Study and Halachic Ruling – Lesson 18
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Table of Contents
- First-order halakhic ruling and autonomous ruling
- Opposition to precedents and begging the question
- Rules for deciding monetary doubts and judicial discretion
- Three understandings of judicial discretion and the distinction between law and an impression of truth
- Maimonides: circumstantial evidence in criminal punishment versus estimation in monetary law
- The story of Rava, the reaction of legal scholars, and the enactment of the two academies
- A deceptive case and recusing oneself from judgment
- Related witnesses, a scriptural decree, and the question of truth versus rules
- “One who acted like this master acted properly” versus judicial discretion, and the scope of the rule
- Terumat HaDeshen, the Rema, the Vilna Gaon, and a dispute about a disagreement among major authorities
- The Rosh: the limits of discretion and the authority to decide after the Talmud
- “Yiftach in his generation is like Samuel in his generation,” “qualified for this,” and the duty to decide
- Circumstantial proof from authority versus truth and autonomy
Summary
General Overview
The text defines first-order halakhic ruling as ruling that enters into the reasons and foundations of the Talmudic topic in order to avoid error and also to realize the independent value of autonomous ruling. It presents the position that autonomy can even override arriving at the truth, as brought in the name of the Maharal. It describes a historical shift from autonomous ruling to reliance on precedents and rules, and warns against a logical loop in which one rules against autonomy on the basis of “what has been ruled,” when the very question is whether to follow rulings. It moves into monetary law in order to show different models of deciding cases of doubt, and through judicial discretion, Maimonides, the Rif, Tosafot, the Rashbam, Terumat HaDeshen, the Rema, the Vilna Gaon, and the Rosh, it develops the tension between ruling according to evidentiary rules and ruling according to the judge’s own discretion or according to his impression of the truth. It concludes with an understanding of “Yiftach in his generation is like Samuel in his generation” as the practical duty and authority of a judge to decide when he is qualified for the task, and with a rejection of a conception of “circumstantial proof” based on personal authority, like Maimonides, as a substitute for autonomous halakhic ruling.
First-order halakhic ruling and autonomous ruling
The text states that halakhic decisors in the 17th–18th centuries wrote that one should not rule directly from the Shulchan Arukh, because ruling from the bottom line without familiarity with the Talmud and the medieval authorities (Rishonim) leads to mistaken analogies. Alongside the concern for error, the text presents another value in first-order ruling: the value of autonomous ruling, in which a person is supposed to act according to what seems correct to him. The text cites the Maharal as saying that the Holy One, blessed be He, prefers someone who rules through his own analysis of the Talmudic passages even if he is mistaken, over someone who rules on the basis of other books even if he is correct, and explains that this places autonomy as a value that can come even at the expense of truth. The text connects the positions of the Maharal and the Maharshal to the anti-codification controversies against the Shulchan Arukh and the Rema, and emphasizes that in the last centuries it has become much less accepted to rule this way, and the balance has shifted toward second-order ruling based on precedents.
Opposition to precedents and begging the question
The text argues that if one believes in autonomous ruling, then even the fact that most halakhic decisors oppose it should not make a difference, because even on the question of whether to follow halakhic decisors there is no room to decide on the basis of halakhic decisors. The text defines a statement like “the halakhah was ruled against the autonomous approach” as a logical loop that begs the question. It gives an example from the Magen Avraham in the laws of tefillin, apparently siman 32, who states that when there is a dispute between the esoteric and the exoteric, the halakhah follows the exoteric; and it explains that the kabbalists do not accept that assumption of superiority and therefore follow the esoteric. The text concludes that there are situations in which it seems that there is a decision, but the very method of decision is itself disputed within the very disagreement one is trying to resolve.
Rules for deciding monetary doubts and judicial discretion
The text distinguishes between doubts in matters of prohibition, which are generally decided by the rule that a Torah-level doubt is treated stringently and a rabbinic-level doubt leniently, and doubts in monetary matters, where leniency and stringency have no meaning because what is lenient for one side is stringent for the other. The text presents a collection of decision rules in monetary law that depend on the type of doubt, such as “the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract property,” “they divide,” “whoever is stronger prevails,” certainty versus uncertainty in the litigants’ claims, judicial discretion, and “let it remain until Elijah comes.” The text defines certainty versus uncertainty as a situation rather than a rule, and attaches different decision rules to it depending on whether there is a current possessor or not. It presents judicial discretion as a rule in which the judges decide, and cites a dispute between Rashi and Rabbenu Tam whether this means a ruling based on what the judge thinks or an arbitrary decision like flipping a coin.
Three understandings of judicial discretion and the distinction between law and an impression of truth
The text suggests a third possibility for understanding judicial discretion: that the judge does what seems true to him in reality, rather than making a halakhic decision in a dispute. It distinguishes between a decision according to halakhic rules as the judge understands them, an arbitrary decision, and giving the money to the person whom the judge feels is actually entitled to it, even if there is no halakhic-evidentiary decision. The text illustrates this with a scenario of a claim over a loan that has no solution according to the laws of evidence, but the judge has the impression that the plaintiff is telling the truth and the defendant is lying. It connects this move to the later discussion of Maimonides and of deciding monetary cases according to the inclination of the judge’s mind.
Maimonides: circumstantial evidence in criminal punishment versus estimation in monetary law
The text cites Maimonides at the beginning of chapter 20 of the laws of the Sanhedrin, where he says that a religious court does not punish on the basis of estimation, but only on the basis of witnesses with clear sight, and it brings the example of someone pursuing another into a ruin and emerging with a blood-dripping sword, even though the circumstantial evidence is very strong. The text emphasizes that circumstantial evidence can be excellent evidence, but it is still not evidence of the act itself, and according to Maimonides one does not punish on that basis. The text then turns to Maimonides at the beginning of chapter 24 of the laws of the Sanhedrin, where he states that a judge may decide monetary cases based on matters toward which his mind inclines as true, even though there is no clear proof. The text cites the example of a judge who transfers an oath when someone trusted by him says that the defendant is suspected of swearing falsely, and this can even be a woman or a slave, so long as the matter is strong and convincing in his heart.
The story of Rava, the reaction of legal scholars, and the enactment of the two academies
The text brings the story of Rava, whose wife whispered to him that a certain woman was a liar, and so he transferred the oath from her, and explains that transferring the oath in practice weakens her ability to keep the money in her possession. The text describes a workshop with legal scholars and judges in which they were shocked by the possibility that a judge would rule on the basis of his wife’s whisper, and sets against that the argument that preventing the use of such knowledge means allowing theft when the judge believes the information is correct. The text presents the difference between an atmosphere of trust in the judge and a suspicious legal culture, and connects this to the Rif, who writes that this was originally the law, but the “enactment of the two academies” established that from then on this practice was no longer followed because of the dispersal of the Jewish people and the weakening of trust in judges. The text states that nowadays judges must go with the rules and not with their own inclinations without binding evidence.
A deceptive case and recusing oneself from judgment
The text presents a deceptive case as a mechanism in which, even in a period that requires evidentiary law, a judge who feels that the outcome required by the rules is not true, and cannot identify a proven halakhic flaw, does not rule against the rules but instead recuses himself from the case. The text illustrates a case of two valid witnesses testifying to obligate payment, but the judge “smells something rotten” without being able to refute them, and it presents recusal as a way to avoid issuing a judgment that appears false to him. The text concludes that according to the original law, before the enactments, the judge was supposed to ignore the laws of evidence and give the money to the one who seemed to him to be its owner; but after the enactments, at the very least, the rule remains that a judge is not required to issue a ruling that appears deceptive in his eyes.
Related witnesses, a scriptural decree, and the question of truth versus rules
The text raises a difficulty in light of the claim that the disqualification of relatives is a scriptural decree and not based on suspicion of lying, and asks what to do when two relatives testify and the judge becomes convinced that the debt is real. The text suggests that when the judge is convinced of the factual truth, he should rule accordingly even if the witnesses are invalid, and distinguishes this from a case in which the judge is not convinced but the rules require the acceptance of valid testimony. The text rejects the suggestion that the scriptural decree also includes a prohibition on relying on the conviction created by invalid testimony, and presents that as a position it does not consider correct. It uses this to emphasize that there are situations in which the rules are not merely a tool for discovering truth but express additional considerations.
“One who acted like this master acted properly” versus judicial discretion, and the scope of the rule
The text cites the Talmud in tractate Shevuot 48b: “Now that no halakhah was stated… a judge who acted like Rav and Samuel acted properly, and one who acted like Rabbi Elazar acted properly,” and presents this as wording that seems to establish a sweeping rule for every place where no halakhah was decided. The text compares this to judicial discretion and offers three possibilities for understanding “one who acted like this master acted properly”: an arbitrary decision, a halakhic decision according to the judge’s discretion within a dispute, or a decision according to what seems true in the circumstances of the case. The text brings the passage in Bava Batra 62b in which judicial discretion is mentioned, and quotes the Rashbam, who defines it as “everything according to the matter… everything according to their estimate,” and limits judicial discretion to places where the Talmud explicitly said so. The text notes that Tosafot there argues that when no special rule was stated, we revert to “the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract property”; but when “it seems to the judge like one of them and he acts,” then “what he did stands,” by force of the Talmud in Shevuot, and it interprets this as a legal ruling rather than a factual impression.
