Tractate Sotah, Chapter 5, Lesson 12 — Rabbi Michael Abraham

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We have two lectures left until the end of the semester. I want to learn a passage in the Talmud that deals a bit with the laws of impurity. It makes there some kind of a fortiori inference that we’ve already encountered a little, and from that I want to branch out in the two remaining lectures to a few points that touch on the whole world of exposition in general, because all of them come up here in one way or another. So maybe we’ll start with the Mishnah. Right. So in the Mishnah it appears there like this—we already saw that these are basically expositions that Rabbi Akiva expounded on that day, yes, on that day, when they removed Rabban Gamliel and put Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah in his place. Again, not necessarily literally that day, but it’s in that same setting, that same chain of events, that same period. One of the expositions that I want to focus on a bit more is the following exposition: On that day Rabbi Akiva expounded, “And every earthenware vessel into whose interior any of them falls, whatever is inside it shall become impure.” It does not say “is impure,” but rather “shall become impure”—to render others impure. This teaches about a second-degree loaf that it renders the third-degree loaf impure. Right, meaning, it says that every earthenware vessel into which any of them falls—“them” means creeping animals—when they fall into an earthenware vessel, then whatever is inside it, inside the vessel, becomes impure. What does that mean? Basically, from the very fact that the creeping animal is in the airspace of the vessel, the vessel itself becomes first-degree impurity, and since it is first-degree impurity, then a loaf that is inside becomes second-degree impurity; it becomes impure from it. By the way, this is not through touch; it’s impurity of the airspace, or not necessarily through touch. So the loaf becomes second-degree impurity, and that is what Rabbi Akiva expounds. But it doesn’t say that it is impure; rather it says, “whatever is inside it shall become impure.” Why the yod? It should have said, “whatever is inside it is impure.” All right? Rabbi Akiva says: “shall become impure” means to render others impure. Meaning, this loaf, which is already second degree, if it touches another loaf, then it makes that other loaf into third-degree impurity. So basically there is also a third degree in creeping-animal impurity. What? By Torah law, yes. Rabbi Yehoshua said: “Who will uncover the dust from your eyes, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, for you used to say: In the future another generation will declare a third-degree loaf pure, because it has no verse in the Torah saying that it is impure. But Rabbi Akiva, your student, brings for it a verse from the Torah that it is impure, as it says: ‘whatever is inside it shall become impure.’” Meaning, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai held that indeed there is a third degree of impurity, that the third loaf is impure. But he predicted—or feared—that some future generation would reject this derivation. Why? So Rashi here explains: “A later generation, one of those destined to come, will declare the third degree pure even in terumah, because it has no verse in the Torah; and we, who declare it impure in terumah, do so by an a fortiori inference, as is explained in the Talmud; and a later generation will refute that a fortiori inference, as explained later in the Talmud.” Right, meaning, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, who says that the third loaf renders impurity—right, renders impurity—fears that in the future someone will come, and he derives it by an a fortiori inference; in the future someone will come and refute that a fortiori inference. It doesn’t say here what that a fortiori inference is, but in the future someone will come and refute it. Then Rabbi Yehoshua says to him: What are you talking about? Here comes Rabbi Akiva, who is already a generation after Rabbi Yehoshua in practice—not necessarily by age, but in terms of the generations of the Tannaim. He began late in life, right? After all, he studied under Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Eliezer the Great. We talked about this when we discussed that very day at the beginning of the semester; I said a little about those generations and the relationships between them. And then Rabbi Akiva comes and derives it from a verse. So if he derives it from a verse, then there’s no room to refute it anymore; it’s not an a fortiori inference. An a fortiori inference can be refuted and thrown out, but Rabbi Akiva comes and derives it from a verse. So they are basically challenging the prediction of Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai—or the concern, not necessarily the prediction, right?—the concern that a future generation will come and refute it. What are you talking about? This is a verse altogether; it’s not an a fortiori inference. There’s nothing to refute. Which of course basically means, in the subtext, Rabbi Yehoshua is saying to Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai: leave your predictions aside. But you derive it by an a fortiori inference, while Rabbi Akiva brought a verse. Forget the concern that they’ll refute it in the future. Just—why are you deriving it by an a fortiori inference if there’s an explicit verse? That’s basically what he’s asking him, right? So that’s the Talmud’s line of argument. Rashi adds here: “And Rabbi Akiva, your student, brings a verse that it is impure even in ordinary food.” What does that mean? Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai also says that there is a third degree of impurity, but only in terumah. If the second loaf that the first loaf renders impure is terumah, then it becomes impure. Terumah is something more sensitive. What? What do you mean, stringency?

[Speaker B] No, that they were stricter, as it were, with terumah than with ordinary food.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, it’s not that they were stricter; it’s an a fortiori inference, not a matter of “they were stricter.” We’re talking here about derivations, not about extra stringencies; this isn’t rabbinic law. So he says—Rashi says—that this is only in ordinary food? No, that Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, who learned it by an a fortiori inference, understood that there is a third degree of impurity in the second loaf, but that is only in terumah and not in ordinary food. And Rabbi Akiva, who derives it from a verse—first of all, he says there is a verse, so you don’t need an a fortiori inference. Second, the verse also says that this is a full third degree, meaning both in terumah and in ordinary food. You, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, think that this is only in terumah and that it is learned by an a fortiori inference. Right, we’ll still see later why exactly. And Rabbi Akiva says no, we learn it from a verse. And aside from the fact that it’s a verse and not an a fortiori inference, there is also a practical implication: when you learn it from a verse, it renders even ordinary food impure and not only terumah. Okay? That’s the Talmud’s line of argument. Now I want maybe to make a few initial remarks about the subject of exposition. First of all, you can see from here—and here I’m already speaking about Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai’s concern, not about the dispute whether it’s an a fortiori inference or a derivation from a verse—I want to make a few remarks. First of all, this exposition too, Rabbi Akiva’s derivation too, is not exactly a plain-sense reading. It’s an exposition. From the fact that it says “shall become impure” and not—well, not “shall render impure,” and not “is impure”—after all, it says “shall become impure,” it doesn’t say “shall render impure.” At least according to the tradition, right? It says “shall become impure”—“whatever is inside it shall become impure,” not “whatever is inside it shall render impure.” Only he derives it from the extra yod. Why doesn’t it say “whatever is inside it is impure”? Why does it say “shall become impure”? It means the same thing, but if it means the same thing, then why write it that way? Write it without the yod. So he says this yod comes to teach you to change the vocalization—not “shall become impure” but “shall render impure.” So this second-degree item not only becomes impure, but can also render others impure and make a third degree of impurity. Okay? Now this is not a plain-sense derivation. It’s exposition. In the plain sense it says “shall become impure,” not “shall render impure.” In general, one has to understand that expositions—again, this is a big debate, and I don’t want to get too deep into the details—but there are those who understand that exposition is the deeper plain meaning. The idea is that when you take into account the difficulties and the extra words and all these issues, you understand that the plain meaning is not what you thought at first glance. Exposition is basically the deeper plain meaning. But the simpler approach—and of course the more correct one—is that exposition is not the deeper plain meaning. Exposition is a parallel interpretation to the plain meaning. The plain-sense interpretation remains what it is, and alongside it there is another interpretation in the mode of exposition. The same verse is interpreted on the plain level and on the expository level. Okay? These are two different planes. Right, “the Torah has seventy faces,” that’s—

[Speaker C] A bit of a loaded issue. What? Is that like some kind of expansion order?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why is that an expansion order? You learn the plain meaning and you also learn exposition. Meaning, there are two planes, each of which stands on its own and teaches what it teaches.

[Speaker D] And what about those of the plain meaning? We always talked about this, for example with “Honor your father and your mother,” and then you make an exposition on the word “et,” that extra particle. So those who say it’s plain meaning—what do they say about the “et”? They have to explain why it’s extra. Right, so what do they say? That we don’t care that it’s extra?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, the opposite. On the contrary, that’s proof for them. They argue that since the “et” is extra—

[Speaker D] So that’s plain meaning?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, they argue that this is the deeper plain meaning. The simple plain meaning that one reads, they too agree that that’s not it. They just argue that exposition actually reveals the true plain meaning, not the plain meaning you see at first glance. Because otherwise you have no explanation for the word “et.” And the word “et” is written in the verse, meaning you have a difficulty in the plain sense. There are not always things where the exposition sheds light on the plain meaning itself; sometimes it adds something else. But here, on the contrary, there is an extra word. There is no alternative.

