Topics in Halachic Thought – Lesson 27
This transcript was generated automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- Jewish law and morality: Rabbi Kook and the Chazon Ish
- Maimonides in Eight Chapters: the virtuous person and the one who subdues his inclination
- Maimonides in Laws of Kings: the seven commandments and rational judgment
- Resolving the contradiction between the two Maimonides passages: psychological structure versus motivation
- Commentary on the Mishnah in Chullin: “It was said at Sinai, but written in its place”
- Command, love, and fear in Maimonides: “does the truth because it is truth”
- Idolatry out of love and fear: “if he accepted it as a god, he is liable”
- Examples of contradiction between Jewish law and morality, and the critique of apologetics
- A model of three categories in Jewish law: anti-moral, moral, and non-moral
- A value conflict: religious value versus moral value
- “Morality is part of the Torah but not part of Jewish law”
- The “moral” laws as an additional religious layer on top of a moral prohibition
Summary
General overview
The text presents two basic melodies regarding the relationship between Jewish law and morality through Rabbi Kook and the Chazon Ish, and places at the center the question of contradiction between them and how such contradictions are decided. It examines Maimonides as a source that distinguishes between a psychological structure of natural identification and the question of motivation for fulfilling commandments, and resolves the tension between Maimonides in Eight Chapters and in Laws of Kings and his Commentary on the Mishnah in Chullin on the basis of “commandment” as action performed by force of the command at Sinai. It then proposes an alternative position according to which Jewish law and morality are two independent religious categories: Jewish law is directed toward achieving religious values, and morality is directed toward social repair; and in cases of contradiction, what we have is a conflict between values, not an apologetic solution that presents the immoral as moral.
Jewish law and morality: Rabbi Kook and the Chazon Ish
The position attributed to Rabbi Kook holds that morality is binding and that Jewish law is directed toward moral purposes, and therefore in a case of contradiction one must reinterpret the Jewish law or assume that the “true” morality is higher than what was initially perceived. The position attributed to the Chazon Ish holds that if there is a contradiction, Jewish law prevails, because Jewish law is what determines what morality is, and morality has no independent standing. The text emphasizes that the dispute is sometimes more a matter of “melody” than of a sharp determination, because even in the first approach one can say that Jewish law prevails, but explain this by saying that Jewish law itself leads to the most moral state.
Maimonides in Eight Chapters: the virtuous person and the one who subdues his inclination
In Eight Chapters, Maimonides distinguishes between “the virtuous person,” who has a natural inclination to do what is right, and “the one who subdues his inclination,” whose natural tendencies pull in the opposite direction and who acts against them. Maimonides says that the philosophers prefer the virtuous person, while the Sages prefer the one who subdues his inclination, and concludes that it depends on the type of commandments: with rational and moral commandments, the virtuous person is preferable, while with ritual-religious commandments, the one who subdues his inclination is preferable. The text connects this to the examples, “I could desire it, I could desire it, but what can I do? My Father in Heaven has decreed upon me,” as belonging to laws that are not moral-rational but ritual.
Maimonides in Laws of Kings: the seven commandments and rational judgment
Maimonides states in Laws of Kings that anyone who accepts the seven commandments and is careful to perform them is among the pious of the nations of the world and has a share in the world to come, provided that he performs them because the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded them in the Torah and informed us through Moses our teacher. Maimonides adds that if he performs them on the basis of rational judgment, “he is not a resident alien and is not among the pious of the nations of the world, but rather among their wise men,” and the text interprets this as a distinction between a “good deed” and a “commandment,” whose definition is action performed by force of the command at Sinai. The text argues that conceptually there is no reason to distinguish between non-Jews and Jews in this principle, and explains why Maimonides placed the discussion precisely here: because the seven commandments are commandments “toward which reason inclines,” and therefore the possibility arises that they will be done out of logic and morality rather than command.
Resolving the contradiction between the two Maimonides passages: psychological structure versus motivation
The text proposes that there is no contradiction between Eight Chapters and Laws of Kings, because in Eight Chapters Maimonides deals with the question of whether a person ought to identify naturally with moral commandments, whereas in Laws of Kings Maimonides deals with the question of the motivation by virtue of which the action is considered a “commandment.” It states that the desirable psychological level in moral commandments is natural identification, but the act itself must be done “by force of the command” in order to count as a commandment. The text brings the introduction to Eglei Tal as an illustration of the distinction between the value of enjoyment within the commandment and doing it “because of the enjoyment,” which is considered “not for its own sake.”
Commentary on the Mishnah in Chullin: “It was said at Sinai, but written in its place”
The Mishnah about the sciatic nerve is presented as a dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and the Sages over whether the prohibition of the sciatic nerve also applies to an impure animal, and the Sages answer, “It was said at Sinai, but written in its place.” In his Commentary on the Mishnah, Maimonides emphasizes the principle that what we do today is only because of God’s command through Moses, and not because of commands to prophets who preceded him, and he brings examples such as a limb from a living animal, circumcision, and the sciatic nerve. The text explains that the proof is: “Six hundred and thirteen commandments were said to Moses at Sinai,” and therefore the force of the religious obligation is determined by Sinai even when there is a prior history to the act or custom.
Command, love, and fear in Maimonides: “does the truth because it is truth”
Maimonides in Laws of Repentance is described as criticizing service for the sake of reward and punishment, and defining service out of love as “doing the truth because it is truth.” The text points to a tension between this rational language and the later description of love as being “love-sick” and constantly absorbed in it, and proposes that the parable from Song of Songs comes to teach the intensity of cleaving, not an emotional feeling as the basis of motivation. In this way the text reinforces the idea that fundamental religious commitment rests on the command, not on utility, emotion, or any other motive.
Idolatry out of love and fear: “if he accepted it as a god, he is liable”
Maimonides in Laws of Idolatry is cited as ruling that idolatry out of love, such as desire for the beauty of the form, or out of fear lest it harm him, can be exempt if it was done “in its normal mode of worship” out of love or fear; but if “he accepted it as a god, he is liable to stoning.” The text explains that the medieval authorities (Rishonim) interpreted this differently because the content seemed unacceptable to them, but in Maimonides the distinction is between internal identification and acceptance of unconditional authority. The text defines “god” as one whose command has force simply because he commanded it, and links this to the idea of “we will do and we will hear” as recognition that obligation is not conditional on examining the content of the command.
Examples of contradiction between Jewish law and morality, and the critique of apologetics
The text presents examples such as the prohibition on mamzerim entering the congregation, the wife of a priest who was raped, killing Amalekites including infants, and saving a non-Jew on the Sabbath, and shows how they can be justified within the approach of “higher morality,” but criticizes this as a solution that empties morality of content. It also rejects the position that morality is irrelevant, arguing that the Torah expects moral behavior, as emerges from “and you shall do what is upright and good.” The text sees the claim that whatever is permitted to lie about is not really “lying” as a semantic trick, and compares to it justifications that present difficult acts as moral instead of acknowledging the value-based difficulty.
A model of three categories in Jewish law: anti-moral, moral, and non-moral
The text divides Jewish law into anti-moral laws that seem to contradict morality, moral laws that accord with moral rules, and non-moral laws that are unrelated to morality, such as pork, ritual impurity and purity, and sacrifices. It adopts Maimonides’ assumption that commandments have reasons and rejects a view of arbitrariness as one that diminishes the Holy One, blessed be He. It states that the non-moral laws are directed toward religious purposes and not toward social repair, and from this arises a distinction between moral values and religious values.
