A Look at Torah and Torah Study – Lesson 9 – Rabbi Michael Abraham
This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- Ukimtot, case and rule, and the idea of enclothing
- Two approaches to Torah study: technological versus scientific
- “If you walk in My statutes” in Rashi and the three dimensions: study for the sake of Torah, study for the sake of observance, and action
- Nefesh HaChaim: “lishmah” as “for the sake of the Torah”
- “Study is greater” and the hyphen between study and action
- “Expound and receive reward,” the stubborn and rebellious son, and Maimonides, Laws of Rebels
- The blessing on Torah, “because they have forsaken My Torah,” and preparatory acts for a commandment
- Women and the blessing on Torah: studying laws versus the commandment of Torah study
- An oath about Torah study, the Shema as minimal fulfillment, and the distinction between the commandment of Torah study and Torah study itself
- Obligations outside the formal system: character refinement, Torah study, Hanukkah, and terumah
Summary
General Overview
The text argues that cases in the Talmud are not brought mainly in order to clarify a specific halakhic ruling, but to teach a general principle clothed in concrete situations. From this it defines Torah more as abstract ideas than as a collection of practical rulings. It presents two approaches to Torah study: a technological one, whose purpose is practical halakhic ruling, and a scientific one, whose purpose is understanding principles in their own right, and it claims that the practice is similar but the goal is different. It grounds this distinction through Rashi on “If you walk in My statutes,” through Nefesh HaChaim, which defines “lishmah” as study for the sake of the Torah, and through sources on “Expound and receive reward” and the blessing on Torah, in order to argue that Torah study is not merely preparatory to a commandment. It further explains that the requirement to conclude study with a practical conclusion does not turn action into the goal of study, and suggests that there are also areas of obligation meant to remain outside the system of formal obligations in order to preserve a voluntary, essential character, such as character refinement and beautifying the Hanukkah candle.
Ukimtot, Case and Rule, and the Idea of Enclothing
The text assumes that when the Talmud frames a discussion around a certain case, the case “did not emerge in order to teach about itself, but rather to teach about the entire rule.” In other words, it is an example meant to illustrate a broader principle, not necessarily to determine the law specifically in that rare case itself. It defines Torah as abstract ideas clothed within circumstances taken from the world, in order to make them graspable and accessible, and calls this “enclothing” in the kabbalistic sense. It notes that there is also a “higher enclothing,” in which even the abstract principles are themselves only a garment for something even more abstract and elevated.
Two Approaches to Torah Study: Technological Versus Scientific
The text compares science as technology with science as pure research, and parallels that to Torah study, where one can see Jewish law as the goal and theory as the means, or see principles as the goal and cases as the means. It defines the technological approach as to arrive at a Talmudic conclusion in accordance with Jewish law, in the sense that conceptual study is meant to determine what one should rule in the practical world. The scientific approach, by contrast, sees cases as “laboratory experiments” whose purpose is to distill abstract principles. It argues that the main difference between the approaches is ideological rather than practical, because in both, one takes cases, uncovers an idea, and applies it to other cases. As an example, it cites the Chazon Ish’s ruling that activating electricity on the Sabbath falls under the category of building, based on understanding the idea behind the primary category of labor. It adds that a scientific understanding makes it easier to justify ukimtot and strange cases such as “an elephant that swallowed an Egyptian basket,” because the point is the principle and not the case’s actual occurrence.
“If You Walk in My Statutes” in Rashi and the Three Dimensions: Study for the Sake of Torah, Study for the Sake of Observance, and Action
The text reads the verse “If you walk in My statutes, and keep My commandments, and do them” through Rashi and distinguishes among three different activities. It explains that Rashi interprets “If you walk in My statutes” as “that you should labor in Torah,” and “and keep My commandments” as “that you should labor in Torah in order to observe and fulfill,” and from this it concludes that there are two different kinds of study here, not a simple split between study and observance. It suggests that “If you walk in My statutes” means study for the sake of study itself, while “and keep My commandments” means study for the sake of knowing what to do and how to fulfill, and “and do them” means the actual fulfillment. It emphasizes that the aim is to detach these three types from one another and see them as distinct goals and means.
Nefesh HaChaim: “Lishmah” as “for the Sake of the Torah”
The text presents Gate 4 of Nefesh HaChaim as a foundational Lithuanian work, and portrays it as standing against a Hasidic conception according to which Torah study is a means of creating devekut, attachment to God, whereas according to Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, the study itself is the attachment, because “the Holy One, blessed be He, and His will are one.” It emphasizes that Nefesh HaChaim interprets “lishmah” as “for the sake of the Torah” and not “for His sake,” that is, for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He. It cites the Rosh on “Do things for the sake of their Maker, and speak of them for their own sake” in order to distinguish between performing commandments, which should be “for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He,” and Torah study, whose purpose is “to know, to understand, and to add insight and analysis,” and not to provoke or become arrogant. It concludes that this formulation is a distilled expression of a scientific conception in which study is an end in itself and not a tool for any other goal, not even for the experience of attachment and not even for practical implementation, even though implementation is still required as a separate stage.
“Study Is Greater” and the Hyphen Between Study and Action
The text brings sources that emphasize study for the sake of action, such as “one who studies not in order to do” in Vayikra Rabbah, but interprets them as referring to someone who studies and does not actually fulfill, not to the question of the purpose of study. It analyzes the discussion in Kiddushin, “Is study greater or is action greater?” and argues that the conclusion, “Study is greater, for study brings to action,” does not make action the goal of study. Rather, it defines what greater study is—namely, study that ends in a practical conclusion. It defines the demand of “what practical difference does it make?” as a need to translate abstract principles into the practical world in order to complete their understanding, and compares this to theoretical research that needs a connection to reality in order to count as solid knowledge. It argues that the yeshiva-style separation between conceptual analysis and practical Jewish law is problematic, and that “studying halakhah” means studying the sugya through to a practical conclusion, not merely learning the bottom-line rulings of the Mishnah Berurah.
“Expound and Receive Reward,” the Stubborn and Rebellious Son, and Maimonides, Laws of Rebels
The text cites the sugya, “There never was and never will be a stubborn and rebellious son… and why was it written? Expound and receive reward,” and presents Rabbi Israel Salanter’s question: how can passages that have no practical implementation be included in the Torah if the purpose of study is to know what to do? It formulates, in the name of Rabbi Israel Salanter, that these passages come to teach the principle itself of “expound and receive reward”—that Torah study is done for the sake of the Torah and the reward of study, not as a tool for practical application. It reinforces this with the puzzle of why there are “laws of the stubborn and rebellious son” in Maimonides, and argues that Maimonides writes laws even for what is never realized, in order to complete the process of arriving at a Talmudic conclusion in accordance with Jewish law as a structure of study and not merely as a practical tool. It adds that the Talmud itself tends not to leave a final halakhic conclusion, because it provides a framework of thought and leaves it to the student to arrive at his own conclusion.
The Blessing on Torah, “Because They Have Forsaken My Torah,” and Preparatory Acts for a Commandment
The text cites the discussion in Nedarim on “Why is it uncommon for Torah scholars to have sons who become Torah scholars?” and Ravina’s conclusion, “Because they do not first recite the blessing over the Torah,” and asks how Torah scholars, who study all day, could belittle the blessing on Torah, and why this is called “because they have forsaken My Torah.” It cites Menachot, where no blessing is recited over “making tefillin” because it is merely a preparatory act for a commandment, and formulates, in the name of Rabbi Israel Salanter, that the Torah scholars did not recite a blessing because they viewed their study as a preparatory means to know how to fulfill commandments, and one does not recite a blessing over a preparatory act. It presents the Talmud’s criticism as a declaration that Torah study is not a preparatory act for a commandment but an intrinsic value, and therefore a technological conception of Torah as merely practical information is “forsaking the Torah” in a conceptual sense.
Women and the Blessing on Torah: Studying Laws Versus the Commandment of Torah Study
The text cites the Shulchan Arukh’s ruling that women recite the blessing on Torah, and the Biur Halakhah’s explanation that this is because they “are obligated to learn the laws that apply to them,” as well as the section on sacrifices as part of prayer, alongside the Vilna Gaon’s view that they recite the blessing despite being exempt, just as they voluntarily perform other time-bound positive commandments. It points out the internal tension in claiming that women are exempt from the commandment of Torah study yet obligated to study in order to know what to do, and concludes that studying practical laws for practical purposes is not identical with the commandment of Torah study in its principled sense. It suggests that the blessing on Torah is understood as a blessing of praise for the giving of Torah to all Israel, rather than a blessing over commandments, but uses the structure of the sugya to reinforce the distinction between “and keep My commandments” as practical study and “if you walk in My statutes” as study for the sake of Torah itself.
An Oath About Torah Study, the Shema as Minimal Fulfillment, and the Distinction Between the Commandment of Torah Study and Torah Study Itself
The text cites from Nedarim the statement of Rav Giddel in the name of Rav that one who says, “I will rise early and study this chapter,” has undertaken a “great vow,” and explains that the Talmud answers that the oath takes effect because “if he wished, he could exempt himself with the morning and evening Shema.” It presents the Ran, who explains that this does not mean the Shema exempts one from the entire obligation of study, but only from what is written explicitly in the verse, while obligations derived by exposition, even if they are Torah-level obligations, are not included in the category of “already sworn from Sinai,” and therefore an oath can take effect regarding them. Against this it sets the Rosh and the commentator who read the text simply, that the Shema suffices to fulfill the commandment of “this book of the Torah shall not depart from your mouth,” and from this raises a difficulty regarding the concept of neglecting Torah study. It suggests distinguishing between the “commandment of Torah study,” whose minimal fulfillment may be the Shema, and “Torah study” as an ideational demand that is not merely a formal positive commandment but a principled requirement to study “all the time, as much as you can,” so that neglecting Torah study is an ideational demand and not necessarily a formal halakhic transgression.
