Commandments and Their Enumeration – Lesson 9

Table of Contents

• Classification of positive commandments and basic distinctions
• Conditional obligatory commandments versus existential commandments
• Positive commandment versus prohibition, and the problem of negativity within a positive commandment
• The Minchat Chinukh’s innovation: non-fulfillment without nullification
• Moving to the example: “remove” regarding leaven, and the action/result distinction
• Torah-level safeguards and “it shall not be seen” / “it shall not be found” as a safeguard against eating
• “Remove” and Maimonides’ sixth root principle
• Maimonides: the commandment of elimination, and a positive commandment together with a prohibition
• Four possibilities for understanding “remove”: result/action and obligation/prohibition
• Sub-possibilities: a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment versus an actual positive commandment, and conditional versus unconditional obligation
• Critique of homiletic readings about leaven and emphasis on a historical rationale
• The dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and the Sages about destroying leaven and its implications for defining the commandment
• Maimonides’ ruling in the laws of leaven and matzah and the scope of elimination
• Charred remains versus ash, and the distinction made by later authorities (Acharonim)
• Items to be burned versus items to be buried, the prohibition against burning things that require burial, and Tosafot’s explanation of “its commandment has been fulfilled”
• Leaven: among things burned or among things buried, versions with “even,” and the halakhic implications
• Conceptual conclusion: leaven as a unique category and its dependence on how “remove” is understood
• Conclusion and continuation

Summary

General Overview

The text classifies positive commandments into several types and sharpens the distinction between obligatory commandments, existential commandments, a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment, and definitional commandments, emphasizing that conditional obligatory commandments are not existential commandments, because under the obligating circumstances failure to perform them constitutes nullifying a positive commandment. The text presents the Minchat Chinukh’s innovation, which distinguishes between not fulfilling a commandment and nullifying it even in an obligatory commandment, and then uses the commandment of removing leaven as a test case to examine four fundamental ways of understanding it along the axes of action/result and obligation/prohibition. The text connects “remove” to the question of its relationship to “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” and to Maimonides’ sixth root principle, and shows how the dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and the Sages about destroying leaven, together with the discussion among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) about burning leaven and its ashes, reflects a fundamental disagreement over whether “remove” is a commandment of action directed at the object itself or merely a commandment about the end result.

Classification of Positive Commandments and Basic Distinctions

The text states that obligatory commandments are commandments that must be fulfilled, and one who does not fulfill them nullifies a positive commandment. The text states that existential commandments are commandments such that one who fulfills them has performed a commandment, but there is no obligation to fulfill them, and one who does not fulfill them commits no transgression and has not nullified a positive commandment. The text defines a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment, or a positive-form prohibition, as a positive commandment that has no positive fulfillment, only the possibility of nullification if one fails to act. The text defines definitional commandments as commandments that define halakhic states, such as ritual impurity or the annulment of vows.

Conditional Obligatory Commandments versus Existential Commandments

The text defines conditional obligatory commandments, such as tzitzit, Grace after Meals, and ritual slaughter, as commandments that one must fulfill when certain circumstances arise. The text argues that people confuse them with existential commandments, but that is incorrect, because with existential commandments there is no state of nullifying a positive commandment, whereas with conditional obligatory commandments there is nullification of a positive commandment when a person enters the obligating circumstances and does not fulfill it. The text gives examples such as wearing a four-cornered garment without tzitzit and eating to satisfaction without reciting Grace after Meals as cases of nullifying a positive commandment.

Positive Commandment versus Prohibition, and the Problem of Negativity within a Positive Commandment

The text presents a distinction according to which a prohibition points to a negative state and a positive commandment points to a positive state, and raises the difficulty that an obligatory positive commandment seems, on the face of it, to create negativity when one does not fulfill it. The text argues that the negativity in an obligatory positive commandment is the absence of the positive state, as opposed to a prohibition, where the problem is being in a negative state. The text notes that the question was raised why there is no such thing as an existential prohibition, and why there is only an existential positive commandment.

The Minchat Chinukh’s Innovation: Non-Fulfillment without Nullification

The text cites the Minchat Chinukh, whose suggestion most later authorities (Acharonim) reject, according to which in a case of a commandment fulfilled through a transgression, such as a stolen sukkah, there may be a situation in which there is no fulfillment of the commandment, but also no nullification of the positive commandment, because in practice the person ate inside a sukkah, and only a verse that disqualifies a stolen sukkah turns that into eating “outside the sukkah.” The text explains that the Minchat Chinukh distinguishes between the question of whether one fulfilled the commandment and the question of whether one nullified it, even within a conditional obligatory commandment such as sukkah. The text presents this as a sharpening of the distinctions made earlier, even if one disagrees with the conclusion.

Moving to the Example: “Remove” Regarding Leaven, and the Action/Result Distinction

The text proposes using the commandment of removing leaven as an unusual example in order to sharpen the earlier distinctions and add a further distinction between commandments of action and commandments of result. The text cites the verse, “For seven days you shall eat matzot; however, on the first day you shall remove leaven from your houses,” and emphasizes that regarding leaven there are several prohibitions, such as the prohibition against eating, the prohibition against deriving benefit, “it shall not be seen,” and “it shall not be found,” alongside a unique positive commandment of “remove.” The text suggests that at first glance “remove” appears to be the flip side of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” but notes that the verse actually attaches “remove” specifically to the context of the prohibition against eating.

Torah-Level Safeguards and “It Shall Not Be Seen” / “It Shall Not Be Found” as a Safeguard against Eating

The text cites, in the name of the Atvan De-Oraita, that there is an unusual category of safeguards at the Torah level, with examples such as seclusion and “it shall not be seen” / “it shall not be found.” The text cites the Ran, who argues that “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” are safeguards for the prohibition against eating leaven, and offers explanations such as the severity of the prohibition or the fact that leaven is a food to which a person is accustomed all year long, so there is concern that he may accidentally eat it on Passover. The text notes that the Talmud says that, on the Torah level, elimination can be accomplished through nullification in one’s heart, but rabbinically they require physical searching and destruction out of concern that one may see leaven and come to eat it.

“Remove” and Maimonides’ Sixth Root Principle

The text suggests that if “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” are safeguards against eating, then “remove” can be viewed as an additional safeguard that requires an act of elimination, and that this yields a duplication of positive commandment and prohibition similar to the Sabbath. The text compares this to Maimonides’ remarks in the sixth root principle about the positive commandment to rest on the Sabbath and the prohibition against forbidden labor, and argues that a duplication of prohibition and positive commandment is counted as two separate commandments even if the content overlaps. The text notes that the ambiguity in defining “remove” stems from the question of the relationship between the positive commandment and the prohibition.

Maimonides: the Commandment of Elimination, and a Positive Commandment Together with a Prohibition

The text quotes Maimonides in positive commandment 156, that it is a commandment to eliminate leaven from houses on the fourteenth day of Nisan, that this is the commandment of removing leaven, and that the Sages also called it the commandment of destruction. The text cites the Jerusalem Talmud as brought by Maimonides in the laws of Sanhedrin: “For leaven one is liable for a positive commandment and a prohibition” — a positive commandment regarding its destruction, “you shall remove,” and a prohibition, “leaven shall not be found in your houses.” The text concludes that it seems Maimonides understands “remove” and “it shall not be seen” / “it shall not be found” as two sides of the same coin, similar to the Sabbath.

Four Possibilities for Understanding “Remove”: Result/Action and Obligation/Prohibition

The text proposes two basic frameworks, commandments of result and commandments of action, and each of those splits into two possibilities, producing four possibilities altogether. The text states that in a result-commandment, the meaning of “remove” is the result “that I should not have leaven in my house,” similar to positive commandments that do not require an action, and then it is natural to view this as content overlapping with “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” with the prohibition indicating the negative state and the positive commandment indicating the positive state. The text states that in an action-commandment, the meaning of “remove” is that there is value in the act of removing the leaven itself, not merely as a means of reaching the result, and then the relationship between the positive commandment and the prohibition is not a duplication in the style of the sixth root principle, but two different contents.

Sub-Possibilities: a Prohibition Inferred from a Positive Commandment versus an Actual Positive Commandment, and Conditional versus Unconditional Obligation

The text states that within result-commandments one can understand “remove” either as a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment, where there is only nullification if one has leaven, but no positive “fulfillment” when there is no leaven, or as an actual positive commandment, where the very state of “there is no leaven in the house” counts as fulfillment of a positive commandment. The text states that within action-commandments one can understand “remove” either as a conditional obligatory commandment, under which only someone who has leaven is obligated to perform an act of removal, or as an unconditional obligatory commandment, under which in every case one must perform an act of destruction, to the point of buying leaven in order to destroy it. The text uses the custom of the ten crumbs and the question of a “blessing in vain” in the search for leaven in order to show that the assumption of an action-commandment explains the need to create a concrete occasion for action.

Critique of Homiletic Readings about Leaven and Emphasis on a Historical Rationale

The text rejects homiletic readings about leaven as the evil inclination or as the ferment in the dough, and argues that the Torah presents a historical rationale — “the dough of our ancestors did not rise” — as part of remembering the Exodus from Egypt. The text argues that if the goal is historical reenactment and memory, then there is logic to a commandment of action involving active removal, and not merely to arriving at the accidental result of the absence of leaven. The text distinguishes between pilpul, which is a good argument with an incorrect conclusion that sharpens things by locating the bug, and derush, which is an incorrect argument with a correct conclusion, hence “one does not refute a homily,” and it defines most Torah talks one hears as belonging to the category of derush.

The Dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and the Sages about Destroying Leaven and Its Implications for Defining the Commandment

The text cites the Mishnah in Pesachim 21: Rabbi Yehuda says that leaven can only be destroyed by burning, while the Sages say one may even crumble it and scatter it to the wind or cast it into the sea. The text argues that according to Rabbi Yehuda it is clear that the commandment is a commandment of action, because the requirement specifically of burning indicates an interest in a particular act and not merely in the result. The text states that according to the Sages it does not necessarily follow that the commandment is result-oriented, because one can also understand them as requiring an action, just not insisting on a specific type of action.

Maimonides’ Ruling in the Laws of Leaven and Matzah and the Scope of Elimination

The text quotes Maimonides in the Laws of Leaven and Matzah, chapter 3, where he permits burning or crumbling and scattering to the wind or into the sea, and emphasizes that Maimonides requires crumbling before throwing it into the sea when “the sea does not break it up quickly.” The text argues that this shows the goal is the disappearance of the leaven from the world, and not merely removing it from a person’s possession, and therefore “remove” is not just the flip side of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” The text quotes Maimonides concerning leaven upon which a collapse has fallen, and concerning the permissibility of deriving benefit from charred remains that were burned before the sixth hour, as opposed to the prohibition against deriving benefit from charred remains burned from the sixth hour onward.

Charred Remains versus Ash, and the Distinction Made by Later Authorities (Acharonim)

The text notes that the later authorities (Acharonim) point out a difference between charred remains and ash: charred remains are still concentrated leaven, whereas ash is “an entirely new substance” and is no longer leaven. The text notes that some later authorities therefore argue that ash is permitted even according to Maimonides, and only the charred remains are prohibited if the burning took place after the time when the prohibition began.

Items to Be Burned versus Items to Be Buried, the Prohibition against Burning Things That Require Burial, and Tosafot’s Explanation of “Its Commandment Has Been Fulfilled”

The text presents the division among prohibitions of benefit between things that must be burned and things that must be buried, and the Mishnah in Temurah: “All things that are to be buried may not be burned, and all things that are to be burned may not be buried.” The text cites the Talmud’s reason that it is forbidden to burn things requiring burial because “for things buried, their ash is forbidden, while for things burned, their ash is permitted,” out of concern that people may come to derive benefit from the ash, and it emphasizes that this is a rabbinic prohibition. The text cites Tosafot on Temurah 33, who explain that the ash of things to be burned is permitted because, since Scripture commanded them to be burned, this is considered “its commandment has been fulfilled,” and “there is nothing whose commandment has been fulfilled in which misuse still applies,” whereas for things requiring burial, where there is no command to burn them, “their prohibition continues forever.”

Leaven: among Things Burned or among Things Buried, Versions with “Even,” and the Halakhic Implications

The text argues that, on the face of it, according to Rabbi Yehuda leaven belongs among things to be burned, while according to the Sages it belongs among things to be buried, and asks how we burn leaven today if, as something requiring burial, it would be forbidden to burn it. The text cites the Tur, who quotes a version in which the Sages say, “he crumbles it and scatters it to the wind,” without the word “even,” and concludes from that that according to his approach burning is not legitimate and the ash of leaven is forbidden as an instance of the rule that “all things requiring burial have forbidden ash.” The text notes that the Magen Avraham comments that in our Talmud the version reads “even,” which implies that burning is preferable and permitted, and he raises a difficulty against Maimonides, who rules that its ash is forbidden and nevertheless permits burning it, and he proposes a distinction according to which the prohibition against changing the procedure applies only to treating it with the law of things to be burned and deriving benefit from the ash.

Conceptual Conclusion: Leaven as a Unique Category and Its Dependence on How “Remove” Is Understood

The text argues that if one adopts the reading “even,” then leaven is not among things requiring burial, because it is subject to the commandment of “remove”; rather, it is similar to things that must be burned in that there is an obligation of elimination, except that the method need not specifically be burning. The text argues that when elimination is understood as a commandment of action, then burning or crumbling is itself fulfillment of the commandment, and therefore “its commandment has been fulfilled,” with the result that the ash is permitted, while the prohibition in Maimonides is interpreted as referring to charred remains rather than ash. The text argues that someone who classifies leaven among things requiring burial can do so if he understands “remove” as a commandment of result that does not impose an obligation of elimination on the object itself, so that there is no sense here of “its commandment has been fulfilled” with respect to the object, and consequently the ash does not receive the law that “the ash of things to be burned is permitted.” The text suggests that this is a fundamental dispute over whether the commandment of “remove” is an obligation of action or an obligation of result, and connects it to Rabbi Chaim of Brisk’s idea about a law being defined in the object itself.

Conclusion and Continuation

The text ends at the stopping point of the discussion and proposes continuing with further completions or moving to another topic in the next lecture, noting that there will be a lecture and attendance is not mandatory.

