The Status of Logical Reasoning – Lesson 1 – Rabbi Michael Abraham

Table of Contents

• The purpose of the lectures and the conception of the discussion
• Consequentialist arguments, safeguards, and the order of discussion
• The Rogatchover, Rabbi Kasher, and “reasoning is Torah-level”
• An encyclopedia for analysis, an index of reasonings, and the language of distinctions
• “Why do I need a verse? It is reason” and the claim that reasoning is Torah-level
• Rabbinic laws, the reasoning behind them, and the distinction between essential and consequentialist
• Torah-level safeguards and the limits of the distinction
• Rabbinic laws that are not safeguards: enactments and categories of Sabbath rabbinic prohibitions
• “From one extreme to the other” and the independence of a rabbinic prohibition
• Change, continuity, and the strength of reasoning
• The Shevut Yaakov: strong reasoning and weak reasoning
• Creative and sustaining exegesis as a parallel to the status of reasoning
• The heap paradox, fuzzy logic, and distinction versus progressiveness
• A further qualification: the claim that there is no “Torah-level reasoning” in the full sense
• Blessings over enjoyment in Berakhot 35a: “rather, it is reason”
• Leniency and stringency as the expansion of options
• The students of Rabbenu Yonah: misuse of sacred property and a sacrifice
• The Tzelach versus the Pnei Yehoshua: reasoning as interpretive, not innovative
• The parallel to a law given to Moses at Sinai and to exegesis

Summary

General Overview

The speaker presents a complex thesis about the status of reasoning in Jewish law and identifies two opposite mistakes: belittling reasoning to the point of denying it any independent halakhic status, and on the other hand attributing to it an absolute status of “Torah-level reasoning” across the board. He rejects consequentialist arguments of the type “halakhic anarchy” or “what will happen to Judaism / to the Reform movement” as irrelevant arguments at the stage of clarifying the truth, and distinguishes between figuring out what is correct and considering safeguards and consequences. He draws a distinction between essential laws and technical-preventive laws, proposes that the Torah-level / rabbinic division is not necessarily chronological but essential, and develops a continuous model of the strength of reasoning. Later he sets “Torah-level reasoning” against the Talmudic passage about blessings over enjoyment in tractate Berakhot 35a, cites the Pnei Yehoshua and the Tzelach, and moves toward a more restrictive position according to which reasoning is not Torah-level in the full sense when it comes to creating a new obligation that is not an interpretation of a written law.

The Purpose of the Lectures and the Conception of the Discussion

The speaker wants to clarify the status of reasonings in Jewish law and argues that the picture is more complex than blanket claims like “reasoning has no status” or “reasoning is Torah-level” in an absolute sense. He presents his personal view and does not present himself as a halakhic decisor, and he is prepared to disagree even with halakhic decisors if his conclusion is different. He argues that claims about halakhic anarchy resulting from giving status to reasoning are common, but in his view the multiplicity of disputes already creates, in practice, a reality of multiple approaches within Jewish law.

Consequentialist Arguments, Safeguards, and the Order of Discussion

The speaker rejects introducing a “slippery slope” argument into the discussion itself and argues that first one must discuss whether a claim is true, and only afterward consider whether one should refrain from implementing it because of safeguards and consequences. He defines safeguards as rabbinic laws by definition, because they express a situation in which “the true Jewish law” is otherwise, but in practice we refrain because of concerns. He argues that in charged discussions people tend to jump to the “second floor” of consequences instead of clarifying the “first floor” of truth, and he gives examples from discussions about women’s testimony, the status of women in the synagogue, and questions about the survival of religious groups.

The Rogatchover, Rabbi Kasher, and “Reasoning Is Torah-Level”

The speaker describes the Rogatchover as a figure with a unique method of study, extensive use of the Babylonian Talmud and Jerusalem Talmud, and a philosophical conceptual system inspired by The Guide for the Perplexed, with relatively little engagement with the medieval authorities (Rishonim) beyond Maimonides, Rashi, and Tosafot. He talks about the rescue of manuscripts, the activity of the “Tzofnat Pa’neach Institute,” and the fact that these books are not widely used in yeshivot because they are not on the ordinary yeshiva learning track and at times are not even understood. He presents Rabbi Menachem Mendel Kasher’s book Mefa’neach Tzefunot as an encyclopedia to the Rogatchover’s method, and notes that its introduction contains a pamphlet called “Reasoning Is Torah-Level,” which argues for Torah-level status for reasoning and cites sources that say, “Why do I need a verse? It is reason.”

An Encyclopedia for Analysis, an Index of Reasonings, and the Language of Distinctions

The speaker suggests the idea of an “encyclopedia for analysis” that would classify types of difficulties, answers, and distinctions as types of reasoning, and argues that the main challenge is building an index that would allow the reader to reach the correct reasoning without already knowing its categories in advance. He points to the possibility that AI could help with this, and emphasizes that the innovation in Mefa’neach Tzefunot is its treatment of a conceptual language of distinctions rather than collecting material according to substantive halakhic entries.

“Why Do I Need a Verse? It Is Reason” and the Claim That Reasoning Is Torah-Level

The speaker interprets the Talmudic formulation “Why do I need a verse? It is reason” as proof that reasoning can serve as a source with a status like that of a verse, because if reasoning were only rabbinic there would be no room to ask why a verse is needed. He presents familiar examples such as “the mouth that prohibited is the mouth that permitted” and “the burden of proof rests on the claimant,” and mentions other places where reasoning serves as a source even without that exact formula. He also mentions in the name of Rav Saadia Gaon the claim that all the commandments could have been known through reasoning, and uses that to illustrate the force of the assumption that reasoning may be a binding source.

Rabbinic Laws, the Reasoning Behind Them, and the Distinction Between Essential and Consequentialist

The speaker points to a difficulty if one accepts that reasoning is Torah-level, because many rabbinic laws rest on reasoning, and it seems strange that an enactment would lower a law from Torah-level status to rabbinic status. He proposes a distinction between essential reasoning, which indicates what is correct in itself, and consequentialist reasoning of concern and slippery slope, and explains that poultry with milk is consequentialist reasoning of “lest one come to…” and therefore is not an example of essential reasoning that obligates on a Torah level. He attributes to later authorities (Acharonim) an approach according to which the Torah mainly deals with essence and the sages with the outer framework of safeguards, while noting that even this approach has exceptions.

Torah-Level Safeguards and the Limits of the Distinction

The speaker cites, in the name of “Dat VeD’Oraita,” a discussion of whether there are Torah-level safeguards, and presents examples such as the prohibition of owning visible leaven on Passover and seclusion as laws understood as safeguards even though they are Torah-level. He argues that the phenomenon is exceptional, but it teaches that the distinction “Torah = essence, sages = safeguard” is not absolute. He also raises “do not come near to uncover nakedness” as a possible example of a Torah-level law with the character of a safeguard.

Rabbinic Laws That Are Not Safeguards: Enactments and Categories of Sabbath Rabbinic Prohibitions

The speaker points to rabbinic laws that are not decrees and safeguards, such as Hanukkah and Purim, though he prefers to focus mainly on prohibitions. He brings a discussion about two types of rabbinic Sabbath prohibitions: one kind out of concern for a Torah prohibition, and another kind prohibited “in itself” because of weekday-like activity or an internal problematic character. He gives the example of riding a horse, which was prohibited because “one might break off a twig,” as opposed to the example of selecting, where one opinion holds that taking food from refuse is rabbinically prohibited not out of concern that one will come to separate refuse from food, but because the action itself resembles selecting, just at a lower intensity.

“From One Extreme to the Other” and the Independence of a Rabbinic Prohibition

The speaker cites an article by Daniel Weil in the journal Higgayon / Badad on the passage about the “city of gold,” and notes the Talmud’s claim that we do not find a dispute from one extreme to the other when there is a third opinion that is rabbinic. He adopts the direction of the Sefat Emet, according to which a rabbinic prohibition is not always “permitted by Torah law and only later decreed against,” but may express essential problematicity on a lower level that does not cross the threshold of Torah law. He uses this to explain how a rabbinic opinion can mediate between a completely permissive view and a Torah-level prohibitive one.

Change, Continuity, and the Strength of Reasoning

The speaker explains that the concept of “change” on the Sabbath is a continuous concept, not a dichotomous one, and the more significant the change, the farther the act moves from the prohibition until it is no longer defined as that same labor. He argues that reasoning too is measured on a continuum along two axes: the degree of certainty of the reasoning, and the level of severity of the problem or benefit to which it points. He uses examples of tiny acts of theft to illustrate a situation where the certainty is high but the problematicity is minor, and concludes that essential reasonings can generate rabbinic laws when they are “weak” on one of the two axes.

The Shevut Yaakov: Strong Reasoning and Weak Reasoning

The speaker cites the Shevut Yaakov, who rejects any sweeping rule that reasoning creates only rabbinic law, and brings his proof from Talmudic passages that say, “Why do I need a verse? It is reason.” He quotes the Shevut Yaakov’s conclusion that not all reasonings are equal, and that there are strong reasonings and weak reasonings, and emphasizes that the question is not whether every reasoning is Torah-level, but whether there can be reasonings that are Torah-level.

Creative and Sustaining Exegesis as a Parallel to the Status of Reasoning

The speaker compares the discussion to the issue of creative exegesis versus supportive / sustaining exegesis, and argues that the dispute is about the very ability to create a new law through exegesis, not about the claim that all exegesis is creative. He gives examples such as “the fruit of a beautiful tree” and the Talmud’s agreement that this means an etrog, to illustrate a situation in which the exegesis serves to sustain prior knowledge. He mentions the Netziv on the dispute between Rashi and Maimonides about the meaning of “it was learned as a tradition,” and notes that even with laws given to Moses at Sinai there is a division between interpreting an existing law and innovating a new law.

The Heap Paradox, Fuzzy Logic, and Distinction Versus Progressiveness

The speaker presents the heap paradox and the bald man paradox in order to argue that everyday concepts are not binary but continuous, and that the solution is to understand that every addition changes things “a little,” until a point accumulates that justifies linguistic classification. He uses this to support understanding a continuum in the strength of reasoning and understanding concepts as matters of “to what extent” rather than “yes / no.” He continues with a discussion of a spectrum in gender and argues that the existence of a continuum is a fact and is not the same thing as postmodernism or progressiveness, and he defines “progressiveness” as exemption from the need to justify and as the denial of truth and falsehood, whereas continuous logic preserves truth and falsehood in graded form.

A Further Qualification: the Claim That There Is No “Torah-Level Reasoning” in the Full Sense

The speaker states that he wants to trim the claim down even further and argue that there are not really reasonings that are Torah-level “in the full sense,” and says that what follows will be built around the Talmudic discussion of blessings over enjoyment in tractate Berakhot.