Obligations Outside the Formal System: Character Refinement, Torah Study, Hanukkah, and Terumah
The text argues that there are areas that the Torah intentionally leaves outside the framework of formal commandments, not because they are unimportant, but because they are too fundamental, and bringing them into the count of binding obligations would empty them of their voluntary and essential meaning. It cites Rabbi Chaim Vital’s claim that character refinement is not an explicit commandment because the Torah speaks to human beings, and someone who does not understand this on his own will not be helped by a command. It adds that turning character refinement into a formal obligation could reduce it to mere box-checking instead of genuine transformation of personality. It applies this principle to Torah study and argues that leaving study as a self-standing goal rather than as compliance with a formal command preserves its essence. It gives an example from the Hanukkah candle and asks why the miracle of the oil was needed if ritual impurity is permitted for the community, and why beautification here goes beyond the usual “up to one-third.” It cites Rabbi Yogel’s explanation that the miracle was meant to enable beautification with pure oil, and therefore the beautification of Hanukkah is part of the body of the commandment, but it remains structured as “those who beautify” in order to preserve a voluntary dimension. It parallels this to the measure of terumah—“one in forty… one in fifty… one in sixty”—and to the rule that “one grain of wheat exempts the whole heap,” and interprets the creation of three levels as signaling a binding demand that is not formulated as a full formal obligation, while leaving room for choice that preserves the voluntary element.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, last time we finished dealing with the matter of ukimtot, and we touched on the meaning of what we saw in the discussion about ukimtot. Briefly, the claim was basically that when we see a discussion of a case in the Talmud, or a statement dealing with a case in the Talmud, or a Mishnah, the Talmud’s assumption is that the case did not come out in order to teach about itself, but rather to teach about the whole rule. Meaning, it comes to give some kind of general principle, maybe more abstract, broader, which is demonstrated through the case we’re dealing with, but it doesn’t come to tell me what the Jewish law will be in this specific case. And from there I broadened things a bit and said that this actually gives us some direction for understanding what Torah really is. Here I went back to the introductions from the beginning of the semester, where the claim is basically that the collection of cases about which Jewish law says the ruling is this way or that way—that isn’t really what deserves to be called Torah. Torah is some set of abstract ideas that become clothed within these specific cases that were brought from our world, and that embedding of Torah into circumstances or situations that appear in our world is what I called enclothing. Right, it’s basically a kind of garment that I put around the rule, and then it becomes more concrete. Enclothing, in kabbalistic language, basically means turning something into something more graspable, more accessible, something you can get hold of and apprehend. In that sense, abstract principles become clothed in cases, in situations drawn from our world. And I also talked about a higher kind of enclothing, though that doesn’t really concern us here, where even the abstract principles are themselves only principles that are the clothing of something even more abstract and elevated.
And in the end I got to the point that when we study Torah, we can approach it in two ways. One approach is what you could call the technological approach. Just like when we study science, when we investigate science, you can understand it as an activity whose purpose is technological. Meaning, once I know the laws of nature, then I’ll know how to apply them in certain situations, or know how to build devices based on the laws of nature that can accomplish various tasks for me and bring me benefit. In that sense, science is the means and technology is the goal. Right? The uses, the applications of science, are really the goal, and I study science only so I can achieve those different uses, those different applications. As opposed to that, a purer conception of scientific research—“purer” not in a value-laden sense, but in the sense of cleaner—is a conception that says no, actually the opposite: as far as I’m concerned, the cases are the means and my goal is to understand the laws of nature. The laws of nature are not a means to know what will happen in every situation. On the contrary, the situations are laboratory cases through which I can understand what the general law is, what the laws of nature are. So from my point of view, the cases or situations science deals with are no more than demonstrations of the laws of nature. We can’t touch the laws of nature themselves; we have no way to see a law of nature. All we can see are specific bodies that behave one way or another. So we need to clothe the laws of nature in situations from our world, see what happens in this situation, but all of that is just a means to understand the general abstract law.
Okay, the same thing in the context of Torah study. There are those who understand Torah study in a technological way. Meaning, I’m basically dealing in abstraction, in generalization, in finding principles—but that’s only so that I can rule on Jewish law in all the particular cases that come before me, so that I’ll know what the halakhah says about every situation. That’s a technological approach, where basically the goal is the halakhah, the application, what this means in the practical world, and the theory is the means, simply because if I don’t know the theory I won’t know how to apply things in the practical world. So the goal of the whole enterprise is really the application in the practical world, to arrive at a Talmudic conclusion in accordance with Jewish law. Right? I basically want to study in order to know—you have to study in order to know what to do, to understand all the applications, and the general laws are the means.
[Speaker B] Are those two in opposition to each other?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. Of course. That’s always true, but the question is what your goal is when you do it. Is the goal the rules, or are the rules the means to say more things about more realities I haven’t encountered? Okay? So the technological view of Torah study is basically to arrive at a Talmudic conclusion in accordance with Jewish law. Right? I basically study conceptually, make generalizations, formulate principles, uncover the general principles in order to know how to rule in every situation. You can see the analogy to technology, okay? By contrast, the more theoretical approach—again, not necessarily in a judgmental sense, but theoretical in the sense that it’s cleaner, more abstract—is an approach that says the opposite: the cases are means through which I can clarify the halakhic, meta-halakhic, or more abstract halakhic principles. I need to see this, to test it, through different cases. The cases are laboratory experiments, okay? But my goal is really to understand what the principles are. The principles are not a tool in order to know how to rule in every situation. The reverse: ruling on Jewish law in each case is the tool through which I can distill what the general laws are. So if reality changes—
[Speaker C] Am I inventing Jewish law? I’m not inventing—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll apply the principle I arrived at to the new reality, okay? That’s exactly what I need to do.
[Speaker C] No—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course, but that’s what needs to be done, no? I mean, why are we distilling principles like that? So that when a new reality appears before us, we’ll know what to do, because if you don’t understand the principle, how will you know what to do in a new reality you haven’t encountered? You can always be mistaken. And if you don’t do this, then you can’t be mistaken? It’s even more likely you’ll be mistaken. But what’s written? If this is a new situation, then what’s written doesn’t tell you what to do with it. How are you going to rule about electricity on the Sabbath? Electricity has just been invented. Okay? Now you have the Talmud, the whole chapter of Kelal Gadol, everything is excellent; you have the Mishnah—not even the Talmud—you have the Mishnah with all thirty-nine primary categories of labor, and you know what, even a list of derivatives at your service. Okay? Now tell me what the law is. Is using electricity permitted or forbidden? On the simple level, you have to do some work on the sources, understand the ideas behind them, in order to try to apply those ideas to a reality that doesn’t appear in the Talmud, a new reality. But if you manage to distill the principles from there, there’s a chance you’ll know how to rule regarding the new case. Now obviously, I can always be wrong, but if I don’t do that, the chance that I’ll be wrong is greater. Because if I don’t make the conceptualizations and the abstractions and all that, then how will I rule about electricity? Just randomly? By smell? Gut feeling? What am I supposed to do? I need some tools that will help me take the primary categories of labor that appear in the Talmud or the Mishnah and see which of them, if any, is relevant to the question of electricity on the Sabbath.
But for that I need to understand what the primary categories of labor actually mean. If you tell me: building means building; you place stones and build a house—that’s building. Then it has no connection to electricity, right? What does that have to do with electricity? If you ask yourself, wait a second, what’s the idea behind building? Fine, building is putting stones together and making a house, but that’s an example. What is the idea of building that is expressed in the case of building a house? Okay? That’s a completely different question. And there suddenly you can discover—at least according to the Chazon Ish, and I, in my own small way, tend to agree with him—that activating electricity on the Sabbath falls under the category of building. Some kind of creation? Creation, but there are many kinds of creation. Creation isn’t one of the primary categories of labor. Creation is maybe the thread that runs through all the primary categories of labor, that they’re all different kinds of creation, say. Okay? What? No, we won’t get into that right now. Whoever wants can look at a column on my website where I explain it. But I’m bringing it only as an example to show that both according to the technological conception and according to the scientific conception, in practice we’re doing pretty similar things. Because we take the cases that appear in the Talmud, try to understand them by means of more general principles, okay? and apply that to other cases.
The difference is an ideological difference, not really a practical difference—almost not a difference in practice, in what I do—but rather the question is why I do what I do, what the goal is—just a second—what the goal is and what the means is. Are the cases the means and the laws the goal, or are the principles the goal I’m striving toward? Or the opposite: are the laws and the principles the means so that I’ll know what the halakhah is in all the cases, which is the goal? Since you understand that if that’s the case, if you stick only to what’s written, then almost everything is permitted. To get to exactly what’s written there—those are very rare cases. If you think that’s reasonable, fine. I think it’s unreasonable. Even people with the technological approach, by the way, agree that it’s unreasonable. That’s why I said: those with the technological approach and those with the scientific approach study in the same way. How do they study? The question is only what they see as the means and what as the goal. But everyone agrees that building doesn’t just mean placing one stone on another. Everyone agrees that there’s some idea behind it, some more abstract definition. The whole question is just an ideological one. Meaning, is the goal of study to uncover the idea, and the cases are just aids for uncovering the idea? Or no—I regard the idea as a means in order to know what to do in different cases, and that’s the goal.
But everyone agrees that I take the cases, uncover an idea, and apply that idea to other cases. Meaning, in the practical sense, what we do when we study does not necessarily express this difference between the technological approach and the scientific approach. The difference is in the ideological question, meaning what your goal is. I just want to say that if we understand study in the scientific way, not the technological way—and that’s my tendency—then it’s much easier to justify, for example, a phenomenon like ukimtot. For example, dealing with strange cases: cakes that flew through the air, or an elephant that swallowed an Egyptian basket. I mentioned that last time, by the way. Okay? In other words, you understand that the point of all this is really to understand an idea. You are not trying to clarify the law of an elephant that swallowed an Egyptian basket. That didn’t happen and never will happen. Okay? That’s not the point.
Now, still, it’s not absolute, because even people with the technological approach will say: yes, I want to clarify the law of an elephant that swallowed an Egyptian basket because from that the principle will become clear, and after I understand the principle I’ll apply it to other practical cases. So yes, they too can discuss such a thing. I think the kinds of discussions the Talmud conducts fit the scientific direction more than the technological one, but it’s not clear-cut. Meaning, there’s no sharp practical difference between these two conceptions. Today maybe I’ll get a little more into the relationship between these conceptions.
So that’s about what we saw last time, and now I want to move on, maybe to see this a little from sources. Okay, I want to see this through several sources, the same point I was talking about. Look, at the beginning of Parashat Bechukotai it says: “If you walk in My statutes, and keep My commandments, and do them.” Let’s enlarge it a bit. You can’t see? Even when I enlarge it, you can’t see. Okay? So: “If you walk in My statutes, and keep My commandments, and do them.” So there’s “walk in My statutes,” “keep My commandments,” and “do them.” Okay? On the face of it, that’s the same thing three times. “Walk in My statutes,” “keep My commandments,” “do them.” Those are three things that are the same. So Rashi—right, the well-known Rashi—“If you walk in My statutes”—could this mean keeping the commandments? Since it says, “and keep My commandments,” then keeping the commandments has already been said. So how then do I understand “If you walk in My statutes”? “That you should labor in Torah.” Okay? One has to labor in Torah. Meaning, then what’s the difference between “If you walk in My statutes” and “and keep My commandments”? So “and keep My commandments” means keeping the commandments, Rashi says, right? And what does “If you walk in My statutes” mean? “That you should labor in Torah.” Seemingly that’s the difference between study and fulfillment, right? Basically, “If you walk in My statutes” is learning what to do, and “and keep My commandments” is carrying out what I learned.
