean — the Rabbi said it almost in astonishment. Could it be that Maimonides really believes that exposition is almost just a textual support?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, he doesn’t say it’s just a textual support.
[Speaker E] I didn’t say that he says it’s just a textual support, but he doesn’t attribute to it — the Rabbi said with surprise that he doesn’t attribute that much importance to it and maybe even belittles it, I seem to remember you saying.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This is a topic for a separate lecture, but I don’t think Maimonides means to say that the expositions are unimportant or less important. He means to say that exposition is an expanding tool, not a revealing tool. When I derive an exposition from a verse, the product of the exposition is not considered by me to be the uncovering of another layer already contained within the verse; rather, that exposition is an expansion of what is written in the verse, and therefore it isn’t Torah-level. Maimonides himself writes in the second root: don’t think that when I call them rabbinic statements I mean they are untrue. Obviously the expositions are true, and I have no doubt that they are correct. It’s simply that because of the category they belong to, they are not Torah-level; not that they are untrue. They are entirely true. I don’t think there is any contempt in Maimonides here. But there really is some attitude in Maimonides which, from several different contexts, is very unclear to me. I never turned it into some grand general thesis. But somehow, from several contexts, it really does seem that Maimonides treats sources a little less seriously. I don’t know exactly why. Anyway, that’s another discussion, and really not our topic. In any event, I do want to continue for a moment with this issue of reasons versus bottom-line rulings. And I want to touch on something I’ve already discussed in other series as well. The Talmud in Eruvin says that Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai disagreed for three years and couldn’t reach a decision, until a heavenly voice came out and said: these and those are both the words of the living God, but the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel. And the Ritva there asks a famous question: what does it mean that these and those are both the words of the living God? If one side is right, the other is wrong, and vice versa. There’s logic here — how can both sides be the words of the living God? Like the judge’s wife: you’re right, and you’re right, and you’re right too — everybody’s right. So the question is how both sides can be the words of the living God. I’ll do this very briefly, because I dealt with it at length elsewhere. You can read the phrase “these and those are both the words of the living God” in a pluralistic way. There isn’t one single halakhic truth; there are many halakhic truths, and when we rule that the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel, that’s not because the truth is with them but because you need to arrive at some bottom line. So you reach a bottom line and say the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel because they were the majority, because they mentioned Beit Shammai’s view before their own — as the Talmud explains there — for reasons that are not reasons of truth but technical reasons. But as far as truth goes, there is a multiplicity of halakhic truths. That’s the pluralistic reading. The monistic reading says that the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel because they are right. Meaning, a halakhic ruling means that in our judgment, this is the truth. So what does “these and those are both the words of the living God” mean according to the monistic reading? Rabbi Yosef Karo apparently reads that passage in the Talmud in a monistic way. So my claim is that “these and those are both the words of the living God” means that the reasons on both sides are correct — not the bottom line. What do I mean? The Talmud says in a number of places that someone being examined for the Sanhedrin had to produce one hundred and fifty reasons to declare a creeping creature pure. Yes, in the exams for appointment to the Sanhedrin. So Rabbeinu Tam asks there in the Talmud: what do we need these empty sophistries for? What are we choosing here, a Purim rabbi? We want him to be a judge on the Sanhedrin, so he has to give us reasons to declare a creeping creature pure? The Torah says the creeping creature is impure — what is there to argue about? So the Maharal says about this that these are not empty sophistries and this is not a Purim rabbi. There really are one hundred and fifty valid reasons to declare the creeping creature pure, and there are also one hundred and fifty reasons to declare it impure. And all three hundred of these reasons are valid reasons. So why is the creeping creature impure? It is impure because the reasons to declare it impure carry more weight than the reasons to declare it pure — not because the reasons to declare it impure are true and the reasons to declare it pure are false. All the reasons are true, both for purity and for impurity. In the end, though, you have to decide which reasons are more significant, to weigh them and know which has greater weight. And the reasons for impurity carry more weight, and therefore the Torah says that the creeping creature is impure. But when the Torah says the creeping creature is impure, it is not saying that there are no reasons or no grounds to declare it pure. Of course there are — they are just less significant than the reasons for impurity, and therefore the bottom line is that it is impure. Now, someone being examined for the Sanhedrin needs to know the one hundred and fifty reasons for declaring the creeping creature pure as well, not only the reasons for impurity. It is very important that he have complex thinking. And therefore they test him by having him produce one hundred and fifty reasons to declare the creeping creature pure, to see that he is not captive to the bottom line, but really does know how to analyze the reasons. And then he also knows how to weigh the reasons and understand that the one hundred and fifty reasons for impurity are more significant than the one hundred and fifty reasons for purity. And the bottom line is that it is impure, but it is very important that he know all three hundred reasons. Yes, the Talmud