A value conflict: religious value versus moral value
The text proposes a solution according to which in cases of contradiction there is no need to claim that the act is moral; rather, one should acknowledge that sometimes achieving a religious value requires harming a moral value. It compares this to an internal conflict such as saving life versus the Sabbath, or to medical treatment that causes pain but is required for a higher goal. It states that in the case of a mamzer we are dealing with a prohibition whose purpose is religious, and therefore it harms morality but is presented as a decision within a conflict, and in the case of the beautiful captive woman it presents the distinction between “halakhic permission” and a moral prohibition that may still remain in force and serve as a basis for legal prohibition even in a state governed by Jewish law.
“Morality is part of the Torah but not part of Jewish law”
The text criticizes Leibowitz, who claimed that morality is an atheistic category, both because the Torah commands what is upright and good, and because subordinating a person to two systems of authority appears like idolatry in partnership. It proposes a correction according to which both morality and Jewish law are religious categories, but independent: Jewish law is directed to religious values and morality to social repair, and both are required by the Torah. It notes that the enumerators of the commandments do not count “and you shall do what is upright and good” as a halakhic commandment, because it is a moral expectation and not a halakhic command.
The “moral” laws as an additional religious layer on top of a moral prohibition
The text argues that even commandments such as “Do not murder,” “Do not steal,” “Honor your father and your mother,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself” are not “morality” from the standpoint of Jewish law, because morality obligates them even without Torah, whereas the verse creates a religious layer of religious transgression in addition to the moral transgression. It brings examples from passages in Sanhedrin where in indirect murder or in certain forms there is halakhic “exemption” even though the act remains moral murder, and also presents honoring parents as an example where Jewish law is stricter than moral intuition. It explains that these differences prove that the halakhic parameters are religious and not moral, and concludes with the example of Cain as proof that moral demand exists prior to command, while “Do not murder” adds the religious layer of prohibition.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, last time we dealt with the question of Jewish law and morality, and we saw two polar positions—apparently polar, although afterward I qualified each of them and they came somewhat closer together. The position of Rabbi Kook, who sees morality as the be-all and end-all, and basically argues that Jewish law too is really directed toward moral aims; and the Chazon Ish, who apparently presents the opposite position, saying that Jewish law is what determines morality—morality has no standing of its own. I showed, I think, that with both of them you really can’t see it in such an extreme way, each one in his own direction, but for me these are still at least two conceptions I want to put on the table, even if this isn’t exactly Rabbi Kook’s position or exactly the Chazon Ish’s. I said there may be a difference between them regarding what happens when there is a contradiction between Jewish law and morality. So according to Rabbi Kook, he would say that morality is binding, and it may be that you need to reinterpret the Jewish law; Jewish law is really meant to bring you toward moral goals. Sometimes maybe you just don’t properly understand what morality is saying. According to the Chazon Ish, the conception would be that if there is a contradiction, obviously Jewish law prevails. Jewish law is what determines what morality is. So as you can see, here too the argument is more an argument of melody or atmosphere, and less a clear-cut dispute. Because Rabbi Kook too will often say that Jewish law prevails; he’ll just explain that by saying that Jewish law is what actually brings us to the more moral state, and what we thought contradicted morality—we were mistaken, we simply didn’t correctly understand what morality says in that situation.
Now, these two conceptions basically deal differently with conflicts or contradictions between Jewish law and morality. And in that context I also brought Maimonides in chapter six of Eight Chapters, where Maimonides spoke about the difference between the virtuous person and the one who subdues his inclination—or “upright” and “one who subdues,” in Rabbi Kook’s language. The virtuous person is someone who has a natural inclination to do the things—the things that Jewish law says. And the one who subdues his inclination is someone whose natural tendencies could take him elsewhere, but he subdues his inclination and still goes in the right directions. And Maimonides asks: who is preferable? He says the philosophers say the virtuous person is preferable; Hazal say the one who subdues his inclination is preferable. In the end the conclusion was that it depends on which part of Jewish law we’re talking about. In the rational and moral part of Jewish law, there the virtuous person is preferable. In the ritual, religious part of Jewish law, there the one who subdues his inclination is preferable. And indeed all the examples of “I could desire it, I could desire it, but what can I do? My Father in Heaven has decreed it upon me”—all the examples that appear there in that midrash—those are examples of laws that don’t belong to morality or logic, but ritual laws.
I just want to make a remark that may also be important later on—a somewhat long remark, but still a remark. This Maimonides is basically telling us that at least regarding the moral laws, those laws that the Noahides are obligated in and so on, these are laws where it is preferable to be someone who identifies with them naturally, rather than someone who does them like one compelled by a demon—that is, naturally he wouldn’t want to do it, but he forces himself, subdues his inclination, and still does it. On the face of it, in other places Maimonides speaks somewhat differently. I touched on this in the first semester when I talked about command—I don’t remember how far we got into it—and there. Maimonides—I’ll start here with the laws, Laws of Kings. At the end of chapter 8 of Laws of Kings, Maimonides writes like this: “Anyone who accepts the seven commandments”—he’s talking about Noahides, right?—“anyone who accepts the seven commandments and is careful to perform them is among the pious of the nations of the world and has a share in the world to come. But this is on condition that he accept them and perform them because the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded them in the Torah and informed us through Moses our teacher that the descendants of Noah had already been commanded regarding them. But if he performs them because of rational judgment, he is not a resident alien and is not among the pious of the nations of the world, but among their wise men.” It says “and not” there, but the more correct reading is “but rather.”
The background of this is really a discussion in the laws of the resident alien. A resident alien is a non-Jew who undertook to keep the seven Noahide commandments. It’s a non-Jew who keeps the seven Noahide commandments for our purposes. He has to accept this before a religious court, and so on, but I’m ignoring the technical details for the moment. So he says that if there is a non-Jew who accepted upon himself the seven commandments, then he is among the pious of the nations of the world, he is a resident alien, he has a share in the world to come. But that’s conditional. It’s conditional on his doing those commandments by force of the command of the Holy One, blessed be He, through Moses. But if he does them because of the logic in them, or because of the morality in them, or because of rational judgment, as Maimonides writes here, then he is not a resident alien and not among the pious of the nations of the world, but among their wise men. What does that mean? In my own terms I’d say: if a person fulfills the commandments because they seem logical to him, or because they seem moral to him, then that does not count for him as a commandment. It’s a good deed. He is among the wise of the nations of the world, he behaves properly, he behaves wisely, but a commandment it is not. Because a commandment—when you do something as a commandment—that’s only if you do it by force of the command that was said to Moses at Sinai. That’s what Maimonides says.
Now, true, he says this only about a resident alien, and a discussion could arise here: does this principle also apply to Jews? But it seems to me that logically it’s very clear there’s no reason at all to distinguish. Just as this is said regarding a resident alien, it is also said regarding Jews. And indeed if you look in the Frankel reference volume on this law, you’ll see several later authorities (Acharonim) brought there who apply this also to Jews. There is one who claims it’s only with a resident alien, but I think logically it’s pretty clear that it applies to Jews too. So why does Maimonides write it specifically here, when he’s talking in Laws of Kings about resident aliens and non-Jews and the seven Noahide commandments? I think the answer to that is very simple, because regarding the Noahide commandments, Maimonides writes in one of the previous laws, in one of the previous rulings, that the Noahide commandments are commandments “toward which reason inclines”—logical commandments, moral commandments, logical, and so on. Therefore, specifically with these commandments, the possibility can arise that a person will perform them not because of the command of the Holy One, blessed be He, but because of rational judgment—because it seems moral to him, logical, and the like. Therefore Maimonides says specifically in Laws of Kings, when he talks about Noahides, specifically here Maimonides places this principle, because here we are dealing with laws that also have a logical and moral consideration attached to them. And then the possibility can arise that a person will observe them by force of logical or moral consideration and not because of the command. Therefore Maimonides says: if you do it by force of logical and moral consideration, then you are a wise person and behave properly—but commandments, you don’t have. And not pious, right? The deed has no religious value. It is not a commandment. A commandment is only when you do it by force of the command.
