חדש באתר: NotebookLM עם כל תכני הרב מיכאל אברהם

Introduction to the Talmud and Halakha, Part 2 – Rabbi Michael Abraham

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

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

🔗 Link to the original lecture

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Table of Contents

  • The traditional picture of the Oral Torah: interpretation and legislation
  • The layers of sages and the editing of the Talmuds
  • The division of halakhic material: the six orders, the Talmudic passage, and later classifications
  • The meaning of the Four Turim: legal vs. personal law, and an explanation of charity and interest
  • Literary genres in the world of Jewish law, and the difference between responsa and law books
  • Commentators, halakhic decisors, law books, and links to Talmudic sources
  • Canonical texts, halakhic weight, and disputes between traditions
  • Formal authority and substantive authority in Jewish law
  • Canonization and codification: from the Mishnah to Maimonides and the Tur
  • The uniqueness of Maimonides as the only complete code, and a description of his method
  • The controversies over codification and the anarchic tendency of Jewish law
  • The Talmud as a canonical text without a bottom line, and a methodology of legal discussion
  • Casuistry versus positivism, rules, and caution regarding them
  • Discretion, intuition, a “fraudulent case,” and the soft logic of halakhic ruling

Summary

General Overview

The text presents a methodological picture of the development of the Oral Torah from the core that was given at Sinai throughout the generations, distinguishing between additions of interpretation that generate Torah-level Jewish law and legislation that generates rabbinic law, regardless of the chronology or identity of the sage. It describes the layers of sages and the formation of the Talmuds, the classification of halakhic material from the Mishnah through Maimonides to the Tur and the Shulchan Arukh, and the deep meaning of the Four Turim as a categorical division between legal and non-legal domains. It then defines types of authority in Jewish law, explains canonization versus codification, presents the uniqueness of Maimonides as the only complete code, and emphasizes that Jewish law and the Talmud rest on a soft, casuistic framework of discussion without rigid bottom lines, allowing continuity within cultural and historical dispersion while leaving room for professional intuition and discretion.

The traditional picture of the Oral Torah: interpretation and legislation

The text states that two Torahs were given at the revelation at Sinai, the Written Torah and the Oral Torah, and that these are methodological rather than historical statements. The Oral Torah develops over the generations, with the core given at Sinai, and sages add to it in two ways: interpretation and legislation. Interpretation produces Torah-level law because the sages’ interpretation is taken as the binding content of the verse, while legislation creates a new law that is not derived from a verse and is therefore rabbinic law. The distinction between Torah-level and rabbinic law is not chronological but depends on which “hat” the sages were wearing, and that can range from Moses our teacher to sages of our own time.

The layers of sages and the editing of the Talmuds

The text describes the succession of generations: Tannaim and Amoraim, followed by Savoraim, Geonim, medieval authorities (Rishonim), and later authorities (Acharonim), with the medieval authorities ending around the fifteenth century, around the time of the Shulchan Arukh, and the later authorities beginning there and continuing to the present. It attributes the Babylonian Talmud to the Amoraim of Babylonia and the Jerusalem Talmud to the Amoraim of the Land of Israel, emphasizing that these works were edited over centuries. According to the traditional view, Ravina and Rav Ashi edited the Babylonian Talmud, but the text argues that this is probably not correct, and that the editing continued until roughly the eighth or ninth century, so that additions of Savoraim and even a bit of the Geonim slipped into the Talmud. The conclusion is that the Babylonian Talmud that has reached us is an edited canon that includes everything inside it, without any need to distinguish what is Tannaitic-Amoraic and what is later.

The division of halakhic material: the six orders, the Talmudic passage, and later classifications

The text presents Rabbi Judah the Prince’s division of the Mishnah into six orders—Seeds, Festival, Women, Damages, Holy Things, Purities—with the mnemonic acronym, as a topical classification. It describes how in both the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds there is a Mishnah that opens the discussion, and around it a Talmudic passage is formed that may quote it, challenge it, bring additional sources, interpret it, and even include associative material not necessarily directly connected to the Mishnah. It then presents Maimonides’ new topical division into fourteen books, subdivided into collections of laws. Later it presents the division of the Tur, and following it the Shulchan Arukh, into four categories—Orach Chayim, Even HaEzer, Yoreh De’ah, and Choshen Mishpat—a division that has become so deeply rooted that today it is perceived as halakhic categories and not merely as the names of books.

The meaning of the Four Turim: legal vs. personal law, and an explanation of charity and interest

The text proposes a higher-level division of the four sections into two clusters: the legal part of Jewish law, including Choshen Mishpat and Even HaEzer, as against Orach Chayim and Yoreh De’ah as personal law, which does not exist in general legal systems. It emphasizes that Choshen Mishpat is not simply “monetary law between one person and another” in a content-based sense, and gives the example that the laws of interest and the laws of charity, even though they concern monetary relations between people, appear in Yoreh De’ah rather than Choshen Mishpat. The explanation is that Choshen Mishpat includes duties grounded in another person’s right, enforceable in a religious court, whereas charity and interest describe duties that do not correspond to another person’s claim-right, and therefore do not constitute a “legal charge.” The text uses the language of “Hohfeld’s table” to describe the distinction between duty and right, and argues that this shows the foundational depth of the Tur’s categorical innovation.

Literary genres in the world of Jewish law, and the difference between responsa and law books

The text describes how in every period there are recurring genres such as responsa, law books, halakhic decisors, and commentators, and that this is a cross-sectional division rather than one dependent on period. Responsa are described as halakhic instruction in a specific case, while law books determine the law for types of cases and organize rulings as a code. It explains the rule, “If one sage prohibited, his colleague may not permit,” as a regulation of authority in a ruling on a concrete case, distinguishing between the prohibition on intervening in a specific decision and the legitimacy of disagreeing with law books and halakhic decisors in principle. The example of the “chicken” illustrates that another decisor can disagree with the Shulchan Arukh, but cannot reverse a decision already given in that particular case. The text also notes the connection to rabbinical courts and to the question of hierarchy versus the principle that “in Jewish law there is no hierarchy.”

Commentators, halakhic decisors, law books, and links to Talmudic sources

The text distinguishes between commentators, who accompany the text, and halakhic decisors like the Rif and the Rosh, who go through the order of the Talmudic tractates and write the bottom line without interpreting the flow of the Talmud. Maimonides, the Tur, and the Shulchan Arukh are classified as law books not built around the pages of the Talmud but according to topical or categorical division, and therefore their connection to Talmudic passages is not explicit within the text itself. It notes that much criticism of Maimonides focused on the fact that he did not reveal the Talmudic sources on which he based his rulings. It then mentions Ein Mishpat Ner Mitzvah as an edition that notes, for each Talmud passage, where it appears in Maimonides, the Tur, the Shulchan Arukh, and BaHaG.

Canonical texts, halakhic weight, and disputes between traditions

The text argues that in practice there is an informal hierarchy of centrality, in which Maimonides, the Tur, and the Shulchan Arukh are foundational stones without which one cannot issue a halakhic ruling, even though there is no formal declaration to that effect. It notes examples of differences in tradition, such as Yemenites who follow Maimonides more closely, alongside a broader picture in which, throughout the halakhic world, the Beit Yosef, the Tur, Maimonides, and the Shulchan Arukh form a central basis. It describes how many halakhic decisors function as commentators on these canonical works, so that reaching a canonical source brings with it a large network of interpretation and ruling surrounding it.

Formal authority and substantive authority in Jewish law

The text distinguishes between formal authority, which is given to an institution simply by virtue of its being an institution, and substantive authority, that of an expert whom it is advisable to heed though there is no formal obligation to do so. It attributes the Torah’s verses of authority, such as “Do not deviate,” to sages possessing formal authority, which according to some commentators exists only for the Sanhedrin. After the cessation of ordination, the text says there is no longer formal authority for contemporary sages, and their authority is primarily substantive. The exception is the Talmud, which, although it was not sealed by ordained sages or by a Sanhedrin, was accepted by all the sages of Israel as binding in a way that effectively grants it formal authority, to the point that it is argued there is no such thing as disagreeing with the Talmud, only interpreting it or relying on internal disputes within it. The Shulchan Arukh is described as the closest candidate after the Talmud to binding authority, but still without formal authority, and engagement with it is seen as carrying strong substantive weight rather than mandatory force.

Canonization and codification: from the Mishnah to Maimonides and the Tur

The text describes canonization as the fixing of a binding, closed text that does not change, as opposed to codification, which means turning canonical material into a classified and ordered code. The writing of the Mishnah is attributed to Rabbi Judah the Prince as a decision under the principle “It is a time to act for the Lord; they have voided Your Torah,” in response to the prohibition on writing down the Oral Torah, and it is described as a text containing disputes and hardly ever ruling explicitly, with indicators such as majority views or unattributed opinions. The writing of the Talmuds is described as continuing the documentation of the discussion around the Mishnah, with the Talmud being a canonical text rather than a code. Maimonides is described as another major canonical text covering all areas of Jewish law, while the Tur and the Shulchan Arukh are described as significant canonical works focused mainly on laws practiced in the present time.

The uniqueness of Maimonides as the only complete code, and a description of his method

The text states that the only complete code in the history of Jewish law is Maimonides, and describes his work as almost unimaginable in scope and system. It presents Maimonides as someone who took all the sources before him, sifted them, established bottom lines, classified them by topics, and covered areas that others did not address, whereas the Tur and the Shulchan Arukh deal mainly with laws practiced today, and the Rif and the Rosh also issue rulings only there. It describes how Maimonides built an infrastructure through the “roots” for setting the rules of counting the commandments, wrote the Book of Commandments as a skeleton covering the 613 commandments, divided Jewish law into fourteen books and legal collections, and made sure that there was “nothing left in the chamber.” The text emphasizes the consistency that can be checked in Maimonides because he “spoke about everything,” and the ability to infer from his wording and the placement of laws in his work as a commonly accepted interpretive principle. It notes that Maimonides was criticized for not bringing reasons and Talmudic sources within the work itself, and that the Shulchan Arukh and the Tur narrow the range of topics compared to his full coverage.