[Speaker D] Is there something more plain than this? “It shall become impure”—to say that “it shall become impure” simply means—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “It shall become impure” without—what about this extra yod? The yod—the straightforward plain reading reads it as it stands, says “shall become impure” means just as you read it—

[Speaker D] It means “shall become impure”; the yod is extra.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, so that’s why there are those who claim that the fact that it’s superfluous hints to us that we should make a derash. That’s all. But that doesn’t mean the derash is the plain meaning. It’s only a hint planted within the plain meaning that here you also need to make a derash. And guys, obviously, there’s no dispute that we do make derashot. The only question is what the status of those derashot is. Do the derashot add another parallel interpretive plane, or do the derashot invalidate the plain-sense plane and essentially replace it with the deeper plain meaning? When you make broader considerations and don’t just read the words literally, you understand that you can’t read them literally, and that itself is the depth of the plain meaning. Okay? So to say such a thing really makes no sense at all; in my view it’s absurd. There’s an article by Anshka in HaMaayan from 5737, a series of articles, three articles. I think he was nineteen years old; wonderful articles, by the way. And there he discusses these two conceptions of plain meaning, or even three conceptions he presents there, and he too supports this position—that derash is not the depth of plain meaning, but rather a parallel interpretive plane or plane of reference. There is a plain-sense plane and there is a midrashic plane. According to Maimonides in the second root, derash actually creates laws of rabbinic origin, not Torah-level laws. There there’s nothing to talk about at all according to Maimonides. Okay? More than that: when Maimonides says—Maimonides in that same second root—he says there that he argues with the Ba’al Halakhot Gedolot and says: how can the Ba’al Halakhot Gedolot say that this thing is Torah-level when it does not enter the plain meaning in any way? Or something like that. Or how can you say this thing can be counted when it does not enter the plain meaning? So Nachmanides attacks him there. He says yes, and he says plain meaning is only one. Maimonides has a conception in the second root that there is only one interpretation of the text. Only one interpretation. So everything else is necessarily not interpretation. Therefore he says derash cannot be interpretation of the text, because the plain meaning is the interpretation, and there is only one interpretation. So what is derash? Maimonides does not deny derash. He says derash is a parallel interpretive plane, but it does not replace the plain meaning; the plain meaning is only one. We have a tradition from Sinai that you can relate to verses on another plane as well, not on the simple interpretive plane. And Maimonides also says that this is expansion and not interpretation, and therefore it is only rabbinic legislation, not Torah law. I won’t get into that whole issue now. What? That’s what Maimonides claims? That’s what Maimonides claims. Right, that’s what Maimonides claims; that’s Maimonides’ position. In any case, then Nachmanides attacks him. I just remembered this because of the comment that was made here. Nachmanides attacks him and says, what do you mean? The Torah has seventy faces. What is this, only one plain meaning? So derash is an interpretation, and the plain meaning is also an interpretation. He says these are two parallel interpretations—seventy faces to the Torah. Why does the fact that plain meaning is an interpretation mean that derash is not an interpretation? What’s the problem? They are both interpretation. There are several interpretive planes in parallel for the same verse. So that’s a dispute between Maimonides and Nachmanides. That’s why I said this issue of “seventy faces to the Torah” is a bit loaded. But in any case, for our purposes, we are talking here about interpretation by way of derash. So if you understand—not like Maimonides, let’s say like Nachmanides—that derash is basically just another interpretation, or even the interpretation when one looks at the depth of the plain meaning, then you are basically saying that when it says “it shall become impure,” that teaches me what is written in the verse. So now it really is written in the verse; it’s not derash in some detached sense. The derash only helped you understand what is written in the verse. A kal va-chomer, for example, doesn’t help you understand what is written in the verse. A kal va-chomer clearly does not—a kal va-chomer does not begin from some superfluous word, superfluous letter, some textual trigger of any kind. A kal va-chomer is simply learning by force of logic. It does not come to explain a superfluous word or any textual occurrence. Okay? In the world of derash—and maybe I’ll comment on this further later—in the world of derash you can divide the hermeneutic rules into two types. There are logical hermeneutic rules, such as kal va-chomer, and analogy from one verse and analogy from two verses, and there are textual hermeneutic rules such as gezerah shavah, such as general-and-particular and all kinds of things like that. What is the difference between them? In textual hermeneutic rules, the trigger to make the derash is some textual phenomenon—for example, when the Torah writes something general and then brings several particulars as examples. Okay? So in that situation we ask ourselves, wait a second, why does the Torah adopt that style? And we need to expound it through the derash of general and particular, or particular and general, all the forms of general and particular. By contrast, kal va-chomer or analogy from one verse has no textual hint saying, make a derash. When it says that horn-damage in the public domain is liable, and tooth and foot are exempt, and horn-damage in the injured party’s courtyard, and tooth and foot in the injured party’s courtyard are liable—there is no hint in the verses telling me to make a kal va-chomer that horn should also be liable in the injured party’s courtyard. I do that because of the logic of the matter, not because of any hint in the text itself. That is a logical hermeneutic rule, not a textual hermeneutic rule. The textual hermeneutic rules have a point that is essentially different from the logical hermeneutic rules. Search all through the literature of the Sages—you will not find a refutation of a textual hermeneutic rule. Refutations exist only on logical hermeneutic rules—either analogy from one verse or kal va-chomer. Why? Because a refutation cannot attack a gezerah shavah. Suppose there is a gezerah shavah between a slave and a woman. You say: what about a slave, who is not a full Israelite, who did not undergo full conversion or something like that—how can you make a gezerah shavah between a slave and a woman? That is not a refutation. Why is it not a refutation? Because the gezerah shavah relies on the fact that here the word “to her” is written and there the word “to her” is written—“to her,” “to her,” this is a gezerah shavah from slave to woman. Here it says “to her” and there it says “to her,” and that means compare them. I am not comparing them because I think they are similar. I compare them because the Torah told me to compare them. So what do I care that there is a refutation? There is a refutation saying, look, but here they are not similar; here there is a stringency that is not there—so what do I care? I am not comparing them because I decided they are similar, such that if you refute it and say, okay, so I’m actually not sure they are similar. I compare them because the Torah told me to compare them despite the differences. The Torah said to compare them. So you will never find a refutation on a gezerah shavah, and not on general and particular either. There is one passage in Chullin where it seems there is a refutation of general and particular, and there too I showed that it’s not true. But in the acquisition of a woman by betrothal it did bother us that each one works differently between land and a woman—that land works with movable property. Not the other way around, and from that I proved that it is not a gezerah shavah, because if it were a gezerah shavah—if it is a gezerah shavah then there is no half-gezerah-shavah and no refutations and nothing; on the contrary, it would fit very well. I claim that it cannot be a gezerah shavah because otherwise they would also apply it to intercourse. And to a document. Exactly. So this distinction between the two types of hermeneutic rules—a refutation cannot attack a textual hermeneutic rule. But if you say there is logic, I compare this to that because they are similar, or this is more stringent than that—if there is a refutation, then the refutation shows that it is not true that it is more stringent, or not true that they are similar, so the derivation falls. Meaning: refutations attack only logical hermeneutic rules, never textual hermeneutic rules. Now the idea behind this is because textual hermeneutic rules are not based on logical judgment. They are not based on this being similar to that, or this being more stringent than that, or more lenient than that. They are based on an instruction in the text itself to make a derash. A word is written here, a word is written there—make a comparison. A general expression is written here and afterward examples—make a general-and-particular derash, and so on. Now clearly, even if there is a refutation, what difference does it make? The Torah’s instruction still stands, because it tells me to make a derash. So now you can formulate this more sharply and say: what, suppose you make a refutation—then what, you won’t make the gezerah shavah? But here there is “to her” and there there is “to her.” What will you do with the words in the verse? After all, there are words in the verse that are basically telling me to do something. This is the other side of the coin I spoke about earlier. And then there would have been room to say that in textual hermeneutic rules, perhaps the result is nothing but interpretation of the verse, because at the end of the day there is a word in the verse that you will not account for unless you make the derash. So you could say that the result of the derash is actually written in the verse. So in this case, let’s say I have an inclusion from the word “it shall become impure”—“it shall become impure” meaning it will render others impure—then you could say this is a textual hermeneutic rule, not a logical hermeneutic rule. And since it is a textual hermeneutic rule, there would have been room to say that this is like something written explicitly in the verse. And since it is written explicitly in the verse, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai should no longer be worried that in the future they might refute it. Because if Rabbi Akiva learns it from the verse, even though it is a derash, it is still a derash—Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai learns it from a kal va-chomer, and Rabbi Akiva also learns it from a derash; it is also not written in the verse. So why—what does Rabbi Yehoshua want from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai? What he wants is this: you learn it from a kal va-chomer—that is a different derash from this inclusion-derash, and a kal va-chomer can be refuted, and in the future, says Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, they may refute it. But when Rabbi Akiva comes and also makes a derash, and it is a textual derash, not a logical derash—about that there is no concern that it will be refuted in the future, because textual derashot are not refuted. Even though that too is a derash. Meaning, the difference is not a difference between plain meaning and derash. It’s not that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai says this is derash and Rabbi Akiva says it is plain meaning. No. Both say it is derash, only Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai says it is a derash on the basis of a logical rule, while Rabbi Akiva says it is a derash on the basis of a textual rule. The first can be refuted; the second cannot be refuted. In Sefer HaKeritut, Rabbi Shimshon of Kinon writes there—he explains why in the baraita of the thirty-two rules, not all the rules are brought by Rabbi Ishmael. Rabbi Ishmael lists thirteen; Rabbi Ishmael lists thirteen rules. Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yose the Galilean lists thirty-two rules. So now the question is why not all thirty-two are listed by Rabbi Ishmael. He has several explanations. One of the explanations is that Rabbi Ishmael does not bring rules that are like being explicitly written in the Torah; he brings only rules that are not considered explicitly written in the Torah. And some of the rules of Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yose the Galilean are rules considered explicitly written in the Torah. Now one might have said that he means the textual rules, because textual rules are as if written explicitly in the Torah, since there is something in the text that obligates me to expound. But in Rabbi Ishmael that certainly cannot be right, because Rabbi Ishmael himself brings textual rules, and those are what Rabbi Shimshon of Kinon calls rules that are not considered explicitly written in the Torah, even though they are textual rules. It may be that this is the dispute here. In any case, that is the first comment. Second comment. The Maharatz Chayot here remarks that in the Talmud you can bring here a dispute—you can bring evidence, sorry, for Maimonides. Maimonides writes as follows in Laws of Rebels, chapter 2, law 1 and law 2. “If the Great Court expounded through one of the hermeneutic rules, according to what seemed right in their eyes, that the law is thus, and they judged accordingly, and another court arose after them and another reason seemed right to it to overturn it, to overturn the law, it may overturn and judge according to what seems right in its own eyes, as it is said: ‘to the judge who will be in those days.’ You are obligated to follow only the court of your own time.” Yes, a later court may come and cancel what the previous court said if it seems right to it to expound differently, to interpret differently. In law 2 he says something seemingly different. “If a court decreed a decree or enacted an enactment or established a custom, and the matter spread throughout all Israel, and another court arose after them and wished to abolish the earlier matters and uproot that enactment and that decree and that custom, it cannot do so unless it is greater than the first in wisdom and number. If it was greater in wisdom but not in number, in number but not in wisdom, it cannot annul its words even if the reason for which the first court decreed or enacted has lapsed; the later court cannot annul unless they are greater than them.” And how can they be greater than them in number? How can they be greater in number if the Great Court is always seventy-one? How can that be? So he says: since every court is seventy-one, “number” means the number of sages of the generation who agreed to and accepted what the Great Court said and did not disagree with it. All the sages of the generation must join the Sanhedrin, and that is what determines the number. But that is only a side remark, not important. What is the relation between these two laws? They seemingly contradict each other. In the first law he says every later court can cancel the words of the earlier court; he mentions no qualifications. In the second law he says only if it is greater in wisdom and number can it do so. In the first law he speaks of a court that expounded through one of the hermeneutic rules according to what seemed right in their eyes. In the second law he says a court that decreed a decree or enacted an enactment or established a custom. The first law speaks about derashot, or Torah laws; in the second law Maimonides speaks about rabbinic laws. In Torah laws, every court can annul, even if it is not greater in wisdom and number. In rabbinic laws, it must be greater in wisdom and number. And other medieval authorities (Rishonim) say this too. There is a bit of dispute, but most of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) I know go with Maimonides. It works if it is greater. Why don’t you state the limitation? You don’t say it in the first case. Why did you say “who will be in those days”? Why don’t you say in the case—why say that? “Who will be in those days” means there is authority to the later court and you must obey the court of your own time. Now the question is whether the court itself, when it comes to overturn the words of the first court, will do it or not. In Torah law it can; in rabbinic law it cannot. After they say what they say, you have to obey them. But these are instructions to the court itself how to act, not to you whether to listen. Enactment, decree, custom, and the like. What? But if it is explicitly written in the Torah then there is nothing to discuss, because why would a court change it? It is not disagreeing with the Torah. We are talking about a dispute between courts, not a dispute with the Torah. So Maimonides says: a dispute between courts is what a court does. What does a court do? It interprets or expounds. That too. So the claim is that in practice, things derived by derash—when a court derives through a derash—a later court may come and cancel the derash of the previous court if it does not seem right to it, and it does not even have to be greater in wisdom and number. And that is what Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai argued there—that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was concerned that a later court would annul this law because this law came out of a derash, out of a kal va-chomer. A kal va-chomer. So what does that mean? That indeed if some court learns a law from a kal va-chomer, then a later court, even if it is not as great as the first, can annul it, just as Maimonides writes. That is exactly what Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai fears. What is interesting is that Rabbi Akiva’s derash, which is also a derash, seemingly also falls under law 1, and there there is no fear that a future court will annul it. Why not? What? I didn’t understand. The first is a kal va-chomer. Fine, but a court can also disagree with a derash that is not a kal va-chomer; it just won’t refute it—it will disagree with it. Meaning, again: with derashot that are not logical derashot but textual ones, there can be dispute there. It will not be done by means of a refutation, meaning you will not say you reject this because you have a refutation against it, but it can certainly be that you expound differently. In the passage on “the best” in Bava Kamma there is a dispute between Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva about a gezerah shavah derash. Nachmanides and his students already ask: how can there be disputes in a gezerah shavah? After all, the Talmud says that a person may not derive a gezerah shavah on his own unless he received it from his teacher. So Nachmanides from there, among other places, brings proofs that this is not true, meaning there are disputes even in gezerah shavah. But there are disputes—it’s not that one cannot disagree with a textual derash, only that the disagreement will not be done in the form of a refutation. I don’t reject your words because I have a refutation against you. If I have an alternative derash to yours that seems more plausible to me, then yes, then let’s say that is how we expound it. For example, someone who says “You shall fear the Lord your God” comes to include Torah scholars; someone else will come and say, “No, in my opinion it comes to include Torah scrolls,” that seems more logical to me. Okay? Is this a kind of formal authority versus substantive authority, basically? So section B is formal authority—they enacted an enactment, and you can’t change it unless you too have formal authority—and the first is substantive, meaning expertise in how to interpret verses. No, both are formal. Why is that—derash, too, you always accept that if you are enough of a Torah scholar to interpret things, then the expert of the next generation comes—he does not need some formal authority, only the expertise. He needs formal authority, because in practice only a court can do this; I cannot do it. Because the court is the expert. No, I’m an expert too. No, I’m an expert too. Only the Sanhedrin can do it; there are experts outside the Sanhedrin too. Rabbi Akiva was an expert; he did not sit on the Sanhedrin. Within formal authority, in rabbinic law there is an additional requirement: you do not have formal authority to disagree with a previous court unless you are also greater in wisdom and number; and in Torah law you do have formal authority to disagree with the previous court even without being greater. But these are all distinctions within formal authority. When you are talking about the Sanhedrin, it is all a discussion of formal authority. In Jewish law there are no discussions of substantive authority at all; there is no such thing. Because substantive authority—if you are an expert, you are an expert; you do not need a halakhic command to listen to you. There is no halakhic command to listen to you. A halakhic command to listen to you exists only when the authority is formal, not when it is substantive. You will not find laws dealing with substantive authority; there is no such thing. Derash too—when you make a derash—it’s a bit like the difference between parliament and the court: in parliament, to change a law you yourself need to receive the authority, and in court you simply think differently; you are a judge who thinks of a new ruling, you change the previous ruling, you don’t need to receive… precedents that are not binding, let’s say, not in the high court… not in the supreme court, where precedent is binding too. Yes, but it can contradict the supreme court itself. Yes, but the small court cannot contradict the supreme court. It’s enough that there is a majority of two against one even if the previous majority was fourteen against five. It doesn’t matter. In any case, the Maharatz Chayot basically says that from here we see, as Maimonides writes, that a later court can contradict the words of the earlier court. The truth is this is a Talmudic text, so this thing is a bit strange. “A matter decided by vote requires another vote to permit it”—that is in the Talmud. But another vote can permit it. A thing that is not by vote—meaning, it cannot permit what was decided by vote. But another vote—meaning a later one—can certainly permit it. There are two passages. One passage says: a matter decided by vote requires another vote to permit it. A second passage says: it requires a court greater in wisdom and number. Maimonides reconciles the two passages like this: “a matter decided by vote requires another vote to permit it” applies to Torah law, and there you do not need to be greater in wisdom and number; you need there to be a Sanhedrin as well. Where it says that you need a court greater in wisdom and number, that applies to rabbinic law. Okay? Now what is the proof the Maharatz Chayot brings? After all, the Talmud says you can overturn a previous court; only perhaps you need to be greater in wisdom and number. And the proof, I think, that the Maharatz Chayot wants to say is that this is evidence for Maimonides that you do not need to be greater in wisdom and number in matters that emerge from derash. How is that a proof? Maybe Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai feared that those who come later would be greater in wisdom and number. So in that context it is worth seeing the continuation of this law. Look, there is a fascinating passage in the Raavad’s gloss on the second law in Maimonides. “Be greater in wisdom,” etc. Says Abraham: “The ornamenting of the markets of Jerusalem with fruit poses a difficulty for him, because the first ones enacted it and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai annulled it after the destruction, because the reason of the first ones had lapsed, and he was not greater than the first ones.” Meaning, Maimonides says you need a court greater in wisdom and number to annul a rabbinic law. So how did Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai annul the enactment of ornamenting the markets of Jerusalem with fruit when they would go up—yes, when they would bring first-fruits? So how did he annul that enactment? Because the reason had lapsed—the Temple was destroyed. This is rabbinic law, the Temple was destroyed, there is no longer any point in ornamenting the markets of Jerusalem with fruit, so he annulled it. But why? He was not greater in wisdom and number. To annul a rabbinic enactment you need to be greater in wisdom and number. Fair enough. Now what kind of difficulty is that? He was more great in wisdom and number—who told you he wasn’t? Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was greater than the original enactors—who says not? Meaning, perhaps he assessed that he was greater. What kind of objection is that against Maimonides? He is as if assuming it is self-evident. What are you assuming? That later generations are always smaller? Decline of the generations? But if you assume that, then you have emptied the law entirely of content. So how could there ever be a case where a later court would not be smaller? It is always smaller by definition if it is later. Meaning there is a problematic objection here. I’m just saying, that’s a side remark I won’t enter into now, but the Kesef Mishneh even hints at this. But for our purposes, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai may have assessed—after all, he did in fact annul the ornamenting of the markets of Jerusalem with fruit. How will Maimonides learn that? Apparently Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai understood that he was greater than the original enactors, right? Otherwise how did he annul it? So if Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai held himself to be so great, then how can it be that he fears that a future court will annul what he himself says? Precisely because in Torah law you do not need to be greater in order to annul; even a court smaller than me can annul it. Fine, I don’t know whether this is mere pilpul or a genuine interpretation, but I think it fits Maimonides’ position very well. In any case, for our purposes, we really do see here that this concern of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai basically shows us that there are mechanisms for annulling laws. We are so used to the idea that one does not disagree with the medieval authorities (Rishonim), or yes, I don’t know what—if Maimonides ruled, or Rashba, or whoever, then later authorities (Acharonim) cannot disagree with the medieval authorities (Rishonim). Nonsense. Where does that come from? Obviously every court in every generation can disagree with a previous court. There is no problem. And certainly when there is no formal authority here. The medieval authorities (Rishonim) have no formal authority; they are not a Sanhedrin, they are not ordained in the old sense, nothing. Where does this invention come from? On the contrary, the Rosh even writes in the Shulchan Arukh—he is the great champion of precedent, yes—he brings, maybe actually it is the Rema who brings it from a responsum of the Rosh, that after the Talmud there is no formal authority. Anyone can disagree, and if he is up to it and has good reasoning, he can disagree with previous generations. And Maimonides also adds the condition that the matter spread throughout all Israel. What kind of real formal authority is that? Why do you think it has to spread throughout all Israel? I didn’t understand. Maimonides adds the condition that the matter spread throughout all Israel. That is an additional condition, because otherwise the first enactment never took effect. An enactment that did not spread is not valid. That is a general rule regarding enactments, unrelated to annulment. Because if this is real formal authority that cannot be changed, the Holy One, blessed be He, says and decrees and they do—what difference does it make whether it spread or not? No, because the authority is created only after it spread. Only a matter that spread has that authority. After it spread, it is already established and now there is authority. But if it did not spread, then from the outset it was never said of it that it is binding. At Sinai did it spread? After it spread it becomes formal authority? Yes. No, because the formal authority was stated only about enactments that spread; in any case that is true, these are Talmudic passages. The Talmud says that if there is an enactment that did not spread throughout all Israel, it is not binding even apart from any later court. The medieval authorities (Rishonim) say maybe a later court is needed to establish this, but in principle the Talmudic statement does not even require that. If it did not spread throughout all Israel, it is not binding. And there is even discussion there: if it spread and then receded and then spread again, what happens there—whole pilpulim. So the spreading is part of the infrastructure required for it to have force at all. Meaning, this has nothing to do with the laws of annulment. Okay, in any case, that is the first comment dealing with the source of the issue. Now I want to really enter the flow of the Talmudic discussion. Look, in the Talmud on the following page, dealing with this passage in the Mishnah, it says as follows: “On that day Rabbi Akiva expounded: ‘And every earthen vessel,’ etc. And since he has no verse, why is it impure?” What does that mean? Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai says, since there is no verse, right? So he fears they will annul it in the future. Then Rabbi Yehoshua comes and says there is a verse—here, Rabbi Akiva brought a verse. But Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai thought there was no verse. Fine? So why did he think it was impure at all? He has no verse. Why did he think it was impure? No, it’s not rabbinic. There is no verse—so why is it impure? So it says he brings some kal va-chomer. A few data points I brought here before we go into the kal va-chomer. We have a concept called one who immersed that day. What is that? A person or vessel that became impure from a primary source of impurity, or is first-degree impurity—or it is either a primary source of impurity or first-degree impurity, because if they touched a corpse then it is a primary source of impurity, if they touched another primary source of impurity then it is first-degree impurity. Either primary or first, then after he immerses he is still not pure; he also requires sunset. Meaning you have to wait until the sun sets. Fine? Meaning immersion by itself, you did it during the day, you are still not pure. But in the intermediate stage, after immersion and before sunset, he is called one who immersed that day. This is already a state where he is half pure, half impure, meaning he has not become fully pure. In process. What? Yes, an intermediate state. This state is called one who immersed that day. Okay? “And when the sun sets, he is pure,” yes. So a person or vessel that became impure through a primary source or first-degree impurity—if they immerse, they enter the status of one who immersed that day. What happens in that state? He is permitted to eat ordinary food. Everyone is permitted to eat ordinary food even if it is impure. But there is someone who eats ordinary food in purity, a haver; he accepted upon himself eating ordinary food in purity. Now if the one who immersed that day takes the food and eats it, he renders the food impure. So how can he be allowed to eat it if he is a haver who eats ordinary food in purity? So it is written that he does not—so we see he does not render the food impure, because otherwise he would be forbidden to eat it. Right? So he is permitted to eat ordinary food and also second tithe, because second tithe is also considered ordinary, and he does not render ordinary food impure by touch. If he did render it impure, it would be forbidden for him to eat it. Okay? But by touch he does render terumah impure. These are known laws. I am not getting into where they come from and why and so on. A loaf that became impure as second-degree impurity, as we saw in Rabbi Akiva’s derash, is invalid even for ordinary food. Fine? Meaning it became impure even as ordinary food, not only as terumah—it itself. Meaning the loaf that became impure is ordinary food and not terumah, and still it became impure. So now look at the kal va-chomer. Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: “From the Torah he has no verse.” For whom? For Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, right? He has no verse from the Torah. We asked: so why does he render the third loaf impure? So it says: he has it by way of kal va-chomer. He has a kal va-chomer. “Just as one who immersed that day, who is permitted with ordinary food, invalidates terumah”—yes? One who immersed that day does not invalidate ordinary food, remember, but he does invalidate terumah. “A second-degree loaf, which is invalid even with ordinary food—is it not logical that it should make a third degree in terumah?” Fine? The loaf, this loaf inside the vessel when the creeping thing enters the vessel, the earthen vessel—the vessel becomes impure and is first-degree; the creeping thing is a primary source of impurity. The vessel is first-degree, the loaf inside it is second-degree. That loaf touches another loaf and makes it third-degree. Okay? That is the mechanism. Fine? Now he says the first loaf, meaning the one that became second-degree impurity, right? “A second-degree loaf,” meaning a first loaf that became second-degree impurity—that loaf becomes impure even if it is ordinary food, not only if it is terumah. So if so, it is more stringent than one who immersed that day, who does not render ordinary food impure but only terumah. So if one who immersed that day, who does not render ordinary food impure, does render terumah impure, then a second-degree loaf that becomes impure even in ordinary food certainly renders terumah impure. Kal va-chomer. Fine? And that is Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s source for why there is a third degree of impurity. That loaf there in the second loaf. Fine? Turn left at the second loaf. So there is a third degree of impurity. And therefore he doesn’t need a verse. But note: this kal va-chomer is a kal va-chomer that teaches us there is a third degree of impurity only in terumah. As Rashi already said on the Mishnah, remember? Rashi said that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s derivation, which is not from a verse, teaches about the third loaf only in terumah—that it is impure—not in ordinary food. Why not? Because of the rule that what is derived by inference cannot be more extensive than its source. You are learning from one who immersed that day. And whom does one who immersed that day render impure? Terumah, not ordinary food. On the contrary, he does not render ordinary food impure. Right? So if you learn from there, then here too he will render impure only terumah and not ordinary food. If it comes by way of kal va-chomer, then there is the limiting rule, and since there is the limiting rule, he renders impure only terumah. Fine? If it comes from a verse, the verse did not distinguish. So Rabbi Akiva, who learns it from a verse, says it creates a third degree of impurity both in terumah and in ordinary food. Fine? That is the end of the explanation of the Mishnah. Now in Meromei Sadeh, the Netziv asks: this kal va-chomer is a strange kal va-chomer. Because after all, the loaf that becomes second-degree impurity is itself ordinary food. Not that the third loaf is ordinary food. It itself becomes impure despite being ordinary food and not terumah. With one who immersed that day, the difference is that he does not render ordinary food impure but he does render terumah impure. Fine? So that’s not similar. What’s the connection? You’re talking to me about the second loaf when it renders the third loaf impure, but it also does not render ordinary food impure. So what kal va-chomer are you making from one who immersed that day, who also does not render ordinary food impure? Why is it more stringent? The fact that it itself is impure even though it is ordinary food—so what? I’m asking what renders impure, not what its own status is. That’s what he asks here. “Nevertheless… and I do not understand it, for one who immersed that day himself is similar to a second degree, in that he does not make a third degree in ordinary food, and why should one who does not make a third degree not be permitted to eat, for his law is exactly like a second-degree loaf, so what kal va-chomer is this?” Fine? One who immersed that day essentially does not render ordinary food impure, but he himself is impure with that impurity of one who immersed that day, whatever. So what stringency did you find in a second-degree loaf, that it is itself ordinary food and still becomes impure? One who immersed that day is also ordinary, and he himself is impure. Fine? The law of