Maybe parenthetically I’ll say that Hazal say, of course, that one who is commanded and does is greater than one who is not commanded and does. What’s the famous difficulty? A lot of people would say, logically, that specifically one who is not commanded and does should be greater. So Tosafot, the Rosh, and the Ritva write: why is one who is commanded and does greater than one who is not commanded and does? Because the one who is commanded and does, with every commandment he performs, gains two gains, brings about two benefits. One is the benefit of the commandment itself, the correction produced by fulfilling it. The second is obedience to the command of the Holy One, blessed be He. Therefore one who is commanded and does is greater, because he gains both the obedience and the benefit of the commandment itself. One who is not commanded and does may perhaps have the benefit brought by doing the commandment, but he does not have obedience to the command of the Holy One, blessed be He. Therefore one who is commanded and does is greater than one who is not commanded and does. And that’s what Maimonides is saying here: one who does this not as one who is commanded—that’s not a commandment. A commandment is when you do it by force of the command. That’s what Maimonides writes here.
Seemingly, what Maimonides says here contradicts the Maimonides we saw in the previous lecture, in chapter six of Eight Chapters. Because there, after all, he says that specifically regarding these commandments—yes, the seven Noahide commandments—there he says that specifically the upright person is better, the one who identifies naturally. And regarding these same commandments, here he says that only if you do them by force of the command can this count as a commandment. What do you say—is there a contradiction or not?
[Speaker B] Doesn’t it depend on which commandments, kind of?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Here we’re talking about the logical, moral commandments—the seven Noahide commandments. That’s precisely why there’s a contradiction. Because about these commandments, in chapter six he says that specifically the upright person is better, the one who identifies naturally. And regarding these same commandments, here he says that only if you do them by force of the command can this count as a commandment. What do you say? A frontal contradiction. Does anyone have a suggestion?
[Speaker C] It seems to me one strengthens the other; it doesn’t seem contradictory to me. Why would it contradict? Because a person really is commanded and does, but he also loves it, so what? What’s wrong with that?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, what you’re saying—I’ll translate it—what you’re basically saying is that in Laws of Kings, Maimonides is talking about the motivation by force of which I do the commandment. In chapter six of Eight Chapters, Maimonides isn’t dealing at all with the question of motivation and why one performs the commandment. Maimonides is dealing with the question of whether it is right to create within myself identification with the commandment or not.
[Speaker C] No, the motivation can be command and not desire.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. And Maimonides is basically claiming this: with moral commandments, a better level is someone who identifies with them naturally. But that doesn’t mean that the reason he performs the commandment is because of his natural feeling. He also ought to have a natural feeling to do the right things. But still, the act itself needs to be done by force of the command. Two completely different things. And therefore there is no contradiction between these two statements of Maimonides. In Laws of Kings he’s speaking about the motivation—why you need to do it. And in chapter eight he is only speaking about your psychological structure: should you have identification or not.
Yes, as an example of something that always comes to mind for me in this context, in the introduction to Eglei Tal, he writes that there’s a common mistake among people who think that someone who enjoys Torah study—this is study not for its own sake, because he’s really doing it for the enjoyment. That’s a big mistake, he says. On the contrary, part of the commandment is to enjoy, and if you enjoy it then you also connect more to the material, understand it better, and it becomes more deeply and more correctly internalized in you. These are well-known things. But there’s a sentence right after that which is less well-known, and there Eglei Tal says: but someone who does it because of the enjoyment is indeed studying not for its own sake. Meaning, there is value in enjoying the study, but that doesn’t mean that the enjoyment is the motivation for which you study. If you study because of the enjoyment, that’s study not for its own sake. Meaning, there is value in enjoying the study, but that doesn’t mean enjoyment should be the motivation by force of which you study. It shouldn’t. The motivation… the motivation should be the commandment involved. Exactly the distinction I’m talking about here. Meaning, you should have a natural inclination to do good, but the motivation—you enjoy doing good, yes?—but the motivation for why you do good is because the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded it, not because of the enjoyment in it. Not because of the psychological connection you feel to it. Rather because the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded it. Otherwise, maybe you’re doing a good deed, but it’s not a commandment. A commandment is only when you respond to a command—that is the root of the word commandment. When you respond to a command, then the act is an act of commandment. So there’s no contradiction between these two Maimonides passages.
Maimonides, by the way, repeats this—repeats it in his Commentary on the Mishnah in Chullin. One moment. Fine, I’m sharing Maimonides here. Maybe it’s worth seeing the Mishnah for a moment. The Mishnah in Chullin, in the chapter on the sciatic nerve, last Mishnah: “It applies to a pure animal and does not apply to an impure one. Rabbi Yehuda says: it applies even to an impure one.” This is talking about the sciatic nerve. The sciatic nerve of a pure animal is forbidden. The sciatic nerve of an impure animal does not carry that prohibition. The sciatic nerve of an impure animal does not carry that prohibition. What does it mean it doesn’t carry that prohibition? After all, it’s forbidden to eat the impure animal because it is impure. Yes, but if you ate the sciatic nerve of an impure animal, you have not violated two prohibitions—both eating pork and the sciatic nerve—but only the prohibition of eating an impure animal, without the sciatic nerve prohibition. Okay? That’s in contrast to a pure animal, where you violate the prohibition of eating the sciatic nerve. Rabbi Yehuda says: even in an impure one. Rabbi Yehuda claims that if you eat the sciatic nerve of an impure animal, you have violated two prohibitions: both eating meat of an impure animal and eating the sciatic nerve.
Now a discussion begins between the two tanna’im. Rabbi Yehuda said: “But was not the sciatic nerve forbidden from the days of the sons of Jacob, and impure animals were still permitted to them?” Right? So Rabbi Yehuda says: when was the sciatic nerve prohibited? In the time of Jacob, following his struggle with the angel. “Therefore the children of Israel shall not eat the sciatic nerve to this very day.” Meaning, Jacob’s sons, in memory of that event, do not eat the sciatic nerve. At that stage the Torah had not yet been given. There is still no distinction between a pure animal and an impure animal. And if there was a sciatic nerve prohibition then, in simple terms that means the prohibition applies both to pure animals and impure animals, because at that stage there was no distinction at all. That is what Rabbi Yehuda argues against the Rabbis. What do the Rabbis answer him? They said to him: “It was said at Sinai, but written in its place.” Basically, this passage was said at Mount Sinai, but when the Torah was arranged, it was arranged according to the order of events, and therefore this was written in the book of Genesis. But in fact it was said at Sinai. And there there is already a distinction between a pure animal and an impure animal.