The controversies over codification and the anarchic tendency of Jewish law

The text argues that there is an “anarchic genetics” in Jewish law that resists rigid structures, and therefore Maimonides and the Shulchan Arukh “took a lot of flak” from other sages. It describes the criticism as the claim that Jewish law is supposed to proceed through argument, interpretation, and presenting options, not through unambiguous closure of bottom lines without justification. It refers to the description of the “controversies of codification” in Menachem Elon’s book Hebrew Law and emphasizes that the halakhic system persists despite attempts at codification, because dispute and discussion are its lifeblood. The text formulates the position that there is no such simple sentence as “what Jewish law says,” even when citing Maimonides or the Shulchan Arukh, because the system is soft and not deductive, even though it has internal notions of “right and wrong.”

The Talmud as a canonical text without a bottom line, and a methodology of legal discussion

The text presents the Talmud as a very unusual canonical text built out of eclectic passages of objections, answers, rejections, and proofs, with no concluding ruling in most passages. It attributes significance to this: the Talmud does not come to give bottom lines but to dictate a methodology of discussion, expose complexity, and impart a form of analysis that makes local decision-making possible through Talmudic method. It argues that precisely the absence of bottom lines enabled Judaism to survive global dispersion and differing circumstances, because a canonical text with rigid decisions would have “blown up,” while the absence of canonization would have produced “a hundred thousand Judaisms” disconnected from one another. The text defines this as the creation of a shared framework in which sages from different periods and cultures “talk to each other as if they were sitting around one table” through a language of discussion rather than through rigid rules.

Casuistry versus positivism, rules, and caution regarding them

The text compares the Talmudic structure to the common law model and the concept of casuistry in legal theory, in which one starts from cases and develops analogies, in contrast to “top-down” positivism of rules and deduction. It compares this to the way artificial intelligence systems learn, where one does not teach a rule but presents examples, and the system converges on possible generalizations even though there are infinitely many ways to generalize. It emphasizes that there are few rules in the Talmud, and when there is a rule the Talmud is cautious about it, even displaying suspicion toward rules through sayings like “We do not derive law from general rules, even where it is said ‘except.’” It gives an example from the structure of tractate Bava Kamma, where the question “What does this general rule come to include?” indicates that the basic assumption is that cases are primary and the rule requires justification, not the other way around. It describes how rules in the Talmud and in halakhic ruling are sometimes compact models of an existing phenomenon, similar to grammatical rules in language, but there are always exceptions and sub-rules.

Discretion, intuition, a “fraudulent case,” and the soft logic of halakhic ruling

The text describes Jewish law as a mode of thinking that is not “mathematics” and is not deductive, citing Nachmanides in the introduction to Milchamot that “the wisdom of our Torah is not like the wisdom of astronomy and mathematics… whose proofs are decisive.” It presents a situation in which disputes generally do not produce “right and wrong,” but rather “mistaken in an explicit Mishnah” as a rare exception versus “mistaken in judgment” as the ordinary mode of decision. It describes the use of a decisor’s professional intuition, including the idea that sometimes the decisor “knows the answer and only afterward looks for the reasoning,” and gives an example from monetary law of a “fraudulent case,” where a judge withdraws from the case when something “smells wrong” even though there is valid evidence. The text distinguishes between a feeling of natural justice and a feeling that the reasoning is leading to a mistaken conclusion, and presents the sense that “something here isn’t right” as a tool directing the search for the flaw in the argument. It concludes that halakhic discourse allows uncertainty and soft decision-making on the basis of reasons, intuition, and a shared methodology of discussion, rather than on the basis of rigid and final rules.

Full Transcript

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, so really, last time I talked a bit about the traditional picture, how we see the structure and development of the Oral Torah from the giving of the Torah. Two Torahs were given at Sinai: the Written Torah and the Oral Torah. And again, these are not historical claims but methodological claims. The Oral Torah develops over the generations. The core was given at Sinai, but it develops over the generations. There are additions made by sages throughout the generations of two kinds. One kind of addition is interpretation, and the second is legislation. Interpretation, basically, its product is Torah-level Jewish law, because when sages interpret a verse, then for us that is essentially the content of the verse; it is binding as the content of the verse, and therefore it is Torah-level. If sages legislate—that is, they create a new law and do not interpret it out of some verse—then that is what is called rabbinic law. And I said that there is no difference between—that is, the difference between Torah-level laws and rabbinic laws is not chronological. It’s not that Torah-level laws are old and rabbinic laws are newer. Rather, it’s a question of which hat the interpreters were wearing. If they are acting as legislators, it is rabbinic law; if they are acting as interpreters, it is Torah-level law. And that can be sages from Moses our teacher, and it can be sages of our own time. There is no difference in that sense. We saw that I described a little the order of the generations. The earlier sages, let’s say in the Talmud, are the Tannaim and the Amoraim. The Tannaim were in the Land of Israel; the Amoraim were in Babylonia and also in the Land of Israel. After them came the Savoraim, the Geonim, the medieval authorities (Rishonim), and the later authorities (Acharonim). The medieval authorities end, let’s say, in the fifteenth century, up to around the Shulchan Arukh, the sixteenth century, and the later authorities begin from there and continue more or less to our own day. The Babylonian Amoraim composed the Babylonian Talmud, and the Amoraim of the Land of Israel composed the Jerusalem Talmud. These things were edited over hundreds of years. In the traditional conception, Ravina and Rav Ashi are the two specific Amoraim who edited the Torah—the Babylonian Talmud—but that is probably not correct. It was edited over several centuries, let’s say until the eighth or ninth century, something like that. Therefore additions of the Savoraim and even a bit of the Geonim also found their way into the Talmud—the ninth and tenth centuries already, really just a few, but Savoraim probably more. The Geonim are truly just a few, only to show that the editing was gradual. But in the end, what reached us is what is called the Babylonian Talmud, with all the additions and everything in it. I don’t care what in it is genuinely Tannaitic and Amoraic and what in it is Savoraic or Geonic; everything received the significance of the Babylonian Talmud as a kind of edited canon, and I’ll talk about that a bit more today. I’m just finishing the summary of last time. I said there are different divisions of halakhic material. The Talmud itself is divided according to the division of Rabbi Judah the Prince, who divided the Mishnah into six orders: Seeds, Festival, Women, Damages, Holy Things, Purities. The acronym is Zeman Nakat. That’s a topical division by subject. Within each such order there are tractates, various tractates, and all of this appears in the Babylonian Talmud and in the Jerusalem Talmud, where the Talmuds—the Babylonian and the Jerusalem—add discussions around the Mishnahs. That means there is always a Mishnah opening both the Babylonian and the Jerusalem Talmud, and around it there is a Talmudic passage. A Talmudic passage can quote the Mishnah, challenge it, bring additional sources, interpret the Mishnah, and sometimes just include associative material not necessarily connected to the Mishnah. A Talmudic passage is something a bit eclectic. After that I said there was a new division for which Maimonides is responsible. That is another topical division, not into six but into fourteen books, each of which is divided into various collections of laws, but it is still a topical division, a division by content. The more innovative division that continues Maimonides is the division of the Tur and, following it, the Shulchan Arukh, which basically divided the world of Jewish law into four categories. Each one takes up a column. There are four columns. In slang people say “Tur,” but actually the name of the work is Four Turim. And there are four Turim: Orach Chayim, Even HaEzer, Yoreh De’ah, and Choshen Mishpat. Orach Chayim deals with the order of daily life, appointed times, festivals, prayers, blessings, and the like, Sabbath. That is Orach Chayim. Sorry—Choshen Mishpat is the legal aspect: damages, monetary law, contracts, things like that, and it also includes the laws of religious courts, procedure, testimony, laws of evidence, and the like. That is Choshen Mishpat. Yoreh De’ah is things that are not part of everyday routine, but they still basically belong to ordinary religious life, like tithes and offerings, how one separates them, and so on. Right, it doesn’t belong specifically to times, but it does accompany a person through life: vows, oaths, honoring father and mother, Torah study, all kinds of things that accompany the religious person throughout life, but are not necessarily connected to particular times or festivals. And Even HaEzer is the laws of personal status: betrothal, divorce, whether one may marry, how one marries, how one divorces, and so on. So this is an innovative division that basically accompanies the world of Jewish law to this day. When today we speak about Orach Chayim, we don’t mean the Tur or the Shulchan Arukh at all—we mean a halakhic category. The halakhic category is Orach Chayim, or Choshen Mishpat, or something like that. So this division became deeply entrenched, and you have to know it as such, not just as a feature of two particular books. Okay? I’m looking here because that’s the screen. I said that beyond that—or maybe before that—these four parts can be divided into a super-category: adjudication, or the legal part of Jewish law, which is Choshen Mishpat and Even HaEzer. As we know, every legal system has monetary law, what is called civil law, and also personal status, which is Even HaEzer. And then there is Orach Chayim and Yoreh De’ah, which are personal law, meaning the law in the ordinary sense doesn’t deal with such things at all. There is no such category in the world of general law, but in the world of Jewish law it exists, and therefore this is a super-category. So basically one can attribute to the Tur and the Shulchan Arukh, in an even more fundamental way, this division between the legal part and the part—let’s call it the religious part, though I’m not sure exactly what to call it; the legal part is also religious—but let’s call it the religious part, which is unique to Jewish law and does not exist in other legal systems.

[Speaker C] Does legal law include criminal law too? I can’t hear. Is “law” also criminal law?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Choshen Mishpat includes criminal law too, yes. Okay. Criminal law is in Choshen Mishpat. Okay.