Terumat HaDeshen, the Rema, the Vilna Gaon, and a dispute about a disagreement among major authorities
The text brings Terumat HaDeshen, who distinguishes between different kinds of doubts and argues that in a disagreement among major authorities there is no way to testify who is correct, and therefore one follows division or “whoever is stronger prevails,” depending on whether division is possible, and it cites the Rema in Choshen Mishpat 139, who copies this. The text quotes the Vilna Gaon, who refers to Tosafot and notes that Tosafot does not follow the view of Terumat HaDeshen, but also mentions that the Vilna Gaon himself “does not accept what Tosafot says.” The text cites Nimukei Yosef and Rabbenu Yonah, who tend toward an understanding similar to the Rashbam, in which the judges decide according to what seems reasonable to them in the logic and circumstances of the transaction. The text cites Kovetz Shiurim in the name of Rabbi Meir Atlas of blessed memory, who distinguishes between a judge who can decide on his own and one who cannot, and comments that the text itself does not think the language of Terumat HaDeshen supports that reading.
The Rosh: the limits of discretion and the authority to decide after the Talmud
The text cites the Rosh in Bava Batra, who says that a judge should not extract money in a doubtful case when nothing is explicit in the Talmud and no halakhah was ruled, and should not say, “I will do whatever I want.” The text clarifies that the Rosh in Sanhedrin explicitly defines this only as a rejection of arbitrariness, and adds that if the judge “is a great sage, learned and understanding, and knows how to decide… with clear and sound proofs, he has permission.” The text presents the Rosh as determining that after the sealing of the Talmud there is no decisive formal authority for the Geonim, the medieval authorities (Rishonim), or the sages of later generations, and therefore a sage may refute the words of another sage with proofs, and may even disagree with the Geonim on matters not clarified in the Talmud. The text weaves in a discussion of error in an explicit mishnah versus error in judgment through the Baal HaMaor, the Raavad, and the Rosh, and presents the Rosh’s conclusion that someone who erred because he did not know the words of the Geonim, and once he became aware of them admitted that he had erred, reverts as one who erred in an explicit mishnah; but one who does not concede and brings proofs accepted by the scholars of his generation is permitted to disagree.
“Yiftach in his generation is like Samuel in his generation,” “qualified for this,” and the duty to decide
The text interprets “Yiftach in his generation is like Samuel in his generation” as a rationale that the authority to rule comes from the very fact that you are the judge, not from whether you are greater than your predecessors; and even if “you are Yiftach and they are Samuel,” you are still obligated to decide. The text brings an example from judicial decisions in which judges wrote that the agreement of the greatest sages of the generation is needed, and presents this as a misunderstanding of the fact that the duty to rule falls on the judge sitting in judgment. The text reads the Rosh carefully and says that the requirement is to be “qualified for this,” not “greater than Maimonides and Rashba,” and defines autonomy as fitting for someone who has reached the level of competent ruling, not for “some punk.” The text concludes with the Hasidic analogy about Rabbi Zusha, to say that there is no need to be Moses our teacher, only to be “Zusha,” and it offers a practical indication of maturation: returning to a Talmudic topic after years and agreeing with one’s earlier conclusions indicates the stability of thought characteristic of someone “qualified for this.”
Circumstantial proof from authority versus truth and autonomy
The text presents a question about the dichotomy between autonomy and reliance on a great sage, and suggests a comparison to medicine, where one goes to the best doctor. It answers that the assumption that the goal of halakhic ruling is only to arrive at the truth leads to preferring the greatest sage, but in halakhic ruling there is also the value of autonomy, and therefore it is not enough that “Rabbi Meir is probably right.” The text rejects reliance on the leading sage of the generation as circumstantial proof, defines this as an ad hominem argument, and distinguishes between circumstantial evidence about the issue itself and reliance on a person. The text returns to the example of invalid related witnesses to show that truth alone is not the only parameter in halakhic decision-making, and concludes that the question is not “what is the truth” but “how is it proper to rule,” where autonomy is a decisive consideration that is not nullified even if there is a strong indication that the truth is with the greatest authority.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Last time I spoke about—well, I began speaking about—autonomous halakhic ruling. Basically, the framework of the discussion was that when I talk about first-order ruling, meaning ruling that goes into the reasons and not just uses the bottom lines, that is done for two reasons. One reason is in order not to make mistakes. I brought sources showing that halakhic decisors in the 17th and 18th centuries wrote that one should not rule directly from the Shulchan Arukh. And their reason was that if you rule from the Shulchan Arukh, you can make mistakes, because it gives you the bottom line there, some ruling. If you don’t know the background in the Talmud and the medieval authorities (Rishonim), then you won’t understand it correctly, you’ll draw analogies from one case to another incorrectly, and therefore your ruling will be mistaken. So they tie the matter—or the obligation to rule on the first-order level—to the concern about error. But as I said last time, there’s another reason for first-order ruling, and that is the value of autonomous ruling. There is a value to autonomy, that a person is supposed to do or conduct himself according to what seems right to him, and therefore first-order ruling has value in itself, regardless of the concern about error. To such an extent that this is the Maharal, whom we already saw a few lectures ago—the Maharal says that preferable in the eyes of the Holy One, blessed be He, is someone who rules based on his own analysis of the Talmudic passages even if he is mistaken, over someone who rules based on other books even if he is correct. Meaning, here the Maharal is saying not only that autonomy has value beyond the value of reaching the truth, but that the value of autonomy can even come at the expense of reaching the truth. Meaning, even if there is concern that you may make a mistake, there is still a value to autonomy, and it outweighs the concern that you might depart from the truth. I brought Rabbi Meir, whose colleagues could not reach the depth of his reasoning. In any case, that’s the framework of the discussion. And then I brought a few sources from halakhic decisors in which you can see that they are basically telling us that a person should rule according to what seems right to him and not rely on other books. I said that this is part of—the words of the Maharal, and also the Maharshal that I brought last time—were said as part of the anti-codification controversies against the Shulchan Arukh and the Rema, where the Maharshal and the Maharal and the Maharal’s brother were among the leaders of the opposition. The Maharal’s brother even wrote a book about it. In any event, I also said that in the last few centuries it has become very uncommon to think or rule this way. Meaning, if in the period of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and the beginning of the period of the later authorities (Acharonim) there was an emphasis on autonomous ruling, that a person should rule according to his own judgment, then by the end of the Middle Ages and through the modern era the balance shifts more in the direction of second-order ruling, meaning toward reliance on precedents. I brought a Terumat HaDeshen and said that I think Terumat HaDeshen may have made a significant contribution to that process. But as I said, in the end, if I believe in first-order ruling and autonomous ruling, then even the fact that most halakhic decisors oppose autonomous ruling shouldn’t matter to me, because I’m autonomous. Meaning, then even on this issue I don’t need to follow the halakhic decisors—right? Whether to follow halakhic decisors. Meaning, even on that question one should not follow halakhic decisors. So to say that the halakhah was ruled against the autonomous approach is of course a logical loop, begging the question. It reminds me of the Magen Avraham in the laws of tefillin, I think siman 32, where the Magen Avraham says that when there is a dispute between the esoteric and the exoteric, then the halakhah follows the exoteric; meaning one has to rule like the exoteric side. There are places where there is a contradiction; of course the kabbalists follow the esoteric, not the exoteric. And the fact that the Magen Avraham says that the halakhah follows the exoteric is obvious, because from the perspective of someone working within exoteric Jewish law, the halakhah follows the exoteric. That’s begging the question. But the kabbalists, who don’t accept that very premise, on that very issue also follow Kabbalah. They do not accept the superiority of the exoteric. Yes, there are sometimes situations where it seems to us that there has been a decision, and we don’t notice that the way in which the decision was reached is itself disputed within the very disagreement we’re trying to decide. Right? Here too—whether to rule autonomously or not—it’s very hard to accept a decision on that matter on the basis of precedents. That isn’t consistent. Okay, so that’s what we saw last time. I want to continue a bit with this issue, and I want to get into somewhat more detailed statements by halakhic decisors. So maybe I’ll start with the rule of judicial discretion. What does that mean? In doubts regarding prohibitions, the general rule is usually: if you’re in doubt, then a Torah-level doubt is treated stringently, and a rabbinic-level doubt leniently. So that is usually the main decision rule in doubts about prohibitions. In monetary doubts the situation is different. In monetary doubts there is a whole collection of decision rules divided according to different situations. Is there a current possessor or not? Is there a monetary basis to the doubt or not? Can division reflect the truth or can it not? Right, there is Tosafot at the beginning of Bava Metzia, there is a Talmudic discussion in the chapter Chazkat HaBatim, on page 34 there in Bava Batra, which also deals with several such rules. And there are many decision rules in monetary law that simply depend on the type of doubt. Every type of doubt has a decision rule that one should follow. And it’s not just Torah-level doubt stringently, rabbinic-level doubt leniently, because of course in monetary law such a thing cannot work. Because what is lenient for one side is stringent for the other. There is no definition of what counts as lenient and what counts as stringent in monetary law. That’s why, for example, in the legal world too, a criminal conviction has to be beyond a reasonable doubt. Right? There has to be very high certainty in order to convict a person in criminal court. But in civil court, 51 percent is enough. Why? Because if you don’t settle for 51 percent, it comes out that the other side wins based on 49 percent. It’s even less reasonable to follow 49 percent. Since in monetary law the decision is either in favor of Reuven or in favor of Shimon, you can’t define leniency and stringency here. Leniency for Reuven is stringency for Shimon, and vice versa. Therefore the rule that a Torah-level doubt is treated stringently and a rabbinic-level doubt leniently is not relevant to monetary law. There is the well-known question of Rabbi Shimon—the Mahari Bas—why do we often say that in monetary doubt one is lenient toward the defendant? Meaning, if I am the defendant and the current possessor, then in a doubtful case they go leniently, meaning in my favor, in favor of the possessor. And on that he asks, why not go stringently, like with doubts in matters of prohibition and so on? But really there is no such thing as lenient or stringent in monetary law. So these rules—there are various rules. The most basic rule is that the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract property. If I am the possessor and you are suing me, then the burden of proof is on the one seeking to extract property. There is a rule of division—right, “two people grasping a garment” divide it, or according to Sumchus, money in doubt is divided. There is a rule that whoever is stronger prevails when there is no possessor; there’s that boat, right, a boat sailing on the river and two people each claim that it is theirs. So the Talmud says: whoever is stronger prevails. Fight over it, and whoever manages to seize the boat gets it. There is “let it remain.” There is certainty versus uncertainty.