Okay, but there’s also “and do them,” a third phrase. Rashi says: “And keep My commandments”—that you should labor in Torah in order to observe and fulfill, as it says, “and you shall learn them and keep them to do them.” Okay, now something is no longer so clear, because it comes out that “and keep My commandments” is also laboring in Torah, just like “If you walk in My statutes.” After all, above you said that “and keep My commandments” is the execution, and “If you walk in My statutes” is the study, right? Here he says that “and keep My commandments” also means laboring in Torah, but a certain kind of Torah labor. What? “That you should labor in Torah in order to observe and fulfill.” He doesn’t mean the fulfillment itself. Meaning, “If you walk in My statutes” and “and keep My commandments” are two kinds of study; it’s not study and fulfillment. One of them is “you should labor in Torah,” and the second is “keep”—study in order to observe and do. What’s the difference? What’s the difference between laboring in Torah and studying in order to fulfill and do? Isn’t laboring in Torah also in order to fulfill? What’s the difference between those two things?
It seems to me that in the simple sense, “If you walk in My statutes” means “that you should labor in Torah,” as opposed to what the mashgiach—what the spiritual supervisors usually claim, right? “That you should labor in Torah” means: eat bread with salt, suffer, live a hard life—such is the way of Torah. “That you should labor in Torah” means to engage in Torah as an end in itself, not as a means to something else. Meaning, “and keep My commandments” means studying Torah for the sake of some other goal. What’s the other goal? To know what to do. In other words, “in order to observe and fulfill.” Okay? So “that you should labor in Torah,” “If you walk in My statutes,” is study not in order to know what to do. It is study for the sake of study. Regardless of how much you suffer. “That you should labor in Torah.” By the way, in biblical Hebrew, labor really means suffering—“He has not seen toil in Israel,” right. Exactly. So labor means suffering, but in this context I don’t think so. “That you should labor in Torah” isn’t biblical language; it’s rabbinic language. “That you should labor in Torah” means occupy yourselves with Torah, work at Torah, engage in Torah. What does that mean, and what’s the difference between that and studying in order to observe and fulfill? Studying in order to observe and fulfill is technological study. Right? I study so as to know what the law is in every case and so that I can fulfill. And “If you walk in My statutes,” meaning “that you should labor in Torah,” is scientific study. It means studying the Torah in order to know the Torah, not in order to know what to do.
In a moment we’ll see a few examples or implications of this. I think it’ll become much clearer. And if I add one more point—now it’s also clear what “and do them” means. Rashi doesn’t write it, but it seems to me that this was his motivation. Because after all we say here: “If you walk in My statutes,” “keep My commandments,” “and do them.” He doesn’t explain “and do them,” right? If you understand that “and keep My commandments” is also a kind of study, not keeping the commandments in the sense of fulfilling them—it’s another kind of study—then “and do them” needs no explanation. “And do them” means the actual fulfillment. Okay? “If you walk in My statutes” means to engage in Torah for the sake of Torah, “keep My commandments” means to study in order to know what to do, and “and do them” means to do it in practice. Right? So those are basically the three things. The second part you probably already know, but we’ll get to that in a moment. We’ll get to that in a moment.
[Speaker D] Wait, let’s continue. What? They aren’t disconnected from each other. No, maybe only by definition, but they aren’t disconnected from each other.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course they’re disconnected. It’s three—it’s three kinds of engagement. No, it’s three kinds of engagement. There’s engagement with the action, you know. No, I don’t agree at all. I don’t agree at all. We’ll see later. It’s three kinds of engagement. Three kinds of engagement, and I want to separate them. My goal is to separate them. In a second I’ll explain.
[Speaker F] I thought it had more to do with the general laws, the principles, and that’s really the abstract study.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. And the commandments are basically the practical instructions, and “My statutes” are the abstract principles, the general laws. Not laws as opposed to ordinances, in the sense of non-rational versus rational things. When you say “statutes” you mean in the sense of principles, like general principles. Okay. Interesting idea. I hadn’t thought of that.
In any case, you can see this distinction in Rabbi Chaim, in Nefesh HaChaim, Gate 4, chapter 3. The whole idea there in Nefesh HaChaim—I’ll maybe preface—Gate 4 of Nefesh HaChaim is the foundational Lithuanian book, okay? And its resemblance to the Tanya, which is the foundational Hasidic book, is surprising, even though ostensibly they represent two opposing conceptions that are fighting each other. The similarity between these two things is simply amazing.
[Speaker G] That’s the paradox.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s a little reminiscent of our current situation in the country, or in general. The closer the positions are, the stronger the wars. I think that today, if you look at the public and ask people on the substance of issues—not are you right or left, yes Bibi or no Bibi, yes Kaplan or no Kaplan. Ask people: what do you actually think? On judicial reform, do this, don’t do that, what should be done here—you’ll discover there are almost no differences. Almost no differences. People basically agree more or less on almost everything. There are ten percent here and ten percent there at the extremes, and the eighty percent in the middle, with some variation this way and that way, more or less agree. And that changes nothing. The war, of course, is only much greater. The intensity of the war times the distance between the opinions is constant. If the distance between the opinions is small, the intensity of the war is enormous, and vice versa. That’s the paradox. I don’t know if it’s a paradox; it’s human nature. You can call it a paradox, I don’t know.
[Speaker H] The closest are the farthest.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, right, right. There’s a greater tension among those who are close—like the plates of a capacitor. You know, bring the plates of a capacitor closer, then the potential—well, anyway.
So Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin there in Gate 4 of Nefesh HaChaim comes out against the Hasidic conception that learning is a means to create attachment to God. The Hasidic conception sees learning basically as a means. At least that’s how Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin presents it. He doesn’t actually talk about a Hasidic conception at all; he always attacks something, but he never defines who that something is. But that’s the common Hasidic conception as it’s usually understood. Again, there are many kinds of Hasidim, but the Hasidic mainstream, which the Tanya is supposed to represent—despite the similarity between them. And his claim there is that Torah study—what? Good question. No, I don’t know. I don’t remember. The ideas of the book—I don’t know whether he knew the book itself, okay? There’s no direct reference to the book as far as I’ve seen. But the ideas certainly, yes.
So his argument there is that Torah study is not a means of creating an experience of attachment, as the Hasidim understand it, but Torah study is itself the attachment. It is not a means to attachment; it is attachment. In other words, if you study Torah, you are attached to the Holy One, blessed be He. I think we talked about this—that the Holy One, blessed be He, and His will are one. That’s what he himself writes there in Gate 4. He and His will are one, so when you study what the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, is, you are in fact attached to Him, practically, factually. This isn’t about some kind of experience in which you feel close to Him or attached to Him; rather, the very fact of engaging in His will means that you are attached to Him, simply as a matter of fact. It has nothing to do with what you feel or don’t feel. Okay?
And then he says: “But the truth is that the meaning of lishmah”—studying Torah lishmah—“means for the sake of the Torah.” Lishmah, right? We don’t say lishmo, for His sake, for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He. We say lishmah. Why lishmah and not lishmo? It should be for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He. With all due respect to feminists who create feminine theology, yes, but usually the terminology we use in relation to the Holy One, blessed be He, is masculine. Okay? So why lishmah and not lishmo? Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin says: lishmah means for the sake of the Torah, not for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He.
And the matter is as the Rosh explained on the statement of Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Tzadok in Nedarim, which he quotes: “Do things for the sake of their Maker, and speak of them for their own sake.” That’s the Talmud in Nedarim there. This is his wording: “Do things for the sake of their Maker”—for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, who made everything for His own sake. “And speak of them for their own sake”—all your speech and engagement in words of Torah should be for the sake of the Torah. Notice: as opposed to for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He. Meaning, the commandments—when you do things, what does that mean? “And do them.” Doing means performing the commandments, right? When you perform commandments, commandments require intention. You have to do it for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, in order to fulfill your obligation. But Torah study—we do not study Torah with that kind of intention; we study Torah lishmah. What’s the difference between intention and lishmah? Intention means intention to fulfill one’s obligation. Lishmah means for the sake of the Torah itself, not for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He.
Okay? And that’s what he says here. Therefore it says, “Do things for the sake of their Maker.” “Their Maker” means the one who created them, the Holy One, blessed be He. “And speak of them”—when one studies Torah, speaking means Torah study—“for their own sake,” for the sake of the things themselves, not for the sake of their Maker.
[Speaker C] Fulfillment and study?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. So he says—this is his language: “Do things for the sake of their Maker, for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, who made everything for His sake; and speak of them for their own sake—all your speech and engagement in words of Torah should be for the sake of the Torah, such as to know and understand and add insight and dialectical analysis, and not to provoke or to become arrogant.” That’s the end of his quote. He was careful to explain the change in Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Tzadok’s language: regarding action he said “for the sake of their Maker,” and regarding speech he said “for their own sake.” Therefore, concerning action he explained: for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, who made everything for His own sake. And concerning study he explained: for the sake of the Torah.
And his meaning, says Rabbi Chaim, is clear. Namely: the performance of a commandment certainly should, ideally, be done with attachment and with the purest possible thought according to one’s intellect and grasp, so that praise may ascend above, causing repair in the worlds and the higher powers and orders. That is “for the sake of their Maker,” because “the Lord has made everything for His own sake.” And our sages of blessed memory said: for His praise. And although certainly, even with commandments, the essential thing for validity is the actual deed—the intentions… Whether commandments require intention or don’t require intention is a debate, but the intentions he’s talking about aren’t even included in that. “Commandments require intention” means the intention to fulfill one’s obligation, not in order that praise may ascend above and all sorts of higher things. Those are added levels. But the basic foundation is first of all: do what you have to do and don’t do what you mustn’t do. Okay?
So that is, of course, the performance of the commandments. Certainly, in commandments the essential thing for validity is the deed itself, and the additional intention and purity of thought are not indispensable at all, as was explained correctly above at the end of Gate 1. Even so, the holiness and purity of one’s thought join the actual deed itself in order to arouse and bring about greater repairs in the worlds than if the commandment had been performed without attachment and holiness of thought.
But regarding a person’s conduct at the time he is engaged in Torah study about the laws of the commandments and their halakhot, it says, “And you shall speak of them.” Meaning, speech about the matters of the commandments and their laws—Torah study—should be for their own sake. That is, for the sake of the words of Torah, not for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, not for the sake of their Maker. Namely, to know and understand and add insight and dialectical analysis. When you study, you don’t do it for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He, and not even in order to implement it, but to add insight and analysis. In other words, you study for the sake of study. Study is a value in itself.