Okay, last time we talked about a classification of positive commandments. I said there are four or five types of positive commandments. Obligatory commandments are commandments that have to be fulfilled, and if someone doesn’t fulfill them, then he has neglected a positive commandment. Existential commandments are commandments where, if someone fulfills them, then he has performed a commandment, but he doesn’t have to fulfill them; meaning, he can also choose not to, and that’s not a transgression, so there’s no neglect of a positive commandment here. A prohibition inferred from a positive commandment, or a positive-form prohibition, is a positive commandment such that if you do it, there’s no fulfillment, but if you don’t do it, then you have neglected it. And definitional commandments, like impurity or annulment of vows and the like, are commandments that only define halakhic states. We dealt with several examples. I also talked about conditional obligatory commandments like tzitzit, grace after meals, or ritual slaughter—commandments that, if you are in a certain situation, then you have to perform them. Very often people mix them up with existential commandments, but that’s not correct, because existential commandments are commandments where in any case there is no side of neglect here. You can’t be in a state of neglecting a positive commandment. In conditional obligatory commandments there is a state of neglect; that is, if you are in circumstances that obligate you and you did not fulfill the commandment, then you neglected a positive commandment. You’re wearing a four-cornered garment and didn’t put tzitzit on it; you ate to the point of satiety and didn’t recite grace after meals—then you neglected a positive commandment. What? You didn’t slaughter, right? And so on. So that’s why I said this is not a category in its own right; it’s really part of the obligatory positive commandments, just conditioned on the existence of certain circumstances. I talked about the question of how this fits with the distinction I made between a prohibition and a positive commandment: with a prohibition, it’s basically pointing to a negative state, and with a positive commandment, it’s pointing to a positive state. And apparently that only fits an existential positive commandment. Because an existential positive commandment says: if you are in that state, then that’s positive; if you’re not there, nothing happened. But with an obligatory positive commandment, if you are not in the positive state, then you have neglected a positive commandment; that’s something negative. My claim is that the negative problem here is the failure to be in the positive state—as opposed to a prohibition, where the problem is being in a negative state. Okay? And we talked about the question of why there is no existential prohibition, why there is only an existential positive commandment, and in the end I finished with the Minchat Chinukh, who offers an interesting suggestion that most later authorities reject out of hand. But he argues that, for example, with a commandment fulfilled through a transgression, if you sit in a stolen sukkah, then were it not for the Torah’s disqualification of a stolen sukkah, you couldn’t really say that you ate outside the sukkah, because you ate in a kosher sukkah. Your commandment is a defective commandment because you performed it through a transgression—God doesn’t want such a thing—so the commandment doesn’t count for you, but you still can’t say that you neglected the positive commandment of eating in a sukkah, in the sense that you ate outside the sukkah, because you ate inside the sukkah. Only because there is a verse that disqualifies a stolen sukkah does it mean that this too counts as eating outside the sukkah; you ate in a disqualified sukkah, so you ate outside the sukkah. So he basically makes a distinction between the question of whether you fulfilled the commandment and the question of whether you neglected it, even in an obligatory commandment. The commandment of sukkah is an obligatory commandment—a conditional obligatory one, right? Meaning, if you want to eat, eat in a sukkah; if you want to sleep, you have to sleep in a sukkah. It’s a conditional obligatory commandment. The Minchat Chinukh says: yes, but even in commandments like these there can be situations where you did not fulfill the commandment and still there is no neglect. It’s not a neglect of a positive commandment. So that is the Minchat Chinukh’s innovation, which only sharpens the distinctions I made before. It doesn’t matter right now; you can disagree with him, but the distinction itself that he raises, I think, helps sharpen this point. Okay, what I want to do today is go into an example that can illustrate the distinctions I made. I’ll take, for example, the commandment of removing leaven on Passover. Okay? And I’ll try to examine it, to see what options there are for understanding it, and to do that through the prism of the previous distinctions, right? What kinds of commandments there are, and also to add another distinction here that we’ll see is somewhat connected to what I talked about before: action-commandments versus result-commandments. So maybe I want to begin first of all with the definition. There’s a verse. The Torah says: “For seven days you shall eat matzot; but on the first day you shall remove leaven from your houses, for whoever eats leaven, that soul shall be cut off from Israel, from the first day until the seventh day.” So this “you shall remove” is actually a very, very unusual state of affairs, as we’ll see later. Because we know that in the Torah and in Jewish law there are several commandments that concern leaven. There is the prohibition of eating it, there is the prohibition of deriving benefit from it, there are prohibitions concerning its presence—“it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found”—and all of that is prohibitions, and then there is the positive commandment of “you shall remove.” That doesn’t exist in other contexts; in almost no other context in Jewish law does this kind of requirement exist, and therefore this requirement will help us sharpen the distinctions I talked about earlier. At first glance, it seems the Torah is basically telling us that since the prohibition of leaven is problematic, not only are we forbidden to eat it and to have it present and the like, but we are also obligated to eliminate or destroy the leaven. Destroy and remove here are the same thing. Just notice something interesting: in the verse, the removal appears in the context of the prohibition of eating: “For seven days you shall eat matzot; but on the first day you shall remove leaven from your houses, for whoever eats leaven shall be cut off”—that’s about eating leaven. But what about the presence of leaven? I would have said that “you shall remove” is really the flip side of the prohibition of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” not of the prohibition of eating. Leaven is not allowed to be in my house, and therefore I have to remove it. Why is this connected to the prohibition of eating? It’s connected to the prohibition of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” So of course this already begins with the medieval authorities, and the Aton De’oraita discusses it, that usually we are accustomed to thinking that with Torah commandments—or let’s put it differently—fences and decrees are always rabbinic. Torah laws and Torah commandments are never a fence or a decree or anything like that. Categorically, the Torah leaves that kind of instruction—fences and decrees—to the Sages. That’s rabbinic commandments. The question is whether there is nevertheless a category of fence even among Torah commandments. That’s what the Aton De’oraita discusses, and he brings there a few examples from the medieval authorities, unusual examples mainly regarding two commandments. One is seclusion. Seclusion—yes—is a fence around forbidden sexual relations. And the second is “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” Regarding “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” the Ran writes that “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found”—what? Seclusion? Yes, Torah-level seclusion. What? No, again, I’m not getting into the details now of when yes and when no, but in principle seclusion is Torah-level. It’s a distancing from forbidden sexual relations and things like that. So the claim he brings there is that “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” are fences around the prohibition of eating. The Ran writes this, for example. And why? There are various explanations. You can say because the prohibition is very, very severe—the prohibition of leaven—and therefore fences are needed so that it won’t even be in the house, not only that we won’t eat it. Right? With other prohibitions of eating or benefit, there is no prohibition of presence; there is no prohibition that orlah be found in my house. There is only a prohibition to benefit from it and to eat it. Okay? So the severity of the prohibition is one possible explanation. Another possible explanation is the character of the prohibition. Since leaven is not something people separate themselves from during the year, unlike ordinary food prohibitions, which we are used to viewing as off-limits—we don’t go near them, don’t touch them. But leaven is something we eat all year. During this particular week it is forbidden to eat it. There is concern that if a person has leaven in his house, he may accidentally come to eat it, because he is used to eating it. It doesn’t strike him as a prohibited item. And since that is so, the Sages were strict that it should not even be in the house—not the Sages, the Torah was strict that it should not even be in the house. By the way, the continuation of that same idea: on the Torah level, nullification is enough for removal, as the Talmud says, right? “He nullifies it in his heart, and that suffices.” Meaning, nullification is enough. But rabbinically, why do we do all the leaven-searching and burning and candles and all these things? After all, we’ve nullified everything, finished, there’s no “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” So the point is that once I have leaven in the house, even though it is nullified, there is concern that I may come to eat it if I see it. Therefore, rabbinically they said: you have to remove the leaven from the house, even if you nullified it. If you nullified it, then there’s no “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” so you don’t need to. Nullification is really the removal of the leaven. But because there is concern lest you come to eat it, the rabbis said: physically take it out of the house. Nullification is not enough. And there are those who argue that “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” itself—not only rabbinically—on the Torah level itself, it is really a fence because of this point. The rabbis only expand that fence and say: nullification is not enough; you must also physically remove it from the house. If that is how we understand it, then we can say that the positive commandment of “you shall remove” is a continuation of the same move. In principle, you are forbidden to eat and benefit from leaven. The Torah makes a Torah-level fence of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” and then another fence on top of a fence, that you are also obligated to eliminate that leaven. If you look at it this way, then these are really two sides of the same coin. On the one hand, it is forbidden for it to be present—“it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” On the other hand, you are told: you have to remove it. So this is actually very similar to the positive commandment and prohibition that we saw in previous classes in Maimonides’ sixth root, right? For example, with the Sabbath. We saw that there is a positive commandment to rest on the Sabbath and a prohibition against performing labor on the Sabbath. This is a prohibition and a positive commandment that Maimonides counts both of, because it is not like redundancy between two prohibitions, right? We saw that. When the substantive redundancy exists, but it is redundancy between a prohibition and a positive commandment, then both commandments are counted. And apparently here we have the same thing. “It shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” is the prohibition, and “you shall remove” is the positive commandment that is the other side of the same coin. Therefore we will count both, but substantively they overlap. One tells you it must not be there, and the other tells you to get it out of the house. But if you do have it, then you violated the prohibition of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” and also neglected the positive commandment of “you shall remove.” And if you don’t have it, then you fulfilled the positive commandment of “you shall remove” and also did not violate “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” So the content of these commandments is basically overlapping, even though one is a prohibition and one is a positive commandment, and this can be added to the examples Maimonides brings in the sixth root.

Now, the definition of this commandment is quite vague, and there are disputes about it. And the root of the vagueness is exactly at this point. The question is what its relationship is to the prohibition—is there redundancy here, is there not, how exactly do we define this commandment. First of all, in Maimonides, positive commandment 156, Maimonides writes as follows. Commandment 156 is that we were commanded to destroy leaven from our houses on the fourteenth day of Nisan, and this is the commandment of removing leaven. And that is what He, exalted be He, said: “On the first day you shall remove leaven from your houses.” And the Sages also called it the commandment of destruction—that is, the destruction of leaven. And in tractate Sanhedrin from the Jerusalem Talmud they said: “For leaven one is liable for a positive commandment and a prohibition. A positive commandment for its destruction, as it is written, ‘You shall remove leaven from your houses’; a prohibition, ‘Leaven shall not be found in your houses.’” So how does Maimonides understand it? It seems quite clear that Maimonides understands it in continuation of his sixth root, and he is basically bringing this Jerusalem Talmud. There is a positive commandment and a prohibition that are really two sides of the same coin. They tell you that it must not be in the house and that you should remove it. Removal is the positive commandment, and not having it in the house is the prohibition—“it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” okay? So from Maimonides’ wording and the Jerusalem Talmud he brings, it strongly implies that the relation between “you shall remove” and “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” is like the relation on the Sabbath between the obligation of rest and the prohibition of doing labor. Same idea. Two sides of the coin, except that one is a prohibition and one is a positive commandment, so both are counted.

Now my claim is this: I want to argue that there are four possible ways to understand the commandment of “you shall remove”—two that are four. First of all, I’ll divide it into action-commandments and result-commandments, and each of those two possibilities I’ll divide into two. There are really four possibilities for defining it. I’ll start with result-commandments. A result-commandment basically means that, if I understand “you shall remove” as a result-commandment, then the commandment is telling me that I should not have leaven in my house. So true, it’s a positive commandment, and a positive commandment is supposed to impose on me some duty of action, and the way I’m formulating it right now is not that; it’s a commandment about a result, not about an action. The result is that I should not have leaven, and this needn’t bother us too much, because we already saw that there are positive commandments like this. Positive commandments that are not bound up with performing an act, okay? For example, resting on the Sabbath is such a positive commandment, okay? So there are positive commandments that require only inaction or omission, and that still does not prevent me from defining them as positive commandments. What? No, no—result-commandment in the sense that I should not have leaven. If I don’t have leaven, then there’s nothing at all, everything’s fine, so I don’t have leaven. If I do have it, I have to get rid of it, but the meaning is not the act of removal, rather the result that there not be leaven in my house. If. If necessary, I’ll perform an action to make that happen. Yes, sometimes it could be that I need to do an action in order to rest on the Sabbath. Fine. But that action is only the practical means; what is required of me is to rest. So according to this consequentialist understanding, it really does make sense to see it as a duplicated commandment alongside “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” Right? It’s exactly the same content. So what’s the difference? Why is one a positive commandment and the other a prohibition? We already defined what the difference is between a positive commandment and a prohibition. Notice—the example of “you shall remove” is serving me as a way to apply all the categories we encountered earlier. This is just an example; this is an exercise, so to speak. The earlier part was the lecture and this is the exercise. Okay? So I’m trying to apply our distinctions to this. So what does that really mean? What is the difference? Why is this defined as a prohibition and this as a positive commandment? The question is whether a state with leaven is a negative state, or a state without leaven is a positive state. Right? The commandment of “you shall remove” is basically saying that a state without leaven is a positive state. If there were no commandment of “you shall remove,” and there were only “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” then I would know that a state with leaven is a negative state—“it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” If I am without leaven, then I’m not in a negative state, everything’s fine. But it’s not that I fulfilled a commandment; I didn’t do anything positive here. Therefore we need the positive commandment of “you shall remove” to tell me that removal does not only mean making sure there is no leaven in my house, okay? Rather, a state without leaven is in itself a positive state. Not only that a state with leaven is a negative state, but also that a state without leaven is a positive state. And this is actually an expression of what we saw in Maimonides and in the Jerusalem Talmud, that the positive commandment and the prohibition here are duplicative. It’s exactly the same content, except that one points to the positive state and the other points to the negative state. That’s one possibility—that it’s a result-commandment.