[Speaker B] What? Certainty versus uncertainty. What about certainty versus uncertainty? Isn’t that also—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Part of it? I didn’t understand.
[Speaker B] I didn’t understand. Maybe it’s included among cases of doubt, no? Right. Doesn’t certainty versus uncertainty also go in?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Certainty versus uncertainty is a situation, not a decision rule. Certainty versus uncertainty is a situation where one litigant claims with certainty and the other says, “I’m not sure.” Now the question is what to do. Decision rules are not different situations. There are different situations, and for each situation there is a decision rule. And certainty versus uncertainty—when there is no possessor—certainty is preferable. That may be a certain decision rule. In a situation of certainty versus uncertainty, certainty is preferable. When there is a possessor, there is an amoraic dispute, and according to the halakhah, certainty is not preferable. Then the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract property. Meaning, certainty versus uncertainty is not a decision rule; certainty versus uncertainty is a situation, a situation of doubt, and to every situation of doubt we attach a decision rule. So the decision rules are: divide, the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract property, whoever is stronger prevails, judicial discretion, let it remain until Elijah comes. Those are rules for deciding doubtful cases.
[Speaker B] I didn’t understand, Rabbi—why can’t certainty versus uncertainty be the court’s decision when they’re in doubt? The court is in doubt, no?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t understand.
[Speaker B] The court, apparently, doesn’t know.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, true. So what?
[Speaker B] And one says “certainly” and the other says “I’m not sure,”
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The rabbi—
[Speaker B] Doesn’t that count as a ruling that certainty is preferable?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Again. Certainty versus uncertainty is a situation; it isn’t the ruling. “In certainty versus uncertainty, certainty is preferable”—that is the ruling. Okay, yes, yes. But “certainty is preferable” only applies when there is no possessor. Right, when there is no possessor, I said that in certainty versus uncertainty, certainty is preferable. That is a kind of ruling. But when there is a possessor, then the rule is that the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract property, meaning certainty is not preferable. It’s an amoraic dispute. So one of the decision rules is judicial discretion. What is judicial discretion? The judges decide whatever they decide. Meaning, they are free to decide as they wish. There is a dispute about this between Rashi and Rabbenu Tam. Rashi in Ketubot and other medieval authorities holds that this is basically permission for the judge to do what seems right to him. You don’t have to act according to the rules for doubtful cases; rather, you should do what seems right to you. Which is interesting, because it basically means that in those cases where judicial discretion was not stated—and where it is stated, it is in very specific cases—the judge has no permission to do what he thinks. Now we saw this also in Tekofo Kohen, in the previous lecture and elsewhere. The simple understanding is that when a judge sits in judgment he can always decide. Unless there was a decision by the Sanhedrin or by the Talmud, let’s say, or something like that. But otherwise the judge can always decide. So the very fact—the very approach of Rashi, who says that judicial discretion means that the judge can decide, is somewhat problematic, because it means that in all other cases he cannot decide. But that depends somewhat on the question of when judicial discretion is applied. There are halakhic decisors who say that judicial discretion is applied only in those places where the Talmud said judicial discretion. There are two or three places where the Talmud says judicial discretion, and only there do you do this. And there are halakhic decisors—we’ll see this a bit later—who broaden it and say that judicial discretion really applies in every situation of doubt, unless there is some other specific decision rule. And in every situation of doubt that has no decision rule, the result is judicial discretion. And if that’s the case, then what Rashi is saying here is basically that everywhere there is no decision, the judge can decide on his own. That is Rashi’s approach. The approach of Rabbenu Tam is that the judge can do whatever he wants—meaning, he can flip a coin. That is not the same thing as Rashi. Rashi says the judge doesn’t do whatever he wants; he does what he thinks. According to Rabbenu Tam, the judge does whatever he wants. Why? Because once both sides are equally justified, the decision is an arbitrary one, so flip a coin. There’s no truth or falsehood here, so whatever you do is fine. That is basically the claim. Actually, one could add another shade to the understanding of judicial discretion. You can see it in a number of places. I’m not going into all the sources right now. Up to now I’ve spoken about the judge deciding according to his own judgment, or the judge doing whatever he wants and holding a lottery. A third possibility is that the judge should do what seems true to him. And that is not the same as the first possibility. The first possibility means that the judge essentially decides according to the rules of Jewish law, according to his understanding, but he is acting according to the rules of Jewish law. The possibility I’m talking about now—and Rabbenu Tam says he can do whatever he wants, which has nothing to do with the rules of Jewish law—and the possibility I’m suggesting now is: no, the judge should do what seems right to him. Meaning, let’s say Reuven sues Shimon claiming that he lent him money and Shimon didn’t repay it, okay? Now let’s say we’ve gotten into some kind of situation where, from the standpoint of the halakhic laws of evidence, there is no solution here; meaning, we don’t know what to do in such a case. So according to the first possibility, that the judge can decide on his own judgment, he would have to leave things as they are—I don’t know, maybe the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract property, or whatever—but in terms of the decision rules there is no ruling here. But it may still be that the judge gets the impression that indeed—maybe the rule of judicial discretion tells him: act on that basis. You do not need to decide the halakhah according to the rules of Jewish law; rather, if in any event there is no halakhic rule, then at least do what seems true to you. Give the money to the person whom you think truly deserves it. I already mentioned this before. What?
[Speaker B] Isn’t that Rashi’s explanation, Rabbi? Isn’t that Rashi’s explanation?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. Rashi’s explanation, as I said, is that the judge can decide. Decide means decide, but according to the rules of Jewish law. Meaning, let’s say there’s a dispute here between Maimonides and Rashba, so I don’t know—decide which halakhic rule applies here and rule according to the rules of Jewish law. Or even decide according to your own opinion: you think Maimonides is right, then rule like Maimonides; you think Rashba is right, then rule like Rashba. Here I’m saying: forget Maimonides and Rashba. I don’t know who’s right, but in this case I get the impression that there really was a loan. That the plaintiff is right and the defendant is a liar. Not because I decided the halakhic question, but because I’m giving the money to the one I think really deserves it. That’s not the same thing. That is not considered—now, Rabbi—
[Speaker C] Isn’t that considered an error regarding an explicit mishnah if he goes against the rule that the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract property, for example? He has no proof; he just gets the impression that one is telling the truth and the other isn’t.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s the next sentence. I don’t remember whether I mentioned this. Maimonides, at the beginning of chapter—I’ll show it to you maybe—at the beginning of chapter 20 in the laws of the Sanhedrin, has a very interesting law. One moment. Good. At the beginning of chapter 20—I actually meant the beginning of chapter 24, but first of all, at the beginning of chapter 20 Maimonides says: “A religious court does not punish on the basis of estimation but only on the basis of witnesses with clear sight. Even if the witnesses saw one person pursuing another, warned him, and then lost sight of them, or if they entered after him into a ruin and found the victim murdered and still convulsing, and the sword dripping blood in the hand of the killer—since they did not see him at the moment he struck him, the religious court does not execute on the basis of this testimony. And concerning this and the like it is said: ‘Do not kill the innocent and the righteous.’” What does this mean? This is basically a case in the Talmud: someone pursued another person, entered a ruin, and came out with a blood-dripping knife. Now I think it was Shimon the Righteous—I don’t remember who it was there—who entered after him into the ruin and saw the person lying there in his blood. But he did not see the act of murder itself. He has completely clear circumstantial proof that Reuven murdered Shimon. Right? He chased after him, came out with a blood-dripping knife, and I went inside after him and saw the pursued person lying there in his blood, writhing in his blood. So obviously Reuven killed him. But on this the Talmud says that the murderer is not executed because there is no—
[Speaker D] Even if he confessed? What?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Even—
[Speaker D] Even if he confessed that he murdered him, because there was no warning?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A person cannot render himself wicked. So confession in criminal law is not relevant.
[Speaker D] So in any case there was no warning, so regardless he couldn’t—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There was warning. They warned him, “Don’t kill him”—that’s what Maimonides says. Look: “Even if the witnesses saw one person pursuing another and warned him.”
