Morality, Faith, and Halakha – Lesson 2 – Rabbi Michael Abraham

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

🔗 Link to the original lecture

🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, right, that’s apparently a practical difference depending on how you understand the commandment of charity. If the commandment of charity is basically meant to work on my character traits, to refine my character, to prevent stinginess, or if the commandment of charity is meant to improve the condition of the poor person. Okay, so that could perhaps be a practical difference. Anyway, for our purposes, what I really want to argue is that a moral act is judged according to the person’s intentions. I’ll say more than that: even when I judge the act, the result, the act in itself, the content—say, is giving charity a moral act, regardless for the moment of what you think and how I judge the person—now I’m asking a question in ethics: is giving charity a moral act? Okay? In that question, you have to notice that suppose I say yes, it’s a moral act. You ask why? Because you improve the condition of the poor person; he now feels better. So what? The fact that the poor person feels better is a fact. To determine that this is good is a judgment, a normative statement. You can’t derive a normative statement from a fact. In philosophy this is called the naturalistic fallacy. Or David Hume’s is-ought problem. Between the is and the ought in English, right? Between the is—what exists—and the ought—what should happen. The actual and the desirable. Okay? What does that mean? Suppose I say this wall is white, therefore this wall is beautiful. Is that a valid argument? Does the conclusion necessarily follow from the premises? Absolutely not. What do I need to add for the argument to be valid? That white is beautiful. Right? First premise: this wall is white. Second premise: whatever is white is beautiful. Conclusion: this wall is beautiful. From the mere fact that this wall is white, I can’t derive the fact that it is beautiful. I have to add something else. Why? Because its being white is a fact. Its being beautiful is a judgment—in this case, an aesthetic judgment. Okay? A judgment is never derived from facts. In philosophy that’s a fallacy: if you derive a judgment from facts, that’s a fallacy. Okay? You always need to add some bridging premise that moves me from the facts to the judgment, from its being white to its being beautiful. “Whatever is white is beautiful” is a bridging premise that takes me from the fact to the judgment. Without it, the argument can’t stand. Okay? So this is what’s called the naturalistic fallacy, and that basically means there’s really no observational way—or no way of determining values in the same way we determine facts—to determine what is good and what is not good. Because through observation you can come up with facts, but the facts by themselves aren’t enough to determine what is good and what is not good. So how do I determine what is good and what is not good? You need to establish some value premise—for example, that you must not hit someone. Why? Because it hurts him. Invalid argument. The fact that it hurts him is a fact. The fact that you must not hit him is a judgment. How do you derive the judgment from the fact? You have to add that causing pain to a person is a bad thing. Now I say: hitting causes pain, causing pain is a bad thing, therefore hitting is a bad thing. Okay? Now the argument is valid. On the way from facts to judgment, you always need to add some extra premise. Facts by themselves do not determine the judgment—not the aesthetic one, not the ethical one, not the halakhic one, and not anything else. Okay? So that’s basically what the naturalistic fallacy is, and therefore

[Speaker B] If the result is good—you did something good for someone, you gave him food when he was hungry—then isn’t that bridge actually unnecessary?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, it’s not unnecessary. Because the fact is that you did something—does the fact that he feels good mean that you did a good act? Why? Who said that making someone feel good is a good act? You need to assume a premise that says making someone feel good is a good act. Okay? That premise seems obvious to you, fine, but you understand that it too is sitting there in the background. Whether you state it or don’t state it because it seems obvious to you—it’s still there in the background. Without it, you can’t reach your conclusion. Okay? It’s just that sometimes we don’t say it because it seems self-evident. Let me maybe give you another example. Suppose someone wants to argue that today women should be qualified to give testimony according to Jewish law. According to Jewish law, women are disqualified from testimony. And I say: I want to qualify women for testimony. Why? Because in the past women were not educated, and today they are educated, everything is fine, they understand reality, they’re aware of what’s happening in the world, and therefore they should be qualified to give testimony. What do you say to that argument? Yes? Does everyone agree?

[Speaker B] No, because you have the spirit of a certain time in which Jewish law rules differently.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Jewish law doesn’t rule differently. I’m claiming that Jewish law ruled that way because women then were not educated, but today women are educated, so Jewish law says something else. My claim is about Jewish law—I’m not claiming that we should go against Jewish law; I’m claiming that this is the correct application of Jewish law. That argument is invalid. Why? Because the fact that women were not educated in the past and today they are educated—those are facts. But the claim that they are valid for testimony is a norm, in this case a halakhic norm. How do you derive a norm from facts? You can’t. What do you need to add? Exactly. That the disqualification of women from testimony by the Sages stemmed from the fact that they were not educated. Or in other words: whoever is uneducated is disqualified from testimony. You see the connection between facts and judgment—always. And therefore, many times in arguments of this kind, for example about changes in Jewish law, about various reforms and so on, very often something is hidden: we present a claim that is supposedly only factual. How can anyone argue with that? Women in the past were not educated and today they are; that’s obvious, those facts are agreed upon. Nobody disputes them. So then why don’t you qualify them for testimony? Maybe indeed you should—but those who don’t, why not? What are they disputing, the facts? No. They are disputing the claim that the disqualification from testimony stemmed from lack of education. Not necessarily. Someone can tell you no, not because of that. We do not expound the reasons of the verse; it doesn’t matter; all kinds of reasons. But he is disputing the principle that I never even put on the table. Do you understand why it’s important to put everything on the table? Even though you say, “What do you mean—you did him good, so obviously it’s a good act.” You need to put on the table that making someone feel good is a good act. Explicitly put that premise on the table, because it’s there. In this case of qualifying women for testimony, you can see the implications. If I had told you, as I said before, they were not educated then, now they are educated—do you agree? Right? That’s a simple factual claim. So what’s the problem? How can you argue with my qualifying them for testimony?