[Speaker C] What—

[Speaker D] What you mean by “legal” is something that basically arranges what they’re saying, basically organizes society, and the things that aren’t in the legal category but in Orach Chayim are things in the personal sphere? Right, yes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But notice one point—maybe I’ll go into a point that is a bit more professional, but I think many professionals also aren’t aware of it. When you ask people—ask someone, say, in a yeshiva, what is Choshen Mishpat? He’ll tell you: it’s monetary law, between one person and another, loans and contracts and damages and all kinds of things of that sort. Then I ask him: where do the laws of interest or the laws of charity appear? The laws of interest and charity are also laws—we talked about this a bit yesterday in POC—these are monetary laws between one person and another. I would expect that to appear in Choshen Mishpat, but it doesn’t; it appears in Yoreh De’ah. And the reason for that—and this illustrates very nicely the essence of the Tur’s new division—is that basically the division of monetary laws between one person and another is a topical division, and therefore from the standpoint of topical division it ought to have appeared in Choshen Mishpat. But here there is a division that is categorical, not topical. That is, for example, if I don’t give someone charity, he can’t take me to a religious court and sue me, right? Why not? I’m obligated to give charity, and it’s an obligation toward the other person, and I didn’t fulfill my obligation—why shouldn’t he sue me? Or take interest, right? We made a loan contract and agreed that I would pay ten percent interest. So I paid ten percent interest—can I now take him to a religious court and sue him, because he is forbidden to take interest from me? The answer is no, I can’t. That is why it appears in Yoreh De’ah and not in Choshen Mishpat. It’s not a legal charge. And the reason is that in Choshen Mishpat there appear obligations whose basis is another person’s right. What in the legal world is called Hohfeld’s table. That is, when you have a right against me, I have an obligation toward you. Those are two sides of the same coin. In Jewish law there are certain laws where that is so, and those are the laws that belong to the legal part of Jewish law. For example, a loan. You have a right to get repaid by me—if you lent me money, you have the right to get it back. I have an obligation to repay you. Now if I didn’t repay, then you have a right—you can take me to a religious court and demand that it protect your rights. But a poor person has no right to receive charity from me. I have an obligation to give him charity, but he does not have a right to receive charity from me, so he cannot take me to court and sue me. Also with someone who borrowed at interest: you agreed to pay interest. Fine, it’s forbidden—God will settle accounts with him. But you agreed to pay interest, so you are obligated to pay it. Meaning, that’s why you can’t sue him afterward and say, why did you take something, you violated my rights—because you had no right at all. It’s an obligation with no corresponding right. Hohfeld’s table breaks down here. And that exists only in the halakhic world, okay? Because only in the halakhic world are there laws of that category. And so the Tur introduced something much more fundamental here, much deeper than people usually think. The Tur introduced this issue of legal division. Meaning, this is not simply monetary law between one person and another—that’s a division by content, by what you see. No, that’s not the division, because by that logic charity and interest should have appeared here in Choshen Mishpat, and they don’t—they appear in Yoreh De’ah because they are not a legal matter, even though they involve financial relations between one person and another. Okay? So there is real depth in this division, and you can explain a huge number of things with it that people get tangled up in when trying to understand Jewish law. But we’ll leave that for another opportunity. In any case, kinds of works—we talked about kinds of works—that is basically the cross-sectional division. In every period, medieval authorities, later authorities, it doesn’t matter, in all these periods you have all the types of works. So there are responsa, there are law books, there are halakhic decisors, there are commentators—there is all of that among the medieval authorities and also all of that among the later authorities. These are simply genres, literary genres. Okay? So responsa are answers to a specific question. Law books are not written in answer to a specific question; rather they determine what the law is in all kinds of cases. They basically collect the—maybe even what was done in responsa or in the study halls—and from that they produce some kind of code or organized work that establishes the halakhic ruling. So for example there is a halakhic rule that says that if one sage prohibited, his colleague may not permit. Say I came to ask someone whether a certain chicken is non-kosher or not. The sage I asked tells me, yes, it’s non-kosher. Now another sage cannot come and say that it’s not non-kosher. But a sage can certainly come and disagree with the Shulchan Arukh or with another decisor and say: I don’t agree with him. What’s the difference? The difference is between responsa and a law book. Responsa are a halakhic ruling on a particular case. Once the law in that particular case has been determined, another decisor is forbidden to interfere. That is meant to regulate the relations between decisors and their authority, conflicting jurisdictions, okay? So that not everyone will go to one person, and if he doesn’t like the answer go to another decisor. That’s to regulate life. But obviously there is no prohibition at all against disagreeing with other views among decisors. If I think otherwise, that is the lifeblood of Jewish law—dispute. Okay? It’s just that law books really do not deal with a case; they deal with a type of case, meaning: in this type of case, this is the law. If I disagree, then I’ll say it’s wrong, I disagree. But regarding this specific chicken of this particular person who came and asked me—if someone told him it’s non-kosher, I can’t say it isn’t non-kosher. Okay? So that illustrates the difference between the genres. Okay? That is, responsa talk about a case. I can disagree with everything written in a responsum, but that won’t be relevant to the case already brought before me. The case that came before me is what determines it. I can say, I don’t agree with him—for the next case that comes, take into account that I disagree. Okay?

[Speaker F] Does that also apply in rabbinical courts, that if someone determines that a woman is an agunah then afterward it’s forbidden to come and appeal?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In principle yes. Here there is some hierarchy of the Great Rabbinical Court in Israel, and there was a major fight about that too.

[Speaker F] Because it sounds—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In Jewish law there is no hierarchy. Yes, exactly. Right, supposedly you really can’t interfere any further. Now, the more complicated mechanism—we’ll talk about that later—we spoke a bit today about the softness of the organizing rules in Jewish law. I’ll get to that in a moment. Okay, in terms of division into genres, we touched on, say, commentators, who accompany the text—for example around the Talmud. There are also commentators on Maimonides and on the Shulchan Arukh, but commentators on the Talmud. There are halakhic decisors, who also accompany the Talmud, but they do not interpret the flow, or at least the emphasis is not on interpreting the flow but on the bottom line—and we’ll soon get to the fact that in the Talmud there is no bottom line. There are law books—that’s a distinction that became clearer to me specifically here within Theologic, that it is important to make this distinction. Law books are—law books are the Shulchan Arukh and the Tur, because they are not located around the Talmudic texts at all. They are arranged by topics or by categorical divisions, and the connection between them and the Talmud is something not explicit anywhere. People worked on it, but it isn’t explicit in the text; they do not write from which Talmudic source they took their ruling.

[Speaker D] So what was the previous thing you mentioned, sorry? Halakhic decisors?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] For example the Rif and the Rosh—they go through the order of the Talmudic tractates, so it’s completely clear which passage they’re referring to. They just don’t interpret the flow of the Talmud; they write the bottom line—what the halakhic ruling is. But they follow the order of the Talmud. Maimonides does not. Maimonides is arranged according to a topical order, and the Tur and the Shulchan Arukh according to a categorical order, unrelated to the flow of the Talmud.

[Speaker D] No, but where would you classify Maimonides?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Law books. Yes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And therefore this is—that’s an issue in itself: how to connect law books to the Talmudic source on which they are based. And a lot of the criticism of Maimonides was about the fact that he did not expose the Talmudic sources on which he built his rulings. We’ll get to that in a moment. Okay, so that’s more or less it. And there are responsa, as I said before—yes, answers to specific questions—but those answers can be packed with analytic and halakhic material and discussions of passages, and it can be very, very helpful to know what responsa say about Talmudic passages, because within the halakhic give-and-take there is a great deal of conceptual and analytic material on those passages, depending on which responsa of course. So it’s important, a bit like what we’re doing, trying to find the responsa, to create an index that also includes responsa around a Talmudic passage.

[Speaker G] Similar to Maimonides, yes, references—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, a responsum usually, when it brings a Talmudic passage, says which passage it is referring to, yes.

[Speaker G] And there are books that link, that connect Maimonides to the Talmud—it’s a bit different.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. On the Talmud itself, in the standard editions, it’s called Ein Mishpat Ner Mitzvah, and there it notes, on each section of the Talmud, where it appears in Maimonides, in the Tur, in the Shulchan Arukh, and in BaHaG, Ba’al Halakhot Gedolot, which is a law book from the Geonic period. Okay, so yes, that work has already been done—but someone had to do that work, meaning they are not on the page itself. Okay.

[Speaker A] Now, all the books and so on—is there a division between books that are canonical and central and so on, and things that are additional, or things that are considered, or is that in—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There is such a division, although it’s not very formal. But yes, look: ask anyone you like—the Tur, the Shulchan Arukh, and Maimonides are central canonical books. You can’t issue a halakhic ruling without them. Nowhere is it written formally that this is how it has to be, but it’s a first principle, a basic working assumption in the halakhic world.

[Speaker E] Disputes between different streams, between—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There are, for example, Yemenites, who tend to follow Maimonides more. They also had less connection to the non-Yemenite branch—not specifically Ashkenazi, because the author of the Shulchan Arukh wasn’t Ashkenazi—but it was a somewhat separate world, and they got used to going with Maimonides. I don’t know whether all Yemenites, but at least a large part of them. So there are some differences. But broadly speaking, the halakhic world—including, it seems to me, Yemenites today, or many of them—basically the Tur, the Shulchan Arukh, the Beit Yosef, which is the work by the author of the Shulchan Arukh around the Tur, and Maimonides—these are the foundational halakhic cornerstones, and the halakhic decisors are often basically commentators on these books. The commentators on these books are often the decisors. So reaching Maimonides or the Tur or the Shulchan Arukh already brings us close to what matters for us. Reaching the relevant Tur, Maimonides, or Shulchan Arukh out of a Talmudic passage is a package deal. If you got there, it drags along many, many more decisors, because all of them interpret that law in Maimonides, so you’ve basically reached them too. So the key is to reach the canonical law book; around it almost everything revolves. Okay? Okay, now I want to move on. Up to here this is more or less a summary with a few comments on what we discussed. Maybe Stav has a question? What?