Maimonides explains it this way: “And the law is not in accordance with Rabbi Yehuda. And note carefully this great principle brought in this Mishnah, namely their statement: ‘It was forbidden at Sinai.’ You must know that everything from which we refrain or that we do today, we do only because of God’s command through Moses, not because God commanded this to the prophets who preceded him.” For example, we do not eat a limb from a living animal not because God prohibited a limb from a living animal to the descendants of Noah, but because Moses prohibited it to us through what he was commanded at Sinai, that a limb from a living animal remain forbidden. A limb from a living animal was forbidden earlier too. At Sinai we were commanded that it remain forbidden. “And similarly, we do not circumcise because Abraham circumcised himself and the members of his household, but because God commanded us through Moses to circumcise as Abraham, peace be upon him, circumcised.” Says Maimonides: “And similarly the sciatic nerve—we are not guided by the prohibition of our father Jacob, but by the command of Moses.” That is what the Rabbis answer Rabbi Yehuda in the Mishnah: that it was forbidden at Sinai, but merely written in its place. What does that mean? That we do not eat the sciatic nerve not because of that custom described there among the sons of our father Jacob. We do not eat it because of the command said at Sinai that mentions that story of the sons of Jacob. But the sons of Jacob themselves, when they did not eat it, that was some custom of theirs. It became a prohibition at the giving of the Torah. And we basically refrain from it only by force of the prohibition at Sinai. And at the stage of the prohibition at Sinai there was already a distinction between a permitted animal and a forbidden one, a pure animal and an impure animal.
“Do you not see,” he says—Maimonides has a proof—“do you not see their statement: ‘Six hundred and thirteen commandments were said to Moses at Sinai,’ and all these are included among the commandments.” Right? After all, it says in the Talmudic text in Makkot: six hundred and thirteen commandments were said to Moses at Sinai. If the sciatic nerve was said to the sons of our father Jacob, then only six hundred and twelve commandments were said at Sinai. So how is it six hundred and thirteen? Rather, Maimonides apparently means that all the commandments we are obligated to fulfill, we are obligated in by force of the command at Sinai. Seemingly Maimonides repeats here the same principle he said in Laws of Kings, what we saw earlier. What I forgot to say is just to ask that you turn on cameras.
[Speaker D] Okay? Gideon, Oren, Orel.
[Speaker E] I’m on camera from the computer.
[Speaker D] Okay. Gideon, are you with us?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay. Fine. So seemingly Maimonides is basically repeating here what he said in Laws of Kings—in his Commentary on the Mishnah—so it’s not a difficulty that he repeats it. But if you pay attention, it seems to me that it’s not exactly—not exactly—the same principle. In Laws of Kings, let’s think for a second, let’s think about Israeli law, okay? Suppose Israeli law says that it’s forbidden to go through a red light. If a person doesn’t go through a red light because he’s afraid a police officer will fine him, or because it seems very logical to him not to go through a red light—does the legislator have any problem with such a person?
[Speaker C] It doesn’t interest him, what the motivation is—why should he care?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. The legislator is not interested in our motivation for why we obey or don’t obey the laws. What he wants is behavior. The law says do this and don’t do that—that’s what’s required of you. What your motivation is doesn’t matter; do whatever you want. In that sense, what Maimonides says in Laws of Kings is unique to Jewish law; it has no expression or importance in the context of other legal systems. But what Maimonides writes in his Commentary on the Mishnah is relevant also to other legal systems. There appears what Hans Kelsen—yes, an Austrian Jewish philosopher of law—called the basic norm, the Grundnorm. What does that mean? When we talk about the validity of a legal system, there is some foundational norm by force of which the whole structure begins. In the German framework, the legal system is basically a kind of axiomatic system. So at the top of the pyramid of norms is the basic norm. Sheila? Yes. The edge, the apex of the pyramid, is basically the basic norm. So the claim is that when a judge asks himself by force of what authority he has to judge the one who comes before him, or a person asks himself what gives the legal system its force—why does it obligate me?—there always has to be some basic norm in the background on which the whole story is built. In the case of Israeli law, for example, it’s the principle that says that what the Knesset legislates is binding. Okay? That principle is basically the basic norm of Israeli law. All right?
Now that is a statement relevant also to a legal system, not only to a halakhic system. It’s not a statement about the question of what should pass through a person’s mind when he obeys the law or violates the law; rather it is a theoretical question. By force of what does the law have validity? It’s a meta-legal question. Yes, it’s a theoretical question. By force of what does the law have validity? What is the force of the law? That’s a question that of course interests jurists too, not only students of Jewish law. It’s a meta-legal question—it doesn’t matter—but it’s also an interesting question in that context. Maimonides in Laws of Kings is not speaking about a theoretical question. He is telling us how a person ought to approach fulfillment of Jewish law. A person who fulfills Jewish law should do so intending to fulfill the command of the Holy One, blessed be He, at Sinai. And like some commandments require intention—he has to intend, because otherwise it is not a commandment. That is a different statement from the one he makes in the Commentary on the Mishnah.
In any case, for our purposes—maybe one more interesting Maimonides if you want—
[Speaker D] —where you can also see this there.
[Speaker E] Even two interesting Maimonides passages. There is Maimonides in Laws of Repentance.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “A person should not say: I will fulfill the commandments of the Torah and engage in its wisdom in order that I may receive all the blessings written in it, or in order that I may merit life in the world to come; and I will separate from the transgressions about which the Torah warned in order that I may be saved from the curses written in the Torah, or that I not be cut off from life in the world to come. It is not fitting to serve God in this way, for one who serves in this way serves out of fear, and this is not the level of the prophets nor the level of the wise. And one serves God in this way only if he is one of the ignorant masses, women, and children, whom they train to serve out of fear until their knowledge increases and they serve out of love.” So basically one should serve God out of love and not not-for-its-own-sake, not for this or that purpose—reward and punishment or something like that. So what is it to serve out of love? Maimonides says this, law 2: “One who serves out of love engages in Torah and commandments and walks in the paths of wisdom, not because of anything in the world, not out of fear of evil, and not in order to inherit good, but does the truth because it is truth, and in the end good comes because of it. And this level is a very great level, and not every wise man attains it, and it is the level of our father Abraham, whom the Holy One, blessed be He, called ‘My beloved,’ because he served only out of love. And this is the level that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded us through Moses, as it says: ‘And you shall love the Lord your God.’ When a person loves God with the proper love, he will immediately perform all the commandments out of love.”
So how does Maimonides define service out of love here? To do the truth because it is truth.
[Speaker D] That’s called love? Love is some kind of emotional connection to things, no?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maimonides says no. You don’t do it because of emotional connection; you do the truth because it is truth. The Holy One, blessed be He, commanded, so you do what the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded. By the way, in law 3 there’s something that seemingly contradicts this. “And what is the proper love? It is that one love God with a great, exceeding, very intense love, until his soul is bound up in the love of God, and he is continually obsessed with it, like one lovesick, whose mind is never free from love of that woman, and he is obsessed with her constantly, whether sitting, rising, eating, or drinking. More than this should the love of God be in the hearts of His lovers, who are obsessed with Him constantly, as He commanded us: ‘with all your heart and with all your soul.’ And this is what Solomon said by way of metaphor: ‘for I am lovesick.’ And the whole Song of Songs is a metaphor for this matter.” So here he is already talking about feelings—even very intense feelings. In law 2 he said: what is proper love? To do the truth because it is truth—something completely cold, emotionless, not for utility, not for one goal or another. And here suddenly love is being constantly obsessed like one sick with love, like Song of Songs, yes—“for I am lovesick.” How does that fit with the previous law?