[Speaker D] Ah, okay, sorry, yes.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “And they entered after him into a ruin, and found him murdered and still convulsing, and the sword dripping blood in the hand of the killer.” Yes, there was warning, there was everything. The only thing is that we did not see the actual act of murder with our own eyes. In such a case, the Talmud says, he is not executed. So Tosafot says it is because it really isn’t certain that he killed him; there is some other possibility there that maybe after all he didn’t kill him. But Maimonides claims no: because this is circumstantial evidence, and not witnesses with clear sight. Now notice: contrary to what people think, circumstantial evidence can be excellent evidence. It’s not that circumstantial evidence is just another name for weak evidence. Circumstantial evidence can be excellent evidence. But why is it called circumstantial? Because I did not see the event itself; rather, I have indirect indications from the circumstances that such an event really happened. But those indications may be excellent. Still, it is called circumstantial. Maimonides’ approach is—against Tosafot—that one executes only on the basis of witnesses who saw the act. Any circumstantial evidence, no matter how good, cannot be used to execute. Not only to execute, but no punishment may be imposed on its basis. All of this is in criminal law, whether lashes or capital punishment. But what happens in monetary law? So Maimonides at the beginning of chapter 24—Rabbi, so one second—so—
[Speaker B] The rabbi says that the Rashbam in Bava Batra—what? The rabbi says that the Rashbam, as I remember, regarding judicial discretion, writes there that he gives it to the one toward whom the judges’ hearts incline, the one to whom the donor would have given it, regarding the case of two documents there. There it does fit the rabbi’s approach. Right. Ah, so, Rabbi, it’s like the Rashbam.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Correct. There are—as I said, I’m not going into all the sources—you can see in the medieval authorities three approaches to understanding judicial discretion. So Maimonides in Sanhedrin chapter 24 writes as follows. Chapter 20 was what we read before; now this is chapter 24. “A judge may decide monetary cases based on matters toward which his mind inclines as true, and the matter is strong in his heart that it is so, even though there is no clear proof there. Needless to say, if he knows with certainty that the matter is so, that he decides according to what he knows. How so? If a person became obligated to take an oath in court”—this too is from the Talmud—“and someone says to the judge, someone who is trusted by him and whose word he relies on, that this person is suspect regarding oaths”—the one you want to make swear is a liar, suspect regarding oaths—“the judge may transfer the oath to the opposing litigant, and he will swear and collect. Since the judge’s mind relied on this matter, on this person’s statement. Even if it was a woman or a slave who were trusted by him, since he found the matter strong and correct in his heart, he relies on it and judges accordingly. Needless to say if he himself knows that this person is suspect.” What is this? There is a story in the Talmud about Rava sitting in judgment, and his wife came in and said—meaning, a certain woman came before him for judgment and he wanted to impose an oath on that woman. Then his wife came in and whispered in his ear: “This woman you’re about to make swear—I know her, she’s a liar, there’s no point in making her swear.” Rava transferred the oath to the other side and let the other party swear and collect. You need to understand that transferring the oath basically means, in a certain sense, giving the money. Because if that woman could swear and exempt herself, then the matter was effectively in her hands. If she swore, she would be exempt. If she didn’t swear, she would have to pay. Everything depended on her. Once I transfer the oath to the plaintiff, then if the plaintiff swears he takes the money, and she can do nothing against that. That puts her in a weakened position regarding the money. And all this because Rava’s wife whispered to him that this woman was a liar. And from this Maimonides derives a broader rule—and it’s not only Maimonides, it starts already with the Rif before him—a rule that in monetary law there is really no importance to the laws of evidence. The judge must do what his mind inclines him to do. This is really the Rashbam you mentioned earlier regarding judicial discretion, or like the third possibility I mentioned. Basically, the judge should rule not according to the halakhic rules, but according to who is really the owner of the money, in his own impression. That is basically the claim. And yes, this reminds me that once—there was Nachum Rakover, who was deputy state attorney—he used to run weekend seminars for legal scholars, judges, lawyers, and so on, continuing-education programs. Each time it was a workshop on some other topic, from Thursday evening until after Sabbath, these marathon workshops. Aside from prayer and meals, people worked there. There were workshop after workshop after workshop. So one time, on one of those weekends, he asked me to come run one of the workshops. It was with Neal Hendel—meaning, Neal Hendel ran one and I ran the other—and in that workshop we talked about this Maimonides, really about the Talmudic story which is the source, and about this Maimonides. And the judges there—the lawyers, the legal people—really recoiled. I mean, Rava is sitting in judgment, his wife comes in and says to him, “Listen, don’t believe that woman, she’s a pathological liar,” and the man rules the case based on what his wife whispered in his ear. If that happened today, that judge wouldn’t remain on the bench for a minute. And they were deeply shocked by the whole thing—what is this, a family business, the court? So I told them that I think they are looking at the matter from the suspicious angle common today. What do I mean? Think about Rava sitting in judgment. He’s about to make this woman swear, and if she swears then she swears and is exempt, so the money stays with her. Then his wife comes and tells him, “Look, this woman is a pathological liar.” Now I asked them, what do you suggest Rava should do? So you say, no, no, of course not, his wife is irrelevant here; he has to go with the legal rules. Meaning, what are you really recommending to him? To let a woman whom he knows is a pathological liar swear and keep the money? In other words, what you are suggesting is that he allow this woman to steal money. That’s what you’re suggesting, assuming Rava trusts his wife and knows that what she says is probably true—he knows her, after all. Now, I understand the concerns. Of course the concerns are that all kinds of tricks can come out of this, and therefore it’s better to stick to the rules and not make all kinds of subjective exceptions. But on the other hand, think about it: those are all concerns, but basically what you are saying is that because of these concerns, in this case Rava should allow this woman to steal money. That’s really what you are telling him: allow her to steal money. And I told them that I think it depends very much on the atmosphere in which we live. In a place where there is great respect for the judge and we trust him not to play games—meaning, it is obvious that he is a person of integrity, so if he does something, we trust him; he is a great person—in such a situation the Talmud is obviously right. Rava knows the woman is a liar; what do you want, that he let her swear and steal? Obviously he has to rule as he understands. What happened—and this is what the Rif writes after bringing this Talmudic story—the Maimonides I just read, the source is in the Rif. The Rif brings this Talmudic passage and says that this indeed was the law, but there was an enactment of the two academies, from the period of the Geonim, and from that point on this no longer applies. Meaning, for our times, says the Rif, after those two academies of the Geonim, from our day onward, since the Jewish people have become dispersed and all kinds of things happened and so on, judges are no longer trusted to that extent, and they do have to go with the rules. They cannot just go after what their mind inclines them toward, without reasoning and without being bound to the laws of evidence. Of course there is still the law of a deceptive case. A deceptive case means that if the judge feels that the rules are leading him to issue a judgment that his intuition says is incorrect, but he does not know how to explain it, he cannot point to some flaw in the halakhic reasoning—say two witnesses come and testify that Reuven owes money, and you smell something rotten in their testimony. You didn’t catch them in the interrogations, not in the examinations, there is no disqualification by contradiction, no exposure of collusion, nothing—you have two witnesses. In principle you should extract the money. But something smells bad; you feel that something here is wrong. So even in our period, when we do need to judge according to the laws of evidence, you cannot judge and say, okay, pay him the money because it seems to me you owe, against the witnesses. But I can and should recuse myself from the case. I cannot rule based on these witnesses; I have no way to rule otherwise, because the rules of Jewish law say “by the testimony of two witnesses a matter shall stand.” But since my heart is uneasy, I recuse myself from the case. This is called a deceptive case. This case seems deceptive to me, and therefore I am not prepared to rule on it; I withdraw from it. In that sense, we do not require the judge to do something that in his personal judgment is false—meaning, in his personal judgment it would amount to taking money and giving it to someone to whom it does not belong. He cannot go against the rules of Jewish law, but he is not obligated to go with the rules of Jewish law; he can recuse himself. Okay? So what does that mean, really? It means that in monetary law, according to the original law, up until the enactment of the two academies, according to the original law a judge really was supposed, in general, to do what he thinks and ignore the laws of evidence in general.
[Speaker B] Isn’t that enactment connected to an expert judge…?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The opposite: an expert judge, ostensibly, you can let him decide.
[Speaker B] No, no. Everything they said about judges and all that—the medieval authorities (Rishonim) say that applies only to an expert judge.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, I’m not talking now about judicial discretion. Earlier I was talking about judicial discretion. Now I’m talking about something in general law, generally speaking, not specifically judicial discretion. I’m saying: in general, Maimonides says, forget all the rules of evidence and everything. Give the money to whoever you think it belongs to. Not only in a case where ownership is in doubt—no, in any case that comes before you. You don’t have to follow the laws of evidence.
[Speaker B] Even when there is evidence? Yes.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And whatever you think—that’s what you do. So then what are all the laws of evidence for—“a matter shall be established by two witnesses,” one witness and an oath, and so on—what are they for? Only for a situation where I don’t have a clear position on what the truth is. If I don’t have a clear position on what the truth is, then I follow the laws of evidence. So for example, what happens—right, this is the question that bothered me in light of this Maimonides. The Talmud says, and this also appears in Maimonides and in the Shulchan Arukh, that the disqualification of related witnesses is a scriptural decree. Meaning, there is no suspicion that relatives are lying. It’s a scriptural decree that you do not accept testimony from relatives. Now think of a situation where two relatives come and testify that Reuven owes money to Shimon. The relatives are disqualified; I cannot accept their testimony. On the other hand, these witnesses are credible—it’s just a scriptural disqualification. They are credible. So if they are credible, then in reality I know that Reuven really does owe Shimon the money. Right? That’s the truth. It’s just that I’m forbidden to rely on those witnesses. But if I know that that’s the truth, then I should rule that way in monetary law regardless of the witnesses, and if the witnesses are disqualified—because in monetary law you go after what is true.
[Speaker B] But you could say that certainly in legal matters the Torah didn’t require that I know the judges are right. I don’t know whether the witnesses are lying or not lying. And I say fine, the Torah said I have to go by two.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t understand.
[Speaker B] I don’t know whether the witnesses are telling the truth or not, right? The witnesses. Yes. And nevertheless the Torah said to go by two even though you don’t know.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning you don’t know? If you have two witnesses testifying, why don’t you know? You do know.
[Speaker B] Yes, but you can always attribute it to all kinds of things.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You can attribute it to all kinds of things, but common sense says that if two people come—if you have no indication of deceit—then they are telling the truth; there is a presumption of credibility. It could always be a mistake. Even after the Torah said this, it could still be a mistake. Fine—but if it’s ninety-five percent, that’s good enough for me.