[Speaker H] Yes, I have a question. Last week we talked about those canonical texts that I think aren’t written on the—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Wait, wait, we can hear you very weakly. Just one second, we’ll turn it up. Yes, Stav, go ahead.

[Speaker H] Can you hear me? Better?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Still weak.

[Speaker H] It’s not working? Sometimes in the Zoom settings or—

[Speaker I] On the TV, in the computer settings, is there something?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll check. In the meantime, let’s listen to her. Okay, Stav, try for a moment in a loud voice if you can; we’ll try to hear.

[Speaker H] Okay, last week we talked about canonical texts and didn’t mention the Shulchan Arukh and Maimonides in those texts; we talked about them in the context of composition. Can you hear me? No, you can’t hear.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So it’s not working.

[Speaker F] Maybe—

[Speaker I] Is it something on Stav’s end?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, this is the second time.

[Speaker I] In a second you’ll hear—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Oh, now—seems to me it got fixed.

[Speaker H] Stav, try? It’s fixed, can you hear? Okay, now it’s fine. Okay, last week we talked about the division between canonical texts and texts that are what we called composition, and we didn’t put the Shulchan Arukh and the Tur and so on into the canonical texts. Right. So now maybe you’re actually giving a new definition: that a canonical text is a text that has commentators of its own.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So in that respect, clearly they are also canonical, and therefore in the previous meeting we had, I really did see them as canonical in that sense, that they have commentators around them. A canonical text in the sense that what is written there is binding—I think that is mainly the Talmuds and the Mishnah, and less so even the Shulchan Arukh, though it is the closest to that. Even there, its commentators disagree with it and do not always follow it. So it’s a borderline case. In a moment I’ll talk a bit about the flexibility required when approaching definitions in this area. Jewish law really does not like rigid things. So let me say a word about the question of authority and canonization. First of all, the question of authority. There are two kinds of authority in Jewish law—more generally too, not only in Jewish law, conceptually. There is substantive authority and formal authority. Formal authority is authority given to an institution, a person, a work, simply by virtue of its being what it is. For example, the Knesset has authority because it is the Knesset; that is, in our system it is the institution that determines the law. That is formal authority. Now that does not mean the members of Knesset are the greatest sages who are always right; I assume we can agree on that. And still they have formal authority. Substantive authority is, for example, the authority of an expert. I go to a doctor, to a physicist, to a mathematician, I don’t know exactly what—then I trust what he says because he is an expert in that field. I am not obligated to obey him; it’s not a formal matter. But it makes sense to listen to him because he is probably right—in other words, he is an expert. That is what I’ll call substantive authority. The terms are mine, but they are important for our purposes, so I’m defining them here: substantive authority and formal authority. Now, in the Torah itself there are verses that speak of the formal authority of sages: “Do not deviate from all that they instruct you,” and the like. That authority, according to some commentators and halakhic decisors, is given only to the Sanhedrin. Only the Sanhedrin has formal authority. Anyone who is not the Sanhedrin has, at most, substantive authority. What does substantive authority mean? Suppose there is a sage today, a great halakhic decisor today—he is not a member of the Sanhedrin, so I am not obligated to obey him. But since he is an expert, it is reasonable that he is right, right? Like an expert in any other professional field. So it makes sense to listen to him, but one is not obligated to. That is substantive authority, not formal authority. The only exception is the Talmud. The Talmud does not have formal authority because by that period there were no more ordained sages, certainly not in Babylonia; in the Land of Israel there was still some form of ordained sages. Ordained sages means sages with authority, where the ordination process began with Moses our teacher, and an ordained sage ordains another ordained sage. And therefore one who is not ordained has no authority to judge, in principle. That is why today, for example, there are no ordained sages anymore. Ordination ceased in the early centuries of the Common Era. There are no ordained sages today, and what people today call ordination is just—it’s not really the original ordination, it’s like an imitative ceremony or something like that. But the Talmud was accepted by all the sages of Israel as binding, and therefore even though they were not ordained and there was no Sanhedrin, from the standpoint of halakhic treatment the Talmud too has formal authority. You can argue from here until forever why, and there are theories and this and that, but you just need to know as a fact that this is the situation. That is, the Talmud has formal authority even though there were no ordained sages there and it was not a Sanhedrin. Nobody disagrees with the Talmud—there is no such creature as disagreeing with the Talmud. One can interpret it this way or that way, one can find disputes within the Talmud itself and rely on one opinion or another, but there is no such thing as disagreeing with the Talmud within the halakhic world. That is formal authority.

[Speaker F] Even to the point of factual claims, like lice.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s already my personal position; I’m not getting into the nuances there. Oren already knows all my shticks.

[Speaker F] You said that in the Talmud they don’t actually issue Jewish law rulings. I’ll get to that in just a moment. So then it’s only in some sense, basically.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It has only formal authority, it just doesn’t make use of it. So that’s regarding the question of formal authority versus substantive authority. From the Talmud onward, in principle there is no formal authority. None. Including the Shulchan Arukh, which is maybe the closest candidate for this crown of formal authority—there is no formal authority to the Shulchan Arukh. There are people who disagree with it here and there. Even though it has very significant halakhic weight, that’s why it’s the closest thing to an authoritative text after the Talmud. The Rosh already writes this in a responsum, and the Shulchan Arukh itself cites that responsum of the Rosh in Choshen Mishpat, siman 25. Ask people on the street and they’ll tell you—they don’t know the difference between formal and substantive authority—there’s authority to all the medieval authorities (Rishonim), for example. With the later authorities (Acharonim), authority declines. You don’t disagree with medieval authorities (Rishonim), that’s the accepted view. But that doesn’t stand the test of reality; people do disagree with medieval authorities (Rishonim). Meaning, it’s a kind of declaration which, in my translation, means that the literature of the medieval authorities (Rishonim)—at least the central ones—has very important weight. Obviously. But that’s a question of weight. Meaning, it’s not mandatory authority. Meaning, it’s not something where if one of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) said something, or even if all the medieval authorities (Rishonim) agree, even there someone can come and say: I disagree. It almost never happens, but in principle it exists. There is no formal authority after the Talmud. After the Talmud, everything is substantive authority. And again, substantive authority means the person is an expert. If he says something, he probably knows. So you should listen to him—but not because they’ll come with claims against me in the heavenly court, let’s say, if I made a mistake and didn’t listen to some sage. So they can’t come to me with claims because it says, “Do not deviate”—what do you mean, you have to listen to him. No, claims like that won’t exist after the Talmud. What will exist? You were irresponsible. The expert told you this was forbidden, and you didn’t act accordingly. That’s irresponsible behavior; for that they can come to you with claims. But the clause under which they would accuse me of violating “Do not deviate,” because I didn’t recognize someone’s authority—that doesn’t exist after the Talmud. Okay? I’m not pretending to say what happens in the heavenly court, this is just for illustration. All right? So that’s regarding the question of authority.

[Speaker G] Now what happens is, I have another question. Yes. Does that mean that everything that didn’t exist in the past, then in practice there isn’t some…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Questions of electricity, for example, or something like that.

[Speaker G] Yes. Does that mean that in practice all the Jewish laws are not… that they have no support from an authorized expert?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, there is… you can… they deal with them through interpretation. Let’s say I say that turning on electricity is like kindling on the Sabbath, or like building on the Sabbath—those are labors that already appear in the Talmud itself. But the connection—that electricity is this labor or that labor, what the sages referred to there—that can be debated. Meaning, the connection. You can’t debate what appears in the Talmud. But is there no criterion for creating connections?

[Speaker G] After all, there’s no authorized expert who can do that.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly, there’s no authorized expert who can do that. Aren’t there substantive authorities today?

[Speaker G] For making connections, not for electricity—electricity, no. Is there an authorized expert who came and said, if in the future there will be all kinds of actions—but there are no authorized experts today. Ah, the authorized experts back then—did anyone give them, so to speak, tools?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No.