The second possibility is an action-commandment. What does that mean? Then there really is no connection—it won’t fall under Maimonides’ sixth root according to this definition, right? Because what is an action-commandment? The prohibitions of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” require of me that there be no leaven in my house. Okay? But if I don’t have leaven, then everything is fine, excellent. What does the positive commandment tell me? The positive commandment says there is a commandment to perform an action to take the leaven out of the house. In the end I’ll arrive at a situation where there is no leaven in my house, but the positive commandment says more than that. There is value in performing an act of removing the leaven. It isn’t only a means so that in the end there won’t be leaven in my house. In the result-commandment, the claim is that the act of removal is only a means; the goal is that there not be leaven in the house. What? I’ll get to that in a moment. I said there are only two possibilities so far, and I’m going to divide each one into two more. Not just two possibilities—two that are four. So that is the distinction between action-commandments and result-commandments, and already here I’m saying that if this is an action-commandment, then the relation between the positive commandment and the prohibition has nothing to do with Maimonides’ sixth root. Because these are not commandments with overlapping content, where one points to the positive side and the other to the negative side. No—the content is entirely different. Here there is a commandment to perform an act of removal, and there there is only a prohibition that I not have leaven in my house—that I not have leaven in my house. Okay? In contrast, if the commandment is a result-commandment, then it is two sides of the same coin. I have an interest in there not being leaven in the house, and I have an interest in not being in a state in which I have leaven in my house. Fine—that’s the same side. Therefore, according to the possibility of a result-commandment, it fits better with Maimonides and the Jerusalem Talmud that we saw. If it is an action-commandment, there’s no need to say there is a prohibition and a positive commandment with the same content. There isn’t. These are two different things. Not the same content—two different contents.

Now, each of these two possibilities can be divided into two more possibilities, and therefore altogether it’s four. Let’s start with the result-commandment. If it’s a result-commandment, it can be understood in two ways. Either it is a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment—a positive-form prohibition. What does that mean? That if I don’t have leaven in my house—sorry, if I do have leaven in my house—then I have also neglected the positive commandment of “you shall remove,” and not only violated “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” Meaning, I also neglected a positive commandment, not just violated a prohibition. Okay. On the other hand, if I removed the leaven or simply don’t have any leaven, it doesn’t matter, then that itself is not the commandment. I have not thereby fulfilled a positive commandment if I don’t have leaven in my house. Only if I do have leaven in my house, then I violated a prohibition. That is exactly what we defined in the third category of positive commandments, right? A prohibition inferred from a positive commandment. And what does it mean that a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment is a positive commandment? It is a positive commandment, not a prohibition. But it is a positive commandment that can only be neglected, not fulfilled. So here too, he says: if it is a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment, that means if I have leaven in my house, then I have neglected a positive commandment—the positive commandment of “you shall remove.” If I don’t have leaven in my house, I have not fulfilled a positive commandment. I simply have not neglected it—the positive commandment. So that is one possibility, that it is a prohibition inferred from a positive commandment.

The second possibility is that it is an ordinary positive commandment. It is a positive commandment regarding the result. Once the result is that I do not have leaven in my house, then not only have I not violated “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” I have also fulfilled “you shall remove.” But notice: it is the result, not the action. If the result is that I have no leaven in my house, that is the fulfillment of the positive commandment. There is no need to perform an act of removal, because right now these two possibilities are both possibilities within the definition of the commandment as a result-commandment.

Now what happens if it is an action-commandment? Again there are two possibilities. One possibility: it is a conditional obligatory commandment. What does that mean? If you have leaven, then you have to perform an act of removal. If you don’t have leaven, then there’s nothing. By the way, then you also have not fulfilled the commandment—just no problem, because the commandment does not apply to you. Just like if you don’t have a house, you don’t need to build a guardrail on it. Right? Or if you don’t have a four-cornered garment, you don’t have to put tzitzit on it. So here too, same thing. If it is a conditional obligatory action-commandment, then it basically means that if you have leaven, you are required to remove it, not only in order not to violate “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” but there is a positive commandment incumbent upon you, “you shall remove,” to remove the leaven. That applies if you have leaven—it is conditioned on the state of having leaven. If you don’t have leaven, nothing happened, so the commandment is not incumbent upon you.

The second possibility, where this is an action, is that it is an unqualified obligatory positive commandment. Notice: in both cases it is obligatory, but this one is obligatory and unqualified. What does that mean? I must remove the leaven in any case. “You shall remove the leaven.” If I don’t have leaven, I should buy leaven in order to remove it. Okay? By the way, that is what people often do with the ten crumbs on the night before Passover—when they do the search for leaven, on the eve of Passover, right? They scatter ten crumbs. The standard explanation is so that the blessing should not be in vain. Yes, because you recite the blessing over removing leaven. Now, what does it mean that the blessing should not be in vain? The blessing is over the removal of leaven, right? That’s what we bless there. Now, what is the commandment of removing leaven? The commandment of elimination that we are discussing. What is the commandment? If the commandment is that I not have leaven in my house, then the blessing is not in vain. No problem—I make sure that I have no leaven in my house, and if I don’t have any, then I have fulfilled the commandment of “you shall remove,” and so I want to recite a blessing on the commandment I fulfilled. What’s the problem? The claim that it could be a blessing in vain actually assumes that there is an action-commandment of removal, and if I didn’t do the removing, then the blessing is in vain. That could be either because I understand it as an action-commandment that is obligatory—yes?—such that if I don’t have leaven, I need to buy leaven in order to remove it, and therefore I have to perform an act of removal in any case, and if I didn’t perform an act of removal then I didn’t fulfill the commandment, so what am I blessing on? The fact that the result is that I have no leaven is not enough; I need an act of removing the leaven. In a conditional obligatory commandment there is some room for hesitation. Because if it turns out that I have no leaven, then the commandment is not incumbent on me. Now the question is: is it a blessing in vain when I want to determine whether the commandment applies to me or not? I do the search for leaven in order to see: if there is leaven here, I’ll remove it; if there isn’t, no problem, because the commandment does not apply to me. So in such a case I’m not entirely sure one can say that this is a blessing in vain, because after all there is a possibility that I do have leaven, and then there is a commandment incumbent on me. There is room to hesitate. It might be that this is a doubt, and perhaps because of doubt we should not have recited the blessing, because if I have leaven then I must remove it, but if I don’t, then not. So how can I bless? It could turn out that I have no commandment. So I can’t bless on a doubtful possibility, so maybe because of doubt indeed there should be no blessing here. But that is not like the conception of an unqualified action-commandment. In an unqualified action-commandment, it is obvious that it is a blessing in vain if you have no leaven. What? That’s what it was invented for. One could also have done it that way—why not. Yes. Usually we say blessings are recited before performing the commandment, but there are commandments where the blessing is recited afterward—lighting candles and immersion. And that’s unusual. What? It’s for a special reason. Yes, so that’s what I’m saying. No, but it’s a good point. Here too there’s a special reason. I don’t want the blessing to be made in doubt, since I don’t know in advance. So therefore it would actually make sense to bless afterward. There is logic to it.

Here it gets even more tangled, because if we assume this is an obligatory action-commandment, then where is there room for this? It’s supposed to be that there shouldn’t be leaven, but I’m bringing in leaven in order to make this into an obligatory act? That’s a bit strange, no? No, I’m talking about action. If it is an action-commandment, not a result-commandment, then the action-commandment is not a commandment that I not have leaven; it is a commandment to remove leaven. So why am I bringing in leaven so that I can remove it? That seems to me like a strange situation, no? Why? It’s strange—that’s exactly the point. Notice, maybe without realizing it, you are assuming that the commandment is a result-commandment. Then you say: wait, but I already have the result—there is no leaven—so what’s the problem? Why do I need to bring in leaven in order to remove it? It’s like the Rebbe of Gur’s broom, right? Putting the broom by the Hanukkah lamp in order to remove it. But if you understand—and that is why I introduced the possibilities first—if you understand that the commandment is an action-commandment, not a result-commandment, then there is a commandment to remove the leaven, not in order that it not be there. There is a commandment of removing leaven. We have an interest in there being leaven and in removing it. So the Rebbe of Gur’s broom is fully realized here. That is what one ought to do. Question: isn’t that like tzitzit? No, it’s not like tzitzit. No, because with tzitzit, if I have a four-cornered garment, then I put tzitzit on it. But tzitzit is a conditional obligatory commandment. Here I am saying that according to the second possibility, it is an unqualified obligatory commandment. Those are the two possibilities. If it is a conditional obligatory commandment, then it really is like tzitzit, and if I don’t have leaven, I don’t need to do anything. If I do have leaven, then I am obligated to remove it, and it is an action-commandment. And the action is a conditional obligation, only if I have leaven. But the second possibility was: no, it is an unqualified obligation. Then it is not like tzitzit. Rather, it would be like tzitzit if in fact you had to make sure that you had a four-cornered garment and put tzitzit on it. With tzitzit you don’t have to, but with leaven, according to this possibility, it is an unqualified obligatory commandment, so you have to make sure that you have leaven in order to remove it. Exactly the point: very often we assume all kinds of things that seem self-evident to us regarding the definition of the commandment of “you shall remove” and the commandment concerning leaven, and we don’t notice that there are quite a number of ways to define it. A great many later authorities—I probably won’t get into all the possibilities here; if you want, look later in the article—take assumptions for granted that, according to the map I drew in the previous class, are really not necessary. And all sorts of difficulties get resolved that way, and so on. So I’m trying to do this top-down now. That is, to begin by seeing what the possible options are, and to check for each one what it could mean, and not stay within the same map, because usually later authorities stay within the same map. That is, you look at the commandment, you say: what is its definition, and then you try to understand what it says. I’m saying: let’s lay out the map—what possibilities are there?—and then we’ll see what each of them says about the commandment of “you shall remove.” Then a lot of difficulties disappear in such a situation. That’s why I’m saying: here, for example, many people assume, what is “you shall remove”? “You shall remove” is the other side of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found”: simply make sure you don’t have leaven. And if that’s so, then you’re absolutely right: so why buy leaven in order to remove it? There’s no logic in that at all. Just make sure you don’t have leaven and everything is fine. If you don’t have any, excellent. But if you understand that this is an action-commandment—and not for nothing did the Torah add a positive commandment here beyond the prohibitions of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found”—one can explain it precisely because it wanted not only that I not have leaven, but also that I perform an act of removal.