[Speaker B] There were exceptional individuals, for example.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, so we don’t go by exceptional individuals; we establish some rule that applies to the group as a whole, and the exceptions are outliers, but the Torah doesn’t go by the exceptions. Fine, it doesn’t matter, I’m not interested in the issue itself right now; I’m only using it as an example.

[Speaker B] There may have been others too.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You can see that no, there weren’t others. Women as a rule were not educated; they didn’t even know how to read and write—not just that they weren’t educated. This was true until not so long ago; you don’t need to go back to the Talmudic period—even a hundred years ago. Sarah Schenirer, when she opened a school for girls, it caused an entire controversy. What was that? Girls learned nothing; they didn’t know how to read or write. The wife of the Chafetz Chaim—I remember the stories circulating in Bnei Brak, these wonderful legendary stories about how the wife of the Chafetz Chaim didn’t know how to read or write. Tremendous pride in it, as if it was considered praise; it’s not clear to me why. The claim I want to make, basically, is that I’m showing you why moral judgment is not something objective; it doesn’t depend on facts. You can determine factually that you improved someone’s condition, but you cannot determine that you did a good deed. That is not a factual claim; it is a judgment claim. Okay? And therefore judgment is by definition something that does not follow directly from the facts; it has an additional dimension in it, an additional subjective dimension beyond the facts. Okay, so now we basically come to the conclusion that the essence of the moral act is an act done in order to realize the idea of the good, or an act done מתוך good will. Okay? That is basically the definition of moral action—and not, of course, to achieve any other interest or any feeling of satisfaction or things of that sort. Now the following question arises. Suppose I don’t—I do an action in which I have no interest at all; it gives me no satisfaction. Remember in the previous class I talked about asking forgiveness without even feeling guilty about what I did? So you have no feeling of satisfaction, you have no benefit of any kind—psychological, physical, economic, or whatever—and only then is the action considered a moral action. But if you have no reason to do it, then why do you do it? What, does a person do something for no reason? There’s a common view that says that a person, whenever he does something, has some kind of interest. Even the satisfaction he feels is a kind of interest. It doesn’t matter—he gains something; without that he wouldn’t do it. Okay? And then that basically means there is no such thing as a moral act, because a moral act is always an act that is not done for the sake of fulfilling my interest. So there is no such thing as a moral act, right? You can’t have it both ways. If I define a moral act the way Kant defined it, meaning an act that is done without your having any interest, any benefit, any feeling of satisfaction, anything. It can be that you have those things, but that’s not the reason you do the act. Okay? On the one hand. On the other hand, there is an assumption here that says: then why does a person act? He acts because he wants to achieve something; there’s some benefit for him in it—I don’t know, something, emotional benefit, economic benefit, it doesn’t matter, some kind of benefit. Okay? So basically it’s obvious that he does it for reasons of wanting to derive benefit, but then that’s not a moral act. Can a moral act exist at all according to this definition? I’ll give you an example that sharpens this more. Something that happened to me personally when I was in Yeruham. I lived there in the Haredi community in Yeruham. And one day some guys from the community there came to me and asked me—they told me the following story. At Midreshet Sde Boker, which is a branch of Ben-Gurion University, near Sde Boker—but people live there, meaning it’s like a small settlement—and there, they had established a new synagogue. Now, there wasn’t a single religious person there. There were two traditional Jews there. There wasn’t a single religious person there, and by the way, they also were not members of the university faculty. One was the local doctor and the other was some kind of maintenance guy, something like that. Those were the two traditional Jews. Now they decided—since they had built a synagogue there on site, I have no idea why they did it, but they built a nice new synagogue there, I don’t understand who invested money in that matter—anyway, they decided to bring by shuttle some guys from the community in Yeruham every day, and we would pray Minchah and Ma’ariv in that synagogue and study a bit between Minchah and Ma’ariv. Okay? They started going every day, organized it, arranged a budget, I don’t know what, brought the people. At some stage, the people at Midreshet Sde Boker got anxious. Haredim are arriving—they’re going to shut the place down for us, take it over, move in here, and now the apocalypse will begin. Okay? They went to the press, formed an action committee, an association, I don’t know exactly what, so they asked me to go speak to them. So I went to speak to the committee, three people there from the university staff. There was no one to talk to. They came to present an ultimatum: either you get out of here or I don’t know what. There was no one to talk to. But a week or two later the matter escalated further, so I had a meeting with people from the place, not just the action committee, the university faculty, but all kinds of people—a larger group, maybe twenty people, thirty people, I don’t remember exactly how many, there were more. It was some Saturday night, and we talked a bit about the matter in a more open way. And then they said to me: look, we don’t come to you in Yeruham, I don’t know, to persuade you not to light Sabbath candles, so why are you coming to us and bothering us here? We’re not interested. So I asked them: really, why don’t you come? Really, why don’t you come? And then all kinds of answers started coming up there, and to each one I said I disagreed. And at some point I realized, in the course of the discussion, it suddenly dawned on me that I had rejected all the answers in the same way. Meaning there is some consistent logic here. I’ll give you an example. When they say, look, we don’t come because what do we care if you light Sabbath candles, it doesn’t harm anything. Fine, so what do you want? But I come to you to persuade you to keep the Sabbath because in my eyes it is important; in my eyes it is harmful to desecrate the Sabbath. So there is no symmetry. You don’t come to me because you don’t think what