So here there is an interesting point. Very often we make a mistake when we project from parable to meaning too sweeping a correspondence. Sometimes a parable comes to illustrate something in the object of the parable, but that doesn’t mean they are identical in every respect. And very often when you take different details from the parable and apply them to the object of the parable, you make a mistake. Those details belong to the parable; they don’t belong to the thing being explained. The connection between parable and meaning is in certain aspects, not in all aspects. What I want to argue in light of laws 1 and 2 is that in law 3 Maimonides does not mean to say that serving God out of love means being lovesick like love between spouses, something emotional. It is a cold rational matter: to do the truth because it is truth. So what is all this example of Song of Songs and “I am lovesick”? It only tells you the level of intensity it should have. How much you need to be attached to the truth. It’s not a question of how strongly you’re supposed to feel it. It’s not supposed to be emotional. But it is supposed to accompany you all the time, to be intense like emotional loves are. It’s not that this itself is emotional love—it’s a metaphor. So in the metaphor it’s also emotional, but that aspect is not the aspect that links the parable to its meaning. The aspect that links them is the intensity, the force, but not necessarily emotional force. Fine, just a remark in parentheses. So that’s another Maimonides where you see that one needs to do the truth—
[Speaker D] —because it is truth, without any other motivations. The strongest Maimonides on this issue, in my opinion, is Maimonides in Laws of Idolatry, one of my favorites, chapter 3, law 6.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “One who worships idolatry out of love, for example because he desired this form on account of its workmanship, because it was especially beautiful, or who worshiped it out of fear of it, lest it do him harm, as its worshipers imagine that it does good and evil—if he accepted it as a god, he is liable to stoning. But if he worshiped it in its normal mode of worship, or by one of the four modes of worship, out of love or out of fear, he is exempt.” Up to here, what concerns us. This begins with a dispute in the Talmudic text in Sanhedrin between Abaye and Rava: what is the law regarding a person who served idolatry out of love or out of fear? Abaye said he is liable; Rava said he is exempt. And in disputes between Abaye and Rava, except for the six cases of Y-A-L K-G-M, the law follows Rava. Therefore all the decisors rule: idolatry out of love or fear—exempt. What does it mean, idolatry out of love or fear? The Raavad says: “And we explain this as out of love of a person and fear of a person, and not out of love of the idol nor fear of it.” Meaning, when the Talmudic text speaks about idolatry out of love or fear, the meaning is idolatry out of love and fear not of the idol itself but of a person. I serve the idol because I love a person, or I fear a person and want to please him. So therefore I serve the idol. For that you are exempt. Why does the Raavad explain it that way? That’s not the plain meaning of the Talmudic text.
[Speaker D] The plain meaning of the Talmudic text is love and fear of the idol itself. So what causes the Raavad to explain it this way, in your opinion?
[Speaker E] Maybe because you can’t love a fiction?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why not? If it’s possible to love the Holy One, blessed be He, whom you have not seen and do not experience directly, why can’t you do that toward some idol as well? I don’t see any reason that couldn’t happen. The simple understanding is this—and Rashi explains it that way too, and the Rivash, everyone. All the medieval authorities (Rishonim) except Maimonides. And why? After all, that’s not the plain meaning of the Talmudic text. Their problem is a substantive problem, not a psychological one. After all, if I worship the idol because I love it and fear it, that’s the most idolatrous thing in the world. How can such a thing not be idolatry? If I love it and fear it—exactly what I do in relation to the Holy One, blessed be He—I’m doing in relation to the idol. So that’s not idolatry? Then what is idolatry? Therefore they say: there is no choice; you have to explain the Talmudic text—one who serves idolatry out of love or fear means out of love and fear of a person, not love and fear of the idol. Because love and fear of the idol—that’s obviously full-fledged idolatry. That’s how the Raavad explains it; as I said, all the medieval authorities (Rishonim). But Maimonides doesn’t write that. In Maimonides it says this means love and fear of the idol itself.
[Speaker D] And then of course the question that comes up here is: if worshiping idolatry out of love and fear of the idol is not idolatry, then what is idolatry? What is idolatry for which—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —you are liable?
[Speaker C] If it commanded us—if we worship it because our motivation is that it commanded us. Exactly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This connects to all the Maimonides passages we’ve seen up to this point. If you worship idolatry out of love or out of fear, then you’re basically serving it from within, out of an inner identification, not because it commanded you and you are obligated by its command. That is not religious worship. The same is true with regard to the worship of God. One parallels the other. Even in the worship of God, if you serve the Holy One, blessed be He, out of love or out of fear, that is not complete worship of God, because you are really serving Him out of inner identification. Complete worship of God is when you serve Him because He commanded, by force of the command. Not because of love, not because of fear. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love Him and fear Him, as we saw in the Aglai Tal, as we saw in Maimonides in chapter six; there is a commandment to love God and to fear God. You need to love God and fear Him. But love and fear are not supposed to be the motivation by which you serve Him. You should serve Him because there is an obligation to fulfill His command. In Maimonides here, in this halakhah, the focus is on these words: if he accepted it upon himself as a god, he is liable. What does it mean to accept it as a god? Because if you accept the idol, accept it upon yourself as a god, then you are liable. If you worship it out of love or out of fear, you are exempt. What is the difference between accepting it as a god and worshiping out of love or fear? Accepting it as a god means: you are my god even if I hate you, I don’t love you, I’m not afraid of you, nothing at all, but you are my god. What does “god” mean? A god is someone who, when he says something, I carry it out. That is called a god. That is why, in the language of the Torah, judges are called gods. Why? Because with a judge, you have to do what he says because he said it; that is the authority of a judge. Therefore judges are called gods. “God” is defined as someone whose command has automatic or a priori validity. That is the definition of the concept of gods. So for example, if you—I don’t know—you’re driving on the road and you see a police officer, and you slow down to the legal speed. Did you worship idols?
[Speaker C] No. Why not? Absolutely not. Because I’m afraid of him. Why am I doing it?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because that is worship out of fear, right? Because it is worship out of fear. You’re basically saying: you do what he says—why? Because you fear that he’ll punish you. Therefore it is not idolatry. Meaning, anywhere you have a consideration, an interest, whatever it may be—even spiritual considerations, love and fear of God—as long as you have some consideration because of which you do the commandment or worship this god, then it’s not worship, it’s not religious worship. Religious worship is worship that is not dependent on any consideration at all; rather, the very recognition of him as a god obligates me to obey his commands. That’s it. That is called religious worship, both with respect to the Holy One, blessed be He, and with respect to idols. So once again we see that fulfilling commandments—I don’t do it because it is moral, I don’t do it because it is useful, certainly not for reward in the world to come; I do it because the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded. By force of the command. And a command of God is binding—that is the concept of God. The concept of God is that there is such a being whose commands obligate by virtue of the fact that He commanded them. I do not check—as in those midrashim where the Holy One, blessed be He, wanted to give the Torah, and He went around to the nations, and each nation asked what is written in it. He said to one: do not steal. Not for us, go to another nation. What is written in it? Do not rob, do not murder—it’s not for us. Do not commit adultery—it’s not for us. Until He came to the Jewish people, and the Jewish people said: we will do and we will hear. And about this, that heretic says to Rava in the Talmud in tractate Sabbath 88a: you rash people, who put your mouths before your ears. Yes, you are a rash people who put your mouth before your ear. First hear what is written in the Torah, and afterward say that you’re willing to obey. What do you mean, first we will do and afterward we will hear? What is the idea here? It’s the same idea as accepting as a god. When the Holy One, blessed be He, comes to the nations and says to them, do you want to receive the Torah, they want to check what is in it. Why? Because even if they decide to do it, they’ll do it because it seems to them the right thing. Moral, reasonable, fitting for them, whatever the reason may be. The Jewish people say: we will do and we will hear—and they don’t check. They buy a pig in a poke. They don’t inspect the contents of the sack. Why? Because their commitment is not contingent on the contents of the sack. I am obligated to keep the Torah not because its commands are correct, suit me, I love them, they speak to me—that’s not the point—but because the Holy One, blessed be He, said so. So why do I need to hear before I say we will do? We will do and we will hear. And it is exactly the same idea. So what we actually see in all these places is that the observance of the commandments, at base, is supposed to be observance by force of the command. And as I said earlier, this is true of moral commandments too. With moral commandments, Maimonides says there is value in my connecting to these commandments, that my natural inclination should be to do them, but the motivation for why I do them—even these commandments—should be the command and not the natural affinity. Meaning, commandments are done by force of command, and their value is religious value. Morality is something else. And here I’ll return now, from all this introduction—I’m closing the parentheses—back to the question of Jewish law and morality after we take a five-minute refreshment break. So, five minutes.