Blessings Over Enjoyment in Berakhot 35a: “Rather, It Is Reason”

The speaker presents the Talmud’s conclusion that the basis for blessings over enjoyment is reasoning: “It is forbidden for a person to enjoy this world without a blessing,” and the descriptions of “misused sacred property” and “robs” as metaphors that formulate the same point. He cites the Pnei Yehoshua, who wonders how blessings over enjoyment are considered rabbinic if they are based on “rather, it is reason,” and brings his claim that reasoning does have Torah-level force, but that “in cases of doubt about blessings, we are lenient” stems from the prohibition against reciting an unnecessary blessing and from the consideration of “do not take [God’s name in vain].” He suggests that the reasoning obligates a blessing on a Torah level, but the formula of the blessing with God’s name and kingship is rabbinic, and therefore in cases of doubt one can fulfill the obligation of gratitude without God’s name and kingship.

Leniency and Stringency as the Expansion of Options

The speaker argues that leniency and stringency do not depend on convenience but on the number of halakhic options opened before a person, and he cites the story from Beit HaLevi about reciting the Shema after midnight and about fasting two days because of doubt regarding the festival day. He applies this to “doubt concerning blessings” and argues that the leniency lies in the opening of options itself, while the prohibition of “do not take [God’s name in vain]” decides in practice against reciting a blessing with God’s name and kingship. He formulates a position according to which in a case of doubt there is still an obligation to bless because of the reasoning, but without God’s name and kingship.

The Students of Rabbenu Yonah: Misuse of Sacred Property and a Sacrifice

The speaker cites the students of Rabbenu Yonah on the Rif in Berakhot, who state that one who benefits without a blessing “becomes liable for a sacrifice for misuse of sacred property” and “a guilt-offering for misuse of sacred property,” and concludes from this that they understand the obligation of blessings over enjoyment as a Torah-level obligation that cannot be merely rabbinic. He defines a guilt-offering as a sacrifice brought for intruding into a domain that is not yours even without an explicit halakhic source, and uses this example to strengthen the link between reasoning and a severe obligation.

The Tzelach Versus the Pnei Yehoshua: Reasoning as Interpretive, Not Innovative

The speaker cites the Tzelach, who disagrees with the Pnei Yehoshua and argues that the rule “reasoning is Torah-level” applies only to “one of the laws,” such as “the mouth that prohibited” and “the burden of proof rests on the claimant,” and not to creating a new Torah-level commandment. He presents two difficulties raised by the Tzelach: first, that if so, “all the commandments that are rational would have been written for nothing,” and second, that the reasoning of blessings over enjoyment would then obligate even Noahides. He rejects the Noahide difficulty by arguing that the general rational obligation belongs to all human beings, but the formulations of blessings are an enactment of the sages for Israel, and he attributes to the Tzelach a principled solution according to which Torah-level reasoning operates when it interprets a written commandment, but when it innovates a new obligation without a verse it is not Torah-level, and is only a basis for an enactment of the sages.

The Parallel to a Law Given to Moses at Sinai and to Exegesis

The speaker parallels the Tzelach’s distinction to the distinction he attributes to Maimonides regarding a law given to Moses at Sinai and regarding exegesis: when the interpretive tool explains an existing Torah law, the result is Torah-level, and when it creates an innovation that is not an interpretation of a written law, the result is “the words of the sages.” He concludes by establishing the distinction between the world of plain interpretive meaning and the world of exegesis that expands beyond it, and declares that the continuation of the discussion will be built on these distinctions.

Okay, in these lectures I want to touch on the topic of the status of reasoning, and on this issue I think there are mistakes in both directions. There are mistakes of people who don’t see reasoning as having any halakhic status at all—I don’t know, not any independent halakhic status anyway; everything will become clearer later on. In other words, that’s the “too little” side, those who lower the status of reasoning too much. And there are those who see reasoning as something that has absolute status—“reasoning is Torah-level,” as some of the later authorities phrase it. And I think on both sides there’s some problematic overgeneralization. The picture is more complex than it looks at first glance. So in these lectures I want to try a bit to present the full picture, or at least the way I see it. What was your name again? Netanel. Netanel. Okay, so I want to talk a bit about, as I said before, the full picture, which is a little more complex, but on the other hand I think it sheds much clearer light on what Jewish law is in general, how you build Jewish law, what the sources of Jewish law are, what the status of the different sources is, and where reasoning fits in. So this has broader implications than just clarifying what reasoning is.

Does that mean you’re trying to convince the halakhic decisors? In the eyes of the truth, meaning, do some decisors disagree? So we’ll see—if they disagree, then I disagree too. I’m presenting my own position. I’m not a halakhic decisor and not issuing rulings. I’m presenting my own position. Whoever is persuaded, that will become his position too. Whoever isn’t persuaded, then not—he has every right, no problem. Maybe yes—this too is a view, that everyone has his own truth; that too is one of the truths.

Okay, so the claim—and by the way, this point—that reasoning can take us to halakhic anarchy, right, that if you give reasoning status then everyone will do whatever he wants with it, is a very common claim. But on the other hand, it seems to me that halakhic anarchy is already here. Did you hand out pages? No. I saw people coming over—take a page, take a page. Okay, fine, it’s free, why shouldn’t they take it? If it’s free, take it. Here, there’s another page here, do you want one? It’s free. No, no, I’m not handing out pages, it’s just a joke. Right.

Okay, so this claim about anarchy—I always have some thesis on moral questions, maybe we’ll touch on it later—I say, look, if morality has independent status and it doesn’t come out of the Torah, then basically everyone can do what he wants or think what he wants. And without that, not everyone can do what he wants? We’re there anyway. Even within Jewish law, which supposedly is not handed over to every individual—right, from Sinai, interpretations, authorities—even there doesn’t everyone basically decide as he decides, and there are disputes and different approaches? There’s almost nothing that isn’t disputed. So there’s no reason to panic too much over the anarchy supposedly awaiting us from granting autonomous status to morality or to reasoning or something like that—especially if it’s true. So anarchy? Okay, let there be anarchy. What’s wrong with anarchy?

The question is whether reasoning obligates as Jewish law. What? That’s our topic, that’s the topic of these lectures, and that’s what I want to talk about. It creates problems in marriage. What? It creates problems in marriage. And in Jewish law there can’t be problems in marriage? One person practices Jewish law this way and another that way. The School of Hillel and the School of Shammai did not refrain from marrying into one another despite the fact that there were disputes between them, both Torah-level and rabbinic-level. Fine, so they work it out. And if not, then don’t get married. If that’s the truth, then that’s what there is.

I’m saying: if that’s the truth, then all these consequentialist arguments are irrelevant. Meaning, if this thing is true, then it’s true. “Ah, it creates anarchy.” Fine, then we’ll deal with that, if it even needs dealing with. Fine, the Reform too. And therefore what? And therefore what? And therefore what I’m saying isn’t true? If what I’m saying is true, then it’s true. You’re saying that what happened to the Reform will happen to me? Maybe. So what? But it’s the truth. If the Reform are right, then they’re right, whether or not they left the Jewish people. If they’re not right, then let’s discuss whether they’re right, not what will happen to them in the end.

A lot of times when we discuss questions of this kind, we move second-order slippery-slope discussions ahead of first-order discussions. In other words, first let’s see whether it’s true. After we examine it—after you discover that it’s true—sometimes there’s room to say: okay, even though it’s true, we still won’t do it because of slippery-slope concerns. What does that mean? The Chinese also lasted 3,000 years, so are they even more right? That’s a Darwinian approach that says survival is a measure of truth. I mean, I don’t know—maybe they won’t survive and yet they were right. It could be that something right disappeared.

I’m not willing to risk anything; I want to clarify what Judaism says. If what Judaism says will lead to its extinction, then maybe I’ll consider that although that’s what it says, perhaps I still won’t act that way. And maybe I will act that way and let it disappear. But first I need to clarify what it says; after that I’ll see what I do with what it says. I didn’t say—wait, I haven’t said anything yet. First of all, I’m not deterred by the fact that people have said something for 2,000 years and I’m saying something else. So I’m saying something else—but I haven’t even said it yet. Let me say it first, and then we’ll see how I’m leading you to total extinction.

Okay, so I’m going back to the issue of reasoning. No, these introductions are important because of this point, because these questions are loaded questions. And with loaded questions we have a tendency not to treat them objectively. And in my view, the approach that says, “What will happen to you later if you think or behave this way?” is not objective. Not that it’s wrong—it’s not objective. Even if it’s right, it’s not objective, because even if it’s right, it still doesn’t determine what the truth is. It could be that after I reach the conclusion that this is the truth, I still won’t act on it because of considerations of what will happen. Okay? So every issue has to be discussed at the proper stage.

I once talked about, I don’t know, allowing women to testify, or the status of women in synagogue, or various things of that sort. People told me, “Wait, wait—what’s going to happen here? Everything will collapse, we’ll become Reform, we’ll vanish from the world,” I don’t know exactly what. I said: first tell me whether what I’m saying is true. If it isn’t true, then let’s argue about that. Why should I care what happens afterward? You say it isn’t true—tell me why it isn’t true. If you think it is true, then first of all we’ve already moved one step forward. Now you tell me: yes, it’s true, but it’s better not to behave that way in practice because there are all sorts of problems. One of the roles of the sages is, among other things, to make fences, right? What are fences? By definition, fences are always rabbinic laws. Why? Because a fence basically says: look, the true law is this, but I’m saying don’t behave that way because of some concern about outcomes, a slippery slope, or whatever, something that could happen. But by definition that always has to come on the second level. In other words, first you discuss what’s right; after that you ask what we do with what’s right. Okay? Don’t mix those two planes.

And in loaded discussions people always mix them. Actually they don’t mix them—they go straight to the second one. And usually when people rush straight to the second one, it’s because at the first level they agree and don’t want to admit it. Because they say it’s true, and they’ve got nothing to say, so: “Yes, yes, but it’s Reform, and you’ll disappear, and disaster, and what will happen here…” Fine, okay, we’ll discuss the evolutionary questions afterward. Right now I first want to know what’s true; after that we’ll see what survives.

Because a lot of times survival considerations, like in all those eternal arguments between Haredim and non-Haredim—how many become secular, what survives and what doesn’t—I never understood that nonsense. I mean, I don’t know, maybe it won’t survive. But if this is Judaism, then I want Judaism to survive, not something else. In other words, if I have to give up my Judaism in order for it to survive, then no—I’ll stick with Judaism and let it disappear. What can I do? Again, I’m putting it sharply; that doesn’t mean every dispute between two groups is “Judaism.” But I’m saying this is not an absolute argument. You have to discuss what exactly is at stake. If you’re giving up fundamental principles in order to survive, then no. No.

There are things for which one must be killed rather than transgress. And there are certain things over which you die, even though afterward you won’t be able to keep many Sabbaths, right? But you die. Why? Because there’s something essential here. If I give that up, then it’s not worth continuing. Fine? Here too it’s the same. In these discussions we jump too quickly to the second floor. Wait a second. I want to deal with the first floor. Leave the second floor aside; the second floor is for the next course. I want to deal with the first floor. Good.