I’m doing is problematic, but I come to you to persuade you because I think what you’re doing is problematic. So there’s no room for comparison, right? Another answer was: because in any case we won’t succeed. If we come to you to persuade you not to light Sabbath candles, after all, you won’t listen to us. Waste of time. Fine, so what do you want? You don’t come because you don’t want to waste your time. I come because I think I have a chance of persuading you, and therefore I do come. So again there is no claim here, right? Someone else says: look, we don’t come to you because if we come to you, you’ll come to us—we’re afraid. You’ll bother us, so leave it, do whatever you want, what do I care. Fine, you don’t want me to come bother you, so therefore you don’t bother me. Fine, that’s an interested consideration. But I do want to persuade you, and I don’t care if you come and try to persuade me of the opposite. Again, there’s no basis for comparison between the fact that you don’t come and the fact that I do. Someone else says: look, what do I care, do whatever you want, do whatever nonsense you want. What do I care if you waste your life? Very good—but I do care that you’re wasting your life, and therefore I come to you. So why should the fact that you don’t come to me imply that I also shouldn’t come to you? There’s no room for that comparison at all. More than that, I said to them: you see yourselves as tolerant, pluralistic, whatever, and therefore you expect some kind of moral credit. You deserve credit for noble behavior. Now what is your noble behavior? Either you don’t care about me, right? Or you don’t want to waste your time, or it won’t help anyway—again, that’s wasting time—or you’re afraid that if you come to me I’ll come to you. In short, you don’t deserve any moral credit for your tolerance and your pluralism. So do you understand what lies behind this? What lies behind it is that the moment you do something because you have an interest, because you want to gain or not lose, that is not a moral act. You don’t deserve moral credit for it. This is exactly what I was talking about before, right? But then I stopped for a moment after all this dawned on me—there were other answers too that they raised, and I rejected all of them in the same way. I always showed them: look, you’re giving me some explanation for why you don’t come. If you have an explanation, then you don’t deserve moral credit. But then suddenly I stopped for a second and said, wait—so what am I expecting? That they won’t come to me even though there’s no explanation for it? So what, then there’s no such thing as tolerance? I too believe in the value of tolerance. But is there no such thing as tolerance? Because whenever I have an explanation for why I am tolerant toward you or accommodating toward you in some way, then I’m not tolerant. Then it’s not a moral value; I’m just acting out of self-interest. Can it be that there is such a thing as moral value? Now understand: this is a question about every moral value, not just tolerance. I am humble, okay? Either way. If I think I have no virtues at all, then I’m not humble; I simply really think I have no virtues. But if I think I do have virtues, then why be humble? What, should I lie to myself? Should I ignore the virtues that I think I have? A humble person is supposed to be someone who has virtues and nevertheless doesn’t think highly of himself, I don’t know, whatever. But why? What? Is he lying? Rav Yosef, right. So that’s exactly the point they always ask there about Rav Yosef: “since there is me.” And you understand this? And every value is like this. Because the moment you act on the value because you have no reason not to do it, or because you have a reason to do it, then it’s not a value, then you don’t deserve moral credit for it. About every value you can ask the same question. But then the question arises: so how are there values in the world? How is there such a thing as value-based behavior? What is value-based behavior? The behavior of an idiot who acts without any reason to do it? Something here doesn’t make sense. The only way I can explain the value of tolerance is if I say: look, basically I do care about you, about the fact that you’re wrong. And I also think you’re wrong. Because another answer was: we don’t think you’re wrong at all. You can light Sabbath candles, you can not light them, whatever you want—it’s not a mistake. Fine, we’re pluralists. But of course if you don’t think I’m wrong, then you don’t deserve credit for not coming to correct me. There’s nothing to correct; you don’t think I’m wrong, right? In short, that’s one more—there are many explanations. In short, what’s needed for this act to be moral at all—first of all, just coming to persuade is not a problem at all. What is immoral about coming and trying to persuade someone that he is wrong? On the contrary, it’s an obligation. If I come to coerce, then you can discuss with me whether that is moral or immoral. But to persuade? An adult person—we’ll talk, and either I’ll succeed in persuading you or I won’t. They perceive even coming to persuade as immoral. That’s just bizarre. So let’s talk about coercion then, not persuasion, okay? Now what am I saying? I’m not—you conduct yourself in a certain way, I don’t come to coerce you, and I claim that I deserve moral credit for that. That is noble behavior; I am tolerant or something like that, and therefore I deserve credit for it. Okay? Now I’m asking: what has to exist for me to be entitled to that credit? First, I have to think you’re wrong. Because if I don’t think you’re wrong, why would I go coerce something on you? There’s no reason; I don’t deserve credit for that. Right? Meaning, I have to think you’re wrong. I have to think that your mistake is harmful, because if the mistake isn’t harmful, then what do I care? I have to care about you. I must not be afraid of you. If I don’t come to coerce you because you’ll coerce me or do something to me—because if I’m afraid, then I’m not refraining from coercing you because I’m a moral person, but because I’m afraid. Right? So: I care about you, you’re wrong, the mistake is harmful, I care about you, I’m not afraid of you. And of course one more thing: that if I come and coerce you, it will also work. Because if it won’t work, then it’s just a waste of time. So I also assume that it will work. Now tell me: I think you’re wrong, your mistake is harmful, I care about you, I have the ability to influence you, and I’m not afraid of you. So why on earth not come and coerce you? And if there is no reason to tolerate you or not coerce you, then why really not coerce?

[Speaker B] You don’t want to—it’s not your will.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So what if you don’t want to? So what? I’ll coerce you because you’re wrong and the mistake is harmful.