the vessel or the person, it doesn’t matter which. What? One who immersed that day, ordinary food is simply neutral, it is not—no, it’s not terumah. Why is he ordinary? Why not ordinary? Entirely ordinary. It is another object, another category; he is a human being. Well, a human being is ordinary. A human being is not holy. But forget the person, this also applies to a vessel, right? Not only to a person. In one who immersed that day, it also applies to a vessel. Forget the person; let’s talk about a vessel. Yes. Person, object—it’s the same status; in the laws of impurity and purity they are not separated. Why not? They become impure and render impure; in the laws of impurity and purity it is the same category, the same thing. It’s not like we violate the Sabbath to save the life of an object. Fine, so that’s not a similarity, but in the laws of impurity and purity it is seen as an object. Yes, not only that; it is also talking about a vessel, not only about a person. In one who immersed that day it is also a vessel, so forget the person; let’s talk about a vessel. Yes. Therefore the question is a good question. So he resolves it by saying: “And it appears, according to Rashi’s explanation in Chagigah 20, s.v. ‘they disqualified it from using it,’ or alternatively there is practical relevance for food attached to it, which is invalid for eating. Yet if it touched pure items it does not invalidate them. And now the kal va-chomer is excellent: just as one who immersed that day, who is permitted from the outset to eat ordinary food and second tithe—so a second-degree loaf, which from the outset is forbidden regarding ordinary food and second tithe, etc. And the reason for one who immersed that day is explicit in the verse, that he is allowed to eat, as appears in Yevamot 74.” Fine? It learns from three verses, so he is permitted. “Whereas a second degree is not pure except because it is not written to render impure, but only first and second; and therefore a second degree is impure only in itself and does not make a third; it is not called pure.” What is he saying? If one who immersed that day were itself like second-degree impurity, then he would also be forbidden to eat a third. Why? True, one who immersed that day does not render a third impure, but Rashi there—that’s the Rashi he cites here—says regarding something attached: if the third is attached to the second, it itself becomes impure. Impure as second-degree, not as third-degree. It simply becomes part of it. That’s what Rashi says there. Meaning according to this, it is clear that one who immersed that day, although he does not render ordinary food impure that he touches, nevertheless he would still be forbidden to eat the ordinary food. When he eats the ordinary food, the food is attached to him; he eats it, it is inside him, fully attached to him. And in that state he certainly renders it impure. And if he renders it impure, and he is a haver who eats ordinary food in purity, it would be forbidden for him to eat. From the fact that he is permitted to eat, we see that he himself does not have the status of second-degree impurity. Not because he does not render the third impure, but because he himself does not have second-degree impurity. By contrast, the loaf that became impure is itself second-degree impurity, so it is more stringent. Fine? So true, it does not render ordinary food impure, but terumah it will indeed render impure. Fine? So that is just a comment on the kal va-chomer itself, because at first reading it really is strange. Now the Talmud asks: “There is a refutation—what about one who immersed that day, who was a primary source of impurity?” Yes, you learn from one who immersed that day to the second-degree loaf, fine? Before one who immersed that day immersed, he had been impure as a primary source of impurity. Okay? Say someone touched a corpse, so he became a primary source of impurity, and now he immersed and became one who immersed that day, fine? So in fact he was a primary source of impurity, which is very severe. So perhaps some remaining stringency stayed in him, and therefore he renders terumah impure. You cannot learn this by kal va-chomer to a second degree that was never itself a primary source of impurity, and therefore it is not necessarily more stringent than one who immersed that day, and you cannot learn from it by kal va-chomer. Now is it always a primary source of impurity? And is its level always a primary source of impurity? One who immersed that day exists only in the case of either a primary source of impurity or first-degree impurity. There is no such thing as second-degree one-who-immersed-that-day, because if you are second-degree, once you go into the mikveh you become pure. You don’t need to wait for sunset. So only in the case of a primary source of impurity or first-degree impurity do you need to wait for sunset. Fine? First-degree impurity is also more severe, and a primary source of impurity certainly is. Okay? So the Talmud says: so you cannot learn from one who immersed that day. So this kal va-chomer is refuted. Fine? Okay. Meaning one who immersed that day is sometimes a primary source of impurity, and if he was a primary source— not just sometimes, but he was a primary source of impurity before he immersed. Not sometimes. He comes from severe impurity. What? Also first… first-degree as well is more severe, first-degree impurity is also more severe than second-degree. Yes. Still more severe. They say “primary source” because that is the most severe. That is the easiest way to say it. But also first-degree. Meaning every one who immersed that day always was previously more severe than second-degree. He was either first-degree or a primary source of impurity. So the Talmud says: let us derive it from one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing. Also first-degree impurity, and still one who immersed that day, and not second-degree. So let us learn from one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing. What does that mean? Someone who touched a creeping thing—or a vessel, for example, that touched a creeping thing—becomes first-degree impurity. Now he immersed, and then he became one who immersed that day. That is called one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing. Okay? From that we will learn to second degree from a creeping thing. Now this too is strange, because what do I care that it’s one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing? He was first-degree. So that is still more severe than second-degree impurity. After all, before immersion he was first-degree. Right? So why does one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing solve your problem? Didn’t you reject the possibility of learning from one who immersed that day? So why from one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing can you learn? What is—he still was, before immersion, first-degree impurity. Why does that solve the problem? It seems to me—I didn’t find anyone addressing it—but it seems to me the meaning here is that still, after all, I became purified; I immersed in a mikveh. Right, it didn’t finish the job. But if I was first-degree impurity and immersed, perhaps that brought me to the level of second-degree impurity. Then I’m not more severe. I was first-degree, but after I was first-degree I immersed. And now we are discussing me after immersion, when I am one who immersed that day. Now we are discussing whether that is less severe than second-degree impurity, than this loaf from the creeping thing, yes? the second-degree impurity. So perhaps the Talmud assumes that first-degree impurity that immersed is not necessarily more severe than second-degree impurity. And therefore above—to answer your question—that is why it specifically mentioned the primary source of impurity and not first-degree impurity, even though first-degree impurity is also more severe. Because with a primary source of impurity, even after immersion, it is clear to the Talmud that it is still more severe than second-degree. At most it becomes like first-degree. Okay? Then the Talmud says: so perhaps there is a refutation here to learning from it to second-degree. Still, if in order to define him as one who immersed that day as second… before he became pure, he did become more lenient, right? In any case, he immersed. So he is already on the level of second… fine. You can no longer make the refutation. Again: you can no longer make the refutation. After all, the burden of proof is on you. You want to make a refutation. There is no refutation. Who says there is a refutation? You have to show that it is more severe in order to refute. It is not certain that it is more severe; perhaps after immersion he came to be like it. Defined now as second. So if you are second, you don’t need to wait until evening. No, why? I am defined as second, and by evening I will become fully pure. No. Again, after all I am an intermediate state. Second-degree impurity as one-who-immersed-that-day second doesn’t need to wait for sunset… obviously, because that one… had been first-degree, therefore he does require immersion and waiting until evening. After he immersed, after he immersed, he gets a status like second-degree, until sunset, and then he becomes pure. That is the procedure for becoming pure from first-degree. But if someone had originally been second-degree, then there is no sunset stage for him. He immerses, because simply—say—you could ask that if he is second, let him immerse again, and then he would become pure like second-degree. And then yes, on his level he is like second-degree. He doesn’t have an additional level; he is not formally defined as second-degree impurity. On his level he is like second-degree. Or at least that may be so, and therefore you cannot raise a refutation because the burden of proof is on you. Go show me there is a stringency. It is not certain there is one. Perhaps there is none. But with a primary source of impurity that immersed, there it is as if obvious to the Talmud that there is a stringency, such that you cannot make a kal va-chomer, because at most he improved to first-degree impurity. Still, who says you can learn from him to second-degree impurity by kal va-chomer? Again. Ordinary food? Yes. Couldn’t it be? No. Can he eat ordinary food? What? Ordinary food he can eat, not terumah. But second-degree impurity—maybe he can also eat ordinary food? What, when a person is second-degree impurity? What? When a person is second-degree impurity? When a person himself is second-degree impurity, can he eat ordinary food? If he eats ordinary food in purity he cannot. Because that is what we learned: second-degree impurity renders the third degree impure. Fine? But if it is only by kal va-chomer like Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, then he renders the third impure only if the third is terumah, not if the third is ordinary food. And therefore he really can eat the second. But according to Rabbi Akiva, since it is from a verse, then according to Rabbi Akiva he renders both terumah and ordinary food impure, so he indeed will not be able to eat ordinary food. And that is the practical difference between them. Meaning, second-degree impurity—the question whether he can eat ordinary food, a person who is second-degree impurity, whether he can eat ordinary food—will depend on the dispute between Rabbi Akiva and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai. We learn from one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing. Then they say: what about one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing, since in his category there exists a primary source of impurity. This is a bit strange. It says: in his category there exists a primary source of impurity. What does that mean? So Rashi says: “For in his category there is a primary source of impurity—if this vessel or this person had touched a corpse, he would become a primary source of impurity to render people and vessels impure. Can you say the same in the case of food, which never becomes a primary source of impurity even through a corpse? As it is written: ‘and whatever the impure one touches shall become impure.’ And from here we derive that impurity from a corpse renders people and vessels impure. Necessarily this means like one impure from a corpse who has purification in a mikveh, as it is written above: ‘and the pure one shall sprinkle on the impure one, and he shall wash in water’—a thing that has purification in water becomes a primary source of impurity through contact with corpse-impurity, through touching the corpse. This excludes foods, liquids, and earthenware, which have no purification in water.” Meaning, what does this mean? Rashi says like this. One who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing refers to people or vessels, right? Food is never in the status of one who immersed that day. Why? Because food has no purification in water. You do not immerse food in water to purify it. Food is not put into a mikveh. What is put into a mikveh is only a person or vessels. Therefore the whole concept of one who immersed that day applies only to people and vessels. Only something that is purified in water can be one who immersed that day. Something that is not purified in water cannot be one who immersed that day. So what happens? So he says: one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing—who is that? A person or vessels. Person or vessels are one-who-immersed-that-day after contact with a creeping thing. Fine? Now people and vessels can be a primary source of impurity. They can be a primary source of impurity. We are speaking about them as one-who-immersed-that-day, but they can be a primary source of impurity. By contrast, the loaf we are speaking about cannot be a primary source of impurity. It cannot be a primary source of impurity because it is food, and anything not purified in water cannot be a primary source of impurity. That is the Rashi he brings here. A general rule in the Talmud. Fine? Something not purified in water cannot be a primary source of impurity. So if so, there is a stringency in people and vessels as compared to food. Notice: it says “what about one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing, since in his category there exists a primary source of impurity.” That looks like a refutation pointing out a stringency in one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing as compared to second-degree impurity from a creeping thing. It is not. It is a refutation comparing people and vessels that became impure through a creeping thing with a loaf that became impure through a creeping thing. Fine? Not between one-who-immersed-that-day and second-degree impurity from a creeping thing, but between people and vessels and a loaf. Because a loaf is food, and people and vessels can be primary sources of impurity. A loaf cannot be a primary source of impurity. So there is a refutation against deriving from one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing, but the refutation is not because of the law of one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing; it is because we are talking there about people and vessels and not about food. And people and vessels are more severe than food. Therefore you cannot make a kal va-chomer. So now we have a refutation against one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing, and we have a refutation against one who immersed that day not after contact with a creeping thing. We basically have two teachers, each of which was refuted. Of course the next stage: earthenware will prove it. We go back again to earthenware. Earthenware—after all, in its category there is no such thing as a primary source of impurity. How do I know that with earthenware there is no such thing as a primary source of impurity in its category? Exactly from that Rashi we saw above. Because how do you purify earthenware when it becomes impure? You cannot immerse it in water, right? It has no purification in water; you only break it, right? Its breaking is its purification. So it has no immersion in water. If it has no immersion in water, it cannot be a primary source of impurity. So with earthenware you cannot raise the refutation we raised against one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing. Earthenware cannot be a primary source of impurity. Yes, but with earthenware we have another refutation. What about earthenware, since it renders impure through its airspace? Earthenware, in order to become impure, does not require touch. That’s what I mentioned at the beginning. If you are in its airspace, you become impure. As Rabbi Akiva said, once the food enters the earthenware vessel, it renders the vessel impure, and the vessel renders the second loaf impure, and so on. So you don’t need touch. That is a stringency in earthenware. So if so, we have earthenware and one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing—those are vessels that are not earthenware. One who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing is vessels that are not earthenware, right? Earthenware cannot be immersed. So there is one who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing—that is person and vessels—and there is earthenware. They are two teachers. Each of them has a stringency and a leniency, right? One who immersed that day after contact with a creeping thing has the leniency that it does not become impure through airspace, and the stringency that in its category there exists a primary source of impurity. Okay? Earthenware has the stringency that it becomes impure through airspace, but the leniency that it cannot be a primary source of impurity. Okay? The Talmud says: one who immersed that day proves it, earthenware proves it, and so on. “And the reasoning returns. This is not like that, and that is not like this. Their common denominator is that they are permitted with ordinary food and invalidate terumah. So all the more so a second-degree loaf, which invalidates ordinary food, certainly invalidates terumah.” In the end that is the common denominator. Fine? Now this common denominator is the derivation by which Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai learned why a third degree exists, why the third degree becomes impure. Rabbi Akiva came and learned it from a verse. But why did Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai say there is a third degree of impurity? Because of this common denominator. Now notice here that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, in the wording of the Talmud—the Talmud says this is a kal va-chomer, right? He learns it from a kal va-chomer. Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: from the Torah he has no verse; by way of kal va-chomer he has one. And this is not a kal va-chomer; the kal va-chomer was refuted. This is the common denominator. You can define the common denominator—you can define it as a kal va-chomer that went on a whole journey, exactly. So indeed, here too they seemingly call it kal va-chomer even though in the end it is the common denominator. Now in general one has to understand—and about this we will probably speak in the next class—there are several types of common denominator. In fact there are three types. Yes, three types of common denominator. One type—what? One type is that it is built on two analogies from one verse. I have two teachers, A and B, and a target, G. Now A teaches about G by analogy from one verse; I make a refutation because analogy from one verse is also a logical rule and so it can be refuted. Then I learn from B also by analogy from one verse. Then I make a refutation, and the reasoning returns: A and B teach together. That is the first type of common denominator, where the two teachers are analogies from one verse. In Bava Kamma, the primary categories of damages—that mechanism, right? Primary categories of damages, not primary categories of labor. Wait, let me think. Yes, yes, both—those are two analogies from one verse. And I will get to the Bava Kamma passage with some comment in a moment. That is one type. A second type is where the first derivation is by kal va-chomer, then a refutation is raised, and then we learn from the second by analogy from one verse, another refutation is raised, and then the reasoning returns. And the third type is where from both sides it is kal va-chomer. A refutation, move there, another refutation, and then the common denominator. Now when my two teachers are analogies from one verse, then clearly the common denominator is also analogy from one verse. Simply a generalized analogy from one verse. We’ll see that in more detail next class. But if one of the derivations is a kal va-chomer—I started with kal va-chomer, raised a refutation, brought analogy from one verse, refuted, and returned—in the end I learn from the common denominator. Is this derivation analogy from one verse, or kal va-chomer? Or from two lighter-and-heavier inferences. In the end, in the last two kinds—kal va-chomer with analogy from one verse, or two kal va-chomers—after I rejected both and there were refutations and I learned by analogy from one verse from the common denominator, sorry—is that derivation considered analogy from one verse or kal va-chomer? So there is a dispute among the rule-writers. I brought here just a quote from the encyclopedia; you can look afterward in the summary at the notes and references. “A thing which we began to derive as a known law by kal va-chomer from a second thing, and after we found a refutation from a stringency found in the teacher and not in the target, we said: a third thing will prove it, in which that stringency is absent and yet the law under discussion applies; and after we found a refutation in the third thing, we returned and said: the second thing will prove it—this is not like that and that is not like this—their common denominator is such and such, so too every such thing. There is a dispute about this. Some say that now we leave the kal va-chomer and reason by analogy from one verse, and that common denominator is a derivation of analogy from one verse alone. Others say that the kal va-chomer remains in place, and its force remains as before, for once the refutation is removed, the kal va-chomer remains.” From our Talmudic passage there is seemingly evidence for the second approach. In our passage, after making the refutations, the wording still is that Rabban Yohanan learns it from a kal va-chomer. Meaning that the common denominator is called in the Talmud a derivation by kal va-chomer, not a derivation by analogy from one verse. So from the wording of the Talmud it seems like the second view. Now this is not conclusive, because perhaps when the Talmud said above “kal va-chomer,” that was just the opening. It says: I propose that Rabban Yohanan learned it by kal va-chomer. Then that was indeed a kal va-chomer. But afterward it was rejected, and then another was brought and rejected again, and then they made the common denominator. Who says that when it spoke there of kal va-chomer it was speaking about the final bottom line? When he brought the first kal va-chomer at the beginning, he said Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai learns it by kal va-chomer, and at that point it really was a kal va-chomer. But after that it was rejected, and also the idea that this is called kal va-chomer was rejected. And after we arrived at the common denominator in the end, it really remains common denominator and not kal va-chomer. However, Rashi on the Mishnah does call it a kal va-chomer, and Rashi on the Mishnah is already speaking according to the final conclusion of the Talmud, because he is speaking on the Mishnah; he is explaining how to interpret the Mishnah. So he is not speaking according to the Talmud’s initial assumption, but according to the conclusion. So in Rashi we really see like the second view. In the Talmud itself one could have pushed it off. In the Talmud itself I’m not sure the second approach is correct; perhaps this really is analogy from one verse and not common denominator. Maybe it was Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai himself? What? It’s not exactly that Rabban Yohanan himself did this whole Talmudic reconstruction of the common denominator. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai. Yes. What he himself did, you don’t know; the Talmud is trying to reconstruct what he did. Since the Talmud is trying to reconstruct what he did, then do we know? If we know he made a kal va-chomer, then the Talmud didn’t reconstruct it well. No, he didn’t explicitly say it; he didn’t explicitly say all this. This too is part of the Talmud. Yes, yes, it’s all in the Talmud; in the Mishnah no kal va-chomer appears. Rashi on the Mishnah mentions kal va-chomer, but he mentions kal va-chomer because it says so in the Talmud. But if that were only the Talmud’s initial assumption, then Rashi shouldn’t have written kal va-chomer, because in the conclusion it’s not kal va-chomer. So I’m saying, in Rashi at least one can prove like the second view. In the Talmud itself I don’t think there is proof. Now I want, however, to make another comment. What is the basis of their dispute? This already brings us to the beginning of the discussion of the hermeneutic rules. I’ll continue it more next class, but let’s touch on it a bit now. What are the two sides? Why should this be called kal va-chomer or common denominator? Look, in principle, how is common denominator built? I have two teachers, A and B, and a target, this is G. Now I learn G by kal va-chomer from A. Then I have a refutation. The refutation showed that A is not more lenient than G, right? Then I go to B, and in B too there is a refutation, and therefore B too is not more stringent. So practically, how do I learn from both anyway? If I cannot learn from either one alone, how do I learn from both? Because they have a shared feature, and that shared feature is also found in the target. If that is the mechanism, then the common denominator is analogy from one verse and not kal va-chomer. Because the shared feature of them is also in the target; just as there the law is such, so too in the target the law is such. Look, maybe I’ll show you this in a diagram; it’s easier to see it that way, though we’ll come to this diagram next class. Can’t see? You can’t see what’s written. Now do you see. Now you see? So look, we have two teachers, A and B, and a target C. Now it is always built like this. A has property X, does not have property Y, and also has property Z. B does not have property X—the line above means “does not have”—it has property Y, and it has Z. You see? There is a feature common to both teachers, that is Z, and in the other two properties each one has one property and the other does not. Fine? What happens with the third? In the third there is no X, no Y, but there is Z. Now how is the common denominator built? It is built like this: I learn C from A. How? By kal va-chomer. I say: if A, which has X, has the law, then C, which lacks X—right? Lacking X is the stringency for our purposes—then certainly the law applies there. Okay? But why? A has a stringency because it has Y… all right, sorry, wait. Where is Y? One second. I asked to enlarge this so they would see. No, that’s not right. Wait. Okay, something got mixed up here. Meaning, I learn C from A by kal va-chomer, and then he says to me: A has the refutation X—it is more stringent because it has X and C lacks X. Fine? X is the stringency, not-X is the leniency. Fine? So A has the stringency X. Fine, then let’s learn from B, where? B does not have the stringency X. So we can learn from it, right? No, but B has the stringency Y. So we cannot learn from it, right? And now the reasoning returns—what? So apparently we are not learning from X and Y, but from Z. And Z is in both this and this, and this one too has Z. Now notice that when I learned C from A, I was talking on the plane of X, and here A is more stringent than C because it has X and C lacks X. Here too regarding Y, B has Y and C lacks Y. So there are hierarchical relations: this is more stringent, less stringent. But when you move to learn from the common denominator, everything depends on Z, so there is no hierarchy. This is Z and this is Z; that is analogy from one verse. It is not more stringent or more lenient than either of them. These two have Z, and this one also has Z. And anyone who has Z has this law; so this too has Z, so this too has this law. So it turned into analogy from one verse. The simple logic says that after we moved to the common denominator, the common denominator has the status of analogy from one verse, not of kal va-chomer. How can one understand that nevertheless it is called kal va-chomer, as Rashi here implies? After all, you have a third passage, and Z is the beginning… exactly. No, beginning there is a different discussion; I probably won’t get into that at all. There is also that, but it is something else. What I—what I may answer to that, we’ll see. What I want to say is that sometimes the mechanism is different. Look, suppose I learn C from A. Fine? I say, no, A has a stringency because it has X, C does not have X. He says B will prove it. What about B? We see that lacking X is no obstacle. Right? Because B has no X, while A does have X; true, but B has no X. What does that mean? It means X is irrelevant. I proved from B that X is not a refutation, because if X were a refutation, it would mean whoever lacks X does not have the law; but B has the law despite lacking X. Once I showed that X is not a refutation, I go back to learning the kal va-chomer of C from A. That’s all, it stops there. Meaning, B only helped me remove the refutation that had existed against the derivation from A. I do not shift to learning from Z; I remain learning from A, and I show you that X is not a refutation, so I have no problem, I can learn from A. So in the end I learn only from A; I do not learn from both. B only removed the refutation that had existed against deriving from A. Now if that is so, then it remains kal va-chomer. Because I learned from A to C by kal va-chomer, and no—it’s not kal va-chomer because there is a refutation. Come see in B that the refutation is irrelevant. Ah, and then what happened once it became irrelevant? Then I remained with the original kal va-chomer. So that is kal va-chomer. Therefore, seemingly, the dispute among the commentators depends on the question of how you read the mechanism of the common denominator. Okay? Now this mechanism—I’ll give you an example. Look. There is a Rema in section 319 in Orach Chaim, laws of the Sabbath: “One who spits into the wind on the Sabbath, and the wind scatters the spit, is liable because of winnowing.” Yes? This is from the Jerusalem Talmud. One who spits on the Sabbath and the wind scatters the spit is liable because of winnowing. Liable. Liable to stoning—this is a Torah-level prohibited labor to spit on the Sabbath. What, not on a paved floor? What difference does it make whether it is on a paved floor or not? Not on a paved floor, nothing—what difference does that make? Winnowing, with an h, not sowing. Fine? So the Rema brings this from the Jerusalem Talmud. Now the commentators struggle with this a lot. What does this have to do with winnowing at all? Winnowing is a labor that separates food from waste. What is winnowing? You throw the grains with the chaff into the air, the wind blows away the chaff, and the grains fall back down. Winnowing, selecting, and sifting—the Talmud says in tractate Shabbat. Winnowing is a labor that performs sorting. Winnowing, selecting, and sifting are three forms of sorting. Now the essence of winnowing is to separate food from waste. When you spit and the wind scatters the spit—what does that have to do with winnowing at all? So there are those who read “throwing.” It does not say here winnowing in the Jerusalem Talmud; it says throwing. What does throwing mean? It means in the public domain, four cubits. What? In the public domain you throw four cubits in the public domain, so if you spit four cubits in the public domain you are liable because of throwing. But notice, it says here that the wind scatters the spit. Why is that important? If this is because of throwing, then spit—let it not scatter anything—you spit four cubits and you are liable because of throwing. What is the problem? What? Ah, we are talking about a case where the wind helps the spit not only by scattering it but by carrying it forward, okay? Then Rabbi Menashe of Ilya says—what? Two forces combine. Exactly. So the Biur Halakhah brings here in the name of Rabbi Menashe of Ilya: “And in Sefer Alfei Menashe he explained that the intent of the Jerusalem Talmud is where one transfers four cubits in the public domain by means of the wind, and ‘winnowing’ is by way of illustration. Meaning: just as in winnowing, although the wind assists him, nevertheless he is liable, so too with spitting, where the transfer is by the wind, he is also liable. And this is correct.” What is he saying? It’s winnowing and throwing together. What? Those are two versions. It’s winnowing and throwing; you learn from both. What? Look. I spit, and the wind takes it. If the wind had not taken it, but by my force it would have traveled four cubits, that would be a subcategory of throwing, and I would be liable because of throwing, right? Now if I spit, but by itself it would not have reached four cubits, and the wind carried it four cubits—in that situation one might have said that because the wind assists him he is exempt, causation or something like that, so he is exempt. The Talmud says no. We see from winnowing that even if the wind assists, that does not exempt you. Therefore you are liable because of throwing. But winnowing shows you that assistance of the wind does not exempt you. Now you understand that here this is not at all a common denominator. Even though it sounds like a derivation from winnowing and throwing together, through a common denominator, to one who spits. There is no common denominator between winnowing and throwing. What common denominator do they have? There is no common denominator. What is the connection? Clearly if you ask me now, when he spat, under which category of labor did he violate? Winnowing or throwing? Clearly throwing. He did not violate winnowing; he did not separate food from waste. He violated throwing—he transferred four cubits in the public domain. So why do we need winnowing in this derivation? Since he did it with the aid of the wind, and winnowing teaches you that the fact that it is with the aid of the wind is not a refutation. You can still derive it. Do you understand that this is exactly the second mechanism I described earlier? Meaning, winnowing comes in—I am really learning from throwing to spitting. Now I have a refutation: what about throwing, where the wind did not assist? Will you say the same about spitting, where the wind assists—perhaps there he is exempt? It says: winnowing will prove it. There what? In winnowing, although the wind assists him, he is liable. What does the Talmud in Bava Kamma say? Winnowing with the wind assisting him—liable. Okay? Now what does winnowing tell me? That he is liable because of winnowing? There is no dimension of winnowing here at all; it is irrelevant. The labor you are doing is transferring four cubits in the public domain—that is the labor of throwing. Winnowing serves only to neutralize the refutation. Once I neutralized the refutation and from my perspective the fact that the wind assists no longer bothers me, then I go back to deriving it from throwing, and I derive it regularly from throwing; this is a regular analogy from one verse from throwing. Okay? Just one second. Now if the derivation from winnowing were a kal va-chomer, not analogy from one verse, and winnowing were neutralizing the refutation, then this would remain kal va-chomer even though there are two teachers. Why? Because this really is not a common-denominator derivation. I have two teachers, but I am not deriving from their common denominator. The second teacher neutralizes the refutation in the first teacher. That’s all, and now the derivation from the first teacher remains. This is the conception that says that in common denominator this is called kal va-chomer. But understand, it is not really common denominator. It is analogy from two verses. One second, one second. Yes, on one side. Wait a second. Like the wind scatters, the spit gets scattered and he is liable only because of winnowing. That is the plain meaning in the Jerusalem Talmud. Okay, that is the plain meaning in the Jerusalem Talmud. I understand. Your point is to find a source. That is the plain meaning in the Jerusalem Talmud. Wait. That is the plain meaning in the Jerusalem Talmud, only it is wrong. The interpretation in the Jerusalem Talmud, not the plain meaning in the Jerusalem Talmud—that it is winnowing and throwing together. But it is not common denominator; it is removal of a refutation from the derivation of winnowing. Okay? Now once that is so, then the derivation remains from winnowing. Okay, the same thing exists in Bava Kamma. The most documented case of distorting Torah interpretation beyond law. The most documented. Please leave the class. I don’t want to hear you here. Please leave the class. Get out of the class. I understand. Fine. Go complain to Rabbi Yehuda. Things with no basis, and the verse explicit. Go to Rabbi Yehuda and complain that Torah is being distorted