At the beginning of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Kasher’s book—he was the author of Torah Sheleimah—there’s a book called Mefa’ane’ach Tzefunot. It’s basically an encyclopedia to the Rogatchover. The Rogatchover was a very interesting Jew, rabbi in Dvinsk together with the Or Sameach. The Or Sameach was the rabbi of the Mitnagdim, and the Rogatchover was the rabbi of the Hasidim. What? Yes, there were also some arguments between them. It was very interesting. I once wrote a comparative article on the two of them, because it teaches a tremendous amount about many things. Anyway, they were two very heavy lions. Yes, they respected one another greatly. When the Or Sameach died, the Rogatchover said: “He had only just begun to know how to learn, and already he left us, poor man.” Meaning—it wasn’t, no, no, this was real respect. When he says someone had begun to know how to learn, that’s praise. I wish he would say that about me. The Rogatchover had a sharp tongue, but anyone who knows how to listen knows that he could also express appreciation in that way.

He once said about Rabbi Elchanan—apparently Wasserman—he said: “Well, he’s not a bad teacher of little children.” Rabbi Elchanan. And that was a compliment. That was a compliment. Everything depends on context.

Anyway, the Rogatchover was unique in having a very special learning method. For a few years it was my hobby to deal with him. He almost never referred to the medieval authorities (Rishonim), except for Maimonides, Rashi, and Tosafot, and here and there the Ran, I think. As for later authorities (Acharonim), not even worth mentioning, nothing to talk about at all. Babylonian Talmud and Jerusalem Talmud—and his conceptual system was philosophical. In other words, he analyzed halakhic passages using a conceptual system drawn from Guide of the Perplexed. That was the philosophy he knew—not important right now—but it was a philosophical conceptual framework.

And he had writings, lots of writings, that weren’t really published. I think his daughter was married to the rabbi of Petach Tikva, I’ve forgotten his name now, and she went to Europe to save her father’s writings literally on the eve of the Holocaust. People told her not to go, that it was dangerous, that she was risking herself, and she went and did not return. They caught her there. In any case, Rabbi Kasher tells—just an anecdote—but Rabbi Kasher says that sometime in the 1960s he was at some dinner in the United States, where he lived, and some woman came up to him and said, listen, I have two sacks full of manuscripts. I have no idea what they say, but you’ll probably know; it’s religious material. So she gave it to him, and it turned out to be writings of the Rogatchover that had somehow been sent to the United States to someone. Somehow it got to the U.S., and then he established the Tzafnat Pa’aneach Institute—that’s the name of the Rogatchover’s writings on Maimonides and the responsa and so on—and they publish, or published, maybe they still do, I don’t know, his writings, also on the Talmud and on the Torah, all kinds of things. There’s interesting material there, really very special material.

But his books aren’t found in yeshivot. No. Maybe they’re there, but people don’t use them much. It’s not—this isn’t funny, it’s true. Because they don’t understand them? Yes, they also don’t understand them, and it’s also not on the usual yeshiva track, which is generally Rabbi Chaim, Rabbi Shimon Shkop—that whole method. Even in Beit El it isn’t found? Even in hesder yeshivot I haven’t seen it, generally. Doesn’t matter. In hesder yeshivot too it’s Rabbi Chaim and Rabbi Shimon. No, Tzafnat Pa’aneach is something else. What’s the difference? The same yeshiva tradition exists in hesder yeshivot too—it’s not, they don’t wear black suits, but the learning is basically similar. Again, the type of learning, the mode of learning—no, there are differences.

So in short, the Tzafnat Pa’aneach Institute published these writings, and when they publish them they generally have notes below to help decipher things a little, because his writings are “see, see, see, see, see, see, see” with some connecting word between one “see” and the next. He has no mercy on the eye, so to speak. The deciphering is there? Yes, the deciphering is there—that’s what they do at the Tzafnat Pa’aneach Institute.

Anyway, Rabbi Kasher published a book called Mefa’ane’ach Tzefunot, echoing Tzafnat Pa’aneach. And it’s an encyclopedia to the Rogatchover. It’s divided into chapters by topics, a certain methodology of different types of distinctions found there. Each chapter deals with a different kind of distinction and brings all kinds of examples. A very, very interesting book. By the way, another side note: once I was talking with a certain genius of a Jew, involved with Otzar Mefarshei HaTalmud, the people who published that work, and he was talking with me about what kinds of projects I ought to get into, what would be worth doing. A sort of walking encyclopedia—he knows everything, an unbelievable person.

Anyway, from what we were discussing, I told him that in my view there is a challenge—a logical challenge, not specifically a Torah one—to create an encyclopedia of analysis. A Talmudic encyclopedia of analysis. The Talmudic Encyclopedia, if you know it, is divided according to content entries, by topic. But there would be value in making some orderly toolbox for the learner to use, giving him types of reasoning: what kinds of questions, what kinds of answers, what kinds of distinctions—types. Not by subject matter, but by kinds of reasoning.

Now the biggest challenge in building such a toolbox is its index. Because imagine there’s such an encyclopedia of types of reasoning, thick as a brick. Now you’re looking for a kind of reasoning—you have a difficulty. You’re looking for what kinds of reasoning can help solve that difficulty. How do you know which page of the encyclopedia to open? What will the entries be? If you don’t know the kinds of reasoning in advance, then you don’t know what page in the book to search. The content-based division is relatively easy: you take halakhic concepts; you look for material on a given concept, say, a Jewish holiday, then you go to the yud section in the Talmudic Encyclopedia, look up the entry “Jewish holiday,” and there you find the relevant information. But when you want to search for a certain kind of reasoning, you need a kind of synchronization—it’s like coding, encryption. You need some sort of key shared between the person who wrote the book and the person reading it. The reader has to know what key the author used, and search for the relevant reasoning accordingly. Okay. Cracking that is hard; I don’t know how to do it. Maybe now with AI one could try to do something like that. But from an encyclopedic standpoint—leave aside usefulness for a second—it’s just an interesting logical problem: how do you crack that?

Anyway, for our purposes, all that was just a side comment. Mefa’ane’ach Tzefunot is Rabbi Kasher’s book that tried to do this. It’s an encyclopedia of reasoning. And the reasoning has nothing at all to do with halakhic concepts. Cause and effect, cause and consequence, object and person, aggregate composition, blended composition, this kind of time and that kind of time—it’s not connected at all. Now within each such division there are many, many halakhic references where you can see this distinction—or at least where the Rogatchover sees this distinction. Those who dealt with these passages generally didn’t speak in that language, but the Rogatchover explains them, or offers another explanation, using that language. And the dictionary or encyclopedia that handles the language, not the sources, is Mefa’ane’ach Tzefunot.

I said all this because in the introduction to Mefa’ane’ach Tzefunot there’s a pamphlet called “Reasoning Is Torah-Level.” And it’s not by accident that it appears there in the introduction, because indeed the power of reasoning is very central for the Rogatchover. There he discusses the idea that reasoning basically has the status of Torah-level law. He brings sources from the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) saying that reasoning has a kind of status really like Torah-level law—from “why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning,” and so on. So you see that it has some sort of status like Torah-level law.

For many years, since I’m a fan of the Rogatchover and read this book too—or at least part of it—I sort of walked around for years with the idea that reasoning is Torah-level. Until a few years ago I reached the conclusion that this can’t be correct. But on the other hand, yes, there’s the rule “why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning,” and I’ll spell everything out later; this is just the introduction. So we need to understand exactly how to relate to this creature—what reasoning is, what the status of this thing is.

However you define it—maybe it was. It’s also a Talmudic concept, but the Talmud didn’t invent it. People have reasoning. It’s a philosophical concept? It’s a concept—it’s a fact that human beings have reasoning. Philosophy, Jewish law—it doesn’t need a source. We have reasoning, that’s obvious. The question of halakhic status is another question. But the fact that we have reasoning—that we think—that’s a fact. You don’t need the Talmud or philosophy for that. If we didn’t think, neither the Talmud nor philosophy would exist. Sometimes I think not all that much, but that’s how it was supposed to be.

So in that book, his assumption is that reasoning is Torah-level. And the basis for that, as I said earlier, is the Talmud’s offhand expressions: in several places it says, “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning.” When the Talmud says, “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning,” what it’s basically saying is: yes, from where do we know “the same mouth that prohibited is the mouth that permitted,” or “the burden of proof rests on the claimant”? Those are the two famous examples. There are other places where this appears in slightly different wording, but there are other places in the Talmud where it appears.

So a verse is brought, and then the Talmud asks: why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning. What do you need the verse for? I can learn it from reasoning. Now what does that question mean? On the simple level it means that even if there were no verse, we would be in the same place, right? In other words, if I derived it from reasoning, I’d be in the same position as if there were a verse. Now how can that be? If reasoning—if the status of something that comes from reasoning is not like a Torah-level law—say it’s rabbinic, okay?—then you can’t say, “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning.” You need the verse so it will be Torah-level. If it came from reasoning, it would be rabbinic, right? In other words, “why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning” doesn’t only mean that reasoning has a status in Jewish law, which is certainly true; it also means that its status is absolute. Meaning that the status of reasoning is like that of a verse. Because if it had status but a lower one, then you couldn’t ask, “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning.” You need the verse so it will be Torah-level.

In practice it’s roughly at a lower level—for example in blessings. Wait, wait, slowly. There are things she didn’t write, but she says it’s obvious that it’s as if from… Okay, fine. So to repeat: “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning” means that reasoning has the status of Torah-level law. Still, that doesn’t… No, who said it’s rabbinic? No. Right, it could be Torah-level. I’ll get to that—that’s our topic, we’ll talk about it. Reasoning, on its face, was a strong assumption. Why? Because if there’s an explicit verse saying law X, why should I need to search for reasoning that depends on someone’s understanding? No, it doesn’t depend on understanding. Their claim is that if we have reasoning—let’s assume it’s simple reasoning, and in a moment we’ll talk a bit about different levels of reasoning—if the reasoning is simple and any rational person understands it, then it has the status of a verse. If it’s not simple, then we’re in cases of doubt; that’s a technical question right now. But on the principled level, if something is clear, simple reasoning to the sages, everybody agrees, it’s obvious, then it should be Torah-level, right? That’s the meaning of this question: “why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning.”