I think this is the most distilled expression of what I earlier called the scientific conception: that you study the Torah in order to know the Torah, not for any other purpose. Not even for the Holy One, blessed be He, and not even in order to fulfill. Of course you have to fulfill, but study is not a means to fulfill. Fulfillment is “and do them.” We are talking about “If you walk in My statutes.” And there’s also, in the middle, “and keep them,” which means to study in order to do. Okay? So he says that study—he is talking about “If you walk in My statutes”—study is study for the sake of study. That’s it. If you ask why study, the answer is: just because. There is no other purpose that study is meant to serve. Okay? Study is an end in itself. And that is unlike commandments, unlike all other commandments. Because with all other commandments, it comes to praise the Holy One, blessed be He; it has goals of divine service, of some kind of relationship with the Holy One, blessed be He, and so on. Not in Torah study.
[Speaker I] You can’t stop it there and say that’s it. It has to have an effect, it spills over.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That it will have an effect is something else; the question is why you do it, not whether it has an effect. Yes? Why are you coming to do this? What’s your motivation? Right. Therefore he explains, and this is what the Talmud concludes regarding Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, that he left nothing, etc., in order to fulfill what is said: “to bequeath substance to those who love Me,” etc. The whole idea is explained there in that entire passage: it is the statement of the holy Torah itself, “she cries out in the streets,” yes, “wisdoms cry out in the streets,” that it has the power to bequeath and give good reward to anyone who studies and engages in it out of love for it itself, literally—not because by studying you’ll perform commandments and therefore merit the world to come. The study itself, in essence, brings you there. That is, to add insight and sharp analysis—and this is “those who love Me,” I don’t know, yes, the continuation of the verse: “to bequeath substance to those who love Me, and I will fill their storehouses.” Right. So the claim, basically—what I brought this passage for was to sharpen even more what I said about “If you walk in My statutes.” “If you walk in My statutes” comes to stand in contrast to “and keep My commandments.” “If you walk in My statutes” means to study in order to study, for the sake of Torah. “Keep My commandments” means to study in order to know what to do. “And do them” is the actual performance. Okay? All three of these are required; it’s not that one of them is not okay. But you have to understand that there are three different kinds of activity here. All are good, all are positive, all of them must be done. But these are three different kinds of activity. Okay? And to give good reward to it as something in its own right. Correct. I think the point is that he says this elsewhere, and the author of the Tanya also writes in almost exactly the same style, that Torah is a garment of the Holy One, blessed be He. The Holy One, blessed be He, Israel, and the Torah are one. So to engage in Torah for the sake of Torah is also for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He—for the sake of the Holy One as He appears through the Torah. In the end, everything is His garments. Okay? But נכון, from our perspective, it is engaging for the sake of Torah. We aren’t supposed to think about Him when we engage in Torah. Yes, this is what people always say: when you’re talking about legal presumptions, and liars and thieves and rapists and murderers and Sabbath desecrators and all kinds of things like that, you’re not exactly dealing with purity and sanctity—you’re not exactly seeing the Holy One, blessed be He, before your eyes when you deal with that. You’re dealing with the lowest layers of human beings. But that really makes no difference. Because you are dealing with the will that the Holy One has regarding those situations. What does He want? And your cleaving is not to the situation—the situation is just the medium. Your cleaving is to the will as it is expressed through the situation: what am I supposed to do in this situation? That is the will of God. And that is something completely abstract, pure, holy, and so on. It appears within, yes, all the filthy alleyways. And this again goes back to the dispute between the author of the Tanya and Nefesh HaChayim—yes, the question whether Torah is supposed to appear in some kind of elevated status, in some enclosed place distinct from the world of the mundane, which is the Lithuanian approach, or the Hasidic approach that says no—even in the filthy alleyways and in every place, Torah is supposed to appear. That also appears there in Nefesh HaChayim.
[Speaker H] Are these things taken from an article, meaning in that context—like, was it written here?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, this is a column of mine, a column from my website, column 479. It’s also in my book—I edited this in the trilogy, I worked on it there as well.
[Speaker H] I said before that it was really several articles, study group and things like that, part of…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I use things I’ve written each time for something else; here it’s a column. I want to sharpen the distinction between the first two things more. Between study for the sake of study and study in order to know what to do. Doing is something else—that’s the actual fulfillment. Right now I’m talking about the difference between these two kinds of study; I want to focus on that in order to sharpen even more what I’m talking about. So on the one hand, many times we have statements from the Sages and the commentators about the importance of studying in order to do. Right? Here, for example, in Vayikra Rabbah, I bring several sources. Rabbi Yohanan said: “One who studies not in order to do—it would have been better for him had his placenta turned over onto his face and he had not come into the world.” Fine, okay, seemingly, “If you walk in My statutes” means your placenta turns over onto your face. You study not in order to do; you study only for the sake of study—so his placenta turns over onto his face? Obviously that’s not the intention. Yes, this isn’t speaking about the motivation for study; it’s speaking about the question of what you do with the study in the end. Obviously also in “If you walk in My statutes,” when I study Torah there is, of course, the matter of fulfilling what I studied. It’s just that this is not the purpose of the study. Here we’re talking about someone who studies and does not fulfill in practice—not someone who studies not for the purpose of fulfilling, but someone who studies and does not fulfill. Yes, exactly. I have a mythological story about this. Once, I was walking with my wife in Tel Aviv, on Allenby Street. This was many years ago—I’m talking maybe forty years ago, something like that, a bit less. There was some watchmaker there, and suddenly we remembered that we had some watch that needed fixing, so we said let’s go in and have him fix the watch. We go in there, and he sees some Jew with fringes and all that, and he says to me, “So, where are you holding?” A Jew, bareheaded, nothing, sitting there. I didn’t understand what he wanted from me—what does “where are you holding” mean? I came to fix a watch. He said to me, “No, in the Talmud—I assume you study, where are you holding?” I said, in tractate—I don’t remember which one—Sanhedrin, I don’t remember what tractate I told him. And on what page? Such and such a page. And what do you say about this Tosafot and that Tosafot? I was in shock, really. The guy was completely immersed in it. I was studying that topic at the time; I wasn’t as immersed in it as he was. So we talked a little afterward, and I asked him, “What, how are you just sitting here without a kippah?” He said to me, “What are you talking about? There’s no greater pleasure than studying Talmud with a good cigarette on the Sabbath.” And he said, “I study all the time.” Meaning, he was a former yeshiva guy, yes, from many years earlier. I don’t know exactly what happened along the way; I don’t remember anymore—maybe he told me, maybe he didn’t, I don’t remember. And he studies all the time. He says, “I can’t live without it, it’s the breath of my life.” “Would that they abandoned Me but kept My Torah”—this is really a wonderful example of that statement of the Sages. Yes, it really was a phenomenon—the man was so immersed in the passage, I just… it was amazing. Anyway, so this is the one for whom, as it were, “his placenta turned over onto his face”—that’s who is being discussed. Sorry, not him specifically, but his type is what is being discussed. Because we are not talking about the question of why you study; we are talking about the question whether, after you studied, you fulfill it. The question whether the purpose of study is in order to fulfill—that’s a different question; that’s not what we’re dealing with here, okay? Same thing here: Rabbi Acha said: “One who studies in order to do merits the holy spirit. What is the reason? ‘This book of the Torah shall not depart from your mouth, so that you observe to do according to all that is written in it, for then you shall make your way prosper, and then you shall succeed.’ And ‘succeed’ refers only to the holy spirit, as it says, ‘a maskil of Ethan the Ezrahite.’” Okay? In short, again: study in order to do. And if you study in order to do, then you merit the holy spirit. And again, there is room to discuss this. Here it’s already phrased in a somewhat more problematic way, and still there is room to discuss. “Studies to do” means he studies and also does. The question whether the purpose of study has to be only to know what to do—that is not written here. One can discuss whether yes or no. There is the most famous Talmudic passage in Kiddushin: “Rabbi Tarfon and the elders were once reclining in the upper chamber of the house of Nitza in Lod. This question was asked before them: Is study greater, or is action greater? Rabbi Tarfon answered and said: Action is greater. Rabbi Akiva answered and said: Study is greater. They all answered and said: Study is greater, because study leads to action.” It sounds like a choir—“they all answered and said,” now you say it, now you. It sounds like something choreographed. The move in this passage is a bit strange, because you ask the question whether study is greater or action is greater. Now, what is the final answer? The final answer is: study is greater because study leads to action. So if action is the goal and study is the means, then “study leads to action” is a reason why action is greater. Why is study greater? Study is a means, because otherwise you won’t know—you won’t know what to do. But the goal is action; study is the means. It is well known that the lesser depends on the greater, not the greater on the lesser. Meaning, if something serves something else, then the thing being served is the goal and the thing serving it is the means. So how can you tell me that study is greater because it leads to action? But you’re not doing it. It leads to action—I can also… there is value
[Speaker K] in the study itself. He says there is independent value in action itself, that’s all. But they tell you: study is greater because study leads to action.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If I study and “his placenta turned over onto his face” because I don’t do what I study? So then I
[Speaker K] do that action, then it goes back to action.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then you go back again to saying that study and action are simply a combination. It’s not that study is greater. After all, if you study and do, that is greater than… It’s like, you know, I think I once said here—yes, that saying of Rabbi Kook, or I heard it once from the Vizhnitz Rebbe, that it is better to fail in gratuitous love than to fail in gratuitous hatred. And I always think it’s better not to fail in either one. We always set up two bad alternatives and say this one is less bad, but there is also an alternative that is good, not just less bad. Why do we always have to choose between two bad alternatives? Right? You ask me whether study is greater or action is greater. And then you tell me, no, no, what is greater is study and action together. Thank you very much. But that’s not what I asked. I asked you which of these two is greater. I also know enough math to know that two is greater than one.
[Speaker G] And also, knowing what to do here is action in potential, that you need to…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But I won’t necessarily do it in practice—that’s a separate decision, even if I know what to do. That’s the case of “his placenta turned over onto his face.”
[Speaker C] It’s a statistical matter. Meaning, if you study, there’s a higher chance that you’ll do good deeds.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I think this needs to be read differently.