[Speaker E] Okay. Fine, friends, let’s get back to the cameras and the class.
[Speaker D] Okay, so now I want to return to the discussion of Jewish law and morality.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This dilemma of Jewish law and morality arises mainly with regard to laws that seemingly contradict moral principles. I think I gave examples, yes? Like the prohibition on mamzerim marrying. They didn’t do anything; their parents did what they did, and they got stuck with it—they and their descendants for all generations to the end. A priest’s wife who was raped has to separate from her husband. The killing of Amalekites, including babies. Saving a non-Jew on the Sabbath—desecrating the Sabbath to save the life of a non-Jew. All the questions of Jewish law and morality. How would, say, the Hazon Ish and Rabbi Kook solve these? Or the approaches that I attributed to the Hazon Ish and Rabbi Kook—what would they say about this? So Rabbi Kook would apparently say—not apparently, it’s what he says—that there is some higher morality here that we do not understand, but which is actually the true morality. What appears to us as morality—we are simply mistaken. It is presumed that the Torah does not produce something immoral. And therefore, if the Torah tells us this, then clearly this is the most moral solution or behavior possible. Of course, this is in a place where the Torah’s command cannot be interpreted differently; where it can be interpreted differently, then one can interpret it differently. But where it cannot, Rabbi Kook will tell us: no, no, this is a higher morality that the Torah reveals to us. I’ll make two comments on this. One comment is that Rabbi Kook, as is known, attributes importance to natural morality, to the natural moral feeling. And he is usually among those who do not accept that there is a Torah morality different from universal morality. The ordinary feelings that all human beings have regarding morality fit true morality. Natural feeling is the indicator of morality. We talked about this in the previous class when I spoke about the Binding of Isaac according to Rabbi Kook. Here we see that this is not so. In all the examples I brought earlier, natural feeling recoils; it says this is immoral. And Rabbi Kook tells us: true, but Jewish law teaches us that the real morality is actually found in the halakhic command. And then in some places he has all sorts of explanations; in certain places he even explains it—but let’s say the explanations are not very convincing, to put it mildly. That is Rabbi Kook’s approach. The Hazon Ish’s approach—again, I’m taking it in an extreme form, this is not the Hazon Ish, but if I take it to the extreme—says: why should I care? I’m not troubled by this at all. Jewish law is what determines things, and if morality says no, then morality is mistaken. Morality is mistaken not because there is some higher morality, but because morality is a category that doesn’t interest me. What determines things is Jewish law. Jewish law determines morality. Not that Jewish law is an indicator of morality. For Rabbi Kook, if Jewish law says this, then apparently this is also true morality. That is a claim. For the Hazon Ish, this is a definition. Meaning, if Jewish law says it, then by definition that is morality. Not that it reveals it to us and now go search for why it is really moral. No, there’s nothing to search for. Once Jewish law said it, it is by definition the moral thing. Okay? And again, I’m somewhat taking Rabbi Kook’s and the Hazon Ish’s names in vain, but I’m using them here only as labels for these two approaches I described earlier. These two approaches are very problematic in my eyes. The Hazon Ish approach is problematic—or what I attributed to the Hazon Ish—because the Torah certainly does expect us to conduct ourselves morally. It is not true that morality has no validity, that morality is unimportant. It says: and you shall do what is right and good. The Torah expects us to conduct ourselves morally. The Hazon Ish himself speaks about the fifth section of the Shulchan Arukh; I spoke about that. Rabbi Kook’s solution is even more outrageous because it basically causes me to deny something that is obviously true to me. How much can I fool myself? You’re going to tell me that ruining the mamzer for all generations is the most moral step possible? Seriously? This is like what I mentioned about Rabbi Dessler’s statement—I think I mentioned it in one of the classes, maybe the previous one or the one before—that in a place where it is permitted to lie—for after all, Torah scholars are accustomed to alter the truth in three matters—so there are things where it is permissible to lie. He says that in those places where it is permitted to lie, it is not a lie at all, because a lie is… Of course, one can relate to this as a semantic trick, a semantic maneuver. But in truth it is an outrageous semantic trick. It is outrageous because it is obvious that it is a lie. It’s just that the prohibition on lying is overridden by another value that supersedes it. You can’t say that you didn’t lie, including perhaps the effects that lying has on the soul. At the end of the day, a lie is something that does not fit reality. That is called a lie. The fact that it is permitted, or even a commandment, to lie does not mean that the thing is not a lie. You can’t play games with these definitions; otherwise we have turned them into something completely arbitrary. When you tell me that killing babies who did nothing to me, or embittering mamzerim for all generations, or separating a priest’s wife who was raped from the priest whom both she and he love, and their children too, and she has undergone trauma and now they put her through another trauma—then you come and tell me that these are the most moral solutions, the most moral behaviors there are? Then you have turned morality into a dead letter. It is empty of content; we all understand that this is not true. So how long can one cling to these empty slogans and say no, no, there is some divine higher morality here which is really above everything and you don’t understand, actually this is morality in its purest form. Have you all gone completely mad? This thing is blatantly immoral, that’s all. It’s nonsense, truly, pardon my—it’s just infuriating, these ridiculous statements. I understand why people say them. They say them because it really bothers people—how can it be that the Torah commands us to do things that are blatantly immoral? The Holy One, blessed be He, is good. The Lord is good to all, and His mercies are over all His works. So how can it be that the Holy One, blessed be He, commands us to do things that are blatantly immoral? Therefore the escape route is either to say that morality is an atheistic category, as Leibowitz said—doesn’t interest me, only Jewish law determines—or to say that there is some higher morality which is the true morality, and we are simply confused if we think these things are not moral. That is throwing sand in people’s eyes. So in short: I understand the distress, but the solution to this distress does not really solve it. So let me tell you the solution that I think is correct for this problem, and here I come to the model I propose for the relation between Jewish law and morality. I already mentioned that Leibowitz said morality is an atheistic category. Meaning, morality obligates all human beings; even people who do not believe are generally obligated morally. They are good people who behave morally regardless of whether they believe in God, are obligated in commandments, or things like that. And then he says: morality is an atheistic category. I think that statement, in its simple sense, is unacceptable. It is unacceptable for two reasons. First, because as I said before, the Torah itself writes that it expects us to behave morally. And you shall do what is right and good, you shall be holy, yes? And the Torah’s stories. It is clear that the Torah expects us to behave morally. You cannot detach this from the Torah. And second, it is also a theological problem, I would say. Because it basically means that I am obligated to two normative systems, one of which is connected to the Holy One, blessed be He, and the other is not. In an essential way this is idolatry in partnership. I am obligated to two sources of authority: one is the Holy One, blessed be He, and another one as well—the source of authority underlying morality. So I am basically worshiping two gods. Now I don’t care at the moment who exactly this god is that underlies morality. I think there has to be one, but that is a philosophical question I don’t want to get into here. Right now I don’t care who it is. Whatever it may be, what gives morality its validity is some kind of factor to which I feel obligated. Because the fact is I obey; I think I am obligated to the rules of morality. So that means I am