says there that the Jewish law was ruled according to Beit Hillel because they mentioned Beit Shammai’s words before their own. What does that mean? Before they formulated their own position, they first stated what Beit Shammai’s reasons were, what their position was, weighed it, and only then in the end concluded either that they agreed or that they disagreed. But first of all they discussed the reasons presented by Beit Shammai. What does that mean? It means that before deciding whether the creeping creature is impure or pure, they listen both to those who present reasons for purity and to those who present reasons for impurity, and in the end they have to decide what prevails. But they do not ignore the reasons for declaring the creeping creature pure, and therefore the Jewish law follows them. Because someone who thinks that way reaches more correct conclusions. And someone who subordinates Jewish law, all the reasons, to the bottom lines is liable to make mistakes in Jewish law. Maybe let me sharpen this a little with a few examples. Actually, before I sharpen it — first of all, why am I bringing this in relation to Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel? Think about Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel disagreeing on a certain question. Beit Shammai present certain reasons and say impure, and Beit Hillel present other reasons and say pure. Who is right? In terms of the reasons, everybody is right. The question is which reasons are more significant, and on that there is a dispute between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel. But there is no dispute over which reasons are valid. All the reasons are valid. The question is which reasons carry more weight. Now the Talmud says: these and those are both the words of the living God. The Talmud means the reasons of these and the reasons of those. They are all the words of the living God; they are all correct. And afterward it says: but the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel. Meaning, in the final analysis, when you integrate the reasons and arrive at a bottom line, here there is only one truth. Not everyone is right; there is only one truth. And if the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel, then Beit Hillel are right and Beit Shammai are wrong. Therefore the sentence “these and those are both the words of the living God” and the sentence “the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel” are speaking on different planes of the discussion. “These and those” speaks about the reasons, and “the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel” speaks about the bottom line. And the relationship between reasons and bottom line is a complex relationship; it is not a simple one. And that is why I’m bringing this whole discussion, because we were talking about reasons versus bottom lines. A nice example of this is a passage in Gittin, where the Talmud says that Rabbi Evyatar and Rabbi Yonatan disagreed over the story of the concubine in Gibeah. Yes, what was it that blew that fellow’s fuse there with the concubine in Gibeah? Did he find a fly in the dish, or did he find a hair in that place — a hair, yes? So they disagree. And then Rabbi Evyatar meets Elijah the Prophet — happened to run into him in the street, just by chance Elijah the Prophet came his way. So he asks Elijah: tell me, what is the Holy One, blessed be He, doing right now? So Elijah says to him: as it happens, the Holy One, blessed be He, is studying the section of the concubine in Gibeah. How nice, what heavenly luck — good thing you came to me, because we’re dealing with exactly that and maybe now we can… So Elijah says to him: the Holy One, blessed be He, is saying: My son Evyatar says thus, and My son Yonatan says thus, and these and those are both the words of the living God. So Rabbi Evyatar says to Elijah: Heaven forbid — can there be doubt before Heaven? What, the Holy One, blessed be He, is in doubt and doesn’t know what happened there, whether it was the fly or the hair? So he says to him: no, he found a fly and was not upset, he found a hair and was upset. And unlike the passage in Eruvin, the passage in Gittin not only brings “these and those are both the words of the living God,” it also explains in what sense these and those are both the words of the living God. Now notice what the explanation is. The one who said he found a fly was right — he did find a fly. The one who said he found a hair was also right — he also found a hair. So in the end, what was it that blew his fuse? You could say: he found a fly and wasn’t upset, and the hair was what blew his fuse. But if that’s the case, then the one who said fly was not right. So what does “these and those are both the words of the living God” mean? More than that: the Talmud brings this whole discussion to show that Rabbi Evyatar was a great man with whom the Holy One, blessed be He, agreed. But Rabbi Evyatar was the one who said he found a fly, and what does the Holy One, blessed be He, say? He found a fly and wasn’t upset; he found a hair and was upset. It’s actually Rabbi Yonatan who is right, not Rabbi Evyatar. But that’s not the point. When it says, “he found a fly and wasn’t upset; he found a hair and was upset,” it means that the anger developed in stages. It started with the fly — not enough to enrage him. Then he also found a hair — okay, that already broke him, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. What does that really mean? That that man’s anger was the result of both things; the fly and the hair together created the anger. So you can truly say that the Holy One, blessed be He, agreed with Rabbi Evyatar as well, not only with Rabbi Yonatan. They are both partially right. They are both partially right. So what does “these and those are both the words of the living God” mean? It means: all the reasons you are bringing are correct. The fly is also a valid reason — it really did contribute to the anger — and the hair also contributed to the anger. The full picture is the reasons of both sides. In the case of the concubine in Gibeah, these reasons accumulated; there was no need to weigh them because they both pointed in the same direction — both contributed to the anger. So there was no need to weigh which was more important; rather the accumulation of both caused the anger. But in the case of declaring the creeping creature pure, for example, the