[Speaker C] There’s a likelihood here…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay. I think the interpretation is different. I think the interpretation is different. I think that when Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon discuss whether action is greater or study is greater, and then afterward they all answer and say: you didn’t understand the point. Meaning, not only are you, Rabbi Tarfon, wrong, but you too, Rabbi Akiva, are wrong—both of you are wrong. What is great is study that leads to action. Meaning, you are asking me the question as if these are two separate things—whether study is greater or action is greater. You have an inquiry, two options. By the way, in conceptual inquiries in general you have to know that many times, when people present two dichotomous possibilities, they ignore all kinds of combinations that could also be options. So here too, I think it’s the same thing. The question is flawed from the outset: whether study is greater or action is greater. It is one whole. That one whole is study that leads to action, and that is what is truly great. But that does not mean that the purpose of study is to know what to do. Rather, it means that after you study for its own sake—“If you walk in My statutes,” yes? and what we saw in Nedarim and elsewhere—you study for its own sake, and afterward you also carry out what you study, because without that, after all, you won’t know what to carry out if you don’t know. That whole package is what is great. There is no point debating here what is greater. What, do I have the option of doing only study without action? Or only action without study? There is no such option. So what is there here to engage in all this empty hairsplitting about? Study that leads to action—that is the great thing. And he said that he wasn’t… that this works… that it’s preferable to invest in education, because education or study, as
[Speaker C] they call it, will bring people to a higher intellectual level, and action…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But to invest in action—what does it mean to invest in action?
[Speaker C] If you’re building a society, then people say: invest a lot of effort in education, in learning, and automatically you’ll get good action, statistically.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why does one contradict the other? I’ll invest in this and I’ll invest in that—what…
[Speaker C] On the other hand, make strict laws, put up cameras, everything, and then you’ll get good actions because people will fear punishment.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, they’ll fear punishment, but they won’t know what to do.
[Speaker C] There will be laws; they’ll get smacked every time.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So they’ll have to study the laws. They’ll have to study the laws. What is this, the Chinese room? In an arbitrary way,
[Speaker C] I don’t know. That situation isn’t good.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He’s telling you… Okay, I suggest a different interpretation.
[Speaker C] That’s how I read the passage.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, fine. I want to suggest a different interpretation. I claim that the Talmud is pushing back against the separation. As if you can compare whether study is greater or action is greater. You see those two things as two separate things, joined together only in the sense of: do this and do that too, two obligations. And the Talmud says no, there’s a hyphen between them. Like Burg once said, right, about Religious Zionism: what is the main thing in Religious Zionism? Not the Zionism and not the religiosity, but the hyphen between them. So here too, it’s the same thing. He says: what is greater is the hyphen between study and action. That is what’s great. Not the study and not the action. The hyphen that ties them together—that is the great thing. Now what does that mean? You could understand it to mean that action is the motivation for why I study. I study in order to know what to do. That’s the technological approach. That’s how people with the technological approach learn this Talmudic passage. I learn it the other way around. I say that study is great when it ends in a practical conclusion. If you remain in abstract worlds and study general principles, but you don’t translate it into “what practical difference does it make?”—which is what they keep asking all the time—you have to translate it into a concrete situation and see what it means in the world of action. The moment you translated it into a situation and you know what it means in the practical world, you’ve finished the learning. Not because action is the goal, but because this kind of learning has to end in a conclusion that says something about the practical world. That is a description of the learning. That’s why they say study is greater—but what kind of study? Study that leads to action. But which study is great? Only study that ultimately ends in practical conclusions. And by the way, that’s a very important lesson. It’s an important lesson because in yeshivot, at least in the last generations, a kind of disconnect has emerged between learning and action. What do I mean? All day long I learn Talmud analytically or whatever, I raise possibilities this way and that way. No—even if he knows Jewish law, he studies Mishnah Berurah for half an hour, an hour a day, he devotes that to studying practical Jewish law. So there is learning and there is action. And what is written here is that this is problematic. Study has to be the kind of study where the end of your analysis concludes with a practical conclusion. The practical conclusion is the result of your analytical learning, not what is written in the Mishnah Berurah. That is not the practical conclusion. You have to “bring the discussion to a conclusion according to the law.” What does “bring the discussion to a conclusion according to the law” mean? It doesn’t mean to learn the bottom lines in the Mishnah Berurah. You have to learn the whole discussion, the whole topic, and bring it to a conclusion—meaning, arrive at a conclusion according to Jewish law; say what ultimately came out for you in Jewish law. And studying Jewish law means studying the passages, but in the end concluding with a practical result. No—studying Jewish law is not running through the Mishnah Berurah or the Shulchan Arukh. Studying Jewish law and analytical study are the very same learning. Exactly the same thing. When you finish learning analytically, you have to conclude with a practical result. Then the learning is great. The study being discussed here is this kind of study, which leads to action. It’s not like the joke about the mathematician who doesn’t need to be a triangle, and what Rabbi Kook writes at the beginning of Orot HaKodesh, I think—he writes something like that, that sacred wisdom somehow shapes the learner and also gives rise to practical consequences in how he behaves. Unlike the mathematician, who doesn’t need to be a triangle, or the philosopher, who becomes an expert in ethics but doesn’t have to behave morally. He’s just an expert in ethics—what does that have to do with what he does? Now in the Torah world the expectation is that what you learn will also shape what you do, how you actually behave in the world. Once that is the case, then your Torah is whole Torah. Great is study. But what kind of study? Study that does not remain abstract and theoretical, but has practical conclusions. But the goal is the study. The study is what is greater. Because when I read this, I read it in the scientific sense, not the technological one. The goal is to know the abstract principles. But don’t stay there in the abstract principles. Philosophy you can study in many places. In the end, you have to see how these abstract principles find practical expression. What practical difference do they make. That’s why the Talmud asks every day, “What practical difference does it make?” What does that mean? It means: leave the abstract principles aside—they’re very nice. Come show me how that translates into the practical world. Until you’ve shown me how it translates into the practical world, you haven’t finished learning the abstract principle. So on the one hand, study is greater. That is the conclusion, not action. Even though supposedly study leads to action, so it serves action, so why is it greater? It doesn’t serve action. The great study is that study which leads to action. The study that ends in a practical conclusion is the great study. But all of this is talking about study. It’s not talking about action at all. There is no question here of what is greater, learning or doing. Rather, the great learning is learning that ends in a practical conclusion. And of course afterward you also have to carry out what you learned. But that’s not the point; that’s obvious. Therefore, in terms of what I said at the beginning about “if you walk in My statutes” and “keep My commandments,” I claim that this passage deals with “if you walk in My statutes” and not with “keep My commandments.” It is not learning in order to know what to do. You study in order to know. But how do you study in order to know? Only if your abstract, theoretical, general knowledge ends in practical conclusions. Then you know that you have reached solid, correct theoretical knowledge. That is, you have finished the topic. It’s like someone studying, I don’t know, theoretical physics, but it has no meaning whatsoever in the world. He doesn’t know how to conduct an experiment to test the physics. That doesn’t mean the goal of the theory is to know what will happen in the experiment. And now, look at the practical difference this reading makes. Rabbi Israel Salanter has a book called Or Yisrael, but I saw this as an article in the book Writings of Rabbi Israel Salanter, which is in the Dorot Library of the Bialik Institute. They collected articles of Rabbi Israel Salanter, and there this article also appears, called “Law and Justice,” that article there. So there he says as follows. He brings the Talmudic passage; it’s basically the motto of the article. “According to whom goes this teaching that we learned: the wayward and rebellious son never was and never will be, so why was it written? Expound it and receive reward.” Right, that’s what the Talmud says. According to whom? According to Rabbi Yehudah. And if you wish, say Rabbi Shimon, as it was taught: Rabbi Shimon said, “Would it be because this one ate a tartemar of meat and drank half a log of Italian wine, that his father and mother bring him out to be stoned? Rather, it never was and never will be. So why was it written? Expound it and receive reward.” And then Rabbi Yonatan said: I saw him and sat on his grave. Then the Talmud continues: “According to whom goes this teaching that we learned: the condemned city never was and never will be”—there are several passages that never were and never will be, at least according to one Tannaitic opinion. Okay? So Rabbi Israel Salanter says: what does “expound it and receive reward” mean here? If they had not written these three passages of the wayward and rebellious son, would we have had nothing to do—would we have been unemployed? As though we had already finished everything else? Meaning, you study, and they add a passage that has no practical consequence and according to that opinion will never have any practical consequence—right, it never was and never will be. And with the restrictions the sages place on the wayward and rebellious son, it can’t exist even hypothetically; meaning, it can’t happen. Okay, so if that’s really the case, why did they put it there? “Expound it and receive reward”—meaning now I have another three verses to keep me occupied? I finished all the other verses, so the Torah says wait, if someone finishes those too, give him a few more verses just so he’ll have something to do? That’s not plausible. What does “expound it and receive reward” mean? I think the question is a good one. So Rabbi Israel Salanter says the answer is even better than the question—which is rare. He says that “expound it and receive reward” comes to teach you the idea of “expound it and receive reward.” What does that mean? That we do not learn Torah in order to know what to do. If we learned Torah in order to know what to do, then the passage of the wayward and rebellious son would be unnecessary, because it never was and never will be. So why do we need it? If the whole goal of study is to know what to do, then why do we need the wayward and rebellious son? Why do we need the condemned city? Why do we need all these passages? These passages come to teach us precisely this very point, the idea of “expound it and receive reward.” It’s not that it was taught there so that we should learn it and get reward; rather, the idea these passages came to teach is the idea of “expound it and receive reward.” When you study Torah, you study it in order to know for the sake of Torah, in order to receive reward for the learning itself. It is an end in itself. It is not a means in order to know what to do. How does the Torah teach us that? It writes a passage that on its face clearly cannot be realized. So why did it write it? In order to teach us that even in passages that can be realized, the basic idea of learning is “expound it and receive reward.” It is not learning in order to know what to do, but learning in order to learn. That’s his claim. So why specifically these commandments? They could have invented some other commandment that would never come about. No, clearly there are also ideas there that we are meant to learn, but those ideas are not practical ideas; they are ideas in various ways of thinking. And that is what Rabbi Israel Salanter says: this was added in order to teach you that you study the Torah’s passages in order to understand the ideas behind them, not in order to implement them. By the way, I’ll say more than that. In Maimonides, in the Laws of Rebels, there are