[Speaker D] I want to understand a nuance here. Take the Shulchan Arukh, okay? It doesn’t claim, I assume, that it has authority, right? So basically it comes and says: I come and draw from the… not draw from it—I come and give some kind of… I take the Talmud and say, this is my opinion, this is how it ruled. That’s basically what it says when it goes to the Shulchan Arukh. But it would be desirable for me to accept its opinion—yet there’s no obligation saying I can’t in any way disagree, that I agree with it that this is what the Talmud said.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. And you can say: in my view the Talmud said something else. You can’t say: you’re right that this is what the Talmud said, and I disagree. Because the Talmud has formal authority. Right? But you can say: I disagree with your interpretation of the Talmud; I learn it differently. Okay? And there too, again, if he’s a great Torah scholar, then it’s worth giving weight to what he says because he understands the issue, he’s an expert. But that’s substantive authority, not formal authority. Meaning, you’re not obligated. Like with a doctor—you don’t have to take the medicine he prescribes for you. It’s just sensible to take it because he understands it and you don’t. Okay? And no one will sue you for not listening to a doctor. You don’t have to listen to a doctor. He has no authority. It’s like a law professor versus a judge. Not listening to a judge—that’s formal authority, they’ll sue you for that. But a law professor, who may understand law better than the judge—you don’t have to listen to him because he has no formal authority; it only makes sense to listen to him because he’s an expert, he understands it. Okay? So that’s regarding the types of authority. Still, throughout history there were—well, not still, maybe precisely because of this—processes of what’s called codification and canonization. So it starts with canonization, say, the six orders of the Mishnah—that’s the first writing down by Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, who edited the Mishnah. Basically, the Oral Torah was transmitted orally. It was forbidden to write it down. All right? For all kinds of reasons, but it was forbidden to write it down. At a certain stage Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi reached the conclusion that it had to be written down, otherwise we’d lose the whole thing, and he ruled against the existing Jewish law, “It is a time to act for the Lord; they have voided Your Torah,” as the Mishnah says—he ruled that the Mishnah had to be written down. And he documented the disputes that existed up to his time and different opinions and so on. The Mishnah contains disputes on all sorts of topics. You’ll hardly find there actual Jewish law rulings—who the Jewish law follows—but there are indications. For example, there are opinions that appear as the opinion of the majority, or without the name of a specific sage; usually the assumption is that Jewish law follows those. And if there’s an opinion that appears as that of a specific sage, that’s a minority opinion. It appears there, but we know the Jewish law does not follow it. But these are rules that accompany the Mishnah. In the Mishnah itself there are almost no halakhic decisions, hardly any. Okay? Now that’s the Mishnah. After that came the Talmud. And again, there were study halls that dealt with things orally, discussing and debating the Mishnah, the Torah, and so on. At a certain point the sages came and decided to write down the Talmuds as well. The Jerusalem Talmud—Rabbi Yochanan; the Babylonian Talmud—Rav Ashi and Ravina, and after them a few more centuries of consolidation, and it became a canonical text. Okay? Not a code, by the way—a canonical text. In a moment I’ll explain the difference. It’s a canonical text, meaning it’s binding, it’s closed, nothing is added to it and nothing taken away from it. Okay? After that, the next canonical texts, you could say, are Maimonides. And again, not authority in the sense that everyone must listen to him, but it is a closed text to which nothing is added, and it covers all areas of Jewish law. I’ll return to that point in a moment. The Tur and the Shulchan Arukh as well can be said to be works of this type. These are more or less texts that underwent canonization—they receive public recognition as central texts with important weight, some of them binding. Truly binding, like the Talmud, and some with very, very important weight—it’s almost unheard of to issue Jewish law against the Shulchan Arukh. It’s very rare. That’s regarding canonization. Regarding codification—meaning, that’s not the same thing. Codification is taking this canonical text and turning it into a code. A code is supposed to be organized, classified by topics—something that doesn’t exist in the Talmud; even in the Mishnah it doesn’t really exist. In Maimonides it already does, and in the Tur and Shulchan Arukh you could also say it does, although in the Tur and Shulchan Arukh several opinions appear. In a code it’s less common to include several opinions; a code has to decide. The only complete code in the history of Jewish law is Maimonides. Notice this—people aren’t aware of it—only Maimonides. And you have to understand what kind of work this man did; it was simply absolutely inconceivable. Anyone familiar with acts of canonization and codification done in modern legal systems—think of the codification of civil law that was done here. Dozens of experts sat on it for I don’t know how many years, and in the end they finished some portion, and even then they didn’t really finish sorting it all out. Maimonides took all the sources before him, up to his time—everything. The Talmuds, halakhic midrashim, everything. He filtered them, determined the bottom line, classified them by topics—all the things that committees of dozens of people do over generations. In Turkey and Egypt there were two very, very famous codifiers—I don’t remember their names anymore—who did work that to this day people speak about with admiration regarding Turkish law and Egyptian law, and Maimonides did that work alone, while also being a philosopher and the sultan’s doctor and answering questions. It’s simply inconceivable. And the way he did it was very reflective, very systematic. He details all the stages of how he arrived at this thing, because it’s very far from simple—how to classify, how to make sure you didn’t miss anything. He is the only one who covers all fields of Jewish law and closes with bottom lines. Again—not completely binding—but he created the only complete code. The Tur and the Shulchan Arukh deal only with laws practiced in the present time, and they already rely on Maimonides; they didn’t do the work alone. Maimonides did work that you just can’t understand how he did. Really, the man had unimaginable talents.

[Speaker G] And what he basically did—he created a module, built a kind of taxonomy, basically divided the…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly, and he explains how he did it.

[Speaker G] And then by principle, he extracted it. He presented a modular principle, created classification and a module.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He does exactly what you’re saying.

[Speaker G] And in the end he also gives bottom lines. What’s the bottom line?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Jewish laws—he established all the Jewish laws, he closed all the topics, he made decisions everywhere, he explained what the Jewish law is, and that’s it.

[Speaker G] Meaning that his module, in the end orally, got to what—to the topics?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not to the topics; he uses the topics. Halakhic rulings: is it permitted to trap flies on the Sabbath or is it forbidden to trap flies on the Sabbath? That comes out of Talmudic passages and halakhic midrashim and everything else. In the end he arrived at bottom lines, practical directives. In principle he covers all practical directives.

[Speaker G] In all…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fields—everything you can find in halakhic material. Of course, it may be that he doesn’t deal with electricity because he didn’t know what electricity was. So we can take things Maimonides said and try to apply them to the question of electricity, and of course that’s a matter of interpretation. But everything that existed up to his time in his reality—everything. It’s just inconceivable; you have to understand that it’s inconceivable.

[Speaker F] Wait, Rabbi, maybe say one more word about what the Shulchan Arukh and the Tur decided not to…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The Shulchan Arukh and the Tur deal only with laws that apply in the present time. Meaning: there’s no ritual impurity and purity there, no sacrifices, no laws of the holiness of the Temple, Temple and consecrated things. There are agricultural laws there, but not in very great detail—though yes, there are agricultural laws in Yoreh De’ah. Meaning, laws that apply in the present time.

[Speaker F] How do they formulate that—“laws that apply in the present time”? Is that the wording?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The fact that those areas don’t appear there—and that’s how it is—only this appears there. By the way, the Rif and the Rosh also issue Jewish law only for laws that apply in the present time. Meaning, Maimonides couldn’t even use the halakhic books that existed before him, because they didn’t do the work on laws that do not apply in the present time. That work he did from scratch. He could use the Rif—he knew the Rif—but only for the laws the Rif ruled on, which are laws that apply in the present time. Therefore Maimonides is the only code that encompasses all of Jewish law. The only competitor he has is the Shulchan Arukh completed by Future Shulchan Arukh—Arukh HaShulchan, sorry—and Future Shulchan Arukh; together maybe you could see that as some kind of code, but of course it also uses Maimonides. But that’s it; it’s the only halakhic code, and that is in fact its main importance. Meaning, Maimonides’ status derives not only from his greatness; it was also created and derived from the fact that he simply covered everything. So if you want to know something, the most natural thing is to go to Maimonides. Who else will you go to? Maybe someone else never dealt with it; with Maimonides you can also be sure. Why do people always raise difficulties on Maimonides and resolve Maimonides and so on? Because since Maimonides spoke about everything, you can see in him whether he’s consistent or not, because he spoke both here and there. Various other halakhic decisors or commentators maybe spoke here but didn’t speak there, so you don’t know whether they’re consistent or not. Maimonides is committed to consistency. And Maimonides formulated everything in clear Hebrew, unambiguous, precise in his language. One of the rules in Jewish law is that in Maimonides you can infer precisely from the wording. Unlike almost all the other commentators, where someone who infers from the wording is usually just being hair-splitting.

[Speaker F] What about Rashi, the Rosh, the Rif—there you don’t infer from the wording?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no. You’re not supposed to infer from the wording. What do you mean, not infer? You have to understand what they said. But to infer from the phrasing—why he chose this formulation and not another—in Maimonides, yes. In Maimonides they also infer from where the Jewish law is placed. Many times that says a lot about how he understood that law, because he thought through where everything is located, how it’s formulated. You just have to understand—it’s inconceivable.

[Speaker G] Did he also talk about all this? Did he explain how he does what he does? The methodology?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Broadly speaking, yes. Yes. And he explained the rules that guided him.

[Speaker G] If we find this LLM and ask it to do Rambamist work, can we get insights here?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Interesting. Interesting.

[Speaker G] The question is whether…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Whether it’s too open-ended. It would be very interesting to see what an LLM would do with this. I’d die to see it. What an LLM would do with this.

[Speaker A] Where does he write this?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In several places. He has the roots, which are in the introduction. After that he built roots—those are the rules for counting the commandments. He had to count the commandments. Why? Because the 613 commandments basically cover all the branches of Jewish law; everything else is just elaboration. The problem is that the 613 commandments are not written anywhere. They’re in the Torah, but how do you know—with interpretations and everything? So he had to establish rules—go back and establish rules for how you decide what is a commandment and how you divide the commandments. That’s called the roots. From those roots—and there he argued with various counters of commandments who came before him—from there he built Sefer HaMitzvot. Sefer HaMitzvot is the skeleton of the Mishneh Torah, because if you have the 613 commandments, you know you’ve covered all of Jewish law. So now you divide it, create a taxonomy of the commandments into fourteen books, and each one into several clusters of Jewish laws. Into each of them you place some of the commandments from the 613, you make sure nothing remains in the chamber, and that all of them are allocated, and then you know you’ve covered everything. And now all that remains is to gather all the material up to your time and place it literally inside the knowledge graph, inside that model, that ontology. Yes—to place everything there. When you said it earlier, suddenly a light went on for me—that this is really very similar work. Was Maimonides a human being, or was he some ancient LLM model?

[Speaker G] He was Yemeni. That’s offensive. So that’s you.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, he was Yemeni. The Yemenites follow him. Once he was a code. Yes. Anyway, those are the praises of Maimonides.