reasons for purity lead to declaring it pure, and the reasons for impurity lead to declaring it impure. The full picture is all three hundred reasons, because all of them are valid. Someone who wants to understand the topic in depth needs to know all three hundred reasons. But in the end, when you want to know whether the creeping creature is impure or pure, you have to decide which reasons are more significant, and here you already have to weigh the reasons. And therefore the dictum “these and those are both the words of the living God” basically means that the reasons from all sides are correct — that is really the claim. The example I always give in this context — some of you are probably already tired of hearing it — is the chocolate example. The fateful debate over whether to eat chocolate or not. Reuven says you should eat chocolate because it’s tasty, or it’s worthwhile to eat chocolate because it’s tasty. Shimon says it’s not worthwhile to eat chocolate; it makes you fat. Who is right? The laws of nature, right? They are both right. That’s always how it is: whatever tastes good is always fattening, and vice versa. Chocolate is both tasty and fattening. They are both right. Should you eat it? Here only one of them is right. So what are they arguing about if they’re both right? The argument is over whether pleasure is a more significant consideration than health or aesthetics — I don’t know, for whoever is bothered by fatness, pleasure or aesthetics — or whether health is more important than pleasure. And here there is a real dispute. In other words, they both agree that from a health perspective it’s not worthwhile, and from a pleasure perspective it is worthwhile to eat it. The reasons on both sides are valid. But there is a dispute, and the dispute is over which reason is more significant. The taste of the chocolate, of course, is the most significant — but which reason is more significant? And here there is a real disagreement. One says health is more significant, and the other says taste, pleasure, is more significant. In that argument only one is right; in that argument it is not the case that both are right. Incidentally, in almost every argument you can think of — unless it’s really an argument where at least one of the sides is just stupid, plain stupid — but in most arguments, let’s say, where there are many supporters for each view and statistically at least, if it’s a large group, you’ll find some intelligent people there here and there, then in most common arguments in the world this is the situation. There are no false reasons on either side, or at least a large portion of the reasons on both sides are correct. Here and there you can also find mistaken things, but a large portion of the reasons on both sides are correct. The disagreement is not over which reasons are correct; the disagreement is over which reasons prevail, which reasons should be given greater weight. That is the real disagreement. Everyone agrees that the value of equality and the value of freedom are both important values. So what is the dispute between capitalism and socialism or communism? The dispute is over which one prevails when there is a clash. But neither side claims that liberty is unimportant or that equality is unimportant. They both agree that liberty matters and equality matters. The only thing is that sometimes they conflict. When they conflict, you have to decide which is more important. And the dispute is not over whether freedom matters or liberty matters or equality matters. They both matter, and everyone agrees about that. The dispute is over which matters more. When there is a clash, which one do you follow? And usually, almost every argument you can think of is an argument of this type. In those arguments, these and those are both the words of the living God — all sides are right in their reasons. And still you have to weigh them. And here I come to a very important point about the relationship between reasons and bottom lines. We have a certain tendency — again, these are things I’ve talked about in various earlier contexts —
[Speaker I] Yes, Rabbi, can I ask before we move on? I find this comparison a little difficult — the chocolate example, or even socialism versus capitalism, as compared with the case of the creeping creature. In the case of the creeping creature it’s one thing versus its opposite. It’s not that both things are true. Chocolate is both tasty and fattening — there, both things are genuinely true.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But—
[Speaker I] In the case of the creeping creature, where some say it defiles and some say to declare it pure, then it’s either yes or no; it can’t be both at once. How could that be?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean how could it be? Either eat chocolate or don’t eat chocolate — it can’t be both at once either. Same thing, it’s exactly like chocolate. After all, there are reasons — the reasons, say,
[Speaker E] The creeping creature—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] is ugly, therefore it should be impure — I’m just throwing things out now, okay? Or the creeping creature crawls around on the ground and it’s disgusting, therefore it should be impure. Those are two reasons to declare it impure. On the other hand, others come and say: yes, but the creeping creature is very kindhearted, therefore it should be declared pure. Now, the one who says the creeping creature is kindhearted is right, and the one who says it crawls around in the dirt underground is also right. They are both right. The whole question is which reason is more important, and that will determine whether it is impure or pure. It’s exactly like chocolate. The reasons are not whether it is impure or pure; the reasons are grounds for impurity and grounds for purity, and with regard to the grounds everyone is right. And the question is what the final balancing will be — that is what determines the bottom line.
[Speaker I] Yes, I understand. I think in the first lecture of this series the Rabbi gave a somewhat different explanation of “these and those are both the words of the living God.” I think the Rabbi said that “these and those are both the words of the living God” really means that God speaks the discussions, as if “the words of God” in the sense of speaking the discussions, if I remember correctly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Correct.