laws of the wayward and rebellious son. Very detailed laws appear there in Maimonides: what the law is in this case and in that case, lots of laws, the laws of the wayward and rebellious son. Why? That’s really strange, because it never was and never will be. So why would you put the laws of the wayward and rebellious son into a book of Jewish law? Who cares? Again, Maimonides also has laws that don’t apply nowadays, true? It’s not like the Shulchan Arukh and the Tur—that’s obvious. But here it’s not “nowadays”; it’s never. It can’t happen. These are hypothetical laws. It’s roughly like including laws of riding on demons. Yes, my father told me that he was in officers’ training in Hungary. He was a university student. There, anyone who knew how to read and write went to officers’ training. So they sent him to officers’ training; he was about as glorious a combat fighter as I was, more or less—you knew him. So he said that half the course was devoted to learning the regulations of cavalry. There hadn’t been horses in the Hungarian army for I don’t know how many years already, but there was this thick book that every officer had to know: when you brush the horse in the morning, what you smear on it in the evening, how much it eats, how you gallop on it—because the status requires it; you can’t be an officer without knowing how to ride properly on a horse in the cavalry corps that existed there in the 17th century or whenever. So that’s roughly the same thing here with the wayward and rebellious son. The wayward and rebellious son—do they still do that in universities? What? All the things that collapsed ages ago, they don’t teach them? No, there are lessons. Very often there’s logic in teaching things that were taught in whatever year; there are lessons you can learn even from things that collapsed. Can’t you give them up? I don’t know. No, if you can give them up then maybe you really don’t need them. Ideas that collapsed sometimes teach more than ideas that remained. Here it’s simply all background you don’t need, background on flowers. Exactly. Meaning, through this supposedly practical plane that was never realized, there are still halakhic discussions in the laws of the wayward and rebellious son. And the claim is that when you deal with the topic of the wayward and rebellious son, you haven’t learned it until it ends in the practical conclusion of Jewish law. And those conclusions appear in Maimonides. This has nothing at all to do with the question of whether you will ever implement it; that’s not the point. Maimonides is basically writing those laws there not so that we should know what to do, but so that we will have the conclusions that complete our learning—“to bring the discussion to a conclusion according to the law.” As long as we don’t know the laws of the wayward and rebellious son, we haven’t learned the topic of the wayward and rebellious son. What? Fine, I already spoke about the casuism of the Talmud; I talked about it in one of the earlier classes, we won’t go into that again now. There is also logic to this argument: broadly speaking, you have to conclude your study with a practical result because they didn’t conclude it—they left you the possibilities so that you would conclude it. You need to reach the practical conclusion, not they. They reached their conclusions; each reached his own conclusion. You have to reach your own conclusions. You see that from the Talmud in any case—I spoke about this in that class. You see in any case that in the Talmud almost no topic ends in a conclusion. There are hardly any topics that end in a halakhic conclusion, a practical conclusion. And it’s quite clear that the Talmud did not come to function like Maimonides or the Shulchan Arukh and tell you what to do. It came to give you a conceptual framework—how you think about things, what positions arise. In the end, you have to attain your own conclusion. But you have to attain it. Meaning, you haven’t finished learning until you have reached the practical conclusion that emerges from the passage you learned. Even if it’s not Abaye’s conclusion, it’s your conclusion. Okay? That’s how you finish the learning: when you reach your conclusion. Understand? And then he says there is a Talmudic passage in Nedarim: “Why is it uncommon for Torah scholars to produce Torah scholars from among their sons? Rav Yosef said: so that they will not say the Torah is their inheritance. Rav Sheshet son of Rav Idi said: so that they should not lord it over the community. Mar Zutra said: because they lord themselves over the community. Rav Ashi said…” and so on. “Ravina said: because they do not recite the blessing over the Torah first. As Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: What is the meaning of that which is written, ‘Who is the wise man who can understand this?’ This matter was asked of the sages and the prophets, and they could not explain it until the Holy One Himself explained it, as it is written: ‘And the Lord said: because they have forsaken My Torah.’ Is that not the same as ‘they did not obey My voice’? Is that not the same as ‘they did not walk in it’? Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: it means they did not recite the blessing over the Torah first.” So Rabbi Israel Salanter asks: what kind of bizarre evil inclination is this? Torah scholars who devote their lives to Torah, occupied with Torah all the time—but they cut corners on the blessing over the Torah? That, they don’t say in the morning. Why? Where does this strange evil inclination come from, to skimp on the blessing over the Torah? And why is that called “because they have forsaken My Torah”? Someone who doesn’t say the blessing over the Torah has forsaken the Torah? I’m occupied with Torah all day. So I didn’t make the blessing first—so what? What do you mean, so what? Fine, the blessing over the Torah may even be Torah-level, but what is this “because they have forsaken My Torah”? I’m occupied with Torah all day. We’re talking about Torah scholars. And because of this their sons don’t become Torah scholars? There’s a bit of exaggeration here regarding the blessing over the Torah. So he argues—and brings a Talmudic passage in Menachot; let’s see if I have it here, yes. The Talmud in Menachot says: “Rav Chiyya son of Rav Huna sent in the name of Rabbi Yochanan: over the arm-tefillin one says, ‘Blessed are You… who sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to put on tefillin,’ and over the head-tefillin one says, ‘Blessed are You… who sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us concerning the commandment of tefillin,’ but over making tefillin one does not say a blessing.” When you make the tefillin there is no blessing on that. Unlike a sukkah, as is known—the dispute between the Babylonian Talmud and the Jerusalem Talmud. “Rather, is this not the reason: any commandment whose making is the completion of the commandment, such as circumcision, even though it is valid if done by…” “And any commandment whose making is the completion of the commandment, such as circumcision—even though it is valid if done by a gentile—if done by a Jew he must recite a blessing. And any commandment whose making is not the completion of the commandment, such as tefillin—making tefillin—even though they are invalid if made by a gentile, a Jew need not recite a blessing.” Anything that is merely a preparation for a commandment gets no blessing. Now you have to understand: a preparation for a commandment sometimes has laws. For example, making tefillin is not itself a commandment, right? Putting on tefillin is the commandment. Making the tefillin is not the commandment. But that doesn’t mean it’s a neutral act. For example, if a gentile made tefillin, they are invalid. Meaning, there are laws governing how tefillin are made. It’s not that this lies outside the halakhic world, outside the halakhic sphere. It belongs to the halakhic sphere. But because it is not the completion of the matter, one does not recite a blessing over it. By the way, in Maimonides, I think in the tenth principle, he talks about preparations for commandments, about how he does not count preparations for commandments in the enumeration of the commandments. You can understand that in two ways: either he doesn’t count preparations for commandments because they aren’t commandments. Building a sukkah is not a commandment; sitting in the sukkah is. If you have a sukkah without having built it, then don’t build it—the main thing is to sit in the sukkah. Why count building the sukkah among the commandments? You don’t need to build a sukkah. Right? That’s one possibility: it isn’t a commandment at all, and therefore it isn’t counted. Another possibility is that it is a commandment, but it is a detail within the commandment of dwelling in the sukkah—building the sukkah and sitting in it—and therefore it isn’t counted separately. And the claim—and I can show this from various places—is that Maimonides means the second option. In other words, preparations for a commandment have an element of commandment in them. They just are not counted as an independent commandment because they are a detail within the commandment they prepare. But that is not because a preparation for a commandment is not a commandment at all. Never mind. In any case, whether it is a commandment or not, no blessing is recited over it. One does not recite a blessing over a preparation for a commandment. So Rabbi Israel Salanter says that those Torah scholars did not recite the blessing over the Torah first because they understood that their Torah study was merely a preparation for the commandment, in order to know what to do. Right? “And keep My commandments”—learning in order to know what to do. And once it is merely a preparation for a commandment, one does not recite a blessing over it. No blessing is recited over a preparation for a commandment, so they did not recite the blessing over the Torah first. They did not recite the blessing over the Torah because they thought that the Torah they were learning was merely a preparation for a commandment, and over a preparation for a commandment one does not recite a blessing. You recite a blessing when you perform the commandments themselves—and that is the goal. But the study in order to know how to fulfill the commandments is only preparation for a commandment, so you don’t recite a blessing over it. That is why they did not recite the blessing over the Torah first. But the Talmud condemns this. The Talmud says this is an incorrect conception. Why is it incorrect? Because Torah study is not a preparation for a commandment; it is not a means in order to know what to do. Torah study is a value in itself. And this conception is so problematic that because they did not recite the blessing over the Torah first, they are called “because they have forsaken My Torah.” They do not understand what Torah is at all. They think Torah is a means to know what to do. That is a distorted conception of the concept of Torah—everything I’ve been talking about since the beginning of the semester. In other words, the concept of Torah is not the collection of laws that we learn, and certainly not in order to know what to do. It is the ideas that stand behind them, which have expression on the practical plane—what to do and what not to do, okay? So they did not correctly grasp what Torah is at all. Therefore, “because they have forsaken My Torah”—they are not engaged in Torah at all. They are learning technology; they are learning in order to know what to observe. They are not learning Torah for Torah’s sake, as the Rosh says in Nedarim, but rather they are learning Torah in order to know what to do. An ignoramus cannot be pious, so you need to know what to do, so you learn in order to know. That is not Torah study. And therefore it is also common that their sons do not emerge as Torah scholars like them, because a distorted Torah like that—you cannot pass it on to your children. That is his claim. And basically, from his perspective, these Talmudic passages add further proof to his basic thesis, that learning is not learning in order to know what to do. That’s what he said about the wayward and rebellious son. Learning is not learning in order to know what to do. Learning is learning for its own sake. All right? Like Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, right? It’s the same Lithuanian beit midrash, of course. Now let’s see more. In the Shulchan Arukh, at the end of section 47, it rules that women recite the blessing over the Torah. Okay? Fine. Again, the conception we saw also in Rabbi Israel Salanter, that the blessing over the Torah is a blessing over commandments—a blessing over the commandment of Torah study. Now women are exempt from the commandment of Torah study, so why do they recite the blessing over the Torah? So the Bi’ur Halakhah there says as follows: “The reason is that they are obligated to learn the laws that apply to them. And furthermore, they are obligated to recite the section of the sacrifices, just as they are obligated in prayer; therefore the blessing applies to that.” Beit Yosef and Magen Avraham. “And according to this reasoning, they can discharge a man with the blessing over commandments. Therefore the Pri Megadim explicitly wrote this, and the Vilna Gaon in his commentary disagrees with this reason,” and so on. Fine? There are those who say that… yes, the Vilna Gaon explains that the reason they recite the blessing is that although they are exempt from Torah, nevertheless they can recite the blessing and say “and commanded us,” and they are no worse than any time-bound positive commandment, regarding which we hold…” And according to that, they cannot discharge a man, because they are not obligated, and therefore cannot discharge a man in the blessing. A minor who has reached the age of education certainly cannot, etcetera. Doesn’t matter. The accepted approach is because they are obligated to learn their laws—the Magen Avraham, the Beit Yosef, the Mishnah