obligated to another god besides the Holy One, blessed be He. That is idolatry in partnership. I even wonder whether this is really an actual prohibition of idolatry—not just some aspect of idolatry, the idea of idolatry, but maybe actual idolatry. Why? Because idolatry can also be said of something abstract. Or of a stone. Or of a person. Anyone to whom you give unconditional validity, you have essentially turned into a god. Remember accepting as a god? And once you give unconditional validity to something that is not the Holy One, blessed be He, you have turned it into another god. That is idolatry in partnership. You have basically accepted upon yourself as a god this source that gives authority to moral rules. Fine, so there is room to deliberate a bit about that; I don’t want to get into it now. But in principle, this is a problematic approach. I want to take Leibowitz’s approach and improve it. And I want to make the following claim—maybe before the claim, I’ll divide Jewish law into three categories. One category is anti-moral laws, like the examples I gave earlier, laws that seem opposed to the instructions of morality, to moral values. The second category is moral laws that fit moral rules: do not murder, do not steal, honor your father and your mother, love your fellow as yourself, charity, and all the other things. So those are the moral laws. And the third category is a-moral laws. By a-moral laws I mean laws that are not connected to morality, neither for nor against. The prohibition on eating pork, ritual impurity and purity, sacrifices, and things like that—many laws are neither moral nor anti-moral; they are unrelated. Ritual laws, I don’t know what to call them. Earlier we spoke about Maimonides’ distinction between commandments based on hearing and commandments based on reason, so here too I am making a similar distinction. Now I want to begin specifically with the third category, the a-moral laws. With the a-moral laws, when I ask myself what they are for, what they come to do, and I remove from the table the option that they come to do nothing and are simply scriptural decrees with no purpose at all—Maimonides also writes about this in the Guide and says there are people who think that if they say the commandments have no reasons, they are glorifying the commandments, yes? They are making the Holy One, blessed be He, greater. He says this is a great mistake. To say the commandments have no reasons is to reduce the Holy One, blessed be He, to smaller than even human beings. Any normal person, you assume that if he commands you to do something, he wants to achieve something with it, right? You don’t say things for no reason. And does the Holy One, blessed be He, say things for no reason? Without any will to achieve? Without anything? Then you have made Him smaller than His creatures, so says Maimonides. In other words, there must be reasons for the commandments. We do not always understand them, but there must be some reasons. The commandments are not something arbitrary that we simply do for no reason. He comes to achieve something, to give some benefit. So if I assume that, then I ask myself what kind of benefit the a-moral laws are meant to achieve. Moral laws—you can tell me they are meant to achieve moral benefit, social repair, something like that. But the a-moral laws—what do they come to achieve? Simply speaking, the a-moral laws come to achieve religious goals. Not moral goals, contrary to what Rabbi Kook writes. Religious goals. And these are not moral goals; they are goals of another type. All kinds of—who knows—repairing the eternity within the foundation, whatever, increasing the holiness or spirituality of the world, all kinds of slogans, not important. What I mean is: they are not meant to achieve social repair; they are not meant to achieve what morality wants to achieve. That is the simple conception. Therefore Rabbi Kook, for example, in Nevukhei HaDor tries to offer some moral explanation for the prohibition on eating pork. And it is so lame that it really—I don’t know—it’s almost pitiful, those explanations. Like commandment-reasons generally. Also in Maimonides’ Guide and in commentators on the Torah—reasons, we all understand these are reasons that don’t really hold water. Certainly they don’t fit the details and not something really serious, let’s put it that way. So the more plausible explanation for a-moral laws like the prohibition on eating pork is apparently that eating pork dulls the soul, turns us into something spiritually lower, less holy, however we want to call it. And that is the purpose of the a-moral laws. We have learned from this that there are at least two kinds of values in the world. There are moral values and there are religious values. Morality comes to achieve a proper society, moral values, not hurting people, and so on. Jewish law, or religion, comes to achieve religious values that are not moral values; it is something else. It comes to repair the universe and not humanity, not human society, but who knows what. If I arrive at this conclusion, then the solution to contradictions between Jewish law and morality is simple to the point of absurdity. There is no question at all, no need for a solution. After all, let’s say they tell me that a mamzer may not enter the congregation of the Lord, may not marry. One asks: but this is not moral. Rabbi Kook: no, no, there is some higher morality here that we do not understand, but this is actually the most moral instruction. Not convincing. So what then? I want to argue that the prohibition on a mamzer marrying is a prohibition whose purpose is religious, not moral. It has a religious purpose. If a mamzer marries, there is some spiritual defect in the world, in the person, in the world, whatever you want, in the eternity within the splendor, whatever. Okay? And therefore a mamzer may not marry. This has nothing to do with society and punishment and social or moral repair and so on; it belongs to the religious dimension. What should we do now with the fact that this command is an immoral command? The answer is that sometimes achieving the religious value requires harming the moral value. That’s the reality. Notice that I am not at all trying to reconcile it and show why it is moral, or say I don’t care about morality. I care very much about morality, but I also care about Jewish law, or about religious values. And sometimes achieving the religious value contradicts the possibility of achieving the moral value, and then I am in conflict. And sometimes in that conflict the religious value prevails, and then I do this act despite the fact that it is immoral. Not because it is moral—it is not—but I do it despite the fact that it is immoral. Think of it as a conflict between two moral values. Or saving a life on the Sabbath. When they tell me that saving a life overrides the Sabbath, what does that mean? That I don’t care about the Sabbath? Certainly not. I still care about the Sabbath, but I care no less about saving lives. And what can we do—there are situations in which, in order to save lives, one must pay the price of desecrating the Sabbath. There is no choice. There is a conflict between the two values, and one must decide: if I fulfill value A, value B will be harmed; if I fulfill value B, value A will be harmed. I cannot fulfill both. So since I am obligated to both, I am in conflict. A conflict has to be resolved somehow; I resolve it in favor of value A. Of course, this means I end up harming value B. That does not mean I don’t care about it. The same thing here. I say: my condolences to the mamzer, my deep sorrow for what he goes through. What Jewish law does to him is blatantly immoral, but it is necessary in order to achieve the religious goal, and therefore there is no choice but to do this immoral act. That does not mean it is moral to do it. It is not moral, because in the moral prism there is some negative value, and in the religious prism there is some positive value. This is the simplest and most sensible solution to contradictions between Jewish law and morality, not apologetics that explain to me that it is actually very moral. No, it is not moral, absolutely immoral, morally wicked. But I have no choice. When I want to perform surgery on a person, sometimes it hurts him. Or chemotherapy causes a great deal of suffering, but you can’t treat cancer without it. So in order to heal the cancer, or try to heal it, I have to make him suffer—what can I do? So does that mean I am indifferent to his suffering? Or that I am not obligated to moral rules not to cause people suffering? Of course I am obligated. But the value of healing him overrides the value of not causing him suffering. The religious value I want to achieve overrides the moral value that is harmed here. That’s all, without trying to reconcile the—