[Speaker H] I have a small question, if I may. When you say—when we talk, say, about Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi and he edits the Mishnah—there are things he leaves out of the Mishnah, right? Okay. When Maimonides takes that and makes his code, are there also things he doesn’t address—say, by virtue of not being in the Mishnah—or does he also deal with a baraita and…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He deals with everything, but he decides who is right. Meaning, he leaves out opinions that in his view are not Jewish law in practice. But in principle he deals with everything. He is the only halakhic decisor who talks about halakhic midrashim, Jerusalem Talmud, Babylonian Talmud—everything. You can’t even begin to talk about what happened there. What is this—you just can’t understand it. Really, it’s a project that simply—well, I’ve said that enough times already. So that’s the process of canonization. You need to understand that both the Shulchan Arukh and Maimonides took a lot of flak for what they did from other sages. And why? Because there’s something very anarchic in the genetic makeup of Jewish law. Jewish law did not, for good reason, produce codes. It doesn’t like codes. We live in a world of disputes and arguments—I think this, you think that. Don’t close it off for me. Who are you to close it off for me? Are you Moses our teacher? Are you the Holy One, blessed be He? Who are you to close Jewish law for me like that? Who appointed you? Tell me your opinion. But to tell me your opinion, you can’t write me a book like Maimonides that says: it is forbidden to trap flies on the Sabbath. You need to tell me: the Talmud says this, I interpret it this way, others interpret it differently; it seems to me this way for such-and-such reason. Maimonides didn’t say that; he wrote the Jewish law rulings. So what do you mean—you’re not bringing a reasoned position here. And as an unreasoned position, it’s worth nothing. And as for issuing Jewish law—nobody appointed you. You’re not the Holy One, blessed be He, to determine for us who is right and who is not. And therefore there was a controversy—these are called the controversies of canonization and codification—in Menachem Elon’s book called Hebrew Law, he has three very thick volumes, where he describes the codification controversies around the Shulchan Arukh and around Maimonides exactly on this point.

[Speaker G] But they don’t disagree with the ontology. There’s criticism, yes, of what he did…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Beyond that, right, and everyone is also full of appreciation. Meaning—but division, but dispute. But there was an extremely fierce dispute over this. Meaning, they didn’t let him off the hook over it. There’s something—and this is very important to understand—something in the halakhic structure is very anarchic; it very much resists the imposition of rigid templates. And there’s something awesome about that, and we need to understand it very, very well—including a bit in relation to ourselves, some of what we talked about today. We need to understand it very well, because when people ask, wait a second, so what does Jewish law say? There’s no such thing as “what does Jewish law say.” Let’s clarify the topic; I come out with this reasoning, I come out with that reasoning. You have to decide. Someone else, another branch, will decide differently. There is no “what does Jewish law say.” Even if it’s written in the Shulchan Arukh or in Maimonides—still no.

[Speaker G] Some will say: whatever you feel like.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? Yes, exactly. So I’m saying: from the outside, it often looks as if you do whatever you want. I think that someone who understands it from the inside understands that this is not true. It’s not whatever you want, but it is a softer system of thought; it’s not deductive. But there is still right and wrong within that system. Meaning, you need to understand this. A lot of times, for example, in relation to critics of the legal system—I once had a lightbulb moment at a conference at the Van Leer Institute. There were lawyers there against rabbis, around Aharon Barak—it was in the Aharon Barak period, there were tremendous quarrels, all the rabbis were furious with Aharon Barak—and Van Tyr was sitting there, the last dinosaur positivist, and he sat there defending: what are you talking about, this is all purely professional work, it has nothing whatsoever to do with worldviews or anything. And they looked at him as if he’d fallen from the moon. Now I said to myself: look, he’s not an idiot—I don’t know, I assume not, I don’t know him—but he’s probably not an idiot. And no, Van Tyr is from Bar-Ilan, sorry, that one who was a Supreme Court justice from Hebrew University—what was his name? Religious.

[Speaker D] Cheshin? Nachum? No, no, no. Englard? No, you just said Nachum.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, no, Shalom… never mind, someone else, it’s not important, I forgot his name, and his name. So he was a Supreme Court justice and he was speaking from inside the system. And I said: apparently we, who look at the legal system from the outside, react to it the way I feel people react to the halakhic system, when I’m on the inside and others come from the outside. And they tell you: you do whatever you want, you do what suits you. Because the fact is, he’s Zionist so he rules this way, he’s Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) so he rules that way. We can see that you’re basically biased by worldviews and all kinds of things like that. Now someone who lives the halakhic discourse from the inside understands that this isn’t true. There are such correlations, but there are discussions, and you can bring proofs, and you can persuade, and you can agree and disagree, and not all of us are always perfectly straight—fine, we’re all human beings—but there is right and wrong. Meaning, it’s a softer framework; it’s not deduction, but there is right and wrong. Meaning, there is a way to conduct Talmudic discourse, and that’s a very important point, because here I come to the point we discussed today. The Talmud is a very unusual canonical text. I don’t know if there is another text like it at all—I don’t know one, though maybe there is. It’s a text built out of passages, passages in each of which there are all kinds of discussions from here and there, a little associative, proofs this way, proofs that way, answers, objections, refutations, all kinds of things like that, without a bottom line. In almost no passage—almost no passage ends with a Jewish law ruling. Sometimes there is “and the Jewish law is such-and-such,” and sometimes there is “refutation,” and afterward “and the Jewish law is such-and-such”—a complete mess.

[Speaker D] And that’s really what bothered them—not only the fact that suddenly someone comes and says now in any case I won’t need to come and decide ad hoc with some kind of flexibility and I’ll just have the law—but also something about the Jewish way of life itself, okay, which basically said: I need to go to yeshiva and argue and engage in pilpul and not really arrive at a bottom line. And now suddenly someone gives me a bottom line. The fact is, this system survived despite Maimonides. Not despite—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ah, despite Maimonides.

[Speaker D] Despite the fact that suddenly someone came with bottom lines and did codification, but…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Here I’m coming exactly to that… I’m coming to that right now. Meaning, the claim…

[Speaker G] But again, if there are no bottom lines, there’s a strong statement here. The text comes and says my goal is not to give bottom lines, but rather to expose a worldview. A worldview that looks at situations with complexity, and through the process of discussion I expose for you some kind of value-based course. Meaning, we intentionally don’t mark bottom lines because that misses the point.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s already interpretation, but I completely agree with that interpretation. Meaning, the fact is that the text is open. It doesn’t end with bottom lines. Why is that so? So I completely agree. The claim, basically, is that the Talmud never came to play a role like Maimonides and the Shulchan Arukh. On the contrary—that was the criticism of Maimonides and the Shulchan Arukh. Why are you deviating from the path of the Talmud and closing things with bottom lines? The Talmud wants to teach us how to discuss, how to analyze things, how to look at them from different angles, and in the end you’ll reach your own decisions. That’s not my business. As long as you did it with Talmudic methodology. Meaning, the Talmud dictates a methodology. Now there’s something here that in my opinion is genius. Genius, and I don’t know to attribute it to anyone specific, but there’s a collective intelligence here. Because if they had closed the canonical Talmud like the Shulchan Arukh or Maimonides, it would have blown up. You can’t close bottom lines when the Jewish people are scattered all over the world, every ten Jews in some fishing village are influenced by different circumstances, and this one knows how to read, that one knows how to write, each one interprets differently, thinks differently, lives in a different culture. If there had been rigid bottom lines, it would have exploded; it couldn’t have held together. Now, if they hadn’t done canonization at all—that’s the second option—they wouldn’t do canonization at all, everyone… it would spread as it spread… develop as it developed—we wouldn’t be here today. We wouldn’t be here today because basically a hundred thousand Judaisms would have developed with no connection between them. Now what they decided to do in the process—again, history decided, I don’t know who decided, but in the end it happened, and it’s a kind of collective intelligence—they decided to establish a binding canonical text that doesn’t say anything. Meaning, it doesn’t not say anything, but it gives methodology, gives a framework for discussion without giving bottom lines. Now what happened as a result of that—only because of that are we here today, in my opinion. If that hadn’t happened, if they had chosen one of the other two options, we wouldn’t be here.

[Speaker G] So there, you answered my question. I asked whether, if we want to build agentic systems, where in the end every agent is an intelligence that at the next stage is supposed to serve me in some kind of cooperation, then the solution is not to give them bottom lines. It’s to give them some sort of methodology of discussion, to give them a methodology of discussion that presents and exposes… and is exposed to a value-world through argumentation and simulation, and then in that way they can themselves reach decisions.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Through…

[Speaker G] Through the fact that they basically have all kinds of…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] As for agents, it would be an interesting experiment to do this. But in practice that’s what happened in the Jewish world, I think.

[Speaker G] Rules like “you may not disagree with…” —you’d have to build some kind of…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But you know—“you may not,” but sometimes they do disagree.

[Speaker G] There’s something significant here, because even “you shall not murder”—nothing here is well defined. So okay, murder—now define what murder is. And it’s like “an eye for an eye.” You’re going to waste tons of electricity on this… really, absolutely.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But there’s something here—look, today it has become clear that great sages who lived in completely different cultures, in completely different periods, speak with each other as if they’re sitting around one table. Now, they don’t think the same way. Culture influences, circumstances influence, society influences, everything influences, history influences—and they speak as if they’re sitting around one table. This one disagrees with that one, and that one agrees with the other, and of course there are always connections among them too. Why? Because all of them are inside the methodological framework of the Talmud. What each one does with it and how he interprets it—each one something else. But they managed to create a system in which what connects everyone is not principles of bottom lines at all, but a methodology of deliberation. Within that methodology each one thinks as he thinks, and we continue to argue, to conduct discussion, to kill one another—kill in the metaphorical sense—within that framework. And that kept Judaism alive as one organism only because the framework that organized it was a soft framework, without bottom lines—a framework that dealt with the methodology of discussion and not with what one must do.

[Speaker F] How many times have you already said “methodology”? Is “methodology” a word you stand behind all the way? Is it the most precise word to characterize the Talmud?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I think so, but the question is what you mean by methodology. If you mean by methodology a set of rules that are formulated and well defined, then no.