[Speaker I] To be honest, I understood and connected more with that explanation, because basically God gave us a kind of power of attorney — we decide, and He only participates in our world.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? No, that’s the pluralistic reading. That’s not what I mean. I mean what I call the monistic reading. “These and those are both the words of the living God” means that, let’s say, Beit Shammai say the creeping creature is pure and Beit Hillel say it is impure — just for the sake of the example, okay? Everyone agrees the creeping creature is impure, but just for the sake of the example. Now Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel are obviously not fools. So both sides know all three hundred reasons, all three hundred. So what is the dispute? The dispute is over the weighing, right? The dispute is over the weighing. Now in the weighing only one side is right. Only Beit Hillel, let’s say, if we read it monistically. So only Beit Hillel are right. Then in what sense are Beit Shammai’s words also the words of the living God? So my claim is that Beit Shammai’s words are not God’s will, but they are God’s word. That’s what I discussed there with Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, yes? It is God’s word. In what sense is it God’s word? Precisely in the sense I’ve explained here: because the reasons they present are all correct. True, it is not God’s will, because in terms of the weighing, Beit Hillel’s weighing is the correct one. But it is still God’s word in the sense that it counts as Torah. Why? Because the reasons they bring are valid reasons. That’s unlike people who are, say, not Torah scholars, or not intelligent people, where even at the level of the reasons they may be talking nonsense — not only at the level of the weighing. And then I would no longer say that those are the words of the living God.
[Speaker I] But can you say that about what — about a certain passage in the Talmud, that it isn’t the words of the living God because it’s not well-founded? Or is everything in the Talmud necessarily the words of the living God?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m not authorized to determine what is and is not the words of the living God, but my assumption is that when there are people who are Torah scholars and they present reasons, they generally present valid reasons. Not only in the Talmud — today’s Torah scholars as well. They always present valid reasons. I may disagree with the weight they assign to each reason, but the reasons they present are generally valid reasons. Maybe I’ll move to the next step; that will also clarify this point. What do I want to say? I want to say that the relationship between reasons and the bottom line, which I also discussed in the previous lecture, is a complex relationship. And we as human beings have a tendency to paint reality for ourselves in black-and-white colors. And therefore, very often, once our intuition tells us that the creeping creature is impure, then we will list the one hundred and fifty reasons that make it impure and ignore the fact that there are one hundred and fifty reasons to declare it pure. Or we’ll say that those reasons are not valid, or we won’t even think about them at all. We recruit all the levels of the discussion toward the conclusion we basically desire, the one we think is correct. And this is a well-known human disease. This disease is what created — I called it in other contexts — illusory correlations. The penny dropped for me about illusory correlations on a trip, a mythical trip that I’ve already told about many times, when through the bus window I saw a bumper sticker on a car that said, “Rabin has no mandate to give back the Golan.” This was during one of those times when the issue came up again: whether to hand over the Golan to the Syrians for a peace agreement, whether not to make a peace agreement — there was an argument. So the bumper sticker said, “Rabin has no mandate to give back the Golan.” And during the ride I asked myself — I had time — I asked myself whether the owner of this car was a left-wing person or a right-wing person. In other words, what is his view about agreements with the Syrians on the Golan Heights? And I answered myself that I had absolutely no way of knowing. No way of knowing. Why? Because he writes, “Rabin has no mandate to give back the Golan,” right? “Rabin has no mandate to give back the Golan” can be interpreted in two ways. There were two different questions there that were controversial and disputed. One was the political, ideological, security question, all those things: is it worth making an agreement with the Syrians at the price of the Golan or not? There was a public dispute about that. That’s the substantive question. Another question was the moral one. There is a moral question because when Rabin ran for election, he said he would not give back the Golan, that the Golan was a strategic asset, that it must not be returned. That was part of his platform. Now, like Ariel Sharon a few years later, Rabin discovered that what you see from here you don’t see from there. In other words, he changed his mind once he sat in the prime minister’s chair. Legitimately, by the way; that can absolutely happen. Only donkeys never change their minds, as Moshe Dayan said. So it may be that he changed his mind when he sat in the prime minister’s chair. Now a moral question arises: is he allowed to act according to what he thinks now, even though when he was elected he was elected on the basis of a different agenda? When he presented his candidacy to the public and the public elected him, the public elected him because of the agenda he presented in the election. His election platform was not to give back the Golan, and now he has decided that in fact it is right to return it. So is he now morally permitted? This is not the question of whether he is right, whether such an agreement is the right thing to do; rather it is a question of political morality. If you promised something during the election and right now you think otherwise — and I believe you that you sincerely think otherwise, I believe you are doing this for the good of the matter — there is still a question. It may be that you need to return the mandate to the public and go again to elections, tell them: listen, I think differently now, I’m asking you for a renewed mandate, give me permission to proceed with my new agenda. Or perhaps once