By the way, this may need a separate class, but I’ll just say briefly that even the prohibitions of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” and of eating leaven—it can be shown from various halakhic implications that these prohibitions are historical in their foundation. Yes, very often we hear that leaven is the yeast in the dough and we have to remove it—as if, yes, all kinds of Hasidic little homilies like that. To remove our evil inclination and all kinds of things like that—I have no idea where they invented these nonsense ideas. Exactly. The Torah says something entirely different. According to that, there should be an issue with eating leaven all year. You need to remove the evil inclination all year. Passover is specially dedicated to this, I understand. But if someone wants to be extra pious, then really he ought not to eat leaven all year. We don’t find anywhere anyone making such a claim. So what—during the rest of the year leaven isn’t the evil inclination? Why only on Passover is it the evil inclination? Why don’t we eat leaven on Passover? The Torah says. There’s no need here for “what is the reason of the verse.” The Torah says: so that—no, “for your generations” is sukkah—but yes, in order to remember what the Holy One, blessed be He, did for us, because at the Exodus from Egypt the dough of our ancestors did not rise—it did not rise. Okay? Therefore we do not eat leaven to this very day. So my claim is that refraining from eating leaven is simply part of the historical memory of the Exodus from Egypt. Like the telling of the Exodus from Egypt. It is part of the story of the Exodus from Egypt. We are trying to reenact what happened there. Just as our ancestors did not eat leaven but ate matzah, we too do not eat leaven but eat matzah—not because leaven is some problematic thing. There is nothing wrong with leaven. It is simply what happened there. If what had happened there was that they ate specifically leaven and not matzah, then every Passover we would have to eat specifically leaven and not matzah in order to remember what happened there. It has nothing to do with the evil inclination, and nothing to do with the yeast in the dough, and all kinds of inventions of that type. By the way, inventions that do also have roots in the Sages, not just in Hasidism. But really those are homiletics, not… I once said what the difference is between a homily and pilpul; I mentioned it, right? Maybe in another class. Ah, maybe… What did I say? Ah, yes? The claim is this: when you establish something in the normal way, there is supposed to be a good argument that ends in a correct conclusion. Fine? Pilpul is when you have a good argument that ends in an incorrect conclusion. Fine? It’s basically a challenge: put your finger on where the bug is in the argument. For example, I’ll show you that one ought to put tzitzit on a doorpost. If a four-cornered garment, which is exempt from mezuzah, is obligated in tzitzit, then a doorpost, which is obligated in mezuzah, surely should be obligated in tzitzit. Or to put a mezuzah on a four-cornered garment, right? If a doorpost, which is exempt from tzitzit, is obligated in mezuzah, then a four-cornered garment, which is obligated in tzitzit, surely should be obligated in mezuzah. Now the argument, on the face of it—there are hundreds of such a fortiori arguments in the Sages. Excellent argument. The conclusion is nonsense. Now the question is—that’s the challenge—put your finger on what’s wrong with the argument. It’s a kind of paradox, really, right? That’s pilpul. Pilpul is a good thing; pilpul sharpens. You have to put your finger on the problem in the argument, and therefore pilpul is a real delight and has great value, contrary to the bad reputation it got. But a homily is something entirely worthless. What is a homily? A homily is an incorrect argument that ends in a correct conclusion. You raise difficulties between two midrashim and then you reach the conclusion that one should be God-fearing and humble and fulfill commandments with devotion. And then everyone says, “How good and pleasant,” and they all sing afterward. So what is really going on? Of course that doesn’t follow from your arguments, and all your arguments are nonsense, but the conclusion—who can argue with the idea that one should be God-fearing and fulfill commandments, or humble? Nobody argues with that. And therefore the rule is: one does not refute a homily. After all, the conclusion is correct, so who cares now how he reasoned his way to it? Fine? It basically means you want to say something that is certainly true anyway, and you spice it up with all kinds of midrashim that have nothing to do with the matter. Ninety-nine percent of the Torah teaching you hear belongs in the category of homily. The conclusion is obvious, the arguments are worthless, and everything is fine. Hasidism and so on—it’s externalities. The gates of assumptions have not been locked, nor have the gates of sighs. Usually for me these are not Hasidic assumptions but sighs. Philosophical ideas, yes, but there too it is so full—again, not everything, there are some things, and there are also ideas here and there, but for the most part it is these little quips that are cheap homilies. In any event, in my view—again, everyone according to how he understands it—but this homily about the evil inclination and the yeast in the dough, these are homilies. Now the Sages also made homilies; they hung them on verses or on these midrashim, other midrashim, in order to convey the message they wanted to convey. They didn’t really think it emerges from there—at least I hope not, for their sake. They didn’t really think it emerges from there; they gave a homily, like preachers do today. So there were preachers then too. And I’m not to blame, so why do I need to learn all these aggadic passages? But the claim is that we need to be more careful about all these homilies, because what is this with leaven? Everyone agrees that one should go against the evil inclination and that it’s important to eradicate it. All true. What does that have to do with leaven? You attach it to leaven—that’s just a homily. And why does nobody argue? Because everyone agrees that one has to fight the evil inclination and not surrender to it, right? That’s obvious. And therefore it’s a homily. Contrary to what the Torah says—here there’s no need for “what is the reason of the verse,” no need to go far.

Okay, in any event, for our purposes, what I want to say is that if we really understand the prohibitions of leaven this way, then there is logic in defining it—as I’m answering you—as an action-commandment, not a result-commandment. Because if all I really want is that there not be leaven, then what difference does it make? I want to remember the Exodus from Egypt, and to remember the Exodus from Egypt I need to emphasize to myself: let’s bring in leaven and remove it. And this can be a more active remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt. If I simply don’t have leaven because I just happen not to have any in the house, then I won’t remember the Exodus from Egypt that way; I just happen not to have leaven—so what? So if I understand it this way, there is even logic in defining the commandment of removal as an action-commandment, as an unqualified obligatory commandment of elimination. Perform an act in order to remind yourself of the Exodus from Egypt.

And these concepts of action and result—can I also say them about Sabbath rest? On the Sabbath it’s not “removal,” it’s cessation from labor. So what did I not understand? With the Sabbath it is not built logically in the same way, because on the Sabbath what would it mean to create labor in order to refrain from it? The labors already exist; you don’t need to create them, you need not to do them. With leaven you need to do an act of removal so that you won’t have it. On the Sabbath, not doing labor is simply not doing labor; there aren’t two things. I don’t sift on the Sabbath—what am I supposed to do, create some kind of mixture and then not sift it? There are mixtures everywhere; you don’t need to create them, you just need not to sift. “Have you tithed? Have you prepared an eruv? Light the lamp”—those really are positive commandments; they are not prohibitions of labor. “Have you tithed? Have you prepared an eruv? Light the lamp”—these are positive actions. You have to tithe beforehand so that you don’t enter a situation where you’ll have to tithe on the Sabbath—repairing a vessel—or make an eruv, or light a lamp. Those are all positive commandments. I’m not speaking about the positive commandments, I’m speaking about the negative commandments, about the commandments of refraining from labor. There you simply have not to perform labor. There is not this extra dimension that exists with leaven, where you can take it out of the house so that you won’t have it. On the Sabbath there is nothing to take out, because it’s non-performance. Here it is that I shouldn’t have an object in my house, so I need to remove it in order that it not be there. On the Sabbath it is simply not to do something; not doing something is not doing it. There isn’t this dual aspect.