[Speaker B] You said that morality is ultimately what I want to do, that I refrain from doing. And here, basically, with these parameters…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but your act—leave aside the person—your act is a bad act. I’m trying to persuade you not to do it. Is there no point in persuading a Nazi not to murder Jews? Even though from his perspective he thinks it’s a commandment to murder Jews. But clearly he is wrong with respect to the act itself. Of course there is reason to persuade him, or even coerce him, not to murder Jews. After I don’t coerce him and he does it, I won’t judge him as a morally bad person—that’s unrelated. But I’ll still try to persuade him not to do it; that’s obvious. I’m not claiming there’s no point in causing a person to behave correctly. I’m only claiming that even if he behaves incorrectly, if from his perspective that is what is right, then I do not judge the person himself harshly; I don’t condemn him. Yes? In short, so what’s happening here? So in order to be a person of values, do you have to be an idiot who acts without reasons? Something here is illogical. The only way to explain this, if I understand correctly, is to say: despite the fact that all this obtains. Notice: you are wrong, your mistake is harmful, my coercion is effective, meaning I will succeed in preventing the mistake, I’m not afraid of you, I care about you—everything is in place. And nevertheless I do not come to coerce. Why not? Because I believe in the value of tolerance. The value of tolerance is itself the reason why I do not coerce. Now this can exist only if all the reasons and interests point the other way. But if, from the standpoint of self-interested considerations, I really should coerce, only then can I get credit for the fact that I nevertheless do not coerce. But then really, why not—if I have no interest? Because I have a value, which is tolerance, not to coerce. And I act out of the value; I gain nothing from it. What is the difference between this explanation and all the previous explanations? That all the previous explanations dealt with interest. What do I gain or lose from the actions I take? Here too it is an explanation of why I do what I do, but it is an explanation on the plane of values, not on the self-interested plane. I don’t do it because I have an interest; I do it because I have a value of tolerance. Now here you can’t tell me, well, if you do it because you have a value of tolerance, you don’t deserve moral credit. Nonsense. That is exactly what I deserve the credit for—because I behave according to the value. Right? I don’t deserve moral credit when I do it for the sake of interest. But if I do it because of the value, that itself is what grants me moral credit. So there is a difference between the last explanation I gave and all the previous explanations that I rejected. All the previous explanations that I rejected were explanations based on a self-interested calculation. What benefit do I get or lose? Okay? All those explanations empty the moral value of the act of its content. Because if you do it for an interest, then it’s not a moral act. But if you root it in a value-based explanation, then that does not neutralize the moral value of the act; on the contrary, that’s what gives it value. That you do it because you believe in—for example, I don’t murder someone. Why don’t I murder someone? He bothers me, makes noise at night in the building. I want to murder him and be done with it. I can’t deal with him any other way. Okay? Why don’t I murder him? I gain nothing from refraining. But I have a value of human life; I do not harm human life. Right? From the standpoint of interests, I have every reason to murder him. I don’t do it because I have a value of the sanctity of human life. So I deserve moral credit for that. Right? Meaning, values too are an explanation of behavior, not only interests. But this basically means that many times when a person acts—not many times, but it can happen that a person acts and you will find no interest at all that causes this action. Not even an interest of emotional satisfaction. No interest whatsoever. Why does he do it? Because he believes that this is the right way to act. Okay? Now this is a very difficult question. Many people do not agree that there is any such thing at all. What? Tolerance is a moral value. Meaning, if I am tolerant toward you, that is a moral value; I am conducting myself according to a moral value, and I deserve credit for that. Like someone who gives charity. Why do I give him charity? To feel good? No. Because I gain something from it? No. So why do I give him? Because I believe one should do good to people; I think that is a value. Whenever the explanation is a value-based explanation, only then does the act have moral, value significance. If there is a self-interested explanation, then it has no moral significance. But that of course assumes that there can be such a situation, where a person acts even though no interest of his is fulfilled by it, including not even the satisfaction of being moral—not even that. Okay? Can there be such a thing at all? A question, okay? Can there be such a thing at all? This is the question of what is called: does altruistic behavior exist? Can a person act out of a purely altruistic consideration for the sake of another person—not for the satisfaction he will get when he helps the other, not for some benefit he will get from helping the other—no, for the other person. He himself gains nothing, feels nothing, nothing at all; he has no interest in the matter. Can such an act exist at all? Does a person ever do such actions, or are our actions always a reflection of interests? Look, there is a Maimonides—we’ll get to him on another occasion too, but let’s bring it in a bit now. Maimonides in the Laws of Repentance, at the beginning of chapter ten. Maimonides says: “A person should not say: I will perform the commandments of the Torah and occupy myself with its wisdom in order that I receive all the blessings written in it, or in order that I merit the life of the World to Come, and I will separate myself from the sins against which the Torah warned in order that I be saved from the curses written in the Torah, or in order that I not be cut off from the life of the World to Come. It is not fitting to serve God in this way. For one who serves in this way serves out of fear, and this is not the level of the prophets nor the level of the sages. And one does not serve God in this way except the ignoramuses, women, and minors, whom they train to serve out of fear until their knowledge increases and they serve out of love.” Okay? So I don’t do it for reward, and I don’t do it for anything else, okay? Nor to avoid punishment and so on. So what then? What is service out of love? Look at halakhah 2. “One who serves out of love occupies himself with Torah and commandments and walks in the paths of wisdom, not because of anything in the world, and not because of fear of evil, and not in order to inherit the good.” So then what yes? Why do you do it? This is interesting. “Rather, he does the truth because it is truth, and in the end the good will come because of it.” He does it because it is true. He gains nothing from it, he fears no punishment that will come to him, nothing. No harm, no benefit, nothing. You do this act because it is the truth. This is called serving for its own sake, and this level is a very great level, and not every sage merits it except Abraham our father, whom the Holy One, blessed be He, called ‘My beloved,’ because he served only out of love. And this is the level that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded us through Moses, as it is said: ‘And you shall love the Lord your God.’ And when a person loves God with the proper love, he will immediately perform all the commandments out of love.” That doesn’t mean you have no interest and that you won’t receive reward—you will receive reward. But you do the commandments not because of the reward. Okay? You do it because it is the truth. Exactly parallel to what I talked about earlier. Meaning, here Maimonides is basically talking about an altruistic action, only in this case it’s not in the moral context but in the context of serving God, in the religious context. Okay? But it’s the same idea. And the idea is that yes, a person can indeed perform actions that are altruistic actions, not in order to gain something or prevent some loss. Rather, you do the action because it is the truth in your eyes. Okay? That is the reason you do it. No other reason. Okay, guys, if such a thing is possible. Many people, if you ask them, will say no, of course not—there is always some sort of interest behind a person’s action. And again, even the story—the satisfaction—is a type of interest. Yes, political commentators, right? They always build on this, right? You see a politician do something. Immediately you look for what his interest was behind it. What about the option that he simply thought this was the right thing to do? That’s also an option, no? No, that option doesn’t exist in political commentary. What?