Yes, they derive the labor of transferring into a domain from reasoning—“what difference does it make whether one brings in or brings out?” in tractate Sabbath page 96. In other words, there are all sorts of places where even if the exact phrase “why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning” doesn’t appear, it’s clear in the Talmud that reasoning is a source like a verse. Therefore the claim is that reasoning basically has full Torah-level status. Yes, according to Saadia Gaon, for example—again, this is secondhand because I don’t read that literature—that we could have known all the commandments from reasoning. Basically all of them are rational commandments. If that were really so, then from this Talmudic perspective the entire Torah would be unnecessary. Maybe because we aren’t wise enough, so in practice we still need it—but on the principled level, according to this approach, the whole Torah is unnecessary, because everything should have emerged from reasoning. Not everyone is that wise. Fine, that’s why there are sages who know and can tell us. No, no, because in the Torah there is… Fine, so I’m saying maybe we wouldn’t know it, and therefore we need the Torah, but on the principled level we don’t need the Torah because the status is the same status.

Now on this issue, before I get into the thick of it, what are rabbinic laws? Behind rabbinic laws there are usually—wait, wait—behind rabbinic laws there are usually forms of reasoning. Why did the sages enact this law? There’s some reasoning behind it, whatever it is. Right? Now if reasoning is Torah-level, then basically this should have been Torah-level. Once the sages enacted it, it dropped in rank and became a rabbinic law. Because after all, it was reasoning, so even before the sages enacted it we should have been obligated to do it, because reasoning is Torah-level. And after the sages enacted it, suddenly it drops and becomes rabbinic. That sounds unreasonable. Okay, there’s something problematic here.

So indeed this will obviously depend on what kind of rabbinic enactment or decree we’re talking about and what kind of reasoning stands behind it, and we’ll get into that later. But I already want to say here—maybe just in one sentence—the distinction: there are situations where the reasoning says that this is how one should act for essential reasons. One should act this way because it’s good, because it’s useful, because—whatever—it contributes to some value or another. And there are situations where the reasoning—for example poultry with milk—there’s reasoning behind it, that if you come to eat poultry with milk, then you may come to eat meat with milk. Right, a slippery slope. A slippery slope is also a kind of reasoning. So there is reasoning here. Does that turn poultry with milk into a Torah-level prohibition? It’s not likely that this is the kind of reasoning under discussion. Not likely, right? There’s no good reason to say that this is the kind of reasoning meant here. Why? Because this isn’t reasoning saying that it is intrinsically forbidden to eat poultry with milk; there’s nothing essential here. There’s something consequential. In other words, if you eat poultry with milk, something problematic may result.

It could be that reasoning of this type does not receive Torah-level status, although we still need to understand why. What difference does it make why? If it’s still wrong to eat poultry with milk, then it’s wrong—why should I care why it’s wrong? But the assumption… What? That’s a big question. Rabbi Kook wanted to make claims like that, but it’s not clear that it’s correct. Fine, maybe I’ll comment on that later too.

That’s why, in later authorities (Acharonim), people tend to distinguish and say that there is a difference between the role of the sages and the role of the Torah—a difference in role before the difference in legal force, that this is Torah-level and that is rabbinic. A difference in role. What’s the difference? The Torah speaks about what is right in itself. Exactly like my opening. The Torah speaks about what is right in itself, essential reasoning. This is forbidden because it is bad, because it causes spiritual harm, because—I don’t know—things like that. The role of the sages is to deal with the surrounding framework. Things that in themselves are not problematic, but can lead to a problematic situation, like poultry with milk lest one come to eat meat with milk. So poultry with milk in itself creates no spiritual, moral, or other problem, but it can lead me to eat meat with milk, and that act is intrinsically problematic. So the Torah forbids meat with milk, and the sages are the ones who forbid poultry with milk. “Make a guard for My guard”—they make fences, decrees, and the like.

So that’s one distinction between two kinds of reasoning: essential reasoning and consequential reasoning—slippery-slope reasoning, or concerns about future outcomes. And when we’re speaking here, we mean the first kind, not the second kind. The essential kind. Yes, the essential kind.

Now this is not completely agreed upon. In Dat VeDaat he discusses whether we find Torah-level fences. He has a section on the question whether there are Torah-level fences. Yes, exactly. His two classic examples are “it shall not be seen” regarding leaven and seclusion. Okay? “It shall not be seen” and seclusion. Both of them, according to some of the medieval authorities (Rishonim), are basically fences, even though… It’s clear that they are Torah-level prohibitions, “it shall not be seen” certainly, and seclusion too. So if it’s Torah-level, then in the common later-authority view that can’t be a fence; it has to be something essential, because fences are the role of the sages. There are situations where the Torah itself apparently also establishes fences, but that’s the exception proving the rule. The basic form is not like that. The Torah speaks about essential matters, and the role of the sages is to make fences.

Therefore, for example, there are discussions among later authorities, in Beit HaLevi and others, about the oath called shevuat hesset. Shevuat hesset is called “the Talmud’s oath.” There are Torah oaths, Mishnah oaths, and Talmud oaths. Torah oaths are three; there are the Mishnah oaths in the last chapter of tractate Shevuot; and then there’s the Talmud’s oath, which is shevuat hesset. And later authorities point out that you can already see in the Mishnah that there was such an oath. It’s not explicit, but you can see it. Then they discuss why it’s called the Talmud’s oath, and whether it has a Torah source at all, and if so why it’s rabbinic, and so forth.

I think there—and I once wrote something on market regulation as well as on shevuat hesset—I think there’s a conceptual confusion here. It could be that a law was already correct at Mount Sinai and still be rabbinic. Why? Because its character is rabbinic. The law is not an essential one, but a technical one designed to prevent problems, okay? A fence or a decree or something like that. So in its essence it is rabbinic law, even if Moses already established it at Sinai, around Sinai—not necessarily receiving it from the Holy One, blessed be He, but it is ancient. It wasn’t something created by a later court. It could even be that no court created it at all, but rather it was some obvious thing that one must act this way—market regulation, regulation to encourage penitents, things of that sort.

So this distinction is not necessarily chronological. It’s not that rabbinic laws are later laws and Torah laws are earlier laws. There are Torah-level laws being created today, and there are rabbinic laws that existed at Sinai. The distinction is not chronological. The distinction is substantive: what is the character of the law and how was it created? If the character of the law is essential, and it was generated out of the Torah or the interpretation of the Torah—even if the interpreter is a sage living today—then the product is Torah-level. If the law is a fence, there is no essential reasoning behind it, but rather it comes to block problematic consequences, and it was created by the sages from their own reasoning, not as interpretation of the Torah, then it is rabbinic law. Okay? In other words, the distinction is not chronological; it is substantive.

So therefore: “Do not come near to uncover nakedness”—is that Torah-level or rabbinic? After all, it’s a fence. In the simple view it’s Torah-level; it says “do not come near.” So here it emerges that even on the Torah level there are things that are fences and not necessarily essential laws. I said: for example seclusion, “it shall not be seen,” right. Closeness to forbidden relations maybe too. In any case, this distinction doesn’t hold water completely. There are rabbinic laws that are not of the type of fences and decrees. For example Hanukkah and Purim. Hanukkah and Purim are not a fence and not a decree. They are rabbinic law, call it an enactment. But these enactments also aren’t just “reasoning”—though there is reasoning: if a miracle happened, one should thank God for it, mark it, what’s the problem? Some even bring a Torah source for that around Independence Day; there are discussions like that.

So rabbinic laws include things that are not fences and not decrees. But leave that aside—Hanukkah and Purim are for the younger crowd. Let’s talk about prohibitions. Wait, wait, we’ll get to blessings; you’re going back to blessings, we’ll get there, don’t worry. There are prohibitions too of this sort. For example, later authorities infer—even from Maimonides, but you can see it elsewhere as well—that there are two kinds of shevut on Sabbath. One kind is concern lest one come to a Torah-level prohibition, and another kind is prohibited in itself—something like weekday-like behavior, where it simply isn’t fitting to do such a thing on Sabbath. Not only in the sense of weekday-like activity and the shevut of Nachmanides, who sees that as Torah-level shevut—Nachmanides and Ritva—but I mean actual rabbinic shevut prohibitions.

For example: someone riding a horse on Sabbath—that’s forbidden, right? Lest he cut off a branch. Okay. It’s clear that this is a rabbinic decree, where the essential prohibition is cutting the branch. You’re forbidden to ride a horse lest you pluck a branch. Right, there’s nothing in the riding itself. But if you ride, you may come to an act that would be a Torah prohibition, a genuinely problematic act.

Now what about selecting food from waste? Selecting waste from food is Torah-level; food from waste is rabbinic—we won’t get into all the conditions, but for simplicity let’s say food from waste, okay? So that’s a rabbinic prohibition. Here the later authorities disagree. You can see it already in early authorities, and in Maimonides as I said before. Some hold that the prohibition of selecting food from waste is not out of concern that you’ll come to select waste from food, but rather that selecting food from waste is itself problematic like selecting, only its level of problematicness is lower, and therefore it is not Torah-level but rabbinic. Do you see the difference? In other words, there is an essential prohibition here. Just as it’s forbidden to select waste from food on Sabbath, it is also forbidden to select food from waste. It’s just that, for some reason, selecting food from waste has the problematic character at a lower level, so it doesn’t cross the threshold into Torah-level, and is therefore forbidden only rabbinically. But it isn’t out of concern that one may come to select waste from food; it is a self-standing prohibition. In itself it’s forbidden.

We won’t get into the laws of selecting right now, but I’m saying there are later authorities who want to argue this about selecting, or about other prohibitions: that the problem is not just concern—or certainly not only concern—about something else, but a substantive problem.

There’s an interesting article in a journal that I’m sure no longer appears, called Badad—an acronym for “In all your ways know Him”—published here at Bar-Ilan on Torah and science. The first issues were called Hegayon. In the first issue there’s an article by some physicist named Daniel Vile, talking there about “quantum logic” among the sages. He overstates it a bit, but he brings a passage in the chapter Tolin in tractate Sabbath about going out with a golden city ornament, some kind of ornament, whether one may go out with it into the public domain.

There the Talmud says that we don’t find a dispute from one extreme to the other. Meaning, we don’t find a dispute where one person says something is Torah-prohibited and another says it’s completely permitted. Okay? So he asks: why not? Here we have exactly that. Regarding the golden city ornament there’s a three-way dispute: one tanna says it’s a Torah prohibition; another says it’s completely permitted. So the Talmud says: no, but here there’s also a third tanna who says it’s a rabbinic prohibition. Fine—but those first two still disagree from one extreme to the other, so what do I care that there’s someone in the middle?

He goes into all kinds of quantum logics and things of that sort, but what this really says—if we leave that aside—the root of it is already in the Sefat Emet there. What this really says is that in the simple conception, a rabbinic law belongs on the permissive side, right? Essentially, on the Torah level it’s permitted; the sages decreed otherwise. But substantively, someone who says it’s forbidden rabbinically is basically saying it’s permitted, right? It’s just that besides being Torah-permitted, the sages still decreed against it. Okay? But there in the Talmud you see that that isn’t correct. Someone who says it is Torah-prohibited argues that there is a certain level of substantive problematicness here, but it is below the Torah threshold. Therefore it is only rabbinically forbidden. It is not because one may come to a Torah prohibition; rather, it is itself substantively forbidden. It just isn’t problematic enough to count as a Torah-level prohibition. It’s less problematic.