Okay. So then we really have here four possibilities. According to the result possibility, it fits better with Maimonides and the Jerusalem Talmud. Now let’s see how this enters into the tannaitic dispute and afterward into what the medieval and later authorities say about it. The Mishnah says this in tractate Pesachim 21a: Rabbi Yehuda says: the destruction of leaven is only by burning. And the Sages say: one may even crumble it and scatter it to the wind or throw it into the sea. Yes, so Rabbi Yehuda is basically saying that destruction of leaven has to be done by burning. And the Sages say: by any method. Meaning, crumble it, scatter it to the wind, doesn’t matter—whatever destruction you do, as long as the thing is destroyed. Rabbi Yehuda derives it from leftover sacrificial meat; never mind, they derive leaven from leftover sacrificial meat, which has to be burned. At first glance, the dispute of the tannaim is really a dispute about the definition of the commandment of “you shall remove.” “One may even crumble it and scatter it to the wind” means: destroy it however you like—that, I think, is the simple meaning of the language. So according to Rabbi Yehuda, destruction of leaven is only by burning. How would you understand how he defines the commandment of “you shall remove”? A result-commandment or an action-commandment? Whether it is conditional or not—that’s already a finer resolution. First of all, the general question: is it an action-commandment or a result-commandment? Action, right, necessarily. If it were a result-commandment, then why would it matter what I do with the leaven? The main thing is that in the end I don’t have leaven. It wouldn’t make any difference. Right, once you tell me that you want a specific type of removal, that means you have some interest in the act of removal. It’s an action-commandment. The Sages, who say “one may even crumble it and scatter it to the wind,” maybe that is indeed what they are saying. They are saying that this is basically a result-commandment. The main thing is that you not have leaven. Do I care whether you burn it or crumble it? Do what you want. No. Regarding Rabbi Yehuda that seems necessary. Regarding the Sages it really is not necessary. And although many later authorities assume that, it is not necessary in light of the map we drew earlier. And that solves all kinds of difficulties, which is why I’m saying: notice how important it is to do this initial analysis. Why? Because the Sages can say there is an action-commandment to remove the leaven, only the Torah doesn’t care how you perform that action—whether by burning or by crumbling and scattering it to the wind or whatever. But you still have to perform an action. Rabbi Yehuda says specifically burning. A reality such that if there is leaven, the action must be done by burning. Again, then you are returning to the action-commandment. Only you’re saying it is a conditional obligatory action-commandment. It is still an action-commandment. If it were a result-commandment, all I want is that in the end I not have leaven. What difference does it make to me, so long as in the end I have no leaven? If I don’t have any leaven at all, then I would not have had to perform this action at all. So if I crumbled it and scattered it to the wind, then I have no leaven. So what is the problem? I fulfilled the commandment. What difference does it make whether that was by burning or not? Therefore with Rabbi Yehuda this seems necessary; with the Sages it remains open. We’ll see later that this is exactly the point at which later authorities hesitate. They don’t define it this way, but that really is the definition.

Maimonides rules in the end, in Laws of Leaven and Matzah chapter 3: How does one destroy leaven? He burns it, or crumbles it and scatters it to the wind or to the sea; and if the leaven is hard and the sea will not break it up quickly, then he crumbles it first and afterward throws it into the sea. You can see something interesting: he defines the act of removal such that the result is that the leaven should not exist in the world, not merely that it should not be in my possession. Because if the sea does not break up the leaven, what difference does it make to me? In my possession it is no longer found. “It shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found” is in my possession. That’s the big falsehood about leaven in hospitals. Yes, they always say, “Be considerate of our feelings; we don’t want to violate ‘it shall not be seen’ and ‘it shall not be found.’” You are not violating “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found.” If you’re in a hospital and someone eats pita in front of your eyes, are you violating “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found”? Of course not. It isn’t your domain. But anyway, what one sees here is that the leaven has to be removed from the world, not merely from my possession. Therefore it is not enough to throw it into the sea if the sea won’t do the job of dissolving it completely. Therefore Maimonides says that if the sea won’t dissolve it, first crumble it and only then throw it into the sea. Fine. So here it seems quite clear that this is not the flip side of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” right? If it were the flip side of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” then the goal of removal should have been that I not have leaven. That’s all. Why should I care if the sea is sailing around with ships full of leaven? What does that have to do with me? It isn’t my leaven. And leaven over which a collapse has occurred, and there is dust over it of three handbreadths or more—then it is considered destroyed, and one must nullify it in one’s heart if the sixth hour has not yet arrived. If he gave it to a non-Jew, and so on. And if he burned it before the sixth hour, then one may benefit from its coals during Passover. But if he burned it from the sixth hour onward, since it is forbidden for benefit, he may not use it to heat an oven or stove, and may not bake or cook with it. If he baked or cooked, then that bread and that food are forbidden for benefit. And likewise its coals are forbidden for benefit, since he burned it after it had become forbidden for benefit. That’s a sugya there on 21a. The Gemara says there that the coals of the leaven—if you burned it before the time of prohibition, the coals are permitted; if you burned it after the time of prohibition, the coals are forbidden. But later authorities comment here, and some later authorities note, that all this is about coals. But ash is not the same thing. Coals are the leaven, only very heavily charred. Ash is no longer leaven at all; it’s just powder. So that isn’t leaven at all, and it doesn’t matter whether you burned it during the time of prohibition or before the time of prohibition—the ash is a new entity. So some later authorities want to claim that, and therefore they claim that ash is permitted even according to Maimonides. Only the coals are forbidden if you burned it after the time.

Now another introduction. In Jewish law there are two categories of items forbidden for benefit: those that must be burned and those that must be buried. What does that mean? The Gemara says there are certain prohibited items from which one may not benefit that we are required to burn. There are prohibited items from which one may not benefit that we are not required to burn. Those are buried. But burial, by the way, is rabbinic. They are called “those that must be buried,” but it really means that they are not burned, not that they are buried. They are buried only so that rabbinically we won’t come to stumble with them. Burning is not rabbinic; it is Torah law. When you have to burn something, it means there is a commandment of elimination on it. So the Mishnah says this in tractate Temurah: all those that must be buried may not be burned, and all those that must be burned may not be buried. Rabbi Yehuda says: if one wants to be stricter with himself and burn those that must be buried, he is permitted. They said to him: one is not permitted to alter it. If it is among those that must be burned, then only burn; if it is among those that must be buried, then only bury. Why? The Gemara says there: all those that must be buried may not be burned—what is the reason? Because with those that must be buried, their ash is forbidden, whereas with those that must be burned, their ash is permitted. Why is it forbidden to burn those that must be buried? By the way, this is a rabbinic prohibition. Because if you burn them, then people will come to use the ash, since the ash of those that must be burned is permitted. But these are not to be burned; they are to be buried, and their ash too is forbidden. Therefore if you burn them, it may lead people to use the ash, thinking they are among those that must be burned and their ash is permitted, and you will cause them to stumble. Therefore, don’t burn them; bury them so that people won’t come to use them. So there is a rabbinic prohibition against burning things that must be buried—not a Torah prohibition.

Why really is there such a difference, that with those that must be burned their ash is permitted, and with those that must be buried their ash is forbidden? Maimonides rules this in Laws of Invalidated Sacred Things: all those that must be burned may not be buried, and likewise all those that must be buried may not be burned, because although by burning them one appears to be stricter, in fact he has been lenient with their ash, since the ash of those that must be buried is forbidden, and people will come to use it. Why is there such a difference? There is Tosafot in Temurah 33: “Those that must be burned, their ash is permitted; and those that must be buried, their ash is forbidden”—one must investigate the reason why. And my teacher says that with those that must be burned, since Scripture commanded them to be burned, once he did so, it is as though its commandment has been fulfilled, and there is no case where its commandment has been fulfilled and one still commits misuse through it. Here too, since its commandment has been fulfilled, its prohibition is gone. As for an idolatrous tree and so on. But those that must be buried, since Scripture did not impose burning upon them, their prohibition is drawn out forever. What is he saying? There is a rule in Jewish law: there is no case where something has had its commandment fulfilled and one still commits misuse through it. For example, sacrifices. After I have done what was required—sprinkled the blood and so on—the sanctity of the sacrifices lapses. There is no longer misuse with respect to that sacrifice; it is no longer sacred. Why? Because its commandment has been fulfilled. The work is finished. This can be understood in several ways. Rashi explains technically in tractate Yoma. Rashi says: there is no misuse, because once its commandment has been fulfilled, we no longer call it “the holy things of the Lord.” It is no longer sacred, and therefore there is no misuse. But why really is it not sacred after its commandment has been fulfilled? Some want to argue that the whole prohibition of misuse is intended to ensure that its commandment be fulfilled. Why are you forbidden to misuse sacred things? Because if you misuse them—use them, eat them, whatever you do—then in the end it will be impossible to sacrifice them. And the prohibition of use and the prohibition of benefit, the misuse, was intended so that you would perform the commandment. Now once the commandment has already been performed, there is no reason at all to prohibit benefit—finished, the commandment has already been done. So then it is no longer sacred, and there is no prohibition on using it. That does not necessarily contradict Rashi, or perhaps that is the explanation of what Rashi says. Okay, but that is the principle.