[Speaker E] Does it work politically—what is right for him to do in terms of what is considered…?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m saying—not that a person always does things only because that’s what seems right to him. People also act out of urges, out of benefit, obviously. But I’m claiming that it can happen that a person does an act because it is right in his eyes, and not because of any negative or positive interest. Such a situation is possible—not that I’m claiming this is always the case; it’s not always the case, obviously not. But I am claiming that such a case is possible in principle. Many times when you do political commentary, you say: why did he do that? What do you mean why did he do that? Because that’s what he thinks is right. Right? They say: why did Bibi do this? Because he wants to escape the trial. Why? Maybe he did it because he truly thinks that this is the right way to act? That’s possible too, no, that’s also an option. No, that’s not an option. Our political commentary is Marxist. Right? Marxism always looks at what’s behind it, what interest is hidden behind what you do. That’s a Marxist interpretation, which today is also common in the postmodern world—it doesn’t matter—but basically it’s a Marxist approach. And I say no, it could be that a person does something because he thinks that is the right thing to do. Don’t look for any interest; he has no interests. It’s possible. Many times he will indeed act out of interest.

[Speaker B] But if he thinks that’s what he needs to do, then that’s an interest.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s not an interest, that’s a value-based explanation—that’s what I said. He doesn’t do it for the satisfaction he’ll have from doing the right act, but because it is the right act.

[Speaker B] You said regarding

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A person studies Torah.

[Speaker B] Yes. Then it’s out of fear—what does that mean?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That he gets reward in the World to Come if he studies Torah.

[Speaker B] That’s interesting now. If it interests him, then

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I talked about this in the previous class; it’s the Eglei Tal, in the introduction to Eglei Tal. Then he studies not for its own sake. That doesn’t mean it’s forbidden to enjoy it or be interested in it.