And then he says that once that is so, if there is an opinion that it is a rabbinic prohibition, that opinion mediates between the opinion that forbids it on the Torah level and the opinion that permits it. Because if rabbinic prohibition were like transparent overlays—on the Torah level it’s permitted, and on top of that there’s some overlay saying the rabbis prohibited it anyway—then what difference does it make that someone holds it’s rabbinically prohibited? Why does that stop the dispute from counting as one from one extreme to the other? It must be that rabbinic prohibition there is conceived as something half-Torah-level. Not something that is not Torah-level at all, totally permitted on the Torah level, only the sages decreed it. There’s no essential reasoning there, only decree-type reasoning, what I said before. No—there is also essential reasoning in rabbinic law. So why isn’t it Torah-level? Because they are weaker forms of reasoning.

Fine? It’s like when people study the issue of doing prohibited labor with a modification on Sabbath. A modification is rabbinically prohibited. If you do something with a modification, that’s a rabbinic prohibition. Now there are cases where you see that it’s completely permitted when done with a modification. Then later authorities begin discussing: wait, how can that be? A modification should still be rabbinically prohibited, and so on. “Modification” is a concept that by definition is open. How much modification? How different is it from the original? A little different, very different. Say, between zero and one. A modification of one means it simply isn’t the original thing at all. A modification of 0.3 is much more similar to the original thing, and so on, right? It’s an open concept. The concept of modification is continuous. It’s not dichotomous—“is this a modification or not?” It depends how much modification there is.

Now clearly, if the modification is significant enough, it’s already so far from the original that you can’t say it’s selecting with a modification. It’s not selecting at all. Fine—it’s just some other action. It has certain similarities to selecting, but you can’t say it’s selecting with a modification because essential components are missing. Okay? In other words, you see that the concept of modification, although it seems—as in, doing it with a modification is a rabbinic prohibition—so ostensibly it’s dichotomous: if it’s not a modification, it’s Torah-level; if it is, it’s rabbinic. No. It depends how much modification. Reasoning is that kind of concept too.

When we say there is such a thing as essential reasoning, what does that mean? There are things where the reasoning is unequivocal and clear. And there are things where the reasoning is correct, but not unequivocal. That continuum can exist on two axes. First, how certain am I of the reasoning? Maybe I’m not totally convinced. It seems that way to me, but I’m not fully convinced. So the degree of certainty I have in the reasoning is one continuous axis. The second continuous axis is: what is the level of harm? I’m completely certain that there’s a problem here, but it’s a minor problem. Fine? In other words, it’s not about certainty. I’m completely certain. But I’m completely certain that this will make a little tiny bump. Fine, okay, it’s not such a serious problem. Each of these two axes can weaken the reasoning: either it’s weaker because I’m not completely convinced, or it’s weaker because okay, there is reasoning here, but the problem it points to isn’t all that severe.

For example, if someone—I don’t know—uses someone else’s pen without permission, writes on some paper, let’s say the owner doesn’t agree. Fine? That’s theft. Okay? Right, but okay, we all know this is the pettier side of theft. It’s not like taking a hundred shekels from him. Fine? It’s not only the value; it’s beyond that, meaning the act itself. Yes, he used it. Right, halakhically that’s forbidden. And it’s not that I’m not sure it’s forbidden—I’m completely sure. It’s just that the problematic character of that act is low. It’s not such a major problem. Fine? So on both those axes we can measure forms of reasoning: how certain they are, and how problematic their consequence is—or how desirable, if it’s a commandment.

Why am I saying this? Because I’m now returning to the problem I raised regarding rabbinic law. There are rabbinic laws that reflect essential reasoning—not a decree, not a fence—and still they are rabbinic. Why? If reasoning is Torah-level, why are they rabbinic? The answer could be: true, it is essential reasoning, but it is weak. Either because I’m not sure, or because the problematicness to which this reasoning points is not all that terrible. Therefore, even though there is reasoning here, it still won’t be Torah-level. Okay? It will be rabbinic. So the existence of laws of that sort still doesn’t undermine the statement that reasoning is Torah-level. Reasoning is Torah-level—but what kind of reasoning? Reasoning that is clear and whose harm is substantial, say in a prohibition, or whose benefit is substantial, say in a commandment. Okay? That is what people mean when they speak of “reasoning is Torah-level.” But that doesn’t mean that everything that isn’t Torah-level has no reasoning in it. Either it has non-essential reasoning—fence, decree, and the like—or it has essential reasoning but at a lower level. Fine? So this alone should not yet upset us.

And that is what Shevut Yaakov writes. It went to rest when no one was using it. Who said technology doesn’t have human traits? Its maintenance. Okay, part of technology comes from its maintenance. We have an island of maintenance here—Maintenance Island. There, it’s back on. It’s back on. Yes, yes. Since it went up, it won’t go down.

So Shevut Yaakov says this. He discusses there whether reasoning is Torah-level or rabbinic, and he brings someone who asked him and said that reasoning is rabbinic. He writes as follows: “Also what follows from the words of his honored Torah, that whatever is based on reasoning is only rabbinic—this general rule does not seem correct to me, for several reasons. For if so, it is difficult from several Talmudic passages that ask: ‘Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning.’ And Tosafot asks similarly in Shevuot. If as his honor says, there would be no difficulty at all, because from reasoning it would only be rabbinic. So why does the Talmud ask, ‘Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning’?”

On the other hand, the questioner has proofs from tractate Passover page 68. So what do we do with that? In other words, there are passages from which it seems that reasoning is Torah-level, and others from which it seems it is rabbinic. So he writes: “Even according to Tosafot’s answer, it is clear that not all forms of reasoning are equal. There is strong reasoning and weak reasoning. And similarly in that case in Passover, there is also reasoning to the opposite effect,” and then he gets into that sugya. He says: the fact that you say reasoning is Torah-level does not mean every bit of reasoning creates a Torah-level law. There is strong reasoning and weak reasoning. And again, strong and weak on the two axes I spoke about before.

Therefore, when we speak of “reasoning is Torah-level,” we are not speaking about just any reasoning whatever. The discussion is not whether every form of reasoning is Torah-level, but whether there are forms of reasoning that are Torah-level. Can there be a reasoning so great and so strong that it can have Torah-level status? That’s the question. The question is not whether every form of reasoning is Torah-level—obviously not. The question is whether there are any. Yes. Whether in principle something Torah-level can also emerge from reasoning, and not only from a verse. That’s the point.

It’s like the discussion about interpretive derivations that create and interpretive derivations that merely support. Nobody disputes that there are also derivations that support, that confirm what already exists. In other words, derivations that did not create the law but anchor an already existing law. Okay? Nobody disputes that. The dispute is whether there are derivations that create, not whether all derivations create. Can a derivation create a new law that wasn’t received in tradition? The thirteen principles? That’s exactly the question—whether the thirteen principles preserve or create. The Malbim… Gersonides claims that all of them preserve. That isn’t true. You see from the Talmud that it isn’t true. That’s simply mistaken. Maimonides says the overwhelming majority of derivations create, except maybe three or four—he writes that in a letter. Okay? But again, he too agrees there are supportive derivations—three or four, actually more, but he means a very small number. What about the view that there is no such thing as supportive derivations? I don’t know it, but fine, if there is such a view, then there is. The common claim is that derivations in general can create, but there are also supportive derivations. That’s okay. There are places where it’s very clear that derivations are supportive. Maimonides himself brings quite a few such derivations. For example, “fruit of a beautiful tree,” regarding the etrog and so forth—he says it is a law given to Moses at Sinai that this means etrog, and the derivation is only supportive. Or just from the plain sense of the Talmud: when you look at the Talmud, it discusses what “fruit of a beautiful tree” means, and brings, I think, five different sources proving it means etrog. How do they all get etrog? Why doesn’t one of them get clementine? Because it was already clear to them in advance that it was etrog. The derivations come to preserve the law, not create it. Exactly. Fine, and therefore I’m saying that those derivations are supportive. The law that it means etrog was already known.

No, I’m not discussing right now what exactly a supportive derivation is. Does it mean the law came from Sinai? Or that the law was once produced by derivation in the past, only now all we have left is the derivation? The Netziv discusses this in the introduction to Ha’amek She’eilah, where he says that there is a dispute between Rashi and Maimonides regarding the expression “learned by tradition.” What does that mean? Rashi, everywhere that expression appears, says it means a law given to Moses at Sinai. But the Netziv shows that according to Maimonides, “learned by tradition” doesn’t mean a law given to Moses at Sinai. It means this is an ancient law, but not from Sinai. It was created by sages, interpretation, derivation, whatever it may be. At the moment we have lost the source; we no longer have it. But “learned by tradition” means we know that this is the law. And now we can try to reconstruct the derivation, to sustain it anew. Fine. For my purposes right now, both of those count as supportive derivations; I’m not entering that distinction now.

So for our purposes, even if we say that reasoning is Torah-level—and I’ll qualify that later—we still have to understand that we are speaking of forms of reasoning that are unequivocal, strong. Their content is very clear, for good or ill. That is what is under discussion. In other words, the question is whether there can be Torah-level forms of reasoning, not whether all forms of reasoning are Torah-level. Fine? That is basically our discussion.

We are speaking about axes on which one can measure the intensity of reasoning, or of a modification as I said earlier. The logical background to this is the family of failures called in philosophy the sorites paradox—the paradox of the heap. What is the heap paradox? One grain of gravel is not a heap, right? Two aren’t either. Now if there’s a pile that is not a heap, and you add one stone, that won’t change its status. Okay? But a thousand gravel stones are a heap. Okay? Now there are three assumptions here, each of which seems reasonable, but together they produce a paradox. Right? If one stone is not a heap, and adding one stone doesn’t change the status, then two aren’t a heap either. If two aren’t, then three aren’t; if three aren’t, then four aren’t. So how can a thousand be? When does the transition happen?

Same thing with the bald-man paradox. A person with one hair is bald, right? If you add one hair to a bald person, he’s still bald. So why is a person with ten thousand hairs not bald? Where does that transition happen? Or from when is it “afternoon”? My children once asked me: from when can we go outside and make noise—when is it already afternoon? Adding one second doesn’t move us from noon to afternoon, right? Only for Americans. For Americans, twelve o’clock and one second is afternoon. Twelve is noon. You can narrow it that way. But in our language, no. Still, four or five is clearly afternoon, right? So when does the transition happen?

All these things—and there isn’t a single everyday concept not exposed to this attack. It’s an attack on all everyday concepts. The answer to all these attacks, to this whole family of paradoxes, is that the paradox is based on a mistake. The assumption that adding one gravel stone doesn’t change the status is incorrect. But not because the transition happens from sixteen to seventeen stones, say. It doesn’t happen at any one point. That much is true. So how then? The answer is that adding one gravel stone changes the status a little. It becomes slightly more heap-like. Every added stone makes it a bit more heap-like, until at some stage it is heap-like enough that we call it a heap.