[Speaker B] Maybe the Torah came for precisely that—to say that even though I can attribute it to their not telling the truth, and they are testifying on behalf of one side in court, nevertheless I still follow them.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I’m saying: now two relatives come and testify that Reuven owes money to Shimon. So in terms of credibility, I basically have two witnesses that Reuven owes the money to Shimon, right? It’s just that I’m forbidden to rely on them because it’s a scriptural decree. Fine, so I don’t rely on them. But now I know that Reuven owes Shimon the money. So if I know that, Maimonides and the Rif say that a judge must go after where his mind inclines. He doesn’t need the witnesses. Witnesses are only for a case where you have no position. If you do have a position, everything is fine.
[Speaker B] Yes, but maybe his inclination is against the witnesses? What? If his inclination is against the witnesses.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That too—same thing.
[Speaker B] Why? If my inclination is against the witnesses, and the Torah said “a matter shall be established by two,” then surely even according to Maimonides I would follow the witnesses?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, absolutely not.
[Speaker B] Even against witnesses?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Obviously—against everything. A judge has to do what he thinks. I think—by the way, I saw Rav Shmuel and some other later authorities (Acharonim) note, well, the scriptural decree here also says not to follow your own opinion. Since the Torah disqualified the testimony of relatives, they say it also means: don’t rely on them even in the sense that they convinced you. I think that’s not right. If you were genuinely convinced that Reuven is liable, then that really is what you should rule—even if the witnesses are relatives. There could be a case where the witnesses did not convince you. Rather, had they been valid witnesses, then there is a rule: “a matter shall be established by two witnesses.” So if you think they are lying, then in principle you can rule against them, until the enactment of the two academies. If… you don’t know, but you also weren’t convinced that they are telling the truth, in that situation the Torah says, “a matter shall be established by two witnesses.” And with relatives, not so? But if you were also convinced that they are telling the truth, then even with relatives you should extract the money. That’s what I think; it makes much more sense. What the Torah
[Speaker B] came to say—what the Torah came to say with “a matter shall be established by two witnesses”—that’s in a place where I don’t have, where I’m neutral.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right—even after the testimony. Right. There is a rule that I accept the testimony of two witnesses, since I have no evidence against them, so fine—but not in a case where I was actually convinced that the defendant is lying. So fine, returning to our topic: what Maimonides says—what Maimonides says is what I said about judicial discretion, or what you brought from Rashbam. Regarding judicial discretion, that’s basically what Maimonides says about monetary law in general: that the judge is supposed to do what seems right to him in reality—not issue a halakhic ruling, but do what seems right to him in reality. Now, there is a Talmudic passage that says—one second, I’ll get back to judicial discretion—the Talmud says in tractate Shevuot, page 48, there’s some dispute there in the laws of oaths, if a person bequeathed an oath to his sons, not important right now, but the Talmud says as follows: “Now that no halakhic ruling was stated, neither like Rav and Shmuel nor like Rabbi Elazar, a judge who acted like Rav and Shmuel acted validly; one who acted like Rabbi Elazar acted validly.” Meaning, there is a dispute: Rabbi Elazar against Rav and Shmuel. Since no halakhic ruling was stated like one side or the other, a judge can do as Rav and Shmuel and that is fine and valid, and he can also do as Rabbi Elazar and that is valid. Now here the term judicial discretion is not mentioned, but it really seems pretty similar. You can do it this way and you can do it that way, and in fact the three possibilities I mentioned earlier also arise here. What is the difference between this and judicial discretion in the wording of the Talmud? In the wording of the Talmud you can see that we are dealing here with a sweeping rule, because what does the Talmud say? “Now that no halakhic ruling was stated, neither like Rav and Shmuel nor like Rabbi Elazar, a judge who acted like Rav and Shmuel acted validly; one who acted like Rabbi Elazar acted validly.” The Talmud says that because no halakhic ruling was stated either like Rav and Shmuel or like Rabbi Elazar, therefore a judge can do this and can also do that. Such wording says that this is basically a rule: everywhere no halakhic ruling was stated one way or the other, the judge can do this and can do that. It is not something said only about that specific dispute. With judicial discretion, there are many halakhic decisors who say that the rule of judicial discretion applies only in those places where the Talmud says “judicial discretion”; it is not a sweeping rule. But here the wording is “one who acted like this acted validly,” and the wording looks like the wording of a sweeping rule: everywhere no halakhic ruling was stated like this side and no halakhic ruling was stated like that side, the judge can act like this side and can act like that side. Right—the wording does look general: “Now that no halakhic ruling was stated,” meaning in every place where no halakhic ruling was stated you can do this and you can do that. So in principle there are now three possibilities here, as we saw earlier. One possibility: you can do whatever you want. What is the logic of your being able to do whatever you want—meaning, a lottery? What is the logic in that? The logic is that the Talmud itself says that both sides are correct, so you won’t make a mistake. Whatever you do, you won’t be making a mistake; you can flip a coin. There is no real way to decide this dispute, and therefore the Talmud says: if he acted like this side, he acted validly.
[Speaker B] It’s like with the afternoon prayer at plag hamincha.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, that’s in prohibitions; here I’m talking about monetary law. There’s also an analogue in prohibitions—I’ll upload that article to WhatsApp maybe. Later in the article I also deal with prohibitions. One possibility is that he conducts a lottery. A second possibility is that he decides. And a third possibility is that he does what seems true to him for this case—yes, the three possibilities we saw earlier. Okay, those are the three possibilities for understanding this. The unique thing about the Talmudic passage here is that here it is presented as a rule. In every place where no halakhic ruling was stated like one side or the other, this is what you should do. And what does “this” mean? If I interpret it as simply deciding based on the judge’s own judgment, like all the sources we saw in the previous lecture, then basically we have here a Talmudic passage saying exactly that: that in all disputes left unresolved, there is also Bava Batra 62b, where there is a topic about someone who sold land and defined the bordering roads or boundaries—not important, some halakhic issue in the topic of land sales—and the Talmud says: “It was stated one way and it was stated the other way—judicial discretion.” Yes, there is one teaching supporting one direction, another teaching supporting the opposite direction, therefore here they apply judicial discretion. Notice that here the term is judicial discretion, not “one who acted like this acted validly,” even though it’s pretty similar, but terminologically it’s different. Rashbam says about this: “And when the Talmud rules judicial discretion”—this is, for example, the Rashbam you mentioned earlier, but it appears elsewhere too—“the judges cast it; since we are in doubt, we apply judicial discretion; everything depends on the matter as the judges see and as they recognize whether the seller had a generous eye or a stingy eye, all according to their assessment.” Notice: this is the third option I brought—the option saying that the judges should do what seems true to them in the circumstances here, not what the law says. “However, in other places where we are in doubt between two formulations, as to which the law follows, we do not say judicial discretion unless it is explicitly stated as it is here.” Yes—what is Rashbam basically saying? The rule of judicial discretion is a rule that is true only in places where the Talmud explicitly says “judicial discretion.” Okay, here yes—but only in places where the Talmud says it. But in other places where we have two opinions and no halakhic ruling was issued like either one, we do not say judicial discretion; rather, “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another.” For Rashbam, judicial discretion means doing what seems right to the judge for this case. But Tosafot there says the following: “Even though elsewhere in every place we say ‘the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another’”—so why here do we say judicial discretion? Why not “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another”? “That rule applies where the money is in the possession of its owner, whether where there is doubt about what happened in fact”—that is, doubt in reality—“or whether the court itself is in doubt, but here the sages saw fit to apply judicial discretion.” That’s the beginning of Tosafot. After that I’m skipping a little. He says: “And in all these cases the sages thought it fitting to divide; there is judicial discretion, there is division, there are various things. But where the Talmud explains nothing”—the Talmud says neither judicial discretion nor anything else, and does not explain what to do—“we say: the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another.” So the basic rule, if no other rule is stated, is “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another.” “But where no halakhic ruling was stated, neither like this master nor like that master, and the judge holds like one of them and acted—whatever he did stands. For that is what is said in the chapter ‘All Who Swear’: now that no ruling was stated either like this one or like that one, one who acted like this one acted validly and one who acted like that one acted validly.” Yes—that same passage in Shevuot we saw above. Tosafot understands it not like Rashbam. Tosafot understands that what one has to do is issue a halakhic ruling, to decide who is right—not to decide, in this case too, to whom the money seems to belong based on impression, as we saw in Maimonides, but rather to rule on the law oneself, to enter the dispute and rule on the law. And he learns this from the passage in Shevuot. You can see that Tosafot understood that what is written in Shevuot is a sweeping rule: in every place where no halakhic ruling was stated either like this side or like that side, the rule is “one who acted like this acted validly.” What does that mean? That the judge must rule on the law himself according to what seems correct to him—according to what seems correct to him in law, not in reality. “And if the judge himself is uncertain as to whom the law follows”—what happens when the judge is uncertain and has no position? “The burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another.” Yes, so from here you can see clearly that he is talking about that above too, because it also says there: “and the judge holds like one of them and acted.” The judge does not decide arbitrarily, nor according to impression, but rather the judge adopts one of the halakhic possibilities that are in doubt, and then rules on the law. So what Tosafot is basically saying is that every situation where no halakhic ruling was issued—all the rules of doubt stated in the Talmud are only for situations where the judge himself does not know how to decide. But if the judge does know how to decide, then he should do what he thinks. Remember in the previous lecture when we saw Terumat HaDeshen? He writes as follows: “Since we do not know according to whom the law stands, the law is to divide,” and so on. “And I wanted to say that all these cases of division are when they are truly cases of doubt. But a legal doubt that stems from a dispute among great authorities—if neither side has seized, we should say: whoever is stronger prevails. If so, we must distinguish between legal doubt due to a dispute among great authorities and legal doubt because the matter remains unresolved in the Talmud. There, the authorities wrote that they divide. But in our case, where it is a dispute among great authorities, this reasoning does not apply: who will testify for us that the law is according to the words of this authority or that authority? Therefore we require division.” So he says that in every place of a dispute among great authorities one must divide. And this is against Tosafot?