So the principle is this—I’ll summarize. There are things that must be buried and things that must be burned. Those that must be burned have to be burned by Torah law, and may not be buried. Why may those that must be burned not be buried? Because then you didn’t burn them. Meaning, they have to be burned—that’s the whole point. What? Yes, yes, those that must be burned may not be buried because instead of burning them—yes, it is forbidden to bury them instead of burning them, because all the Torah says is to burn them. Okay, so all that is Torah law. As for those that must be buried, they are called “those that must be buried,” but really the proper name is “those that must not be burned.” Prohibited items from which one may not benefit, where there is a prohibition of benefit but no obligation to eliminate them, no obligation to burn them. What happens in such a case? In principle I could do nothing and just let it remain there. I could choose to be stringent and eliminate them on my own—not because I’m obligated, but just so that I won’t come to stumble. The Gemara says: that is an excellent intention. Eliminate them so that you won’t come to stumble, but only by burial, not by burning. Why? Rabbinically. Why? Burial is excellent because it helps prevent us from stumbling. Rabbinically one should bury it—that is why they are called “those that must be buried,” and this is only rabbinic. Burning them is forbidden, because if we burn them then we’ll think the ash is permitted, as with those that must be burned, and therefore the Sages decreed that one may not burn those that must be buried. Okay? So not only is there no obligation to burn them; there is a rabbinic prohibition against burning them. There is no Torah obligation to burn them; there is a rabbinic prohibition against burning them. Up to here, this is a general introduction to concepts of prohibited items from which one may not benefit.

Now let’s return to leaven. What is leaven—among those that must be burned or among those that must be buried? Which type of prohibited-for-benefit item is leaven? Those that must be buried? Why? Right, apparently it depends on the tannaitic dispute. According to Rabbi Yehuda, who says it must be burned, then it is among those that must be burned. According to the Sages, “one may even crumble it and scatter it to the wind,” then it is among those that must be buried. What? Like the Sages. Rashi rules like Rabbi Yehuda. But yes, most decisors rule like the Sages. Even we today, when we burn leaven, let’s say, that is only to be stringent, right? But basically that is according to Rabbi Yehuda, and we do not rule like him. Big question why it is permitted to do this. If leaven belongs among those that must be buried, then it is forbidden to burn it, not merely unnecessary. So how do we burn leaven today?

So the Tur says this: the Mishnah in Temurah, which I brought earlier, says that one of the examples it gives of things that must be burned is leaven. Leaven is among those that must be burned. And the Gemara there says that this is according to Rabbi Yehuda. When the Mishnah says that leaven is among those that must be burned, that Mishnah follows the view of Rabbi Yehuda. Maybe that’s why Rashi ruled like Rabbi Yehuda—there is an anonymous Mishnah in accordance with him. Fine. But according to the Sages, apparently it is among those that must be buried. So if that is the case, then first: why do you need to crumble it and scatter it to the wind? Bury it. Second: how can it be that we burn leaven? We don’t find that it is forbidden to burn leaven. On the contrary, what is the language of the Mishnah? “And the Sages say: one may even crumble it and scatter it to the wind.” What does “even” mean? It means not that you must burn it, as Rabbi Yehuda says—you can also crumble it and scatter it to the wind. But you can also burn it. You can also crumble it and scatter it to the wind. But how can burning also be allowed? If it is among those that must be buried, then it is forbidden to burn it.

So the Tur says this: Rabbi Yehuda says the destruction of leaven is only by burning. And Rashi rules like him, and so too in the Book of Commandments. And the Geonim ruled like the Sages, who say one crumbles it and scatters it to the wind or throws it into the sea. Notice what is missing here? The word “even.” The Sages—what do they say? “One may even crumble it and scatter it to the wind.” No. The Sages say: “One crumbles it and scatters it to the wind or throws it into the sea.” Without “even.” What does that mean? That it is among those that must be buried and not among those that must be burned. Because if the wording is “even,” then “even” means one may also burn it. But things that must be buried may not be burned, so this is not among those that must be buried; it is something else. But according to the Tur’s version, the Sages say: crumble it and scatter it to the wind, not “even.” Burning truly is not legitimate according to them. Why? Because they hold that it is among those that must be buried. But there is still the question: if it is among those that must be buried, then why crumble it and scatter it to the wind? Leave it there; put it in the ground. What? Why are you… And in all these discussions, yes? If one must also… also crumble it when throwing it into the sea, and not cast it there whole. And so wrote Maimonides and the Baal Ha-Ittur. And even Rabbi Yehuda only said specifically burning when it is not the proper time for destruction, but at the proper time for destruction, its elimination is by any means. Fine, never mind, that’s less important for our purposes. But whether one may benefit from its ash after it was burned—that depends on the dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and the Rabbis. Right? Because according to Rabbi Yehuda, since it is by burning, it is permitted, the ash is permitted, because we hold that the ash of all those that must be burned is permitted. And according to the Rabbis it is forbidden, because the ash of all those that must be buried is forbidden. But not only is their ash forbidden—burning them is also forbidden. Not only is the ash forbidden intrinsically, but that is why, rabbinically, it is also forbidden to burn them. Therefore the wording is not “one may even crumble and scatter it to the wind,” but simply “one crumbles and scatters it to the wind.” And that is what he says: the ash of all those that must be burned is permitted; according to the Rabbis it is forbidden, because the ash of all those that must be buried is forbidden. And if one cooked a dish with it or baked bread with it, according to Rabbi Yehuda, for whom its ash is permitted, the dish or bread is not forbidden, unless the bread was baked or the dish cooked while the body of the leaven still existed; but if it had already become extinguished, they are permitted. And according to the Rabbis, for whom its ash is forbidden, they are forbidden in every case. And Maimonides simply wrote: and if one baked bread with it or cooked a dish with it, they are forbidden. And he follows his own view, because he rules like the Sages. Maimonides rules like the Sages.

So on that the Magen Avraham comments as follows. Not asks—comments. In our Gemara the reading is: “And the Sages say: one may even crumble,” etc. Certainly burning is preferable, but even crumbling is enough. Yes, he has the reading “even.” Okay? So what is he saying? The Sages also agree that burning is preferable; only if you crumbled and scattered it to the wind, that is also fine. But the text of the Rif and the Rosh is like what appears in the Tur: “And the Sages say: one crumbles,” not “one may even crumble.” “One crumbles” implies specifically that. And so too it seems from the Tur, who wrote that according to the Rabbis it is among those that must be buried, whose ash is forbidden. And we learned at the end of Temurah that all those that must be buried may not be burned, because we decree lest one come to benefit from their ash. What is he saying? Even in the Tur it sounds like the Rif and the Rosh. Why? Because the Tur says that according to the Rabbis, since it is among those that must be buried, its ash is forbidden. If its ash is forbidden, then obviously burning it is also rabbinically forbidden. Therefore it really is among those that must be buried. Now he asks: and it is astonishing regarding Maimonides, who ruled that its ash is forbidden, and nevertheless also ruled that it may be burned. Well, if its ash is forbidden, then it should also have been forbidden to burn it. And at the end of Laws of Invalidated Sacred Things he ruled that all those that must be buried may not be burned, because although by burning them one appears to be stringent, in fact he has been lenient with their ash, since the ash of those that must be buried is forbidden—this was the language of Maimonides. And perhaps this is what he means: one may not burn it in order to treat it as among those that must be burned and to benefit from its ash, but if they wanted to burn it without benefiting from its ash, it is permitted, and we do not decree lest he benefit from its ash; and so wrote the Maharil, that one burns it and buries the coals. It’s not clear to me what he wants here. What does that mean, he may burn it as long as he won’t benefit from the ash? The whole point of the decree was: don’t burn it, period, because there is concern that you may benefit from the ash. But that concern led the Sages to forbid the burning categorically. You can’t now burn it and say, “I won’t benefit.” There is a rabbinic prohibition against burning things that must be buried. What—what is he trying to say here? How does he explain Maimonides, who says that one may burn it but the ash is forbidden? How can that be? There are those who want to claim that the ash is actually permitted. What Maimonides says is forbidden—I mentioned this earlier—is the coals, not the ash. Coals means there is still leaven there, only very charred. Ash is already powder; it is already a new entity. So that is no longer included in leaven. But he didn’t learn it that way. And then he has a difficulty with Maimonides—it requires investigation. And his solution requires even more investigation than the question. What does it mean? He’ll burn it, but not in order to benefit. If you burn it not in order to benefit, then you have still violated the rabbinic prohibition against burning things that must be buried. You haven’t violated the Torah prohibition of benefiting from the ash, but you have violated the rabbinic prohibition against burning things that must be buried. It is forbidden to burn things that must be buried out of concern lest one benefit. It’s like saying: I’ll eat poultry with milk, and I’ll make sure not to come to eat meat with milk. After all, the whole prohibition of poultry with milk is lest you come to eat meat with milk—a rabbinic prohibition. So I’ll eat poultry with milk and make sure not to come to eat meat with milk. The whole rabbinic prohibition is exactly this—do not eat poultry with milk, period. We don’t rely on you to protect yourself from coming to meat with milk, otherwise we would say: be careful, when you eat poultry with milk, don’t come to eat meat with milk. We don’t say that. It is forbidden to eat poultry with milk, period. So here too. It is forbidden to burn things that must be buried. It doesn’t help that you say, “I’ll burn it, but not…” yes, like King Solomon, right? “I will multiply wives and not sin,” or “I will read and not tilt,” Rabbi Yishmael there in tractate Shabbat: “I’ll read by candlelight on the Sabbath and not tilt the lamp.” There’s no such thing. Meaning, once it is forbidden, then it is forbidden.