Basically, “heapness” is measured, say, between zero and one, and every added stone increases the degree of heapness of the pile; likewise each hair decreases the degree of baldness of the person, or each passing moment moves us further into the afternoon—it is already more afternoon—and so on. In other words, all our everyday concepts need to be judged not in binary language of yes or no, but in what’s called continuous logic, fuzzy logic. The question is to what extent you are heap-like, not whether you are a heap or not. “Heap or not heap” is slang. You can’t really speak in those terms. The question is: what is the degree of heapness of the pile? That is the more precise language for this type of thing. Every everyday concept. Open the dictionary—every word you say, you can ask whether it’s the same as some other word.

In mathematics it’s not progressive—the opposite of progressive. No, the differences between man and woman are the opposite of progressive. The existence of a spectrum is the opposite of progressive. That’s what people don’t understand. The existence of a spectrum is a fact. There is a spectrum, and whoever denies that denies facts. You can place the line wherever you want. Progressivism says: I don’t accept the existence of the spectrum. It says everyone defines himself however he wants. That’s not the same thing.

When you say there is a spectrum, you’re really saying: I can define who is a man and who is a woman. In my view, from 0.3 and up it’s a man; below 0.3 it’s a woman, for example. You may think 0.6, fine, it doesn’t matter. Progressivism says: I am not willing to accept definitions. That is not a statement that there is a spectrum—it is exactly the difference. People don’t understand this. They mix up these two claims. The existence of a spectrum is exactly the opposite of postmodernism, of progressivism. The existence of a spectrum is a fact of life, and whoever denies it denies facts. Progressivism takes that fact and erases it. It essentially says that in the end there is no truth and no falsehood at all. There is truth and falsehood—only they are measured in continuous logic, not binary logic. Progressivism or postmodernism says there is no truth and no falsehood; everyone defines for himself whatever he wants. There are narratives. Yes, exactly. Anything a little doubtful is treated as totally doubtful. What isn’t binary is considered nonexistent. That’s childish, stupid thinking.

And people are so confused on this issue, on both sides of the argument too. They adopt the discourse of the idiots leading this move, who really don’t understand—they really do not understand. They make this logical leap without even noticing. I once wrote on my site about queerness, about gender and sexual identity and so on, and I explained there very clearly what I think: you can’t argue with the fact that there is a spectrum. Obviously there is a spectrum. The question is how you define man or woman—a good question. There may not be an absolutely sharp definition. Fine. Human beings can adopt different definitions, more conservative, less conservative. But the leap to the new queerness is not a leap that talks about a spectrum. It says: forget it, there is no spectrum, there is nothing—everyone defines himself however he wants. If you define yourself as a stray cat, then you’re a stray cat, period. Who are you to tell me that I’m not a stray cat or a telephone pole or whatever else. That is the leap I’m talking about. People mix up the stages in the discussion.

People who think that in order to oppose progressivism they need to deny that there is a range, a continuum. No—you don’t need to deny that. It’s a fact. And those who support progressivism say: it’s enough for us to present the fact that there is a continuum. That too is nonsense. It’s not true. The fact that there is a continuum is a fact; now we can argue about what to do with it. Where the line passes, when it becomes afternoon, when someone is bald, when someone is a man, when a color is red and not yellow—for every such thing you can ask a question, and it’s a question one can discuss.

Even biological sex: even in biological sex there are no sharp definitions, because there are intermediate creatures with some of these characteristics and some of those. There are intermediate cases. There are women with very pronounced male characteristics biologically too, and vice versa. Most don’t, but some do. So there is a continuum. No, the continuum exists in everyone; the only question is how much, even biologically. The question is how close you are to the male pole. Most are very close to the male pole, and a few are farther away—they have more prominent feminine characteristics, true. But there is still a continuum here. Let’s say XX and XY—that may be binary. Fine, maybe. But the question is how you define biologically man and woman. In mathematics there are binary definitions—you’re either a point or a line, zero-dimensional, one-dimensional, two-dimensional. Fine, there everything is defined in binary form. When you apply mathematics to the world, you always have to give up the binary. There is no binary in the world. There is no binary in the world at all, as our teacher said.

I’m saying I’m on the spectrum—I have a little cat-ness in me. Fine, no problem—let him say that, everything’s okay. I won’t agree with him, but if he says it and argues for it, then everything is fine; it’s a legitimate claim. I can agree with you or disagree with you; that’s not progressivism. Progressivism means—again, not every possible use of the word “progressive,” call it whatever you like—but the problematic progressivism says: I want to be a cat, therefore I am a cat. I think, therefore I am a cat. That is the progressivism. Not if I say, listen, I also have traits of a cat; I too have two legs, the cat has four, and two of them I also have. Fine? Fine, so he says, “I’m also a cat.” Okay, you can argue with that, you can accept that, but that isn’t progressivism. Because once the claim is argued for, it is not progressivism. You have to understand. Progressivism by definition is an unargued claim. It means accepting claims without reasons. That’s what is called progressivism. It says: I have the right to say whatever I want; I don’t have to give you reasons; you don’t have a monopoly on the—fill in the blank, whatever you want. It basically says: I am exempt from giving reasons. That’s all. The moment you give reasons, you are not progressive. You may be more liberal, less liberal; we can debate the reasons; everything is fine—but then we’re dealing with something discussable. You’re giving reasons, all is fine. With progressivism you can’t discuss anything. What are you going to discuss with them? He wants to be a cat—can you tell him he doesn’t want to be? He does want to be. Fine, you can tell him he isn’t a cat. The fact that he wants to be a cat… All right.

How did we get to progressivism? Okay. Now I want—so I’ve already narrowed the issue. First, even if I say reasoning is Torah-level, obviously there are forms of reasoning that are not Torah-level. Now I want to cut it down even further, and I want to say that in truth there is no such thing as reasoning that is Torah-level. None? None. Reasoning is not Torah-level—not in the full sense. I’ll sharpen this later, but that’s the next step.

So let’s begin. Here we arrive at tractate Blessings. The Talmud there, on page 35, discusses the question: what is the source of the law of blessings over benefit? Blessings over benefit means blessings before eating, as opposed to Grace after Meals, which is after. So the Talmud there brings various possibilities—verses, derivations—rejects them, and in the end says: “Rather, it is reasoning: it is forbidden for a person to enjoy this world without a blessing.” Reasoning. “The sages taught: It is forbidden for a person to enjoy this world without a blessing, and whoever enjoys this world without a blessing has committed sacrilege. What is his remedy? Let him go to a sage. What will it help if he goes to a sage? The prohibition has already been committed. Rather, Rava said: let him go to a sage beforehand and learn the blessings, so that he not come to sacrilege. Rabbi Yehudah said in the name of Shmuel: whoever enjoys this world without a blessing is as though he enjoyed holy things belonging to Heaven,” and so on. “Rabbi Hanina bar Pappa said: whoever enjoys this world without a blessing is as though he robs the Holy One, blessed be He, and the Jewish people,” and so on.

In other words, there are all kinds of—I’m not even sure whether these are all separate forms of reasoning or various metaphors expressing one reasoning. It is forbidden to enjoy this world without a blessing. Now what happens if you do enjoy it without a blessing? It’s as though you committed sacrilege, as though you robbed, betrayed God. These aren’t separate forms of reasoning, but different metaphors describing the problem in question here. Okay? What follows from here? That blessings over benefit are based on reasoning, right? At first the Talmud brings sources for it, and the conclusion is that it’s reasoning. In other words, at first the assumption was that it was Torah-level; they brought sources, and then the Talmud concludes that it is reasoning. If reasoning here replaces what came earlier, then the reasoning would seemingly be Torah-level.

And so Pnei Yehoshua asks on that passage: “Rather, it is reasoning: it is forbidden for a person to enjoy this world without a blessing. From the wording of all the decisors it seems that according to this conclusion, all blessings over benefit are rabbinic except for Grace after Meals alone. And according to Rashba, the blessing afterward on the seven species is also Torah-level. But he too agrees that the others”—that is, the blessings before—“are rabbinic. And in my humble opinion this is astonishing, because throughout the Talmud it appears that anything derived from reasoning is Torah-level. Indeed, the Talmud asks: ‘Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning!’” In other words, something that comes from reasoning has the status of Torah-level law. So if the Talmud here concludes that blessings over benefit are grounded in reasoning, how can all the decisors say it is rabbinic law—such that in cases of doubt we are lenient, for example?

He continues: “And in truth the wording of Tosafot does not compel that conclusion, because when they wrote that the verse cited above is only a mere support, perhaps they meant this very thing: once it is reasoning, a verse is no longer needed.” That is, maybe Tosafot means that blessings are indeed Torah-level, and when they say the verse is “mere support,” they mean it’s support for that reasoning. Not support in the sense of a rabbinic law hung on a verse, but a Torah-level law whose foundation is reasoning and which is then associated with a verse. By the way, there are two kinds of support-texts in the Talmud. There is the regular kind we’re used to, where a rabbinic law is linked to a verse. But there are also support-texts for Torah-level law: the law is Torah-level, and they associate it with a verse. It doesn’t come from the verse—that isn’t its source—but it is anchored to the verse. That too is called support. Here he says maybe that’s what Tosafot means. Then according to Tosafot blessings over benefit would be Torah-level.

So now the question is: if so, why do we always say in case of doubt about blessings we are lenient? That implies the obligation is rabbinic, right? Why? If something that comes from reasoning—and “why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning”—means reasoning is Torah-level, then the doubt should be treated stringently.

Pnei Yehoshua says: “However, it seems to me that even if you say this reasoning too is Torah-level, nevertheless it is still correct that we hold that in cases of doubt about blessings we are lenient, because there is no room to be stringent, since it is forbidden to recite an unnecessary blessing. Therefore this reasoning falls away on its own.” What is he saying? Opposed to the reasoning that one is obligated to bless is also the prohibition of taking God’s name in vain, right? Therefore he says: if you are in doubt whether you recited the blessing already or not, then one might think you should be stringent because reasoning is Torah-level and doubtful blessings should be stringent. But there is also the doubt concerning the prohibition of taking God’s name in vain. So because of that, we do not bless.

Which one is stronger? “Do not take the name” is like… Yes, this gets a bit into the question that Sdei Chemed discusses at length. We know that a positive commandment overrides a prohibition, right? A positive commandment is stronger than a prohibition. So here too one might think the same should apply. There is a positive commandment to bless, from reasoning, and there is the prohibition of taking God’s name in vain. And there is a doubt. If both were Torah-level… There’s a doubt—if in fact one is not obligated to bless because he already blessed, then he violates the prohibition of taking God’s name in vain with certainty, not just that the positive commandment would override it. Does one say that a doubtful positive commandment overrides a prohibition? Sdei Chemed discusses that and says there are differing views. There’s a whole lengthy discussion there.