[Speaker B] In the introduction to Eglei Tal, doesn’t he say that one should not refrain—that his introduction says that this is excellent study?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, absolutely not. I said that Eglei Tal writes two things. First of all, Eglei Tal writes that there is no problem whatsoever in your enjoying it—on the contrary, it improves the quality of the learning and the level of the commandment. But then he adds, a less well-known addition, that if you study for the sake of the enjoyment, then it is study not for its own sake. It’s not that there’s some ideal not to enjoy it—enjoy it—but if you study in order to derive the enjoyment, that really is study not for its own sake. Obviously—that’s the next sentence. But many people don’t notice that, which is why I said everyone knows the first part in Eglei Tal; fewer know the continuation. That’s exactly the point—what I talked about regarding dual motivation. You can also have a double motivation: you study both for enjoyment and because it is important. And then you are tested by the question: what would you do if you got up in the morning and today I don’t enjoy learning, I don’t feel like studying. Do you still study? If yes, then that means you are apparently studying for the sake of the commandment. In such a situation, even if you enjoy it, there is no problem at all, because in the end you would study even without the enjoyment. Meaning, you also study for the sake of the commandment, so there is no point in erasing the enjoyment you have. Enjoy it, why not, that’s excellent. But it cannot be the motivation. Same thing here, that’s what is written here. Obviously you can identify with the things and derive satisfaction from doing a right act. No problem. You don’t have to shut off these positive emotions that you have inside you. But the act has to be done not in order to produce those positive emotions, but because that is what is right. And you also have positive emotions—that’s what Maimonides says: “he does the truth because it is truth, and in the end the good will come.” You’ll get bonuses from it, you’ll get the World to Come, but you don’t do it for the World to Come. You’ll get satisfaction, but you don’t do it for the satisfaction. Okay? Those are two different things. “In the end the good will come” is fine. That doesn’t invalidate the act as long as the good comes, but I do not do it for the good. Okay? So that’s the issue of an altruistic act. Now I want to look at a certain passage of Talmud—I didn’t put this thing together, it doesn’t matter now. So the Talmud in Shabbat—in Berakhot, sorry, page 5a. “Rabbi Zeira, and some say Rabbi Hanina bar Pappa, said: Come and see that the measure of the Holy One, blessed be He, is not like the measure of flesh and blood. The measure of flesh and blood is that when a person sells an object to his fellow, the seller is sad and the buyer is happy.” The seller is sad and the buyer is pleased. “But the Holy One, blessed be He, is not so: He gave Torah to Israel and rejoiced.” As the giver He rejoiced, not only as the receiver. “As it is stated: ‘For I have given you a good acquisition; do not forsake My Torah.’” Okay? Meaning, He gave us something, got nothing from it, and He rejoiced. An ordinary person rejoices only when he receives, not when he gives. The Holy One, blessed be He, rejoices also when He gives. On this Rav Kook says there in Ein Ayah: “It may further be said, since one may note that this trait of the seller being sad applies only to a seller, but one who gives a gift gives with a generous eye and not because of his pressure.” He understands that the seller—why is the seller sad, then why is he selling? He sells because he is under pressure, he needs money. Fine? So basically he gains from the money, and in that he is happy because he received money, but in the fact that he lost the object he is sad. Fine? He is sad about giving up the object. Money, of course, is a different matter. What happens with a gift? When you give someone a gift, in a gift you don’t receive money in return, so why indeed do you give? Because you want to give. Notice the feeling—because you want to give. You don’t really receive compensation, right? You don’t get money. So why—he says, “but one who gives a gift gives with a generous eye and not because of his pressure”; he doesn’t receive money for it, he doesn’t need the money for it. “And from where should we compare him to a seller and say that in this too He is unlike flesh and blood?” You’re comparing a human seller to a divine giver? The Holy One, blessed be He, gave us the Torah; He didn’t sell us the Torah. In giving, flesh and blood also rejoices because he is giving it just like that, so what room is there for comparison? So he says: “However, there is a great observation here concerning the perfection of His goodness, blessed be He, and the obligation of gratitude for it, as the pious author of Duties of the Heart explained: that every benefactor among human beings has in this an intention for his own benefit.” You see the pessimism? If you benefit someone, there is some intention for your own benefit there. You don’t do things—there are no altruistic acts. That’s what Duties of the Heart says, not me, okay? There are no altruistic acts. If you do something, it benefits you in some way; otherwise you wouldn’t do it. “Except for the goodness of the blessed God, which is only for the benefit of the creatures.” And that is the superiority of the Holy One, blessed be He, over flesh and blood. The Holy One, blessed be He, can do things for the benefit of creatures without gaining anything from it. In contrast, when creatures do something, it is always for their own good. You’ll ask, so what about a gift? After all, above he said no. In a sale, yes—you do it because you’re under pressure, you need money. But in a gift you give generously, right? So he says no. “And indeed this is the trait: that the seller is sad because he does not wish to give the item to another, and if at times he is happy over the money he received, with respect to the money he is called the receiver and the buyer the giver.” With regard to the money he is the recipient, not the giver, so of course he is happy about the money because he received it. But regarding the object that he sold, he is sad because that he gave, and therefore a person is always happy only with the thing that he receives. Okay? Now he continues and says: “And indeed regarding the giving of the money, the buyer is sad, because the nature of every person is to draw benefit to himself, except that he chooses what appears to him the lesser evil, namely the giving of the money, in order to attain the greater good, which is the object.” Fine? Now he moves to a gift. “And according to this, with one who gives a gift as well, our Sages said: if the recipient had not given him pleasure of spirit, he would not have given him a gift. Thus there is here too something that may be called a sale.” A gift too is a kind of sale. Why? Because you get pleasure from having given someone a gift. Right? A woman can even be betrothed by giving to an important man. She gives a gift to an important man, and through that the important man betroths her. How does he betroth her by receiving, not giving? Because the fact that she gives him a gift gives her pleasure or honor from having given a gift to an important person. And that honor is the coin of betrothal. Through that honor he betroths her. Okay? Now that is true of every person, not only an important man. If I give you a gift, it apparently gives me some sort of pleasure of spirit; otherwise I would not have given you that gift. “He gave him pleasure of spirit,” as the Talmud says. Therefore Rav Kook says that basically a gift too is a kind of sale. You give the gift to someone, and you get compensation. The compensation isn’t money; the compensation is the pleasure of spirit. Okay? There is an essay by a French philosopher named Marcel Mauss, published in Hebrew by Resling, called “The Gift.” And there he discusses this at length, through sociological and anthropological investigations in various places, and he shows that basically a gift is always a kind of transaction. At weddings this is very common. When you give a gift at a wedding, because when you invite someone to a wedding you expect to receive a gift. You are basically honoring him with a meal—it’s not a gift, it’s not a sale. You don’t stipulate anything. But the decisors write that there is an obligation to bring a gift that covers the cost of the meal. I don’t know, there are those who say it has to cover the meal; I’m not sure they’re right. But why? Because they basically understand that this meal is indeed some kind of transaction. Even though it’s a gift, nobody stipulated with me that I can eat only if I bring a gift. There is no such stipulation at a wedding or celebratory event. Okay? But there is some assumption that the gratitude you express is some kind of transaction that you make with the one who gave you this gift. So this gift is a gift with limitations. It is basically a gift for which there is something in return. Therefore Rav Kook says: even in a gift, when you give, it is because of the pleasure of spirit that you receive. And therefore with a person, the act is always not pure; it is not for its own sake. You always do it because, in the end, you gain something. And that is the difference from the Holy One, blessed be He, who gave us Torah and gained nothing from it, yet rejoiced in it. Okay, that is basically the claim. Okay, that is basically the principle. He comes and assumes, in this pessimistic assumption, that indeed a person does not perform an altruistic act—Rav Kook, right? He is basically saying that a person does not perform an altruistic act.