[Speaker B] What? This seems to go against Tosafot.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In a moment we’ll see. So here the Rema writes in the Shulchan Arukh, Choshen Mishpat 139: “A matter over which the halakhic decisors disagree, and neither side has seized it—if it is something that can be divided, they divide it. And if it cannot be divided, whoever is stronger prevails.” He brings this from Terumat HaDeshen. Now look at the note of the Vilna Gaon: “See Tosafot at the beginning of the chapter ‘One Who Sells the House,’ 62b”—that’s the Tosafot we just saw—“even though there everything concerns a case where one party has possession, nevertheless Tosafot did not get to the heart of the explanation of the Talmud and said here it seems fit to rule,” and so on, see there. What is he saying? In Tosafot it says not like what the Rema and Terumat HaDeshen bring here. Tosafot says that there are no rules like “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another”; rather, you can rule on the law according to what seems right to you. Not “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another.” If you yourself are uncertain and have no position, then “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another.” I said in the previous lecture that in a dispute among great authorities, the judge himself should really decide; it isn’t a state of doubt, because of the story of Rabbi Jonathan Eybeschütz and so on. The Vilna Gaon himself does not accept what Tosafot says. He says that Tosafot did not get to the heart of the explanation of the Talmud. But that is what Tosafot said. Okay? He understands that Tosafot disagrees with this Terumat HaDeshen, because Terumat HaDeshen, as I said, basically presents the second-order ruling approach. He says: go by the rules; you are in doubt, so go by the rules. A situation of doubt—go by the rules. Tosafot says: what do you mean? You are in a situation of doubt—decide the doubt; rule on the law; do what you think. And for example we saw here that Nimukei Yosef and also Rabbeinu Yonah write a bit differently: “The judges should judge according to what seems to them in reason and logic.” For example, they may see that the amount paid indicates something—even though according to the law the amount does not indicate anything. Yes, if there is a dispute, one can infer from the amount paid what the nature of the transaction was, but legally we do not follow the amount—or if the seller sold with a generous eye, and so on. In short, he says like Rashbam: do what seems correct to you in the case; don’t rule on the law as Tosafot suggested. In practice, in any event, what emerges is that Tosafot says there is a rule: in every place where no halakhic ruling was stated like one of the sides, the judge himself can rule on the law. By the way, Kovetz Shiurim, in Ahavat Shalom, on this Talmudic passage says: “Regarding this matter of ‘one who acted like this acted validly,’ and we do not say ‘the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another,’ I heard from my honored teacher and father-in-law, the gaon Rabbi Meir Atlas of blessed memory, that this is speaking of a judge who can decide by his own reasoning”—apparently it has to be a judge—“a judge who can decide by his own reasoning between the disputants. But one who cannot decide, we say ‘the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another’; and see Terumat HaDeshen, siman 372, for what he wrote on this.” Terumat HaDeshen is what we saw above. Meaning, he is basically claiming that if a judge can decide in his own mind in a dispute among great authorities, among the halakhic decisors, then he should decide himself. It is not a state of doubt, as Tosafot says. And he says “see there.” He directed the doubt-rule only to judges who do not know the truth, who have no position. But if the judge has a position and can decide, then let him decide. And he also says that Terumat HaDeshen agrees with first-order ruling. By the way, when you look at the language of Terumat HaDeshen, it doesn’t seem so. He says: “And in our case, in a dispute among great authorities, this reasoning does not apply, for who will testify for us that the law is according to so-and-so or according to so-and-so?” If there is a dispute among great authorities, say Rashba and Maimonides disagree—who can decide that Maimonides is right or that Rashba is right? No chance. So clearly Terumat HaDeshen is not speaking only to a judge who has no position and has not decided. He is making a principled claim: a judge cannot decide disputes among the halakhic decisors. Therefore I do not think Kovetz Shiurim is right, but that is his claim. There is also the Rosh, and in Bava Batra the Rosh writes as follows: “Where the Talmud does not explain and the halakhah was not decided, the judge has no right to extract money out of doubt.” Yes—if it is not explicit in the Talmud and the law was not decided, a judge cannot extract money out of doubt. “And the judge should not say: since no halakhic ruling was decided as to whom to follow, I will do whatever I want—judicial discretion.” Yes? “No ruling was stated, neither like this master nor like that master, so I will do whatever I want.” Rather, “he should leave the money in its established possession and not extract money out of doubt.” What do you say—is he like Tosafot or not like Tosafot? Apparently not like Tosafot, right?
[Speaker B] Apparently not. Fine—he says not to do whatever he wants, but that doesn’t mean he has no legal reasoning.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, at first glance he is not like Tosafot, because the judge cannot extract the money in a state of doubt, but rather must leave the money in its current possession. Apparently not like Tosafot: “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another” if no halakhic ruling was stated. But that’s not precise. One can definitely understand that what he is saying is: I will not do whatever I want—that he cannot say. But if he has a reasoned position and can decide, then yes, why not? Definitely yes. Therefore this Rosh is still open, and in a moment we’ll see another Rosh who says it more explicitly. Look at this Rosh here. The Rosh in Sanhedrin—this is a well-known Rosh, and his conclusions are also brought in the Shulchan Arukh, Choshen Mishpat 25, in the fourth chapter of Sanhedrin, siman 6. He brings a discussion among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) regarding “one who errs in a matter of Mishnah” and “one who errs in judgment.” I’ll perhaps give a little introduction. In the Talmud they distinguish between two kinds of error: there is one who errs in a matter of Mishnah, and one who errs in judgment. Simply speaking, at least literally, one who errs in a matter of Mishnah is someone who goes against an established ruling—he errs frontally. One who errs in judgment is someone who exercised judgment, but his judgment was incorrect. It is not against a Mishnah, it is not against a clear halakhic ruling, but he exercised poor judgment. Of course one can always ask: who determines that the judgment was incorrect? My judgment is one thing; your judgment is something else. Fine. But how can you determine that my judgment is wrong? So the Talmud indeed says: what is a case of one who errs in judgment? When he goes against accepted practice. What does that mean? When in all the courts it is accepted to rule in a certain way. The halakhah was not formally decided that way, but that is the accepted ruling practice. And then if this judge rules the opposite, that is called erring in judgment. It is not erring in a matter of Mishnah, because it was not explicitly ruled anywhere, but it is called erring in judgment. On the face of it, there are those who want to understand that erring in judgment really just means going against common practice. I don’t think that is the intention. I think the common practice here is a sign, not a cause. Meaning: how can you determine that someone erred in judgment? You think differently? But that’s what he thinks—so what? You have a disagreement in reasoning. Who can determine that the judge erred in judgment? So the Talmud says: I have an indication. If in courts throughout the world it is accepted to rule in a certain way, and this one does not rule that way, then apparently the judge erred in judgment. But the reason, or the definition, of erring in judgment is someone who ruled on the basis of faulty reasoning. The fact that the whole world does not rule that way is only the indication that allows us to determine that his reasoning was faulty, not that there is some obligation to follow the practice of courts everywhere. Rather, the practice of courts everywhere is an indication that that is probably the correct reasoning, and if you ruled from different reasoning, then that is erring in judgment. Fine, that is the introduction—erring in judgment as opposed to erring in a matter of Mishnah. Now the Rosh says as follows, and begins by bringing Baal HaMaor. “Baal HaMaor of blessed memory wrote: I heard in the name of a great sage, one of the sages of our generation before us, that nowadays we no longer have ‘erring in judgment,’ for all the laws are decided in our hands, either from the Talmud or from the geonim after the Talmud.” Meaning, that sage brought by Baal HaMaor, and quoted in the Rosh—yes, all this is within the Rosh—that sage says that the concept of erring in judgment no longer exists, because we have the geonim and the Talmud, who have authority, and they already decided all the laws. Therefore whatever you do is either correct or an error in a matter of Mishnah; there is no such thing anymore as erring in judgment. There are no more judgment-calls; everything has been decided. “And I”—this is still Baal HaMaor, not yet the Rosh; all this is quoted in the Rosh—“these words do not seem correct to me. Rather, anyone whose error is not demonstrable from the Mishnah or from the explicit Talmud beyond doubt is not one who errs in a matter of Mishnah, but rather one who errs in judgment.” Yes—if there is no decision in the Talmud, all right? Then he is not erring in a matter of Mishnah, even if the geonim ruled otherwise, whatever the case may be. He is not erring in a matter of Mishnah; that is called erring in judgment, not erring in a matter of Mishnah. “And what the geonim ruled after the closure of the Talmud was from deciding reasoning, not from a clear and fixed halakhah from the Talmud; it is like accepted practice, and one who errs in this errs in judgment and not in a matter of Mishnah.” Yes—even if the geonim decided a dispute found in the Talmud by one line of reasoning or another, not because they demonstrated that the Talmud itself ruled that way, but because the geonim ruled from their own reasoning—then if I went against that, I am not erring in a matter of Mishnah; I am erring in judgment. This is not called a matter of Mishnah; the geonim do not have the authority of the Talmud or the Mishnah. But still, if I went against the geonim, there is an error in judgment here. The Raavad says: “And the Raavad wrote on the words of Baal HaMaor: the sage spoke truly”—that same sage whom Baal HaMaor brought was actually right—“for if one erred regarding the rulings of the geonim because he had not heard their words, and had he heard them he would have retracted truly and clearly, that is an error in a matter of Mishnah.” What does that mean? Even one who erred in the words of the geonim is erring in a matter of Mishnah—but only in a case where he did not know the words of the geonim, and then when he was told what the geonim say, he suddenly understood they were right. Not