In any case, here he says that because of the prohibition of taking God’s name in vain, we do not bless. So does he remain of the opinion that it’s Torah-level? Yes. “And for this very reason,” he continues, “a man who has had a seminal emission does not bless before eating. Since he is obligated only by reasoning, and he refrains because of the honor of God, that reasoning does not apply here.” So such a person does not bless. Now if he does not bless, seemingly there is a Torah-level obligation of blessing. He says no: since he refrains from blessing in order to honor the Holy One, and the reasoning itself is to bless in order to honor the Holy One, then there is no problem. In such a case the reasoning does not obligate him to bless, because the honor of God obligates him not to bless. So from within itself, for that reason, he does not bless.

“And nevertheless after eating he does bless over the food, so in the end he does not enjoy this world without a blessing.” Fine, that’s what Pnei Yehoshua says.

So what basically emerges? He says that this is in fact a Torah-level law, because it comes from reasoning and reasoning is Torah-level. But in practice, if there were no prohibition of taking God’s name in vain, then in cases of doubt we would also have to be stringent and bless. However, because of that prohibition, we do not bless.

Yes, I once wrote an article on what “lenient” and “stringent” actually mean. Usually people think “lenient” means acting in a way that’s more comfortable, and “stringent” means doing something less comfortable for me. That is not correct. Yes, you already know all my conclusions. It follows from what you said earlier. There is a series of examples from Beit HaLevi that he brings in his “maskilic stories” at the end of the Haggadah Beit HaLevi, the Brisk Haggadah. At the end of the first volume there are all kinds of stories. Among them, some wealthy man came to him and said: why are you rabbis always so strict? “I’m strict?” he answered. “I’m known for my leniencies.” For example, people who passed midnight and didn’t recite Shema—I’m lenient and say they can recite Shema after midnight. People uncertain about the calendar day on Yom Kippur and unsure which day to fast—I’m lenient, they can fast two days. And so on. There are those who were stringent not to fast two days, right? The Chazon Ish was stringent in Japan that people there should not fast two days. So he is lenient—he allows fasting two days, and so on.

Now with blessings too I would ask: is not blessing a leniency or a stringency? It depends what you like more. If you like blessing, then not blessing is stringent. If you don’t like blessing, then not blessing is lenient, no? So why does “in cases of doubt about blessings we are lenient” mean not to bless? Maybe it means yes, to bless. Be lenient and let me bless. The one who forbids blessing is forbidding—he’s stringent, no?

There is the prohibition of taking God’s name. Wait, before that. The point I want to make—this is a topic for a lecture of its own—is that leniency and stringency have nothing to do with our convenience. Our convenience relates to us, not to Jewish law. In terms of leniency and stringency, the question is how many options are open to you. Someone who opens more options is lenient. Someone who opens fewer options is stringent. That’s what leniency and stringency mean.

Now obviously if there are more options, then someone will choose what is comfortable for him. And if the one who forbids didn’t leave open the comfortable option for me, then I can’t do it. So in the bottom line it often comes out that the lenient person can act more comfortably. But that’s only a symptom. The definition of leniency and stringency is how many options are open to you. If one decisor opens two options to you and another opens three, then the second is lenient—even if the third option he opened is to fast two days on Yom Kippur, which doesn’t sound very lenient. But if the first one forbids fasting two days on Yom Kippur and I permit it, then I really am being lenient. Beit HaLevi was right. It really is a leniency.

If he permits fasting two days on Yom Kippur, that is a leniency, because someone else says it is forbidden—danger to life, forbidden to fast two days. He is stringent. But once you rule leniently that one may fast two days on Yom Kippur, now they tell you: fine, if you are in doubt about the date, then fast, because you have to fast on Yom Kippur. If you don’t know the date and it is permitted to fast two days, then you are now required to fast two days. That is already a stringency. The ruling that one may fast two days on Yom Kippur is indeed a leniency. But once you ruled leniently that it is permitted, now comes the demand: okay, but you are obligated to fast on Yom Kippur, and since you don’t know which of the two days is Yom Kippur, the result is a stringency: you must fast both.

The same applies to doubtful blessings. “In cases of doubt about blessings we are lenient” means that you may bless and you may refrain from blessing. That’s what “lenient” means here. Is that left to your discretion? Yes. You may bless and you may not bless. But because there is the prohibition of taking God’s name in vain—unrelated to doubtful blessings as such—there is this separate prohibition. So if you may bless and you may refrain, then don’t bless because there’s the issue of taking God’s name in vain. One can quibble: if you may bless, why is it taking God’s name in vain? Fine. But that is at least Pnei Yehoshua’s conception.

Do you see that “in cases of doubt about blessings we are lenient” means one may bless and one may refrain—there are two options? The moment you have two options, that is indeed a leniency. It’s just that, because of taking God’s name in vain, that prohibition forces you to choose one of the two options. And that prohibition is indeed a stringency. But the doubtful-blessings rule itself is truly lenient.

Now from that perspective, if you look at what Pnei Yehoshua writes here, in his view doubtful blessings are treated stringently. You should have had to bless in a case of doubt. Only because of taking God’s name in vain do you not bless. That is a stringency in the opposite direction; it is not a leniency at all. It is a stringency that forbids you to bless. Without the issue of taking God’s name in vain, from the laws of doubtful blessings you would have had to bless, because doubtful blessings would be treated stringently. And this would be Torah-level, because something that comes from reasoning is Torah-level.

But I don’t think Pnei Yehoshua is right, not fully. I’ll qualify this a bit. I want to argue: after all, the actual formula of the blessings was fixed by the sages. That’s obvious. The Talmudic discussion is about the source of the obligation to bless—whether it is Torah-level, from reasoning. That’s the discussion. But the formula, the divine name and kingship and so forth—that is certainly rabbinic, right? Now when you speak about the reasoning, the reasoning does not say one must bless using God’s name and kingship. The reasoning says one must bless. Say thank you to the Holy One, blessed be He, for the food He gave you: “Thank You, God, for the tasty food,” like my grandchildren say after Grace after Meals. Okay? That’s what they learned in kindergarten, I don’t know—it’s interesting. To say “I acknowledge”? Yes, whatever. He says thank you in advance, asks permission in advance, whatever way you want to put it. The formula of the blessing is rabbinic.

So even according to Pnei Yehoshua, who holds that in doubtful blessings one should in principle be stringent because it is Torah-level, the stringency is only regarding the obligation to bless. But saying it with God’s name and kingship is rabbinic, and there certainly in a case of doubt we are lenient; and if you add taking God’s name in vain, then that pushes toward stringency in the opposite direction. So don’t bless—at least not that way.

What I’m really arguing is that in my opinion, as practical law, someone in doubt about blessings must bless again. Again—bless. But not with God’s name and kingship. Because God’s name and kingship are rabbinic; in a doubt we are lenient there, and there is also the issue of taking God’s name in vain. So what should he say? Yes, you can even say the blessing formula without God’s name. Say the formula without the divine name, or say: “Holy One, blessed be He, I want to eat this apple, I request to eat this apple, thank you very much.” That’s it. Say it however you want, in whatever wording you want—it doesn’t matter.

Now usually when the sages establish a formula, Tosafot in tractate Sukkah page 4 say that if you don’t do it according to the sages’ formula, then you have not even fulfilled the Torah-level commandment. Someone sitting in the sukkah while his table is inside the house—there is a decree lest he be drawn after the table, a rabbinic decree. Then the School of Shammai said there to Rabbi Yosi ben Dormaskit: “If so, you never fulfilled the commandment of sukkah in your life.” Tosafot ask: why did he not fulfill it? He sat in a valid sukkah. It’s only that there is a rabbinic decree lest he be drawn inside because his table is in the house. Tosafot answer that someone who does not do it according to the rabbinic rules—according to the way the sages shaped the Torah-level commandment—has not fulfilled even the Torah-level commandment. The Ran disagrees; doesn’t matter right now. But according to this Tosafot, if you do not bless according to the sages’ formula, maybe it won’t count as blessing at all.

But in a place where you are in doubt, the sages themselves are certainly telling you not to bless in their formula. So there the Torah-level law clearly returns: bless in your own words. But is the formula set by the sages Torah-level? No. It’s rabbinic—why would it be Torah-level? Yes. But here am I changing the formula? No. So therefore here I am changing the sages’ formula: I’m blessing in my own language. I am changing the formula they established. Therefore I want to argue that doubtful blessings really should be treated stringently. I’d even say this practically: doubtful blessings are really stringent because this is Torah-level. The reasoning is Torah-level. I’ll qualify that later, but yes—certainly according to Pnei Yehoshua. Pnei Yehoshua holds it is Torah-level and only says we do not act stringently because of taking God’s name in vain. So what’s the problem? Bless not according to the sages’ formula, there’s no issue of taking God’s name in vain, and fulfill the Torah-level doubt stringently. What’s the problem with that? That’s what is called for.

And there is also no issue of taking God’s name in vain if you don’t say the Name in vain. So certainly according to Pnei Yehoshua this is what one should do. But in a Torah-level doubt treated stringently, should one bless? Not with God’s name and kingship. Yes, correct. The Torah-level part remains, but the God’s-name-and-kingship part is rabbinic in any case, not only because of taking God’s name in vain. I’m saying that even without that issue you can bless without God’s name and kingship. Because the obligation to bless with God’s name and kingship is rabbinic. And if you are in doubt, rabbinic doubt is treated leniently. The issue of taking God’s name in vain tells you in practice not to bless in that way. Without it, you could refrain from blessing, but you could also bless with God’s name and kingship. Because of it, they tell you: no, specifically don’t. Understand? But the Torah-level obligation without God’s name and kingship—you should bless that way regardless.

There is a passage in the students of Rabbenu Yonah there on the Rif in tractate Blessings: “What is his remedy? Rav said: let him go to a sage expert in them. Meaning, one who does not know the blessings—how can he eat? If he eats, he becomes liable for a guilt offering for sacrilege each and every time. And it answers that he should go to an expert and learn the blessings for each and every thing.” Wait, wait—if he’s liable for a guilt offering for sacrilege, then… Wait, wait. And he continues: “And the same would apply if he knew only the blessing ‘by whose word all things came to be’; he would thereby emerge from liability for sacrilege, because we learned: for everything, if one said ‘by whose word all things came to be,’ he has fulfilled his obligation. But he should learn so that he can say the proper blessing for each and every thing.” Twice the students of Rabbenu Yonah write here that someone who eats without a blessing is liable for a guilt offering of sacrilege. How can there be a guilt offering? On a rabbinic law do you bring a guilt offering? That would be unconsecrated animals in the Temple court. For a rabbinic violation one doesn’t bring a sacrifice. How can you bring a guilt offering for sacrilege? Here he says explicitly: liable for a guilt offering of sacrilege. So clearly he holds that the obligation to bless is Torah-level. The fact that it comes from reasoning makes it Torah-level. And one who ate without a blessing is liable for a guilt offering for sacrilege.