[Speaker B] So now there’s always something hidden underneath.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, now I disagree. Because if that were the case, then there is no such thing as a moral act. There is no such thing as an act that has moral value. Because in the end, ultimately, you’re always doing it because of your own peace of mind. What about the Talmud? The Talmud says that a person doesn’t give a gift to someone else unless he gets some peace of mind from it. It’s no accident that the Talmud spoke about a gift and not about charity. Why? Why should I give you a gift? This object is mine. You’re not needy, you’re not poor, you don’t need this thing. I’m just giving you a gift. Why should I give it to you? Apparently I gain something from it, right? It’s some kind of transaction. Gratitude, good relations with you, satisfaction, whatever. A neutral act, obviously, I do only for the sake of benefit. But if I perform a commandment, whether a moral commandment or a halakhic / of Jewish law commandment, it doesn’t matter, there my claim is that I do it without any peace of mind for myself. Because it is right to do the truth because it is truth, as we saw in Maimonides. It is not correct to conclude from here that everything a person does is always driven by self-interest. No. If a person does an act that has no value significance, just giving someone a gift, why is that a value? Why is he preferable to me? Let the object stay with me. Right? I’m not talking about a poor person. So why should I really give it to him? Because I gain something from it. So I agree, I won’t give it to him without gaining something. But if I give charity to a poor person, then I give it not because of my own peace of mind, or not necessarily because of my own peace of mind, but because the poor person needs it and the truth is that one ought to help needy people.

[Speaker B] Maybe there too there’s some kind of—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I have no interest. I have a value. Not an interest. I think that this is the proper way to act; I do the truth because it is truth. That is exactly the difference between a value-based explanation and a self-interested explanation, which I keep repeating here from different angles. And only a value-based explanation can justify a moral act. Now notice: a moral act is not an act done for the sake of self-interest, but it also cannot be an act done for no reason at all. An act done for no reason, without self-interest, has no moral value. Giving someone a gift is a valueless thing if he doesn’t need it. What? Why should I give it to him? It’s a valueless thing. Therefore it’s obvious that this doesn’t happen, I don’t do it. Either I do it because I get some benefit from it, or I do it because he is needy, and then I have a value-based explanation. In the first case it has no moral value, because I do it because of my own interest. In the second case it has moral value, because I do it because that is the truth and that is the proper way to act. Okay? Therefore I think that from the Talmud, and maybe even from Rabbi Kook, it is not correct to draw this egoistic conclusion that says a person always acts to satisfy his own interests. No. In neutral actions, that’s true. In value-laden actions, that’s not true, or not necessarily true. Value-laden actions a person can do because it is right. And here’s an example, an example of the matter. In the Book of Jonah, the book talks about how Jonah flees from God, the whale spits him out, the fish spits him out, and then he gets there to Nineveh, there in the wilderness, and he has the gourd, and then the worm and the sun come, and the gourd dies, and Jonah asks for his soul to die. Then the Holy One, blessed be He, comes to him and says: “Are you that greatly grieved over the gourd?” He says: “Yes, I am greatly grieved, even unto death.” He said to him: “You cared about the gourd, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow, and should I not care about Nineveh, the great city, with many people and animals,” and so on? An a fortiori argument. And this is a foolish a fortiori argument. Jonah cared about Nineveh? About the gourd? Like the fisherman cares about the fish, right? He didn’t care about the gourd; he wanted shade. So what’s the connection? The Holy One, blessed be He, needs the people of Nineveh; He cares about them. So what kind of a fortiori argument is this: “You cared about the gourd and I should not care about Nineveh”? Jonah did not care about the gourd, and the Holy One, blessed be He, does care about Nineveh. The whole book basically revolves around this axis. Because what is Jonah’s argument? Why does Jonah flee from the Holy One, blessed be He? Because the Holy One, blessed be He, sends him to bring the people of Nineveh to repentance, and Jonah says, what are you talking about? If they sinned, they deserve to get hit. What do you mean, repent? What does it mean to repent? You sinned, you deserve to get hit. It was an ideological dispute with the Holy One, blessed be He. The Holy One, blessed be He, says to him: you will go to the people of Nineveh, bring them to repentance, I want to forgive them, I have compassion on them. They deserve to die, you’re right, but I have compassion on them. And Jonah said, what are you talking about? Let the law pierce the mountain, and they should get exactly what they deserve. Then comes the gourd and teaches him the lesson. And what does He say to him? You cared about the gourd; you too care about things, so should I not care about Nineveh? You want me not to care about Nineveh on the basis of strict justice? You cared about the gourd! Right? That’s the a fortiori argument. Wait a second—but that’s not right, this a fortiori argument is not right, because he didn’t care about the gourd. He cared about himself. He wanted shade. Okay? Like the fisherman and the fish. Yes. So he says there are two, two possible answers. Either you were mistaken in your interpretation of Jonah regarding the gourd, or you were mistaken in your interpretation of the Holy One, blessed be He, regarding Nineveh. The first possibility is that you were mistaken regarding Jonah and the gourd. You assume Jonah needed the gourd. Why? Maybe he really did care about the gourd. Why not? Because you’re a political commentator. A political commentator, when he sees—look, the person had an interest, right? The gourd gave him shade. Okay? Now there’s no gourd, no shade. So obviously he didn’t really care about the gourd; he wants shade. He acts for the sake of self-interest. Not true. The fact that he has an interest still doesn’t mean that he acts for the sake of that interest. Someone who studies Torah because he enjoys it, and does enjoy it, that doesn’t mean he studies because of the enjoyment or for the sake of the enjoyment. The fact that you derive benefit doesn’t mean that you do it for the sake of the benefit. The political commentator, the moment he finds a benefit, immediately assumes that what you’re doing is for the sake of the benefit, with self-interest. No. It may be that Jonah needed the gourd, that is certainly true, he needed it for shade, but maybe he really also cared about it. Who told you that he didn’t? Maybe he really cared about it. And when the Holy One, blessed be He, says to Jonah, didn’t you care about the gourd? Apparently yes—He had a diagnosis, He understood that Jonah really cared about the gourd. That’s one possibility. And then there really is an a fortiori argument here. You cared about the gourd, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; should I not care about Nineveh? The second possibility is the opposite. The Holy One, blessed be He, does not care about Nineveh. He too has an interest; He needs them. This is what is called by the medieval authorities (Rishonim), in their language, “the secret of service as a divine need,” service for the sake of the higher need. What does that mean, service as a divine need? It means our service is because the Holy One, blessed be He, needs us. He created us because He needs us. He cannot manage without us. Which is something that supposedly has to be said in secret, because you’re not allowed to say such a thing—what, does the Holy One, blessed be He, lack something? Can we add something to Him? The answer is yes. Because if not, He would not have created us. He too does not do things for no reason, without benefit. So He acts—He too acts only where there is benefit. He needs us. And since that is so, He says: you cared about the gourd, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow—the benefit it gives you is just that, it gives you shade. I, the benefit… an entire city with people and animals—do you know what benefit I get from them? You demand that I give that up? This is a discourse of interests, not of values. You can interpret this as a discourse of interests, you can interpret it as a discourse of values, but in any case, either on both sides there is a value, or on both sides there is an interest, and then the a fortiori argument works.