here. Bye-bye, that’s enough, that’s all. Goodbye. Okay. Now, well, the fellow isn’t entirely with us. Fine. So for our purposes: in Bava Kamma 6a there is a similar derivation. I won’t get into the details now, but in Bava Kamma 6a there is a similar derivation. We want to derive the law of one’s stone, knife, and burden that fell from the top of the roof and caused damage, okay? There we are talking about after they fell to the ground and he declared them ownerless—that is the Talmud’s conclusion there—and now they caused damage. Now the Talmud says we learn it from a pit. Why? Someone stumbled over it and was injured. Fine? The Talmud says yes, but the wind brought it there. I didn’t dig the pit; I put it on the roof, and the wind knocked it down. It says: fire will prove it. Exactly like here. What does “fire will prove it” mean? Because fire moves by means of the wind. Therefore fire teaches me that the fact that this happened by means of the wind does not exempt me. Okay? Since that does not exempt me, since I learned from fire that the wind does not exempt me, what remains? What remains is that it is a pit. Now the wording there in the Talmud sounds like common denominator, okay? It sounds like common denominator, but it is not common denominator according to what I am explaining now. It is exactly like the winnowing and throwing of Rabbi Menashe of Ilya. Fire comes only to neutralize—after all, in the end he was damaged by my stone, knife, and burden because he stumbled over them. When I ask you what kind of damage this is—fire or pit? Clearly it is pit. The damager is a pit. I need fire only to tell me that there is a pit here. Because this pit was created by the wind. So I need to deal with the fact that the wind should not exempt me. That I learn from fire. Just like what we saw in Rabbi Menashe of Ilya. Therefore in the end, if you ask: a subcategory of what is this? It is a subcategory of pit, not of pit and fire together. And there, in the Rosh on that Talmudic passage, there is a dispute between the Rosh and “some of the great authorities.” Some of the great authorities say: what exemptions will these stone-knife-burden cases have? Will they have the exemptions of pit or the exemptions of fire? Fire is exempt for hidden objects; pit is exempt for people and vessels. Okay? Which will this have? So those authorities say it will have the exemptions of both, because they understand it as common denominator. But the Rosh says only the law of pit, only the exemptions of pit. Why? Because after we learned from fire that the wind does not interfere, we went back to learning it from pit. It is a subcategory of pit. It is just a plain pit. Exactly the same thing as what we saw here. And that is the dispute between the Rosh and those authorities there. Therefore I suspect—and one has to look there exactly at their sources; I did not examine those later authorities (Acharonim) now—that there is no dispute at all here. When the derivation is common denominator, then indeed in the end its status is analogy from one verse. When the derivation is kal va-chomer and we removed a refutation by means of an additional teacher, then of course its status is kal va-chomer, because we removed the refutation and the kal va-chomer remains. Therefore it simply depends on how this derivation from two verses is constructed, what kind of analogy from two verses there is here. Is this an analogy from two verses where the two verses have a common denominator, or is it an analogy from two verses where one verse is used only to clean up the derivation from the other verse? It simply depends on the logic of the derivation. And that will determine whether it is kal va-chomer or analogy from one verse. Now look at Bava Kamma at the end, see the wording. Yes? Look: “Rather, where he did not declare them ownerless, Shmuel said: we learned all of them from his pit; it is his pit. Always where he did declare them ownerless, and it is not similar to a pit. What about a pit, whose distinction is that no other force is involved in it? Will you say the same about these, where another force is involved in them? Fire will prove it. What about fire, whose way is to go and damage? Pit will prove it. And the reasoning returns…” Where is the continuation? There is a standard formula. “And the reasoning returns; the common denominator between them is that they are your property and their guarding is upon you; so too your stone, knife, and burden, since they are your property and their guarding is upon you, you are liable.” Right? There is nothing—“the reasoning returns.” That’s it. It stops there. Why? Because it is not common denominator. “The reasoning returns” means I learned from the first, I had a refutation, the second removed the refutation, and the reasoning returns. “The reasoning returns” means I continue learning from the first. Therefore the Rosh says there that it has entirely the law of pit. It is not the law of pit and fire; it is entirely pit. Fire only proves to me that this is pit; the fact that the wind assisted here doesn’t bother me. That’s all. What? Yes. It seems to me that in fire he has a strong motivation that it be kal va-chomer, but it says “your property and their guarding is upon you”; we do have a basis there. Obviously, but the derivation concerning stone, knife, and burden in the end is really not common denominator. It is not from there, no—it is from the Mishnah. This derivation does not come out of the common denominator of the Mishnah. “Your property and their guarding is upon you,” although that is a broad general rule that could encompass everything, true. No, but you see that in practice they do not suffice with it. In practice we make refutations on fire, refutations on pit. You do not say: it is your property and their guarding is upon you, therefore I derive it—why do I need all the… but then why do you need the continuation? Check: is one’s stone, knife, and burden his property? Is their guarding upon him? Then he is liable. That’s all. Why do I need to start comparing to fire, comparing to pit? So that is the Brisker Rav there, yes—the question is whether you derive the exemptions or derive the liability. That is the dispute between Rif and Rashi, sorry, on that Talmudic passage. Besides, you see that the style here too in the Talmud is “the reasoning returns.” The usual style is the style of common denominator. Now look, in our Talmudic passage they conclude it with “common denominator,” not just “the reasoning returns,” do you see? “And the reasoning returns: this is not like that and that is not like this; their common denominator is that they are permitted with ordinary food and invalidate terumah. So all the more so a second-degree loaf, which invalidates ordinary food, invalidates terumah.” Right? Yes. Now what happens? Notice: he concludes with “all the more so.” He concludes with “all the more so”: “all the more so a second-degree loaf, which invalidates ordinary food, invalidates terumah.” That is kal va-chomer. But here it remains common denominator, so how is it kal va-chomer? I’ll tell you how. Because both the one who immersed that day among other vessels and earthenware—one who immersed that day among other vessels and earthenware—both do not invalidate ordinary food but do invalidate terumah. Both are permitted with ordinary food and invalidate terumah, so from both of them I can learn by kal va-chomer about a second-degree loaf, which invalidates ordinary food, that it certainly invalidates terumah. It remains kal va-chomer from the two teachers. I removed refutations from the two teachers, but in the end, after removing the refutations from both teachers, what remains is kal va-chomer. Because after all, each one individually was originally a lighter-and-heavier inference. Two lighter-and-heavier inferences at the outset—so when I remove the refutations from both sides, I learn from both. But what is their common denominator? The Talmud says: both are permitted with ordinary food and invalidate terumah. That is their common denominator, right? Does that aspect also exist in the second-degree loaf? No. The second-degree loaf invalidates ordinary food; they do not invalidate ordinary food. Therefore it is kal va-chomer even after the common denominator. If both are permitted with ordinary food and invalidate terumah, then all the more so from both of them—not from one of them, from both—to the second-degree loaf, which after all invalidates ordinary food and is therefore more stringent, then certainly it invalidates terumah. After I removed the refutations from both sides, there remained a common denominator in both sides that both are kal va-chomer, not common denominator. Fine? Therefore this really is kal va-chomer in the end even though it is a common denominator. It’s a sort of pathological case, because it is a common denominator learned from two lighter-and-heavier inferences. A common denominator learned from two lighter-and-heavier inferences means that after I removed the refutations from both sides, I was left with two lighter-and-heavier inferences, so the common denominator of both teaches me by kal va-chomer about the target, and therefore it really is kal va-chomer. And if so, this is not related at all to the dispute we saw there, because here according to everyone it can be considered kal va-chomer. Even according to the view that sees the common denominator as analogy from one verse, here it would admit that this is kal va-chomer. Because one does not derive it from a common denominator of some Z that exists in both; one derives it by kal va-chomer from both sides, and according to all views that is kal va-chomer. Fine? I have a question about winnowing and throwing. Yes. When a person winnows, he doesn’t care from which direction the wind comes. He throws, and his intentional labor is carried out by separating the waste from the desired product. By contrast, in throwing, he doesn’t know where… meaning the wind changes things; if the wind is against him, it won’t pass four cubits. Right. So then I can’t say he is doing something with intentional labor that will pass four cubits. And if he does it intentionally and he does want it to pass four cubits, what difference does it make? So we are speaking about a case where he does want that. Not just anyone does it. What difference does it make who does it? That is what is being discussed. Plan for the wind… what, what, what do you mean? Of course, yes. But no matter, even if not—what difference does it make? So we are talking about that situation. If he did not do it, then he is not liable. Everything is fine. What is the problem? There also needs to be intention. So if it is unintentional he is exempt. Fine, we are talking about a situation where he does it intentionally and is liable. That is the discussion. Okay, good. We’ll stop here. We still have the last part of the passage, and that will already be in the next class. Other classes at the same time? No, no, he won’t. Good, so now let’s look at the Talmud on page 73a. We are dealing with intentional labor. The Talmud discusses the law of labor not needed for its own purpose. Rashi explains that labor not needed for its own purpose is labor done not for the original purpose for which it was done in the Tabernacle. For example, someone digs a hole and needs only the dirt. In the Tabernacle they dug holes in order to place the posts, so they needed the hole. Here he needs the dirt, and the hole is made on its own. Rabbi Yehuda says he is liable, and Rabbi Shimon says he is exempt. Why does Rabbi Shimon exempt? Because this is not intentional labor. Intentional labor has to resemble the labor of the Tabernacle also in its purpose. Rabbi Yehuda holds that as long as you performed an act that is labor, you are liable. And this is a very fundamental point in understanding all the laws of the Sabbath. Do we go by the act or by the intention and purpose? The Talmud brings additional examples of this, such as extinguishing a lamp because he is afraid of robbers or for the sake of a sick person who is sleeping. There he does not need the extinguishing for the charcoal, but only wants darkness. Okay, so let’s see the wording of the Talmud. Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: “For every labor not needed for its own purpose one is exempt.” Like whom? Like Rabbi Shimon. Rav rules like Rabbi Shimon. But we know that elsewhere Rav rules like Rabbi Yehuda. So the Talmud tries to reconcile this contradiction in Rav’s statements.