he was elected, it is his right — or maybe even his duty — to do what seems best to him from the prime minister’s chair, even if it doesn’t fit what he promised during the election campaign. That is a moral question. Now these two questions are completely independent. There is no connection whatsoever between the first and the second. And each of these two questions, I think, has two substantial sides — one hundred and fifty reasons this way and one hundred and fifty reasons that way. There is no simple answer to either one. And in fact the public was divided on both questions. But given these two facts — that the questions are independent and that there are substantial sides to each of them — how many groups would you expect in the population? Four, right? Those who say it’s not moral and also not worthwhile to make agreements with the Syrians — they answer no both to the moral question and to the ideological question. Those who say it is moral and it is worthwhile to make agreements with the Syrians — yes and yes. Yes and no, and no and yes, right? Four groups. Two independent questions, so four groups. How many were there in practice? Two, of course, as always. There were only two groups. And everyone who supported an agreement with the Syrians also thought it was moral to do it, and those who opposed an agreement with the Syrians also thought it was immoral. Even though the two questions are independent, really independent, and truly there are good arguments on both sides of each of these questions. So why weren’t there four groups but only two? Because we don’t think straight. Because the people who wanted to reach the conclusion, or push Rabin to make an agreement with the Syrians, said: of course it’s also moral, and it’s also worthwhile politically, strategically, whatever. And those who opposed said: what are you talking about? First of all, I oppose it because it is not right to make such an agreement, it’s a huge mistake. Besides that, even if I did agree, it would still be immoral. But somehow those who actually agree — not those who say “even if I agreed” — those who actually agree also always think it’s moral. This wisdom of separating the two questions exists on both sides, but only hypothetically. In other words, each one of them will tell you: yes, even if I thought this agreement was correct, I would still think it’s immoral to do it. Or someone else will say: even if I thought the agreement was wrong, morally I would still agree that it’s moral to behave this way. He can say that — but you won’t find anyone who actually says it in practice. That it’s immoral to do it even though I support the agreement, or that I oppose the agreement but it is moral to reverse yourself and you don’t need to go back to elections. Because people are not intellectually honest. That’s all. Now this is a simple case — that makes four, right? Child’s combinatorics. Let’s give you fourth-grade combinatorics, not first grade. Yes, we have — I once wrote a response in Makor Rishon following the controversy over conversion. Remember? There was some judge in Ashdod who invalidated the conversions of the entire conversion system of Rabbi Druckman. Rabbi Druckman headed the system, and he invalidated the conversions of that whole system because all the judges there were wicked. Because they had some policy of waiving acceptance of the commandments, and that is against Jewish law. Since that was so, all these judges in the system were wicked. Once they were wicked, they were not qualified to serve as judges; they were invalid judges. Consequently, all the converts who had gone through that system had not gone through a religious court, and a religious court is a constitutive condition for conversion; without a religious court the conversion is invalid. And therefore he invalidated all the conversions, thousands of conversions in the public system. It reached the Supreme Rabbinical Court and they upheld his ruling. Yes, to invalidate thousands of conversions — I’m talking about many years ago — to turn them into gentiles, children who had been born, everyone turned into gentiles, wonderful, there was a real celebration. In short, in the end it got to Rabbi Amar — never mind, Rabbi Amar did understand that this was insane — he assembled some panel, cobbled together some panel, bypassed the Great Rabbinical Court, and declared that it was valid and everything was fine. I don’t know, in short, these people do whatever they want. At some point I wrote — I suddenly noticed that when this discussion began, I heard voices this way and that way, who was for, who was against. By the way, I was in favor of the judge from Ashdod — I mean substantively. That is, I think those conversions were outrageous. They really did not require acceptance of the commandments, and a conversion without acceptance of the commandments is invalid. That doesn’t mean they are wicked; they think differently from me, and I don’t think that anyone who thinks differently from me is wicked. On that I didn’t agree with him. But I did agree with his fundamental determination in the laws of conversion. I think it really was an invalid conversion, in my opinion. But the judges who sat on the bench thought otherwise, fine; I don’t disqualify them as wicked, that’s nonsense. But that’s what I thought, and I talked with people, and there were arguments, the whole country was in turmoil over the issue, and I heard arguments here and arguments there, yes, all kinds of people were arguing. As the argument went on, suddenly it became clear that the opinions were dividing into two groups. So all those who were Religious Zionists or secular, of course, were against the judge from Ashdod and in favor of Rabbi Druckman’s system, and all the Haredim were in favor of the judge from Ashdod. This drove me crazy, and I wrote a letter to Makor Rishon, and I said there that after half a minute’s thought I could come up with, I don’t remember, eleven or thirteen independent questions — let’s say thirteen, I think — that in order for a person to formulate a position on this issue, he would have to answer those thirteen questions. And each of those questions has sides this way and that. And therefore — now, if I had thought a little more there would also have been thirty questions. But I thought for half a minute, so only thirteen questions. How many groups should there have been in the population? Fourth-grade combinatorics — come on, I’m your teacher here.