because of the mere fact that it is written by the geonim, but only if he himself agrees that what is written by the geonim is correct. So why is this called erring in a matter of Mishnah? Because he missed what was already written by the geonim. Had he known that this is what the geonim wrote, he would not have ruled that way. So he missed something already on record, and therefore it is called erring in a matter of Mishnah. “And I am close to saying that even if he disputed the ruling of a gaon on the basis that it appeared to him, according to his own opinion, not like the gaon and not like his interpretation, this too is an error in a matter of Mishnah.” Meaning, he claims that if I disagree with a gaon, that itself is an error in a matter of Mishnah, regardless of whether after hearing the words of the gaon I admitted he was right—even if not. The very fact that I went against a gaon is an error in a matter of Mishnah. “For nowadays we do not have license to disagree with the words of a gaon on the basis of our own opinion, to interpret the matter another way so that the law would change from the gaon’s words, unless there is a famous objection—and this is not something found.” Meaning, perhaps there is some unambiguous objection that all the sages of the generation agree on, and apparently these words of the gaon are an error or corruption or whatever—but that is not common. Therefore if you go against the geonim, that is an error in a matter of Mishnah. Fine. Up to here we have seen three views: that sage, Baal HaMaor, and the Raavad. Now let’s see the Rosh. “And I say”—and this is quoted in the Rosh—“certainly anyone who erred regarding the rulings of the geonim of blessed memory because he had not heard their words, and when he was told the ruling of the geonim it seemed proper to him, is one who errs in a matter of Mishnah. And not only one who errs regarding the rulings of the geonim, but even the sages of every generation after them are not reeds cut in the marsh.” It should read “reeds cut in the marsh.” “And if he ruled not in accordance with their words, and when he heard their words they seemed proper to him and he admitted he had erred, then he is one who errs in a matter of Mishnah, and the case is reversed.” Reversed meaning: the ruling is nullified. If one errs in a matter of Mishnah, the ruling is nullified. So that is someone who erred regarding the rulings of the geonim and when he heard them he understood that he had missed something. “But if their words did not seem proper to him, and he brings proofs for his own words accepted by the scholars of his generation, Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation; you have only the judge who shall be in those days. And he may overturn their words, for every matter not clarified in the Talmud compiled by Rav Ashi and Ravina, a person may destroy and build—even to disagree with the words of the geonim.” So he says: if he retracted after hearing that the geonim wrote otherwise, then this is an error in a matter of Mishnah. But if he did not retract, then it is not erring in judgment—it is not an error at all. Because he has the right to rule against the geonim. He does not need a famous objection and nothing of the kind. It is enough that he bring proofs for his words, accepted by the sages of his generation—meaning, you did not err in the proofs. You do not have to be right against the geonim, but there is no error here. Not a famous objection as the Raavad said. So basically the Rosh says: every matter, including the rulings of the geonim, the sage or judge sitting in judgment can decide for himself. If he disagrees with the geonim, let him disagree.
[Speaker E] Does he say that even against the Mishnah, or only against the geonim?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, only against the geonim—not the Mishnah and not the Talmud.
[Speaker E] Why not the Mishnah? He’s going by his own reasoning. I can’t hear. Why not also against the Mishnah? Basically, if in the end I read the Mishnah and I think otherwise?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There is authority. The Mishnah and the Talmud have formal authority.
[Speaker E] No, we’re talking now about monetary law, and in the end the reasoning is what…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. Once the halakhah has been decided, there is no reasoning. If the halakhah has been decided, there is no reasoning.
[Speaker E] Say that according to the halakhah it comes out that Reuven should win the money, but according to his reasoning Shimon is the one who should win—so then apparently he does not go with his own reasoning?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, you have to distinguish. Right now you’re talking not in the time of the Rosh but in the period before the Rif. We’re talking about two hundred years earlier, or even more—three hundred years earlier—about what the law originally was. What the law originally was, then you could do what seemed right to you. Fine, that’s a different discussion. But the Rosh is not in that period. The Rosh is in a period where we do work with the law. We work with the law, but the one who determines what the law is, is the judge who is sitting. Not the geonim and nobody else. When there is a Talmud or a Mishnah, then you don’t dispute the Talmud or the Mishnah; that is binding. But geonim—I have the right to disagree with them. If after I hear the geonim I admit they were right and I missed something, then it is an error in a matter of Mishnah. But if I disagree with them and bring proofs for my words, very good—I can disagree with them. That’s what he says here: “every matter not clarified in the Talmud compiled by Rav Ashi and Ravina, a person may destroy and build, even to disagree with the words of the geonim.” There is no formal authority after the Talmud. There is no one after the Talmud whom one may not dispute. And that is what he says: “For the later amoraim sometimes dispute the earlier ones. On the contrary, we hold the words of the later authorities to be primary, since the law follows the later authority. Since they knew the reasoning of the earlier ones and their reasoning, and decided between those lines of reasoning, and arrived at the core of the matter.”
[Speaker B] Only according to the Rosh—do you hear? What? Only according to the Rosh there is no authority to the geonim?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m talking about the Rosh. Now look at the concluding paragraph. “And where two great authorities disagreed in a halakhic ruling, the judge should not say: I will rule whichever way I want. And if he did so, this is a false judgment.” What is “whichever way I want”? Does it remind you of an earlier wording? Look at the Rosh. It’s the same Rosh from another place. “And where the Talmud does not explain…” —this is the Rosh in Bava Batra—“and where the Talmud does not explain and the halakhah was not decided, the judge has no right to extract money out of doubt. And the judge should not say: since no halakhic ruling was decided as to whom to follow, I will do whatever I want. Rather, he should leave the money in its established possession and not extract money out of doubt.” Remember what I said there? At first glance he is against Tosafot—to go with the rules, “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another.” You can’t do whatever you want. And I said: not necessarily. Dov said it too a moment ago—not necessarily. Why? Because maybe what the Rosh means is: you can’t do whatever you want, but if you have a ruling, if you have a reasoned position, then you are allowed to rule on the law. And here it’s written explicitly in the Rosh in Sanhedrin. Look at the last paragraph of the Rosh: “And where two great authorities disagreed in a halakhic ruling, the judge should not say: I will rule whichever way I want. And if he did so, this is a false judgment. Rather, if he is a great sage, learned and understanding, and knows how to decide in favor of one of them with clear and compelling proofs, permission is in his hand.” You see? The judge should not say, “I’ll rule whichever way I want.” But if he is a sage and wants to rule—certainly that’s what he should do. Meaning, you see that the phrase “the judge should not say, I’ll do whichever way I want” means to act arbitrarily, however he wants. It does not mean he is forbidden to rule—on the contrary. That is what he writes here. If he is qualified and he can rule, then let him rule. “And even if another sage ruled on a matter, this sage may overturn his words with proofs and disagree with him, as I wrote above.” So the Rosh basically—and this is also brought in siman 25 in the Shulchan Arukh—the Rosh basically says that after the Talmud, in all disputes among the geonim, the medieval authorities (Rishonim), and the later authorities (Acharonim), in the end, if the judge decides that he has a clear position and resolves the dispute, he has the right to do so. There is no authority—not only may he decide a dispute, he can even disagree with all the medieval authorities. Not only decide among them. He can even disagree with them, because there is no authority after the Talmud of Ravina and Rav Ashi. And certainly he can decide among disputing authorities—that is what he says. “And even if another sage ruled on a matter, this sage may overturn his words with proofs and disagree with him, as I wrote above.” Meaning, you can go against earlier sages even without having someone else who disagrees with them. You disagree with them. And he says: “And all the more so if he has support from one of the disputing authorities.” Meaning, if there is a dispute, then certainly you can decide like one side, because then you are only joining one of the medieval authorities. But even if not, you can decide. This joins all the sources we saw in the previous lecture: that basically the judge who sits in judgment can decide. But there is one more important point I still want to sharpen before we finish. Look at this paragraph I marked. “When he brings proofs for his words accepted by the scholars of his generation, Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation.” What does that mean?
[Speaker C] It’s not clear at all, because Jephthah was a complete ignoramus. Why do people always attribute halakhic authority to him?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. On the contrary—that’s precisely the point.
[Speaker B] Even though we surely know that Samuel was more righteous, nevertheless—that’s what the Rabbi said.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. They take someone who is obviously—Samuel, Samuel was considered equal to Moses and Aaron by the sages, right? Samuel was equal to Moses and Aaron, the greatest there ever was. And Jephthah was like one of the emptiest people. You see? But Jephthah was the judge in his generation. Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation. Notice: this is an interesting justification from the Rosh. Because the Rosh brings it as a justification for saying that if the judge decides to rule by himself, then let him rule. But he says: this is not because the judge rules better than Maimonides and Rashba. They are greater Torah scholars. But he is the judge. And Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation.
[Speaker C] So he really did as he wanted, against what the Rosh wrote after the Talmud.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No—what he thinks, not what he wants.
[Speaker C] He doesn’t have the tools to think straight, to think according to the rules of Jewish law.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, of course he does.
[Speaker B] Jephthah?