So there is a question on Maimonides: how can it be that it is permitted to burn it if we rule like the Sages that it belongs among those that must be buried and its ash is forbidden? And this is according to the version of the Rif, the Rosh, and the Tur. The Tur is the son of the Rosh, so usually he follows the Rosh. According to them, according to the Sages, it really is among those that must be buried, and it is forbidden to burn it. But Maimonides says it may be burned. The question is: how can Maimonides say such a thing? That is what we do today. We burn leaven. Nobody says it is forbidden to burn leaven. Here it comes out that according to the Tur, the Rif, and the Rosh, it is forbidden to burn. Not only that one is not obligated; it is forbidden. By the way, if that is the Tur, Rif, and Rosh, then according to the well-known rule of the Shulchan Arukh, that it follows the majority among the three decisors—Rif, Rosh, and Maimonides—it should have ruled like the Rif and the Rosh. It seems to me that the Shulchan Arukh follows Maimonides here; I’d have to look at the wording, I no longer remember, but I’m almost sure. This is one of the Shulchan Arukh’s exceptions to the rule that it itself established. Which teaches you that these rules should not be taken too seriously.

Okay, in any event, what do you say? It’s a hard question, no? If it belongs among those that must be buried, then how can burning be permitted? What are we doing today? How are we burning today? Maybe because leaven is such a severe transgression, and “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” therefore we aren’t concerned that one will come to use it? On the contrary, I would say that because of the severity of “it shall not be seen” and “it shall not be found,” we should be more concerned, because I can violate it even if I don’t eat it. But basically the commandment is to burn. What do you mean? The commandment is not to burn. We rule like the Sages; I’m speaking within the view of the Sages. The Sages say: one crumbles it and scatters it to the wind. Fine? Now look—if we read “even,” and Maimonides indeed reads “even,” then right there what the Sages say is that burning is permitted. It’s not just Maimonides; that is Maimonides’ reading in the Mishnah itself. Meaning, burning is permitted. So how should the commandment be defined according to the Sages? That is really the question. The question is not why burning is permitted, but what the definition of the commandment is. Does it belong among those that must be buried? Clearly not. It is not among those that must be buried. I don’t know what the Magen Avraham wants. It is not among those that must be buried. I really don’t see how one can say such a thing at all—according to the Sages, I mean. Why? By the way, even if one does not read “even,” I still think it is unreasonable to say it belongs among those that must be buried. What does “those that must be buried” mean? It means an item forbidden for benefit from which one may not benefit, but do with it what you want, right? There is no commandment to burn it, no commandment to eliminate it, nothing. Rabbinically it is advisable to bury it so that you won’t come to benefit from it, but as far as the basic Torah law is concerned, it is only a prohibition of benefit—that’s it. Does anyone imagine that with leaven this is the situation? There is a commandment of “you shall remove.” No one disputes that there is a commandment of “you shall remove.” The dispute is only how one fulfills the commandment of “you shall remove.” So leaven cannot be among those that must be buried. “Those that must be buried” are items where there is no requirement of elimination at all. Leaven has a positive commandment of elimination. If there is a positive commandment of elimination, then it is not among those that must be buried. On the other hand, it also apparently is not among those that must be burned, because the Sages say: one may even crumble it and scatter it to the wind. What does that mean? It means there is a special category here of its own. It is similar to those that must be burned in the sense that there is a basic obligation of elimination, like with those that must be burned, but the Sages say against Rabbi Yehuda that the way we eliminate it does not, according to the Torah, have to be specifically by burning. It can be by any method whatsoever. That is the reading of “even” according to Maimonides. Any method whatsoever. And what does that really mean? That when I crumble it and scatter it to the wind, or burn it, is the ash permitted or forbidden? Permitted. Why? Why is the ash of those that must be burned permitted? Remember the Tosafot? Because there is no case where its commandment has been fulfilled and one still commits misuse through it. Once you performed the task imposed upon you, then there is no longer a prohibition of benefit, right? Here, when I burned the leaven, I fulfilled the positive commandment of “you shall remove,” right? Its commandment has been fulfilled. If its commandment has been fulfilled, then the ash is permitted. The fact that the commandment does not have to be fulfilled specifically by burning—so what? But by burning too I fulfill the commandment of “you shall remove.” Burning here is not like burial, which is only to prevent me from coming to benefit from it. Burning is the fulfillment of a commandment. If it is the fulfillment of the positive commandment of “you shall remove,” then why should the ash be forbidden? Its commandment has been fulfilled, and there is no case where its commandment has been fulfilled and one still commits misuse through it. Therefore, even according to the Sages, Maimonides says, the ash is permitted. It is permitted to burn it, and the ash is permitted.

So what does Maimonides say is forbidden there? Coals, not ash. The coals still retain the form of leaven, and that too is only when you burned it during the time of prohibition. If you burned it during the time of prohibition, then the leaven prohibition—the status of leaven—did not leave it. If you burned it during the time when it was permitted, then even the coals are permitted. Coals means burnt bread, and you still see bread there; it didn’t become powder, ash. Simply bread that is unfit for eating. So if you burned it before Passover, then it is no longer bread, no longer leaven, and it is permitted. But if you burned it after its prohibited time had already begun, then it was already leaven, and now you burned it, but it has not yet changed its name; it has not ceased to be bread. So that does not succeed in removing the prohibition of leaven from it, even though it is no longer fit for eating. In itself it ought not to be leaven anymore. That is an explicit Gemara on page 21, that this preserves the status of leaven. But ash is something else. Ash is a new entity, and so even after the time of prohibition, if you burned it, once it is ash it is no longer leaven; it is permitted. One may burn it and benefit from the ash, because its commandment has been fulfilled. That is the whole idea of the commandment of “you shall remove.” Therefore it is a mistake to say that according to the Sages leaven belongs among those that must be buried. No. In the ordinary sense, “those that must be buried” are things that have no obligation of elimination at all. All obligations of elimination in the Torah are obligations of elimination by burning—except for leaven. Leaven has an obligation of elimination; on the fundamental level it belongs with things that must be burned. But the Torah says: when you eliminate it, it need not be specifically by burning. It can also be by crumbling and scattering it to the wind. But there is an obligation of elimination. So categorically it belongs to those prohibited-for-benefit items that do have an obligation of elimination. Once that is so, then if you burned it or crumbled it, whatever it is—has its commandment been fulfilled? No problem; you fulfilled the commandment, and the ash is permitted. Therefore it is also permitted to burn it. And that is exactly what this means.

So what do the Magen Avraham, the Tur, the Rosh, and the Rif hold, when they say that leaven belongs among those that must be buried, and therefore they do not read “even”? They don’t read “even” because it cannot be that leaven may be burned, since leaven belongs among those that must be buried. Things that must be buried may not be burned. What do you mean it is not among those that must be buried? There is the commandment of “you shall remove.” Maybe they understand “you shall remove” as a result-commandment. There is no commandment to eliminate the leaven. If you have no leaven, then you have also fulfilled the positive commandment of “you shall remove.” And that is the prohibition inferred from a positive commandment, the two possibilities I discussed. If that is so, then perhaps leaven can be defined as among those that must be buried. Because there is not really an obligation to eliminate; there is no elimination-obligation. There is a positive commandment that you not have leaven, in addition to the prohibition, but there is no obligation to eliminate. Then one cannot say “its commandment has been fulfilled.” I did not fulfill a commandment in the leaven itself; rather, I simply have no leaven, and so the positive commandment has been fulfilled. “Its commandment has been fulfilled” means in the object itself, the object that you were commanded to eliminate—its commandment has been fulfilled. Meaning, it passed through the process it was supposed to undergo, and then one no longer commits misuse with it. Maimonides, in contrast, argues that this is an action-commandment and not a result-commandment. And since it is an action-commandment, then when I burned it, its commandment was fulfilled, and therefore it is permitted to burn it and the ash is permitted. In other words, Rabbi Chaim of Brisk has a well-known little idea on this question of the Magen Avraham and Rabbi Akiva Eiger and others, and he says that this is a law in the object and not a law in the object—I think what he means is this. The question is whether the obligation of elimination is an obligation of action or an obligation of result. That, I think, is the more precise formulation. If it is an obligation of action, then Maimonides is right: one must either burn it or crumble it and scatter it to the wind, and therefore even when I burned it, its commandment was fulfilled and the ash is permitted; consequently, burning is also permitted. And this is not called among those that must be buried. According to the Tur, the Rif, and the Rosh, there is no commandment to eliminate; this is not a commandment of elimination. There is a commandment, besides the prohibition, also a positive commandment that you not have leaven. But its commandment has not been fulfilled in this thing itself. Therefore you cannot say that if you burned the leaven, the ash is permitted, and therefore it is also not correct that burning is permitted. That is apparently what the Magen Avraham and the Tur and the Rif and the Rosh hold. It is a dispute over whether the commandment of “you shall remove” is an action-commandment or a result-commandment.

Okay, we’ll stop here. Maybe I’ll make some additions next time, or maybe we’ll move on to something else. Next week there is a class. It isn’t mandatory—attendance is not mandatory. Whoever wants make-up hours or things like that, or whoever just wants to learn, that’s also legitimate. So there is a class.