[Speaker B] That’s the amazing question, whether the Holy One, blessed be He, really created this whole thing, as if He needs it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, because He needs it, and if He needs it then He lacks something. Right, so He lacks something, and He created us because we complete Him. That’s the claim. I even suggested an explanation for why that is true, but that’s a move I won’t get into here.

[Speaker B] Is it possible that He lacks something?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s possible, yes, He lacks. Here, I’ll give you the short version—you’re pulling me by the tongue. Rabbi Kook, in the second part of Orot HaKodesh, talks about what he calls the problem of perfection and perfecting. What does that mean? The Holy One, blessed be He, is perfect. Now, one of the perfections required of us is to perfect ourselves. That is, self-perfection is one of the perfections, okay? That perfection cannot apply to the Holy One, blessed be He, because He is already perfect; He cannot perfect Himself further. Right? So something is lacking in Him. One of the perfections cannot exist in Him because He is already perfect, so He cannot perfect Himself. So Rabbi Kook says that for this reason He created us as lacking creatures who can perfect themselves, because through us this actually completes Him. That is, there is something that He Himself cannot do, and for that reason He created us. Now of course one can still ask, how does it help Him that we perfect ourselves? Why does that make Him complete? That perfection exists in us, not in Him. So how does that complete His lack? On that I have a philosophical article I wrote once, with infinity and quantum theory and relativity, and interesting things. In the journal Iyyun? The journal Iyyun, philosophy of the Hebrew University. It’s on my website; you can search for it, “Zeno’s Arrow and Modern Physics.” “Zeno’s Arrow,” Zeno’s arrow is the paradox, and modern physics. You can search on my website, my article is there. In any event, back to our matter, what I want to say is that the claim is that there is such a thing as an altruistic act. Not only that, but even when you have gains, even when you have gains, that doesn’t mean the act is not altruistic. Don’t be a political commentator. That is to say, it could be that you have gains, but you still do it for an altruistic reason. By the way, I’d say that in the political context this is even called for. Because what does it mean that you have gains? Gains mean that your party will get more votes, or—I’m not talking about gains in the sense of money in your pocket, yes?—but political gains. Right? Now, why will it get more votes? Because it advances the agenda that it truly believes in. Right? So therefore, more of those who want that agenda will vote for it. So that means the party’s gain comes when it truly acts substantively. So the fact that it has gain does not mean that the party is doing something it doesn’t believe in, or that the politician is doing something—no, on the contrary, his gain comes because he is doing what he believes in. The whole democratic idea is to harness a person’s drives in positive directions. If you do what is truly right, then you will also get gains, like the World to Come. But you may be doing it because it is truly right. We incentivize you to do what is right because you’ll also get gains from it; you’ll also get elected again if you do what is right. Okay? So it’s a kind of trick that I propose for the World to Come so that things will work properly in this world. But still, the expectation—and maybe this is also true—is that he really does things because this is what is right in his eyes, not for the sake of the benefit. The benefit comes not by accident, but it is not for that that he works.

[Speaker B] Just that thing you said, “Zeno’s Arrow”—what, how does that fit with the—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, I’m not getting into that now, look there in the article, I’m not—it requires a long explanation. On YouTube?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not on YouTube, on my website. On your website? Yes, I have a website, all my articles and all these things. Search in Google for “responsa and articles,” write Michael Abraham, it’ll come up right away. The claim, basically, is that there can be actions done with no self-interest at all, altruistic actions. That’s the claim. And I say again, someone can argue with that and disagree, but the price is that from his point of view there is no such thing as a moral act. A moral act is an act done not for the sake of self-interest; otherwise it is not a moral act. So I say, you have to decide. You cannot say, I believe in moral acts and in moral obligations, but I think that a person always acts for self-interest. There is no such thing. If he acts for self-interest, then he deserves no moral credit whatsoever. Free choice?

[Speaker D] Free choice.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Can lead you to an act of this kind. If you think that this is the proper thing and you choose to act in that way, then yes. But free choice can also be a choice to act according to self-interest. You choose to act according to self-interest; you could have chosen to act truly, and you choose to act according to self-interest—that too is a choice. It’s true that without choice it’s unlikely that you would perform non-self-interested acts. But self-interested acts can be done whether you have choice or whether you don’t. Okay? All right. You gave me homework.

[Speaker B] I’m stopping here, yes. Thank you very much, goodbye.