[Speaker H] Two
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Two to the thirteenth power, eight K. Eight thousand groups. There should have been eight thousand different opinions, groups in the population. Two to the thirteenth, right? How many were there? Two. Two, right? There was a group that answered yes to all thirteen questions, and there was a group that answered no to all thirteen questions. The Haredim answered no to all thirteen, the Religious Zionists answered yes to all thirteen. There was no connection between the questions. No connection between the questions. You can answer this question yes and that one no; there’s no connection at all. They’re independent questions. And in order to formulate a position on this issue, you have to formulate a position, or answer, each of the thirteen questions—more, actually, but thirteen is what I immediately found. So how did this happen? Because people are not honest. People decided that they had to come out against this system of state conversion, so of course they immediately answered no to all thirteen questions. Those who decided that they had to come out in favor—yes, the Religious Zionists—immediately answered yes to all thirteen questions. Instead of asking how it really should be done. What really should be done is what Beit Hillel did: examine the arguments of all sides, answer each of the questions according to the best of your understanding, weigh the arguments, and in the end arrive at a bottom line on each question separately. And then, after you have answers to all thirteen questions, decide what you think about this conversion. Weigh everything together and reach some conclusion. Except what? It’s complicated. It’s complicated to do that, and it also somehow looks less strong, less convincing. To be very convincing, you have to answer all thirteen with no. Obviously, there’s no side at all that could say these conversions are kosher. These conversions are abominations and non-kosher, right? There isn’t even one clear side there to be lenient. Or alternatively the opposite: there’s no reason at all to be stringent, they’re absolutely kosher on the other side. Why? Because that’s how we think. We’re messed up. Human beings think in a messed-up way. That’s it. And not because they aren’t smart. Not all of them. But because they’re biased. When you want a certain bottom line, you enlist all the considerations, all the questions, all the sides, in a way that directs things to where you want to end up. Right, I remember once there was some remark by Rabbi Shach, something like: the commandment of settling the Land of Israel can also be fulfilled in Bnei Brak; you don’t need to go to Ariel for that. That too is the Land of Israel. Interesting that Rabbi Shach, as a Haredi, came to a certain conclusion precisely regarding the parameters of the commandment of settling the Land of Israel, while Avraham Shapira thought that apparently there is some added value after all in being in Ariel rather than Bnei Brak. Okay? Quite surprisingly, somehow it came out that Rabbi Shach, in the laws of settling the Land of Israel, thinks this way, and Rabbi Shapira—I’m just bringing Rabbi Shapira as an example, I don’t remember what he said, but it’s clear to me what he said—that he thinks the other way. Why? Because at least one of them is not honest. I have a suspicion who it was, but I won’t say. Think about what the parameters of settling the Land of Israel are, and afterward decide whether you want to be Haredi or not Haredi. But being Haredi or not is not connected to the commandment of settling the Land of Israel. You can say that the commandment of settling the Land of Israel applies in Ariel too, but it’s forbidden to rebel against the nations, or forbidden to take risks, or forbidden to cooperate with secular people, or all kinds of—I don’t know, each person with his own reasons. Fine? Worldview, or I don’t know, words of that sort, I don’t know exactly what—each person with his own explanations for why one should be non-Zionist. What does that have to do with the parameters of the commandment of settling the Land of Israel? That should be discussed on its own terms. What do you think? Is it like this? Is it not like this? But somehow it always comes out fitting. It always comes out fitting. And that means that the discussions we conduct are not honest. And this lack of honesty, by the way, is tied at the navel to the distinction between first-order halakhic ruling and second-order halakhic ruling. It’s first-order thinking and second-order thinking. Not necessarily in Jewish law—in general. We think in a second-order way. What do I mean? We basically don’t enter into the reasons behind the law, trying to clarify the reasons and from them formulate what the conclusion is—the law or the topic, right, not necessarily in Jewish law but in any issue. Right, we go straight to conclusions. We check what our opinion is about the bottom lines, and after that we recruit the arguments and reasons to the conclusion we want to reach. But we do this after the fact. Real thinking should be first-order thinking. You need to approach the reasons, clarify each of the questions, each of the reasons on its own, and in the end look at the bottom line, weigh the different reasons, and arrive at a final conclusion, at the bottom line. That is the correct way to do it. That’s what Beit Hillel did, that they stated the words of Beit Shammai before their own. Beit Shammai didn’t do that. Beit Shammai immediately—it seemed to them that it was forbidden, so obviously it was forbidden. They didn’t listen to the hundred and fifty arguments raised by Beit Hillel. Why not? Because they were sharper, right? They were very sharp, Beit Shammai, much sharper than Beit Hillel. They looked down on them. They had reached such a conclusion, they had a hundred and fifty arguments, surely they were right, there was no need to listen to anyone. And obviously that’s how it is. Period. And precisely because of that, they weren’t right. Even though they were sharper. They were more brilliant than Beit Hillel, and Beit Hillel came closer to the truth. That’s what Rabbi Yosef Karo says. Why? Because they stated the words of Beit Shammai before their own. Someone who thinks in a complex way will generally arrive at an answer closer to the truth than someone who thinks in terms of bottom lines, of second order, that recruits the reasons to the bottom