[Speaker F] Then what would you call it?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We’re talking about a general mode of thought. I can try to propose rules to you, and there too we’ll have disagreements—what are the rules that describe this methodology. But the fact is that it conveys some kind of genre of arguments, clarifications, deliberations, in some sense that I don’t know how to formulate as a well-defined set of rules.

[Speaker G] A methodology of…

[Speaker J] Big data. But the distinction you once made between casuistry and positivism—yes—that in the Talmud they don’t go with an approach of giving rigid rules, but of giving examples, and you learn from the examples how to apply it to your own tools. So that’s a bit reminiscent of AI in the sense that you don’t, say, teach AI what the rule is for distinguishing between a dog and a cat; you show it lots of pictures of dogs, lots of pictures of cats, and it’ll rack its brain figuring out how to distinguish between a dog and a cat.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. Meaning, the Talmudic structure—and I’ve written about this more than once—is very, very similar to the way we teach an artificial intelligence system. Very similar. You don’t give it rules at all; you give it cases. And that’s what’s called casuistry in legal theory, as opposed to positivism which works—yes, German law, the Bundeslaw—it goes from top to bottom: there are rules, and from them you derive cases by deduction. In common law, yes, British law, you go from cases and make analogies to other cases. They’ve already converged toward each other somewhat, but broadly speaking those are the two poles, and the Talmud leans very strongly toward the British model. Very strongly. Meaning, we begin with cases, make analogies between them, and the rules always appear among later commentators. They try to generate rules that describe the cases appearing in the Talmud. In the Talmud itself there are few rules—few rules. There are some, but very few.

[Speaker F] Do you think that given this particular set of cases, several Talmuds could have emerged?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In principle, yes. Yes. And still, you see—think about an AI system. You give it a thousand examples, okay, say supervised learning, right? You give it an example and tell it what’s right and what’s not right. In principle there are infinitely many ways to generalize that, right, when you give it a thousand examples. But the fact is that it does converge…

[Speaker F] Converge.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] To the right answer, with one degree of reliability or another. The same thing happens here. But in principle it could have generalized it in many ways. But the fact that… and therefore indeed there are different sages and different learning cultures and so on—but it does converge in some way, at least in the sense that we can talk to one another. Meaning, we haven’t lost contact with the mothership. Okay? In that sense, I think this too is, to my mind, a fascinating phenomenon. I don’t think it has another example, though I don’t know. It would be interesting, interesting to examine that.

[Speaker G] You said there are only a few cases. Often the exception comes to teach us something. So is there a characteristic of the places where the Talmud does come and state things clearly, as a bottom line?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I can’t say. I haven’t thought about it. Interesting question. I can, however, bring examples showing that when the Talmud as a whole refers to rules, it sounds strange even to the sages of the Talmud themselves. Meaning, the Gemara says—brings the four primary categories. The Mishnah says at the beginning of Bava Kamma: “There are four primary categories of damages: the ox, the pit, the grazer, and the fire.” Okay? And then the Gemara says: “And what is common to them is that their way is to cause damage, and their safeguarding is upon you,” and so on—it gives the rule. Okay? Then on page 6 the Gemara asks a question that we’re all used to, but when you look at it—it asks: “What does this general rule come to include?” Meaning, why did you bring me the rule? Once you’ve really already given me the rule, say thank you—ask why they brought the cases, the examples, because they already gave you the rule; the examples are just particular cases. No. The Talmud, when given the particular cases and the rule, asks why the rule is needed—not why the particular cases are needed. Because the casuistry is so deeply built in, that the Gemara says in Kiddushin: “One does not learn from general rules”—general rules in the plural—“even in a place where an exception was stated.” Meaning, think of a rule that says: every positive commandment dependent on time—women are exempt. Let’s say there were such a rule. There is such a rule. Okay. Now you say: yes, but there’s one commandment where we found that they are obligated. Fine, so they said more or less the rule, but there are also exceptions. But if they formulate the rule like this: every positive commandment dependent on time—women are exempt, except for A, B, C, and D. Now I say: wait, but there’s also E. That’s already strange, right? They already brought the exceptions, so you’d expect that here the formulation really is exhaustive. But no—what’s the big deal? “One does not learn from general rules even in a place where an exception was stated”—even when they bring the exceptions. So there are more exceptions—why are you making such a big issue out of everything? So I think whoever wrote that was joking. And that seems pretty clear to me. But what does it teach us nevertheless? It says: be careful with rules. The Talmud doesn’t like rules. There are rules there, but it doesn’t like rules, and these rules are always broken, and then they invent some sub-rule and all kinds of things like that. The Talmud doesn’t like rules.

[Speaker D] Something here admittedly confuses me a bit. Okay. When we talked about Maimonides, you described him as a code, right? Now at least in my imagination I picture this as working with bottom lines—even if it doesn’t formally connect them—working on the basis of bottom lines of what he basically said from the Talmud itself.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There are no bottom lines in the Talmud itself.

[Speaker D] No, but he inferred from it—he says this is the… this is how they decided. So in a certain sense, although it’s a code, right, if he goes by the Talmud’s bottom lines, then it’s still some kind of casuistic thing. Meaning, it’s not… it’s still a kind of common law, okay?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Even though there are rules there from which…

[Speaker D] Even though the process isn’t there, only the bottom line, it’s still not exactly a code—not the grand German code. It’s more like common law still.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. Even where he would show you how it came out, he still wouldn’t set the rules for how to derive it in other places. Meaning, rules do not appear in Maimonides. Even though it’s a code, what appears there are cases: in this case the law is this, in that case the law is that. Rules do appear there—there are some, a little. Very rare. Meaning, he didn’t turn back into German law. I completely agree. Okay. Now this point basically says that over the generations, rules are created even within the world of the Oral Torah and Jewish law. Rules are created—even in the Gemara itself there are rules. But as I said earlier, the Gemara also warns against clinging too tightly to rules. It places rules there, but cautiously. Because we all think with rules; we can’t think without rules. But one has to be careful. The parable I once heard for this, from Moshe Koppel, was that it’s like the development of a language. Language develops in a living way—we speak—until some person comes along, some linguist, and says: ah, there’s a rule: at the beginning of a word, beged kefet takes a dagesh. Those rules come to approximate, in some fashion, what emerged from the language in the end. That’s how one should also relate to the rules of the Gemara. The rules of the Gemara, and the rules of the halakhic decisors, and all of that. Meaning, in the final analysis those rules are merely proposals by commentators on how to approximate, more or less, the bulk of the facts in the Talmudic context.

[Speaker G] Exactly. The most compact model you can find for organizing a language.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Assuming it’s the most compact—even that I’m not…

[Speaker G] Sure, but…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Sure of. But that’s at least what it purports to be, yes, agreed. Meaning, it’s the compact model, but there are always deviations. Yes, it says regarding the disputes of Abaye and Rava that the Jewish law follows Rava except for six cases. The Gemara itself says this, this isn’t another interpretation—the Gemara says: except for six cases, Y-A-L K-G-M, the acronym. Fine? Maimonides rules in at least two more places like Abaye, which are not among those six cases. Now that’s against the Gemara. So how do you understand such a thing? So the commentators on Maimonides tear out their hair and try to create sub-rules so that somehow it can still… there’s no basis for it, obviously not. Maimonides probably understood that this Talmudic rule is a guiding rule, and if you have a clear position that the Jewish law follows Abaye in this specific case, then rule like him. If you don’t have a position, then you need to rule like Rava except for those six cases. If you do have a position, very good—then do what you think. There’s a well-known story about the Chazon Ish that I heard from the original source, yes—Rabbi Yogel once told me this in Pardes Hanna. They would go with the Chazon Ish, and he and Rabbi Gedaliah Nadel were study partners—also a well-known Torah scholar from Bnei Brak, both of them have already passed away—and in the 1950s they would go up from Bnei Brak once a week as a study pair and go to the Chazon Ish once a week to ask him questions. Then Rabbi Gedaliah Nadel asked him: tell me, but you wrote this way there, and it doesn’t fit? So he says to him: of course, Gedaliah—if you think otherwise, then do otherwise, what do you want? Meaning, what—as if—fine. I don’t write things as though this were mathematics. Nachmanides writes in the introduction to Milchamot that “the wisdom of our Torah is not like the wisdom of astronomy and mathematics, whose proofs are conclusive.” It doesn’t work with deductions. Meaning, it works with analogies, it works with soft comparisons. It’s not logical thinking in the strict sense of the word. I’ve worked quite a bit on trying to formalize the soft logic of the Gemara, which in my view can also be formalized in some way—the hermeneutic principles, not of the Gemara, but it is still soft logic. Meaning, that’s why you have all these disputes, and in those disputes you won’t find right and wrong in a simple sense. You’ll find someone you agree with and someone you don’t agree with. But there is almost no such thing as right and wrong here. In the language of the Gemara this is called “mistaken in a Mishnah.” Someone who missed a Mishnah is mistaken. There are almost no such things. Usually it’s “mistaken in judgment.” Meaning, you have this judgment, and there’s another judgment, okay.

[Speaker G] Here maybe just a brief comment about fuzzy logic. I’m saying: I have some probability that this thing holds, and then I have a probability for the whole thing. In logic, sometimes I work according to some logical criterion and sometimes I don’t.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And that’s an interesting question, because fuzzy logic also isn’t exactly probability. Probability is one example of fuzzy logic. Fuzzy logic is something broader. Right. Now, which of these fuzzy logics fit the Talmudic text? That’s another question. Yes.