[Speaker C] No—someone qualified.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, fine. Jephthah is a metaphor. I’m talking now about the judge. The judge sitting in judgment. He knows that Maimonides and Rashba disagreed on this topic. The Rosh says: you may rule on the law, even though it is against Maimonides or against Rashba, because Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation. What does that mean? It means that your ability to rule on the law is not because you are wiser than they are, not because you are more correct than they are. Rather, even if you are not more correct, if you are the judge sitting in judgment, the authority to rule rests upon you. What we discussed regarding Rabbi Meir and the duty of autonomy, and so on. That’s what this means: they come to you, you have to rule. Yes—I told a story, I don’t remember if I told it here, I think I did. Once, in one of the sessions of the rabbinical courts where we annulled a marriage, I saw in the rulings of the rabbinical courts that in one of the rulings they say: we think the woman is permitted, but the leading sages of the generation need to agree with us before we rule this as halakhah. I think I said this—I don’t remember.
[Speaker B] Yes, the Rabbi said it.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So those are people who don’t understand that the duty to rule rests on them, not on the leading sages of the generation. It’s not that—you have to rule. You are the judge and you have to rule. That is what “Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation” means. But notice what he says. Clearly, he writes: “Rather, if he is a great sage, learned and understanding, and knows how to decide in favor of one of them with clear and compelling proofs, permission is in his hand.” What does that mean? “A great sage”—does that mean greater than Maimonides and Rashba? Then he can decide against Maimonides or against Rashba? No. He says “Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation.” You are Jephthah and they are Samuel. So what does it mean that you can decide with proofs? It means that you are qualified. You can rule on the law. You don’t need to be on the level of Maimonides and Rashba, but of course not every hothead gets to do whatever he thinks in Jewish law—that’s not serious. But if you are a judge or a clear halakhic decisor, and you are qualified, then you can decide halakhah. You are not on the level of Rashba and Maimonides. You are Jephthah and they are Samuel, but “Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation.” So there is a kind of definition one can gather from these two paragraphs together that says the following: in principle there is a duty to rule—both a right and a duty—to rule autonomously. But of course not every child can act autonomously, because that is not called autonomy; that is just nonsense. On the other hand, the other side of the coin is not: well, only someone greater than Rashba can rule against Rashba. Obviously that would make this a dead letter. The Rosh says no—you do not need to be greater than Rashba. “Jephthah in his generation is like Samuel in his generation.” But you do need to be qualified. You need to be someone who has reached the point of being able to give rulings. Not just some random hothead. But in order to disagree with Rashba you do not need to be greater than Rashba; you need to be someone qualified to rule. If you have reached that level and you are sitting in judgment, then in that case you are the master of the house. If you rule this way, then that is the halakhah in that case. In this case that is the halakhah, even if it is against Rashba, against Maimonides, and against whoever you like. And this is the concept I call the concept of being qualified. If you are qualified, then you can rule—but you do not have to be… yes, it’s that well-known Hasidic story that Rabbi Zusha said that when he gets to heaven they won’t ask him why he wasn’t Moses our teacher; they’ll ask him why he wasn’t Zusha. And the claim—what I want to argue—is that you can rule on halakhah in the disputes of earlier authorities if you are Zusha. You do not need to be Moses our teacher, but you do need to be Zusha. Meaning, once you have become yourself—meaning that you have already studied, specialized, and become qualified to rule—then you can decide. As long as you haven’t learned enough, you’re not even Zusha yet. You’re still Zusha in potential. Okay? Once you’ve become Zusha, then you can decide. That is basically what the Rosh is saying here. That’s how I understand it. I once thought that one indication of this could be—and this also simply comes from my own experience—I think that in the early stages of learning, when I would study a passage and come to some conclusion, and then return to it two or three years later, study the same passage, I would understand how I had come to that conclusion, and it would be obvious that the truth is the opposite. I mean, it had been obvious to me then that this was the conclusion, and now suddenly I’d say: what are you talking about? That makes no sense. The truth is exactly the opposite. That means I still wasn’t Zusha. I myself wasn’t yet formed in what I think. Moses our teacher I probably won’t be either. But Zusha—you become that at a certain stage, when you already stand on your own judgment, when you are already seasoned and have realized your abilities—then you are Zusha. And the indication of that is that if you return to the same passage after some time and still agree with the conclusions you reached in previous rounds, then you are probably already formed. Then you have probably reached your own way of thinking. Once you are qualified, you can already rule on halakhah. Maybe that is some criterion that can help a person diagnose himself.
[Speaker C] Sorry, Rabbi—sorry that I’m going back to the same point; it’s not the main point—but regarding Jephthah, why do they bring him? Jephthah was a judge; he wasn’t a halakhic authority. In his days there were other authorities, it seems to me. Who was it—the High Priest there, in the story where he sacrificed his daughter? It was—I don’t remember. But why do they bring him as an authority for ruling, this Jephthah?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know—there are two possible answers to that. First: if Jephthah was a judge, then he was a judge—not just a leader, but apparently he was also engaged in judging. Even though he doesn’t seem to have been such a great Torah scholar, still, the fact is that he was the judge at the time—that’s one possibility. Second: it could be that they bring this only as a metaphor. As if to say: even if the judge in your own days is, so to speak, like Jephthah compared to Samuel, they still mean someone who really is a judge. They use Jephthah only to say that your authority to issue a halakhic ruling doesn’t depend on being on the level of Samuel. Even if you’re Jephthah in comparison with Samuel, if you’re the judge here, then you’re the one who has to rule. But they don’t mean to say something historical about Jephthah himself. They’re only using him to say that even if you’re like Jephthah, you still have to rule.
[Speaker E] Okay, thank you. Rabbi, I connect with the dichotomy between the autonomy we have—the need to decide on our own—and the fact that there’s supposedly some reliance on other sources. But even מתוך our own autonomy, sometimes we also have a demand to look outward—like, say, in medicine, I’d prefer to go to the best doctor available to me, or the best one I can access. So too in wisdom, I’d say: okay, let’s go to the wisest person. And if the sages think that Rabbi Meir is deeper than they are, then the question still remains: why wouldn’t they say that, for the sake of clarification, like circumstantial clarification, there is circumstantial clarification through a wise person who reaches a certain conclusion?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You’re assuming that the goal is to arrive at the truth, and then you’re right. You should go to the greatest sage. What difference does it make that I don’t understand? He’s the sage; he presumably gets at the truth. And I’m arguing that a halakhic ruling expresses not only truth but also autonomy. And therefore, you are supposed to rule even though you yourself understand that Rabbi Meir is probably right and not you.
[Speaker E] But I can also use rules of circumstantial evidence, right? No.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Circumstantial evidence is not autonomous ruling. If Maimonides said it, then he’s probably right. Ad hominem—ad hominem is not proof.
[Speaker E] Like, say, a circumstantial proof where it seems reasonable to me that Reuven really is the thief because of all kinds of evidence—I can rely on that.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s something else. That’s circumstantial evidence about the matter itself. We’re talking about circumstantial evidence in terms of people. If Maimonides said this, then it’s probably true. In logic that’s called the ad hominem fallacy—the reliance on the person. That’s not autonomous ruling.
[Speaker E] Why shouldn’t that at least count as circumstantial evidence? Why should I care about the person here?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] As circumstantial evidence, it’s more than circumstantial evidence. If you ask me what the truth is, the truth is what Maimonides said. But I don’t have to issue a halakhic ruling according to the truth, so why should I care that it’s circumstantial evidence? That circumstantial evidence is only evidence that this is the truth. I understand. But I’m not supposed to rule according to the truth.
[Speaker E] But with circumstantial evidence I still do have to take it into account, don’t I?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Circumstantial evidence about the matter itself—yes. I was convinced that this is the truth. But if Maimonides said it and I wasn’t convinced? Then no, because I’m relying on Maimonides and not on myself.
[Speaker E] So that means, basically, there isn’t that much disagreement here. All the people who quote Maimonides or authoritative sources are really saying: we were convinced that these are sources that must be taken seriously, like circumstantial evidence.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Good—but in my view, that conviction is based on the wrong foundation. Because when you’re convinced because Maimonides said it and he was probably a great man, then in fact you’re relying on Maimonides; you weren’t really convinced. You were convinced that this is the truth. But you need to be convinced, on the merits of the matter itself, why this is the truth. If you’re convinced that this is the truth, that’s not enough—it’s like Rabbi Meir. And again, you’re right that it’s the truth—not because it isn’t the truth, but because truth is not the only parameter in halakhic ruling. Autonomy is also important.
[Speaker E] Right, but circumstantial evidence doesn’t—it doesn’t care what its sources are, right? I mean, in the end it’s circumstantial evidence that brings me closer to some conclusion.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not the same thing. I’ll repeat the same answer. Circumstantial evidence proves that this is the truth. You’re right—but I don’t care that this is the truth. It’s like asking: suppose two brothers come and testify that Reuven borrowed money from Shimon. And the truth is that Reuven did borrow, right? Because the two brothers know. It’s only a scriptural decree not to accept their testimony. Okay? So then that means the truth is that Reuven borrowed—so why don’t I… or forget borrowing; in monetary law maybe in ancient times they could even issue a death sentence, execute someone, yes? Two brothers come and testify that he is liable to death. What is the truth? The truth is that he is liable to death. That’s the truth. But there is a scriptural decree that brothers are disqualified. What does that mean? It means that apparently there are other considerations besides truth when we issue halakhic rulings. Of course, this is only an analogy to our case. So here too, the consideration of autonomy is no less important than the consideration of truth. And when I hear that Rabbi Meir said something, that is circumstantial evidence that it’s the truth—I agree. But I’m supposed to rule according to what I think will be the truth, not according to the truth itself. So I don’t care that it’s circumstantial evidence. Okay? Okay. Well then, goodbye, Sabbath peace.
[Speaker E] Sabbath peace.