line. Right, it reminds me of—do you know that paradox, we talked last time about the paradox of judgment—there’s a similar paradox in Jewish law. Say a religious court is sitting in a capital case. And you know there’s a rule that if all the judges say he is guilty, then he goes free. So they do not execute him in a capital case. Okay. Now let’s assume a defendant comes before a court of twenty-three—right, a capital court is twenty-three. Twenty-two of them said that he deserves death. Now the twenty-third judge says to himself, okay, what position should I express? Now if he thinks the person deserves death, then if he too says that he deserves death, what will happen? Then they won’t execute him, because then all twenty-three say that he deserves death. So if he thinks he should be executed, he needs to vote that he is innocent. And if he thinks he should not be executed, then what will he say? That he is innocent? Then there will be twenty-two against him, and they’ll execute him. So he needs to say no, no, he’s guilty. Once everyone says he’s guilty, he’ll indeed go free, he indeed won’t be executed. So in effect he needs to say the opposite of what he thinks. Because he has to make the calculation of the—you understand? He has to be dishonest in an ideological way, to do what all the biased people I described earlier do, but this time ostensibly from a correct reason. Meaning, he wants to reach the right bottom line from his point of view. But to me—right, these questions come up in all sorts of contexts—to me it’s completely clear that you must not do such a thing. You have to say your real opinion. And why? Suppose twenty-two judges say he deserves death, and you too think he deserves death. Now, in order for him to be executed, you will vote that he is innocent, in order to bring about his execution, because in your opinion he deserves capital punishment. The problem is that in truth he does not deserve capital punishment. Because if all twenty-three judges thought he deserved death, then the Torah tells us that something is fishy here, and apparently there isn’t sufficient reason to execute him. And the truth was that indeed all twenty-three judges thought he deserved death; you thought so too. You just didn’t say it so that he would be executed. But you understand that if you thought he deserved death, and the other twenty-two also thought he deserved death, then the truth is that he is not deserving of death. You brought about a situation in which they issued an incorrect ruling. Because the Torah itself took into account the case where there are twenty-three who say he deserves death, and it itself said that in such a situation something is fishy there; they probably influenced each other, there are no clear cases. There’s no situation in which twenty-three judges will agree that someone deserves death. Something here is fishy. And after all, that really was the situation here. So from when did you agree that he deserved death, only you didn’t vote that way so that he would be executed. So you brought it about that he would be executed, even though the truth is that he should not have been executed. And I just remembered that example, because that example again, from a different angle, shows us that we need to think at the first order, not at the second order. Not to do the calculation based on the result we want to reach. We need to examine the questions on their own terms and express an opinion on the question on its own terms. Whatever comes out afterward, comes out. We do the calculation after we have formulated a position on the reasons, on the sources, on everything I talked about before. After I’ve finished all that, I weigh it all together and then I arrive at my conclusion, at my bottom line. But not to go straight to the bottom line, not to rule in the second order, but to rule in the first order. That is basically the claim. And if one really rules in the first order, then all the correlations I showed earlier—right, what I called spurious correlations—what are spurious correlations? That your moral answer to whether a rabbi has a mandate to return the Golan Heights, and your political answer, always go together. But they’re not supposed to go together, after all these are independent questions. That’s why I call it a spurious correlation. There is a correlation between whether you answer this one yes—you’ll answer that one yes too. You answer this one no—you’ll answer that one no too. But that is a spurious correlation; there is no real connection between the questions. That correlation stems from the fact that you are thinking dishonestly. Or at least some people are thinking dishonestly. That is why these correlations are created. And this lack of honesty is basically second-order thinking. First-order thinking thinks about the reasons. And once you think about the reasons, in the end whatever comes out, comes out. By the way, why is it very important to know a hundred and fifty reasons to declare a creeping creature pure? Because if a new creeping creature were to come before me, for example, one the Torah doesn’t speak about, but maybe it resembles the creeping creatures of the Torah or maybe it doesn’t resemble them, I would need to think whether it is impure or pure. You understand that in such a situation it is very important to know all three hundred reasons—both the hundred and fifty for impurity and the hundred and fifty for purity—and to see whether in this creeping creature all three hundred apply. Whether the weight of these—suddenly—could be greater, the ones for declaring the creeping creature pure. Maybe suddenly the weight is greater than the consideration for declaring the creeping creature impure with respect to this particular creature. And then the Jewish law could come out differently. Once I understand all the reasons and weigh them, in other situations the reasons can line up differently. And their relative weight will be different. And then the result will be different. But if I don’t enter into the reasons, and instead in the second order I simply copy the precedent and infer the halakhic conclusion here, then I miss the correct answer; I arrive at an incorrect answer. Okay. So this really is to sharpen the need for first-order thinking and of course also first-order halakhic ruling. But this is in all fields of thought, not only in halakhic rulings. Fine. I’ll stop here. If there are questions or comments, you’re welcome.