[Speaker G] You have logics in which you add a probabilistic dimension, and then you kind of have that formalism. Yes, okay.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, probability itself is a kind of fuzzy logic. Meaning, because you get truth values that aren’t only zero or one, but the whole range between zero and one. That’s multi-valued logic. Okay. But again, probability really is one particular model of fuzzy logic. There are other fuzzy logics. For example, Łukasiewicz’s, Łukasiewicz’s three-valued logic, which also deals with future-tense statements. Never mind, there are all kinds of fuzzy logics. But I’m saying again: you can talk about being right in terms of probability, being wrong in terms of probability, but nobody knows how to quantify that. I don’t think that language will help here. I can tell you that if I think like someone, I still can’t stake my head on it. I’m not sure it’s correct, but that’s my opinion. And I go with that opinion. Meaning, I understand that there can also be another position, and someone else thinks differently, and that’s fine, as long as he brings reasonable arguments for his position.

[Speaker G] And in both cases—whether it’s three-valued logic, or whether I have probability and I know how to map values to probability, or whether I don’t commit to numbers but I say there’s uncertainty here—there are two tracks. Meaning, I come and build expressions, and on that basis I decide. Meaning, I can say there’s a space and I can derive exactly what the possible space is. I can come and say something else: no, now I’m like a philosopher. It’s true that that’s what I derive, but I want for a moment to work with my intuition and my gut feeling, and therefore I say it’s not correct. And then I break the mechanisms of classical reasoning here and say: no, no, no—even though logic took me here, I’m now activating intuition.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Again, I don’t think that in the Talmud—I don’t think you see that, and I’m also not sure I agree with the distinction you made. Meaning, in the end there is always reasoning. But the question is what assumptions stand at the basis of the reasoning. After all, every reasoning process starts from assumptions, axioms, right? Then you reason and reach a conclusion. Now, the intuitions are found in your choice of the basic assumptions. So if we have different intuitions, we’ll start from different assumptions, but with the same rules of logic we’ll reach different conclusions. Then we’ll have a dispute. But the dispute is not because we have no reasoning, or because our reasoning is not logical, but because we chose different assumptions. That’s certain. It seems to me that’s right.

[Speaker G] When people say, “It doesn’t feel right to me,” they won’t always really know how to say—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, I have an intuition that… fine. They won’t know, so what?

[Speaker G] But that’s the point. That’s really taking it in another direction. The person says: it feels to me that this isn’t taking me in the direction I want it to. I have no idea how I get there…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I have a healthy feeling that what you’re saying is wrong. Like in a paradox. In a paradox, you have very clear logical reasoning in favor of some conclusion, and yet something says that that conclusion is wrong. Right.

[Speaker G] Zeno. Zeno. Nimrod.

[Speaker H] No, but what Nimrod is saying—and Rabbi, if I may add—when you say people say “it doesn’t feel right to me” or things like that, they’re no longer saying something about the claim and whether it’s true or false; they’re saying something about themselves. About yourself, say whatever you want. About the claim—you have no way to say whether it’s true or false.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That distinction between me and the claim, in my opinion, doesn’t exist at all in the world of the Talmud. Meaning, if I feel that it’s not correct, then as far as I’m concerned it’s not correct. I don’t attribute that to some lack of understanding on my part; quite the opposite. The sages say: if I feel that it’s not correct, apparently I won’t issue a halakhic ruling that way, at least in many cases. And then, as far as I’m concerned, that feeling is only directing me to the fact that it really isn’t correct. It’s not a statement about me. It’s a statement about how I understand Jewish law.

[Speaker H] About how you understand it—in my opinion that is a statement about you.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean? Well, that depends on the halakhic decisors, of course—each one and his own proportions, and how strong the evidence against it is, how strong your feeling is. Of course you can’t lay down hard-and-fast rules here. But I’m talking about these feelings not in the sense of, look, I’m uncomfortable with it. It’s clear to me that this is the conclusion, but I’m uncomfortable with it. I’m built in such a way that it makes me uncomfortable. No. I’m talking about a feeling that says: something here is not right. Like in a paradox. Just think about the paradox of Achilles and the tortoise. You reach the conclusion that Achilles never catches the tortoise. But we all know that he does catch the tortoise, right?

[Speaker H] No, wait. That’s not the problem.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why isn’t that a problem?

[Speaker H] No, wait, of course that’s… The fact that we all know he catches the tortoise isn’t the paradox. The paradox is that you have no explanation for why Zeno is wrong. The fact that you have an alternative explanation doesn’t take away from the fact that Zeno’s explanation also seems correct.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Completely right, and that is exactly what I’m saying. Meaning, I’m saying that the reasoning led me to the conclusion that Achilles doesn’t catch the tortoise—Zeno’s argument—as long as I haven’t found an error in him, right? Right. But the conclusion—the conclusion is clearly wrong. So now what do I do? Do I eventually conclude: okay, then apparently Achilles doesn’t catch the tortoise, and as for my feelings, I’ll take a pill to overcome them? Or do I say no—my intuition tells me that something in Zeno’s reasoning is wrong, even if I can’t put my finger on exactly where.

[Speaker H] Right, and it only took two thousand years to develop calculus to explain why Zeno really is wrong.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but in my opinion it’s not calculus. I once wrote an article about that. It’s not calculus, but that’s a different discussion, never mind. But true, that’s exactly the point. The point is that if I have an intuition that the result is incorrect, I will go with it. I’ll also issue a halakhic ruling with it. And what about the reasoning? I’ll think about where the flaw in the reasoning is. But many times Rabbi Soloveitchik, for example, wrote that when a halakhic decisor issues a halakhic ruling, he usually knows the answer first and only afterward looks for the reasoning that leads to it. That’s a somewhat exaggerated description, but there’s a lot of truth in it. Meaning, that feeling, as far as I’m concerned, directs me to what is correct. It’s not a statement about me. A statement about that feeling—it’s perceived as a tool for the decisor, or for the interpreter. Meaning, I feel that this is right. Now many times, after he feels it, one can try to think it through and formalize it and produce reasoning from it. Meaning, but the feeling—like in mathematics. In the end, the mathematician has to provide a proof. Without that he can’t. But he has a feeling that this theorem—Fermat’s theorem—he had a conjecture that it was true. Fermat also had a proof, never mind, but for our purposes, he had a conjecture that it was true, and that gave people motivation to look for the reasoning that would lead there. But in the end, almost everyone was willing to stake their head on the fact that Fermat was right even before there was a proof, otherwise Andrew Wiles wouldn’t have spent six years on it. Right? Meaning, you don’t spend six years on something you don’t think is true. Okay, the same thing in Jewish law. In Jewish law this is an everyday matter. Meaning, when you feel that something here smells fishy, something here is not… you won’t rule that way. There’s actually such a law in monetary law; it’s called a fraudulent case. A judge has valid evidence brought before him, valid evidence, and he hasn’t found a problem. But something sounds fishy to him. So he withdraws from the case. He says: this is a fraudulent case, something here feels wrong to me, I’m stepping away, I’m not willing to decide this case; let another judge come—if you convince him, fine. Meaning, there is weight to the sense of smell, to the intuition of the halakhic decisor, no less than to the orderly reasoning he produces. Many times it’s the sign for which direction to look for the reasoning in; meaning, the sense of smell tells you: this is what’s right. Okay, now let’s think how one can substantiate this. So in the end it is desirable to substantiate it, but sometimes the decisor will say: look, my heart tells me—as Rabbi Asher Weiss often says—my heart tells me that this is not right. Something here, something is not right. Okay? So that has weight. It’s not a statement about the person himself; it’s a statement about Jewish law. All right, it seems we really need to finish. I’ve more or less finished, there’s still a little more, there are still a few things, but—

[Speaker G] Things—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] More practical ones. So if you want, we can continue afterward, maybe even study some passage and look at the… Thank you very much.

[Speaker C] When you say—when you say to yourself, according to what… according to what seems right to you, and afterward you look for the reasoning, are you basically saying according to what seems just in your eyes? Or according to what… what is right?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not interests, obviously not. I’m talking about: I have an intuition that this is correct.

[Speaker D] He means… he means to draw a distinction between what is just and what seems correct to you from the standpoint of intellectual inference?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, I mean the second. Not what is just in the sense of natural justice, but it seems to me that this is what Jewish law says. The question of the relationship between that and natural justice is an extremely complex question; we could talk about it for several lectures if you want. But that… that’s another question. What I’m talking about right now is: I have an intuition that this is what Jewish law says, not in the sense that this is what is morally proper.

[Speaker D] I’ll tell you why—where this question comes from. I know my father, it comes from the world of… of law, where sometimes the judge marks the target before he shoots the arrows, so that’s where it comes from.

[Speaker C] Erez is absolutely right, because when I did a lot of arbitrations in my life—and an arbitrator is like a judge, and arbitration according to law—and I heard the case, one side and the other side and the witnesses and so on and so on, I felt something very similar to what you’re saying: once I felt what was just, and a second time what was legally correct. And if the two came together, because sometimes the law does not serve justice, but let’s say the two came together, then I mark for myself that this will be the result, and now I start looking for how to justify it. If I don’t succeed, then no. But this way is a way that in my opinion is also very common in courts.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So I was talking about something a little different, as I said. That also exists, but I was talking about something a little different, because that requires further clarifications that I won’t go into here. I was talking about something else—not in the sense of my feeling of natural justice, but my feeling that something in this reasoning is not correct; meaning, Jewish law says something else, when I don’t know exactly how to put my finger on it, like Zeno’s paradox. I don’t know how to put my finger on where Zeno made the mistake in the formulation, but it’s clear to me that the conclusion is wrong. And then many times I will still give weight to that feeling, and I will rule in accordance with that feeling, not specifically because of natural justice.

[Speaker C] I understand, I understand, there’s no need to add anything, I understood that already from before. Your experience and your deep knowledge lead you to a certain thought, and from that point on it has to be substantiated.

[Speaker D] Right, thank you very much.

[Speaker F] Okay friends, three-thirty, philosophical sync.

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