Now we would need to discuss the guilt offering—guilt offerings for sacrilege and guilt offerings in general. That’s a lecture in itself, so we can’t get into it now. I also brought this up once in an article. A guilt offering is brought for things that have no legal source and yet are Torah-level. Wait, is that not defined? Is it defined by guilt offering? I’m defining it now. A guilt offering is brought for intrusion into a domain that is not yours, not in the form of a standard legal prohibition. For that, guilt offerings are brought. And this is one example. There is a legal prohibition here, but it has no textual source—it’s reasoning, okay? For that you bring a guilt offering.

Okay, so what do we see? Like Pnei Yehoshua, right? That eating without a blessing requires a guilt offering, which means that blessing before food is Torah-level. And automatically, doubts should be treated stringently. Look what he writes here: if he knew only the blessing “by whose word all things came to be,” he would be exempt from sacrilege. Why? Because that blessing covers everything and so forth. Now I want to say something more fundamental. The formula of the blessing is rabbinic, right? If you say “by whose word all things came to be” over everything, at least you have thanked the Holy One, blessed be He. So you have definitely fulfilled the Torah-level obligation, the reasoning that one should not enjoy this world without a blessing. Okay? That’s certainly true. Therefore one is exempt from sacrilege if he said “by whose word all things came to be.”

I want to argue even more than that: even if one blesses without God’s name and kingship, he is exempt from sacrilege. Certainly if he said “by whose word all things came to be,” yes—but I think you don’t even need that. Even if he blesses without God’s name and kingship, he is exempt from sacrilege. What? Correct, even without any doubt. But absent doubt there is still a rabbinic obligation to bless with God’s name and kingship. And I said that according to Tosafot in Sukkah, if you perform the Torah-level act not according to the sages’ rules, it may be that you haven’t even fulfilled the Torah-level obligation. But where you are in doubt, then in any case the rabbinic element you are not allowed to do. So do the Torah-level part.

Wait—the blessing “by whose word all things came to be” that he mentions here, does he mean with God’s name and kingship? So I’m saying that plainly, from his wording, it seems yes. I want to argue that even that isn’t necessary. No—if you go by my approach, then “by whose word all things came to be” isn’t necessary. Just say “Blessed are You… creator of the fruit of the tree,” without saying the divine name. No need to get as far as “by whose word all things came to be.” He doesn’t mean that, but I’m saying his logic points that way. Okay. But his logic is because he’s talking about doubt as to which blessing to say. You’re in doubt as to what blessing to say. If you have doubt what to say, which blessing… then say “by whose word all things came to be” and fulfill your obligation. Yes, yes. That’s what he’s discussing. But I’m talking about doubt whether to bless at all—perhaps I already blessed.

Okay. And if later he remembers that he didn’t bless, then that becomes a case of guilt offering? Yes, yes, yes. No, a guilt offering can come for both intentional and unintentional acts. That’s one of the special rules distinguishing a guilt offering from, say, a sin offering. It applies to both intentional and unintentional acts. Someone who didn’t bless unintentionally should also bring a guilt offering. Although guilt offering for sacrilege may perhaps only be for unintentional acts—but that’s a topic of its own. What? The students of Rabbenu Yonah on the Rif in tractate Blessings there.

Now Tzelach—the Noda B’Yehuda’s commentary on the Talmud—disagrees with Pnei Yehoshua. “As for what the great Pnei Yehoshua wrote, that since the Talmud concludes it is reasoning, it is therefore from the Torah, since we find ‘why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning,’ which shows that reasoning helps like a verse—” says Tzelach, “I say that this applies only within an existing law, like in tractate Ketubot 22, from where do we know ‘the same mouth that prohibited is the mouth that permitted,’ and in tractate Bava Kamma 46, from where do we know ‘the burden of proof rests on the claimant,’ where in such places the Talmud asks: ‘Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning.’ But to say that something which follows from reasoning counts as a Torah commandment—that we have never heard. And if it were so, then all the rational commandments were written for nothing.”

Why did the Torah write them? Leave aside Saadia Gaon, who says all the commandments are like that. But there are rational commandments everyone agrees about: do not murder, do not steal, honor your father and your mother. Why were they written? Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning. “Moreover,” he says, “this reasoning—that one may not enjoy this world without a blessing—applies to all human beings. If so, blessings over benefit should be obligatory also on the descendants of Noah. Astonishing!”

Very strong questions. “Rather,” he says, “the obvious meaning is that since there is reasoning for it, the sages enacted blessings over benefit. And so too with all the other blessings over produce. But regarding bread there is room to discuss whether this a fortiori argument is a full a fortiori argument and therefore Torah-level, or not.” There is an a fortiori from food in the Torah: if the Torah, which exempts after, requires before—food, for which one is required afterward, all the more so one should be required before. Anyway, that part isn’t important for us right now; he’s speaking generally.

So what is Tzelach basically saying here? Two very strong objections. The descendants of Noah would also have to bless. And I say: correct, all human beings are obligated to bless. What’s the difficulty? Correct. In movies you always see Christians sitting with their hands like this and blessing before they eat? Very good—they are fulfilling an important commandment. Every non-Jew should bless. If he doesn’t know it, fine—then he doesn’t know, unintentional, compelled, whatever you want to call it. But yes, that obligation exists for all human beings. Duties that emerge from reasoning are duties incumbent on all human beings. We’ll see that later in these lectures. So I don’t really see the great difficulty here.

He obviously understands that blessing according to the formula—with God’s name and kingship and “by whose word all things came to be” and “creator of the fruit of the tree” and “creator of the fruit of the ground” and so forth—would also apply to the descendants of Noah. That’s not correct. Their obligation is only the obligation that comes from reasoning: not to enjoy this world without a blessing. That’s all. Rabbinic law is rabbinic law; it was enacted only for Jews, of course. So that objection is not difficult at all.

But there’s another objection: what about the other question, that all rational commandments—why were they written at all? If everything comes from reasoning, then the Talmud should ask, “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning.” “Do not murder”—why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning. We’ll get there. But that is a better question. Okay.

But what does he mean when he says this applies only “within an existing law”? After all, he too agrees that the Talmud asks, “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning,” right? He himself brings two such places. Tzelach also agrees to that. So what does he answer to Pnei Yehoshua’s basic proof? Pnei Yehoshua proved it from there: “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning” means that what emerges from reasoning and what emerges from a verse have the same status. If it were rabbinic, how could one ask “Why do I need a verse? It’s reasoning”? You need the verse so it will be Torah-level. So what does Tzelach answer? He obviously felt the problem; he didn’t ignore it. He says: this is “within an existing law.” What does that mean?

It means the following. When reasoning comes to interpret a verse written in the Torah, or a commandment written in the Torah, then it is Torah-level. Say there is a verse in the Torah: “Judge your fellow with righteousness.” Fine? So there is an obligation to judge righteously. Now reasoning comes and says what “with righteousness” means. For example: justice means putting the burden of proof on the claimant and leaving the item with the current possessor if no proof has been brought. Or “the same mouth that prohibited is the mouth that permitted,” which is itself a kind of proof: the one who prohibited can also permit. This is an interpretation we give to the verse “Judge your fellow with righteousness.” That is how one judges justly. That is Torah-level.

Obviously one can use reasoning to interpret commandments that appear in the Torah. We do that all the time. We interpret the Torah, and that interpretation also rests on reasoning. That is certainly Torah-level. The outcome of such reasoning is the interpretation of the verse. So of course the reasoning there yields Torah-level law. That’s what he calls “within an existing law”: when you derive some rule touching a commandment, then it is Torah-level. But if you derive an entirely new rule—not interpretation of some commandment, not a new law within some commandment, but a new commandment, as here, blessings over benefit—and it comes from reasoning, and there are only a small number of such cases. Most forms of reasoning are reasoning that interpret laws appearing in the Torah, interpretive reasoning. That is certainly Torah-level, says Tzelach.

Here we are dealing with reasoning that innovates a new law. When reasoning innovates a new law, not interpreting a verse, Tzelach says it is not Torah-level. In short, for something to be Torah-level it needs a verse, says Tzelach. There is no such thing as something derived purely from reasoning being Torah-level; it needs a verse. When reasoning interprets the verse, fine—the reasoning taught me what the verse means. But when reasoning creates a novel law, not interpreting a verse, then it is not Torah-level. It only becomes law once the sages establish it, and then it is rabbinic law. They established it because reasoning said one should do so, but it is rabbinic law.

According to the rabbi’s words, then, reasoning comes out here like a fourteenth principle. There are thirteen principles, and the fourteenth is reasoning. No, not exactly. Reasoning is not a derivation. Derivations belong to the world of midrashic interpretation. Reasoning belongs to the world of the plain sense. I’m interpreting the verse. Right, interpretation interprets the verse. Does every interpretive tool belong to the principles of derivation? The principles of derivation do not interpret the verse; they derive from it, extend it, read into it. Interpretive principles do not belong to the principles of derivation; that’s interpretation, that’s the plain sense.

An interpretive principle—maybe like Maimonides says about laws that clarify the verse—right, you see this in many places. Even a law given to Moses at Sinai: Maimonides says that a law given to Moses at Sinai is rabbinic, not Torah-level. A law that is “given to Moses at Sinai” is, according to him, rabbinic. In several places you see that Maimonides himself rules such laws as Torah-level. In at least one place—and there are more—but in at least one place in his commentary on the Mishnah in tractate Kelim, he says that when the law given to Moses at Sinai comes to interpret an existing law, such as the square shape of phylacteries, then certainly it is Torah-level. When he says that a law given to Moses at Sinai is rabbinic, he means one that introduces a new law, not one that interprets a commandment. There are very few such laws given to Moses at Sinai—very few. The willow on the altar and water libation are a law given to Moses at Sinai—though that’s not the accepted law, but one opinion in the Talmud says so. There Maimonides would say that if so, then in a case of doubt we would be lenient, because there the law introduces a new law rather than interpreting an existing Torah law.

There is interpretive reasoning. Exactly. So just like the law given to Moses at Sinai, reasoning is the same—same division, same division. And that’s what Maimonides says: not that it’s a derivation, but that it merely clarifies the Torah law. No, but it isn’t a derivation—it’s plain interpretation. A derivation doesn’t interpret the verse; it derives from the verse, extends it, whatever. But basically the world of derivation is not the world of interpretation; the world of interpretation belongs to the plain sense. The world of derivation doesn’t interpret; it expands.

Sometimes a derivation does interpret a verse, and then indeed the result will be Torah-level—sorry. Maimonides himself writes this in the second root. He writes that when a derivation supports an existing law, then it is Torah-level. A supportive derivation is Torah-level; a creative derivation is rabbinic. Good, we’ll stop here.