[Speaker I] Yes. Rabbi, when you spoke about the reasons in the Talmud, that probably most of them are the words of the living God, what about when there is a factual error in the Talmud? Is that also the words of the living God? No. What do you mean, no? No. Because what, because it stems from—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t say there can’t be a mistake. I said that usually there aren’t mistakes, because if you are a person with common sense, you probably won’t make mistakes. But if there is scientific knowledge that you didn’t know, then yes, you make a mistake. That can happen. I didn’t say a mistake is impossible. They were not—they were human beings, not angels.
[Speaker I] Ah, so it’s not the words of the living God because it’s a mistake? Right. Okay. Now what the rabbi just explained with Rabin really reminds me, actually, of the discussion currently surrounding the drafting of Haredim.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Every issue. It reminds you of every issue whatsoever. There is no issue on earth whose argument is conducted honestly. None. There פשוט isn’t. Everything is crooked.
[Speaker I] No, because the arguments both ways are also correct, meaning there is the value of Torah study versus the value of the Land of Israel.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You know, the value of Torah study does not contradict the value of drafting Haredim. Both are true, but they do not contradict each other. Someone who studies Torah—exempt him. Someone who does not study Torah—do not exempt him. For example. No, because fine, let’s say we find that compromise, so if you have a compromise where both sides are right and everything is fine, then there is no contradiction at all. But the Haredim do not want to enlist at all, not only those who study.
[Speaker F] Yes, right.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, but every argument is like that, it’s not—
[Speaker G] Rabbi, first of all I wanted to say, the issue of spurious correlations really reminds me of Kahneman’s book in terms of biases. That really connected for me; it reminds me of some appendix to it. Another comment and question: I also wanted to make a small comment that with the judges—if the twelfth and the thirteenth reach the conclusion that he is also guilty, then to prepare the remedy before the blow. Fine. From there, from there, that can already be. And I wanted to ask about the hundred and fifty reasons regarding declaring the creeping creature pure. So the rabbi said that the weighing of the hundred and fifty reasons to declare it impure outweighs those to declare it pure, and therefore the creeping creature is impure. But on the face of it, the creeping creature is impure because the Torah said it is impure. Meaning, not necessarily—we don’t need to say that there is—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Since the Torah said it is impure for some reason, there is a reason. And the Torah itself weighed all three hundred reasons and apparently thought that the hundred and fifty reasons for impurity are more significant than the reasons for purity, and therefore it declared it impure.
[Speaker G] It feels to me more correct to say that about things that are not explicit in the Torah, where discretion really belongs.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This whole thing is a parable. I don’t know whether a person can sit and think up a hundred and fifty reasons now to declare the creeping creature pure or impure. The point is: you need to think about issues in a complex way. It doesn’t have to be a hundred and fifty reasons, and it doesn’t have to be specifically about the impurity of the creeping creature. Because the impurity of the creeping creature is reasons for the verse, and I don’t know whether we can think about what exactly the Torah’s reasons are. But it’s only a story, or a parable, or an example to explain the principle. The principle is that you need to know how to bring arguments that lead to a conclusion that is the opposite of the truth, because there are also correct arguments that lead in the opposite direction.
[Speaker G] But is it clear to the rabbi, theoretically, that if we had—let’s say we came to the conclusion that the weight of the reasons for purity is greater, then supposedly it really should have been pure?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. Then it’s clear that we made a mistake, because the Torah says it is impure.
[Speaker G] Meaning I’m just disconnecting it in my own mind, in terms of reasons for purity or impurity, ultimately disconnecting them from the final conclusion, because the final conclusion in the end we are supposed to know—we already know it.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Very good, because here, in this case, the Torah gave me the final conclusion. So at most you can go backward and learn from here that the weighing of those reasons is higher than the weighing of these reasons, because the fact is that the Torah declares it impure. So in this particular case you already have the bottom line. But if you have another case that comes before you, about which you will not find a clear source in the Torah, then you will need to do the weighing yourself.
[Speaker G] And there it could theoretically be pure?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. A new creeping creature that now comes up for discussion—a halakhic decisor could come and say, look, although it resembles this creeping creature and that one, still, notice that it has something a little different, and that means that ten out of the hundred and fifty reasons for impurity do not exist here. And then it could be that it comes out pure. But if you go in the second order and say, wait, it resembles a frog, the frog is impure, and it resembles a frog, so it too is impure, period—then you don’t enter the question of what the reasons are on this side and on that side, how much they weigh; you don’t enter the first order. You focus on the second order, on the bottom lines. Understood, thank you. Okay, good, so Sabbath peace, goodbye.
[Speaker H] Sabbath peace.