Berurah—because they are obligated to learn the laws that apply to them. The Vilna Gaon has another approach. But that is what… Now you have to understand: this explanation goes in two opposite directions. Women are obligated to learn the laws that apply to them, right? So why is that called that women are exempt from the commandment of Torah study? Everyone needs to learn in order to know what to do. I learn the laws that apply to me; a woman needs to learn the laws that apply to her. So why do we say women are exempt from the commandment of Torah study? They are obligated in the commandment of Torah study no less than I am, no less than you are. The priests need to learn laws that don’t apply to me, right? I have nothing to do with those laws. Do I need to learn the laws that deal with what the role of the priests is, how the priests perform their duties? Presumably not. If the approach is technological—simply to know what to do—then let the priests learn that, I’ll learn this, women will learn what is theirs. You can see here, from the thing itself, that learning laws in order to know what to do is not called Torah study. Women are obligated in that, but they are exempt from the commandment of Torah study. So that means this is not called the commandment of Torah study. Right? So therefore, of course, now we can continue and ask: okay, so why do they recite the blessing over the Torah? Women learn the laws that apply to them, and that is not called Torah study. So why are they obligated to recite the blessing over the Torah? Why is that used as the justification for women being obligated to recite the blessing over the Torah? So I claim—and here I part company with the Mishnah Berurah and the Magen Avraham, and there is plenty of evidence for this, and of course it is a well-known dispute, but in my opinion it is obvious—that the blessing over the Torah is a blessing of praise, not a blessing over commandments. We praise the Holy One for giving us Torah. He gave Torah to all the Jewish people, not only to men. So women recite the blessing over the Torah. But the very statement of the Mishnah Berurah and the Magen Avraham that women are obligated to learn the laws that apply to them, and therefore they recite the blessing—leave aside the point of “therefore they recite the blessing”—but the very claim that they are obligated to learn the laws that apply to them has to be reconciled with the claim that women are exempt from the commandment of Torah study. Necessarily, learning the laws that apply to you in order to know what to do is not Torah study. A wayward and rebellious son women do not need to learn, because that is not learning laws that apply to them; that is the commandment of Torah study. Women are exempt from the commandment of Torah study. Okay? So we see from all these directions that Torah study—yes, I’m returning to “if you walk in My statutes and keep My commandments and do them”—“if you walk in My statutes” means engaging in Torah for Torah’s sake. “And keep My commandments” means learning in order to know what to do, and in that women are also obligated. In “if you walk in My statutes,” women are exempt. In “and keep My commandments,” women are obligated, in the commandments relevant to them. And of course “and do them”—everyone is obligated, each person in the commandments that are incumbent upon him. Okay? Now I want to broaden the scope a little and make a more far-reaching claim. The Talmud in Nedarim 8 says: Rav Giddel said in the name of Rav: From where do we know that one may take an oath to fulfill a commandment? As it says, “I have sworn and I will fulfill it, to keep Your righteous ordinances.” Now who takes an oath to fulfill a commandment? But on the face of it that oath should not take effect. Why? Because he is already sworn from Sinai. Meaning, there is already an oath from Sinai that I will fulfill the commandments. To swear on top of an oath that already exists does not take effect; an oath does not take effect upon an oath. The question whether this is part of the rule that one prohibition does not take effect upon another prohibition, or whether it is an independent principle, is a story of its own, but an oath does not take effect upon an oath. So what? The Talmud says, fine, but it is still permitted to do this even though the oath does not take effect, because it helps a person spur himself on to fulfill commandments. Fine. Another statement. Rav Giddel said in the name of Rav: One who says, “I will arise early and study this chapter, and I will study this tractate,” has taken a great vow to the God of Israel. The Talmud asks: but is he not already sworn from Sinai? And an oath does not take effect upon an oath. The same question. You said you are going to study Torah, you swore that you will study Torah—you are already sworn from Sinai in the commandment of Torah study. So the Talmud says: what is this teaching coming to tell me? That even mere self-motivation? But that is already what Rav Giddel’s first statement taught. So what is new here? We already heard that in Rav Giddel’s earlier statement. Rather, it is teaching us this: since if he wished he could exempt himself by reciting the Shema morning and evening, therefore the oath takes effect upon him. Since the person can exempt himself with the morning and evening Shema, the oath takes effect, because he could have refrained from studying this. He recited Shema in the morning and Shema in the evening; this chapter he does not need to study, so he is exempt. Therefore if he swears to study this chapter, the oath takes effect, because regarding that he is not already sworn. Okay, that is basically what is written here. Now the commentators note something on this passage. The Ran there, for example, asks—the Ran in the commentary on the page itself, not the Ran on the Rif; in Nedarim there is a Ran on the page itself. “It teaches us this: since if he wished he could exempt himself,” etc.—it seems to me that this is not to be understood literally, that he really exempts himself in this way. What, by reciting Shema morning and evening he has fulfilled the commandment of Torah study? That cannot be, for every person is obligated to study constantly, day and night, according to his ability. And we say in the first chapter of Kiddushin: “Our Rabbis taught: ‘And you shall teach them diligently’—that the words of Torah should be sharp in your mouth, so that if a person asks you something, you will not stammer and say…” and the morning and evening Shema are not sufficient for that. How will you ever get to a point where someone asks you about something anywhere in Torah and you can answer him, if all you do in the commandment of Torah study is recite Shema in the morning and evening? From that you won’t become a Torah scholar. Okay? Rather, from here it seems to me proof, says the Ran, for what I wrote in the chapter “The Last Two Oaths,” that anything derived from interpretation—even though it is from the Torah—since it is not explicitly written in the verse, an oath does take effect upon it. The Ran’s innovation appears also in tractate Shevuot. An oath does not take effect on a commandment, right? Regarding the commandment we are already sworn and standing from Sinai. Who knows where they got that from—not the oath at Sinai nor anything like that—but I’m leaving that aside right now. So we are already sworn and standing from Sinai to fulfill the oaths—well, the commandments. Therefore an oath cannot take effect on a commandment. But that is only true for commandments explicitly written in the Torah. Commandments that come from interpretation—an oath does take effect on them. Why? Apparently because regarding them we are not already sworn and standing from Sinai. Note well: these are Torah-level commandments, the commandments that come from interpretation. The Ran says this explicitly—even though they are from the Torah, even though it is of Torah origin—but we are not sworn on them from Sinai. Why? Because we are sworn to fulfill what we received, the Torah. The interpretations are things generated from the Torah; they were not given to us together with the Torah. So when we swore at Sinai, we swore regarding what appears in the Torah. What is generated afterward is still Torah-level, but it is not something included in the Sinai oath. Therefore there is no prior oath on it, and so an oath can take effect. By the way, according to this Ran, a big novelty comes out—one I think many people don’t notice—that an oath does not take effect upon an oath is not part of the rule that one prohibition does not take effect upon another prohibition. Because if it were part of that rule, what difference would it make whether the earlier prohibition is Torah-level but not explicitly written in the Torah, only derived by interpretation? It is still a Torah-level prohibition. Once there is a Torah-level prohibition, the prohibition of the oath should not take effect upon it—one prohibition does not take effect upon another. The Ran understands that “an oath does not take effect upon an oath” is a separate law. And because the first thing is an oath, the second oath cannot take effect on it. Therefore he says: I don’t care if the first thing is a prohibition. It may be a prohibition, but I did not swear regarding it. And since I did not swear regarding it, the oath takes effect on it. Even though it is a Torah-level prohibition, the oath still takes effect on it—even though from the standpoint of “one prohibition does not take effect upon another prohibition,” it seemingly should not take effect if the first prohibition is also Torah-level. But the Ran holds that “an oath does not take effect upon an oath” is an independent idea. All right? In any case, that’s just a side remark. So the Ran says: “And here this is what we are saying: since if he wished he could exempt himself with what is explicitly written in the verse, namely ‘when you lie down and when you rise,’ with the morning and evening Shema, therefore the oath takes effect on him fully, even regarding a sacrifice. And this is what it means by ‘a great vow’—meaning, for all its laws like a voluntary matter, as I wrote there with conclusive proofs in Shevuot.” So what is he saying, basically? That what is written here in the Talmud is not that he exempted himself from the commandment of Torah study with the morning and evening Shema, but that with the morning and evening Shema he exempted himself from what is explicitly written in the Torah, “when you lie down and when you rise.” That you fulfill with the morning and evening Shema. But there are things that come from interpretation—“And you shall teach them diligently,” that the words of Torah should be sharp in your mouth—and that means you have to study Torah all day and all night as much as you can. As far as the commandment of Torah study is concerned, it includes everything. The oath takes effect only on what is beyond the morning and evening Shema, because the rest, although also Torah law, comes from interpretation and is not explicitly written in the Torah. Therefore the oath takes effect on it. So he basically narrows the novelty appearing in the Talmud. When it says that he exempted himself with the morning and evening Shema, it does not mean he really exempted himself from the commandment of Torah study with the morning and evening Shema. Rather, he exempted himself from what is explicitly written in the Torah; and there remains an obligation derived from interpretation to study all the time, not just the morning and evening Shema. Yes. Okay. But the Rosh and the “Mefaresh” there in that place—it seems they read the Talmud in its plain sense. “Since if he wished he could exempt himself with the morning and evening Shema, and since by reciting Shema he fulfills ‘it shall not depart,’ as Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said in tractate Menachot: anyone who recites Shema morning and evening has thereby fulfilled the commandment of ‘it shall not depart.’ And since if he wished he could exempt himself from ‘and you shall teach them diligently’ with Shema, for he fulfills his obligation thereby from that Sinai oath, therefore when he says ‘I will study this chapter,’ even though he was not sworn regarding this, for he has already exempted himself, therefore the oath takes effect upon him.” Without all the Ran’s framework, he really exempts himself with the morning and evening Shema. He doesn’t need to study more than reciting Shema morning and evening. That’s all; enough, no more is needed. Everything beyond that is voluntary. Where is that in the Talmud? It’s the Talmud in Menachot; we’ll get to it in a moment. The Rosh there also writes the same thing: “This teaches us that since if he wished he could exempt himself,” etc., “therefore the oath takes effect on him, for it was not an obligation but voluntary.” You see? It’s voluntary. All study beyond the morning and evening Shema is voluntary. So what then is the concept of neglect of Torah study? “Abaye said, and some say Rav Chisda: if a person sees suffering coming upon him, let him examine his deeds…” etc. In the end it says, yes, “if he examined and found nothing, let him attribute it to neglect of Torah study.” What is neglect of Torah study? After all, as a commandment, I fulfill my obligation with the morning and evening Shema. So what’s the problem? What is the charge of neglect of Torah study? According to the Ran, neglect of Torah study means someone who does not fulfill the interpretation of “and you shall teach them diligently”; it isn’t enough to recite Shema in the morning and evening. But according to the Rosh and the Mefaresh—that’s not Rashi there, it’s someone else, apparently the Rivan or someone like that—according to them what is neglect of Torah study? There is no such thing as neglect of Torah study. You recited Shema morning and evening, you fulfilled your obligation, everything is fine. Neglect of Torah study is a complaint against someone who did not study. But what complaint can there be against you for not studying, if you don’t have to study? What complaint is there? So here I want to argue that we need to distinguish between Torah study and the commandment of Torah study. The commandment of Torah study is fulfilled by reciting Shema morning and evening—that’s Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai whom the Mefaresh cited. But Torah study, the idea of Torah study, is much broader, unrelated to the morning and evening Shema, and that you need to study all the time. But that is not included in the formal commandment of Torah study, and if you didn’t do it, you have not nullified a positive commandment. Still, you did something wrong. The charge of neglect of Torah study is not a halakhic charge; it is not the nullification of the positive commandment of Torah study. Neglect of Torah study is not the nullification of a positive commandment the way we are used to in other cases. Neglect of Torah study is an ideological demand, not a halakhic one. Halakhically, if you recited Shema morning and evening, you fulfilled your obligation. But ideologically, you need to understand that you should study Torah all the time as much as you can, and if you didn’t do that, then “they have forsaken My Torah”—then you do not understand what Torah is. Or in other words, what I want to claim is that there are certain obligations in Jewish law—and Torah study is one of them—that exist even though there is no formal positive commandment commanding them. The Torah left this outside the formal system of commandments, and still expects us to do it. Why? Let me perhaps give a few examples, and then we’ll also understand why. For example, Rabbi Chaim Vital talks about correcting one’s character traits. He says: why does the Torah not command the correction of character traits? If it is so important, why is there no such commandment? So he says there: because the Torah speaks to human beings. If someone isn’t a human being, there is nothing to talk to him about. You need to understand that on your own. If you don’t understand it on your own, then the commandment won’t help you either. Don’t all the commandments effect character refinement? If you do all the commandments, won’t you be refined? No, commandments don’t deal with character refinement; commandments are a different category. Character refinement is something else. There’s a joke in yeshivot, you know, about someone who starts dating, looking for a spouse—he reaches the chapter “A man betroths.” So he searches, and rejects all the candidates. The mashgiach comes to him and says: tell me, what are you, the greatest of the generation? No one fits you? Sit and work on your character traits for a year. After a year, come back to dating, it’ll be better. So he works on his character with tremendous fervor, studies ethics books, goes into solitude, shouts in the forests, and after a year he has worked on his traits and goes back to meeting girls, and once again rejects all of them. The mashgiach asks him: tell me, you spent a whole year working on your character—what did you do? He says: a year ago, when I was arrogant, no one was suitable for me. Now that I’m also humble, all the more so no one is suitable for me. Simple enough. That’s what someone looks like when he works on his traits because there’s a commandment of character refinement. The discerning will understand. There may be commandments related to character refinement, but someone who doesn’t understand that he needs to refine his character not because there’s a commandment, but because he needs to be a human being… Rabbi Kook… He wants to argue that if the Torah had commanded character refinement, it would have ruined it. Because the value of character refinement is mainly when it is done voluntarily—when you yourself understand that you need to refine your character. If you do it in order to fulfill an obligation—like that fellow, our groom here—if you do it in order to fulfill an obligation, then you haven’t refined your character. You fulfilled a duty, but you didn’t really become a better person. That’s not it. Studying ethics. What? Isn’t studying ethics the same thing? Yes, but it’s not a commandment. That’s the closest thing to it. But there is no commandment. There is no commandment to be moral? In the Torah. But there isn’t. There is no commandment to study ethics. And when you study it, you are not studying Torah when you study ethics. What? That’s neglect of Torah study. Right, you could define it that way. Neglect of Torah study, yes. What can you do? There are things—when I eat too, that’s neglect of Torah study. There are things I need to do, and they come at the expense of Torah study. Maybe we’ll get to that—probably not today anymore—but we’ll get to it later. So I’m saying that there are certain things that are not brought into formal Jewish law, not because they aren’t important enough—rabbinic enactments, pious conduct, things like that. There are things that are not brought into the formal halakhic system because they are too important. They are so fundamental that one does not want to bring them into the formal halakhic system and make them just one more commandment among the 613. It’s a foundation, not one commandment among many. And in order to leave it at that level, one does not bring it into the system of commandments. So that is my claim: that Torah study is an example of that. Torah study is so foundational that the Torah intentionally leaves it outside the system of formal obligations. This is something you need to do voluntarily, because you understand the meaning of Torah study. If you understand the meaning of Torah study, then you study Torah. If you don’t understand, then don’t study—it’s not worth anything to me. If you study only because it says you have to study, then forget it—that doesn’t interest me. So recite Shema in the morning and evening, everything is fine. You fulfilled your obligation. And therefore Torah study is intentionally left outside, so as not to ruin it, as Rabbi Kook says. If it were left inside, then you would study because it says there is a commandment of Torah study. No—you need to study because you understand that studying Torah is cleaving to the Holy One. And if you understand that, then you study Torah not because there is a commandment, but because it is something foundational. It is not a commandment. It is the infrastructure of the entire system of commandments. And yes, there is an example of this—we didn’t talk about Hanukkah, so let’s speak a bit retroactively for a few minutes, because this too is an example of a similar point. There are several questions. I just remembered this now, so I’m reconstructing it. There are, yes, questions about the lighting of the candles over the eight days. First: why was the miracle necessary? After all, ritual impurity is permitted in communal service, so let them light with impure oil. And second: why is the enhancement of the commandment for the Hanukkah lights more than one-third? After all, enhancement of a commandment is only up to one-third—that’s in Bava Kamma 9. More than one-third, you are not obligated to beautify a commandment. But with the Hanukkah lights, the enhancement is seven times the commandment in the end. What is it—44 candles instead of eight? What is it… no, 36 instead of eight. 36 instead of eight is four and a half times as much. That’s not another third. It’s not one and a third times; it’s four and a half times. So it doesn’t fit the definitions of beautifying a commandment. So why indeed are we obligated? I once saw this from Rabbi Yogel—actually I heard it, but I was asleep when he said it. Later I saw it in a book, so then I saw it. Because these are things that were taught orally and later entered a book. In any event, he says that the answer to these two questions is one. In fact, the miracle really wasn’t needed. They could have lit with impure oil. Ritual impurity is permitted in communal service, or set aside in communal service, or permitted in communal service. Why then was the miracle done? In order to enable us to light with pure oil. Because otherwise we would have lit with impure oil. And that enabled us to beautify the commandment and light with pure oil. Meaning, all the miracle did was enable us to beautify. In memory of that miracle, the sages instituted a special beautification for the Hanukkah lights. But the beautification they instituted is not beautification by virtue of “This is my God and I will beautify Him,” like every commandment where you should do it better. No—it is of the essence of the commandment, because the whole point of the miracle was so that we could beautify, and therefore they instituted for future generations that we beautify. But then we’re stuck in a bind. Because if they had instituted it as an obligation, not as “those who beautify” and “those who beautify to the highest degree,” but as a straight obligation, then it would no longer be beautification—it would be obligatory. They wanted somehow to convey a double message to me. On the one hand, formally you’re not obligated; on the other hand, of course you are. But without our commanding you. So this game, basically, says the following: how do you do that? First of all, you create a beautification that goes beyond the ordinary limits of beautification, beyond one-third, so that you understand that this is not the usual framework of beautification; it’s something else, a law to beautify. And since it is a law to beautify, you cannot command it. So they leave “a candle for each household,” and with that you fulfill your obligation. And then there are those who beautify, and those who beautify to the highest degree. Why do we need three levels of beautification? Because the three levels—and why do they need to tell me exactly how to beautify? Make nice candles. Why do they need to tell me one candle, eight candles, and the whole dispute between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel—what is all that? All these things are messages intended to say to us: the beautification is of the body of the commandment. Someone who does not beautify has not fulfilled the commandment. Even though formally, with a candle for each household, you have fulfilled your obligation. But the whole idea instituted here is that we beautify each year in memory of the fact that we were enabled to beautify the lighting of the menorah then. So they left it as beautification, but on the other hand conveyed the message that it is obligatory. And in fact today I think everyone does the highest level of beautification, even though seemingly one could simply light one candle per household and that would be all. Nobody does that. Why not? Because at least in the collective understanding—not formally articulated, but everyone understands that we are basically expected to light at the highest level of beautification. That is obvious. And the sages succeeded in conveying that message without establishing it as a formal obligation, and that was the whole idea. By the way, the same thing happens with the measure of terumah. The measure of terumah: a generous eye is one-fortieth, an average eye one-fiftieth, a stingy eye one-sixtieth. There too they established three levels of beautification. Why establish three levels of beautification? Just say: give generously. Give as much as you like. What is this—one-fortieth, one-fiftieth, one-sixtieth? Because they want to tell you: this is not beautification; you have to give it. But we want you to do it voluntarily. On the one hand we tell you that one grain exempts the whole heap—even one grain and you’ve fulfilled your obligation. But there is a message you cannot miss, that you must separate at least one-sixtieth, and preferably one-fortieth. And when they establish clear measures, and also say there are three levels, that gives you a kind of message that you are really expected to beautify. It’s not voluntary. Okay? And more than that, when they establish three levels—why establish three levels? Why not say only the highest level of beautification? One candle per household, beautifiers. They wanted to preserve the voluntary dimension even after setting it. You can now choose whether you are here, here, or here. Because in the final analysis, they wanted you to beautify; they wanted you to do it voluntarily. But once the sages already established it, what is voluntary about it? So they establish it in such a way that there remains within it a further level of freedom, where voluntarily you can determine where you place yourself. That is true of terumah, and true of the Hanukkah lights. In terumah this is Torah law, although people think the measure of terumah is rabbinic—not true. The measure of terumah is Torah law. But in Hanukkah lights it is rabbinic, and in both of these places there are three levels whose purpose is basically to say to you: on the one hand we require you to do it—you are not formally obligated, but we require you to do it—but you can also decide to what extent. Because we do not want to drain the voluntary dimension completely out of your action. Okay? So this too is an example of obligations outside the boundaries of formal obligation. The formal obligation is one candle per household, or one-sixtieth in terumah—even one grain exempts the heap, okay? That is the formal obligation. But there are obligations beyond the formal obligation, and it is not because they are not obligatory. They are obligatory. But they did not want to bring them into the boundaries of formal obligation, for various reasons. Either because it is too important, as in Torah study or character refinement, where if it does not come voluntarily it is spoiled; or here because there was a point in making it voluntary, as with the Hanukkah lights, in memory of that beautification which became possible for us then, in the days of the Hasmoneans. Okay, so we also talked about Hanukkah. Thank you very much. That’s it for now. A very nice lesson, by the way, it is written that-