[Speaker D] —fact that it is moral, just, simply.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] For example, when they appointed the last chief military rabbi—I forgot his name, Rabbi Karim, I think, right? Is he the chief military rabbi now? I don’t even remember his name anymore. Yes. So when they appointed him, someone pulled out of the attic, if you remember, some statement of his about raping captives. A student asked him whether it is permitted to rape captive women—here, the passage of the beautiful captive woman. And of course there was a whole celebration of apologetics there at every turn. No, it was taken out of context, and he meant this here, and he didn’t intend to say that, and today it’s irrelevant, and all sorts of tricks. None of that solves anything. It’s true—raping captive women is permitted; it is written in the Torah. So what can we do? Isn’t that an immoral command? So what? My claim is that Jewish law does not intend to be moral, it has no interest in being moral, it is not trying to be moral. Morality is an independent category—not atheistic as Leibowitz said, but independent. And Jewish law is an independent category. Jewish law comes to achieve religious goals. And this permission to rape a captive woman—incidentally, there are those who want to claim that it means not rape but intercourse without coercion, but the plain meaning of the Torah and the plain meaning of the decisors is that it includes coercion. So this permission is a permission from the religious standpoint. If you ask me whether it is moral—the answer is unequivocally no, it is immoral. The religious prohibition does not exist in such a situation. By the way, if you notice there, all that troubles the Torah commentators is how intercourse with a non-Jewish woman was permitted. The moral issue doesn’t trouble them at all. What troubles them is the halakhic issue. After all, there is a prohibition against intercourse with a non-Jewish woman. How was it permitted? Because of war, it was permitted. Why are they not troubled at all by the moral question? You are raping a woman you took captive. Why? It doesn’t bother them. I argue that it doesn’t bother them because Jewish law does not deal with the moral plane. Jewish law deals with the religious plane. By the way, in the context of the beautiful captive woman, when they say it is permitted to rape them, they mean there is no religious prohibition on it. But that certainly does not mean there is no moral prohibition on it. And therefore one can certainly say: you are right, from the standpoint of Jewish law there is no prohibition, but morally it is forbidden, and therefore the law will forbid it. Even the law of a halakhic state will forbid it. It will not forbid it as a halakhic prohibition; it will forbid it as a moral prohibition. And in this case there is no obligation to rape her; it is only permission. In the case of a mamzer, he is prohibited from marrying. There I cannot reconcile both things. So the prohibition on marriage is immoral; I argue that the religious purpose justifies the harm to the moral value. In the case of the beautiful captive woman, you are not obligated to rape her. It is merely permitted for you; the halakhic prohibition was not stated there. Okay? Since that is so, one can certainly say: fine, but the moral prohibition still stands. And therefore it is forbidden to rape a beautiful captive woman because of the moral prohibition, even though there is no halakhah prohibiting it. This is my claim: these two categories, the religious and the moral, are independent. Only unlike Leibowitz, I argue that this does not mean morality is an atheistic category. Morality too is written in “and you shall do what is right and good.” Morality is written in the Torah. The Torah expects us to be moral, but that is not Jewish law—that is the Torah. Two different things. The Torah expects us to be moral, and the Torah expects us to keep Jewish law. Keeping Jewish law means achieving religious goals, and being moral means achieving goals of moral social repair. And these are two independent categories, and the Torah expects us to do both of them. Notice that none of the enumerators of the commandments counts “and you shall do what is right and good” among the commandments. Why not? There is a command: and you shall do what is right and good. Because they understand that this is not a halakhic command; it is a moral expectation. It is not a halakhic command. Morality is a category independent of Jewish law. Jewish law does not try to be moral or anti-moral or anything else. Jewish law works with its own mechanisms to achieve religious goals. And as for moral goals—that is morality’s responsibility. And the Torah expects us to do both of these things: to be moral and to be religious, to keep Jewish law and to uphold morality. Sometimes there is a conflict. And when there is a conflict, one has to decide which prevails. By the way, Jewish law does not always prevail. Maybe we’ll talk about that in the next class. Jewish law does not always prevail.
[Speaker D] But here there is a conflict between two values that I am obligated to both of them.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The example—the example of this, yes, my favorite chocolate example. There is an argument between two people whether it is advisable to eat chocolate. One says it is worth eating because it tastes very good. The second says it isn’t worth it because it makes you gain weight. Who is right? They are both right. It both tastes good and makes you gain weight. And in fact, essentially, everything that tastes good makes you gain weight, and everything that makes you gain weight tastes good. They go together. What are called Murphy’s culinary laws. So if they are both right, what do I do in the end? Well, if pleasure ranks higher for me than aesthetics or health, then I eat. If aesthetics and health rank higher than pleasure, then I don’t eat. But obviously I can want both pleasure and health. I just can’t achieve both this and that. Two different things. I want both, I believe in both, I am obligated to both. But there are situations in which fulfilling this one does not allow me to fulfill the other. And here I have to decide either to eat the chocolate and gain weight or not to eat the chocolate and not enjoy it. But I cannot both enjoy and be healthy. It doesn’t work, at least in this case, usually. So what I want to illustrate here is that the fact that Jewish law supposedly gives certain instructions—some of those instructions being not moral—does not mean that the Holy One, blessed be He, does not care about morality or that the Holy One, blessed be He, is not moral. Of course He is moral, of course He cares about morality. He also commands and expects us to behave morally. But at the same time He also cares about achieving religious goals. And sometimes the commandments intended to achieve the religious goals cost us by trampling the moral goals. What can we do? It is a contradiction; you cannot fulfill both. Now the criticism of a secular person—when a secular person sees such a thing, there was once a chemist in Jerusalem named Professor Shahak in the 1960s and 70s in the previous century, and he would publish all kinds of provocative cases against religion because he was anti-religious. He published that religious Jews passed by a non-Jew whose life was in danger and did not desecrate the Sabbath to save him, or that a priest’s wife who was raped and the rabbis ruled that she must separate from her husband—after she had undergone one trauma they put her through another trauma—all kinds of such statements. In the end some of these things were journalistic ducks, they never happened, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. But the truth is, he was right. What difference does it make if it never happened? This is the truth; this is what Jewish law says. So when I had debates about these things with non-religious people, I told them: look, they ask me, tell me, don’t you have a heart? Aren’t you committed to morality? How can Jewish law require this woman to separate from her husband after she was raped and went through this trauma? And my answer was that morality matters no less to the Torah and to the decisors than it does to you, except that the religious aspect also matters to them. And therefore preserving the sanctity of the priesthood requires the priest’s wife who was raped to separate from her husband, because that is what the Torah says; otherwise it harms the priest’s sanctity. True, this is an act that harms them very deeply on the human and moral plane, but achieving the religious gain requires us to pay in moral currency. Does that mean I am not committed to morality or that it is not important to me? Of course not—like the chocolate. I am committed to both this and that, but I am in conflict. You, as a secular person, morality matters to you but the religious value does not, so of course you won’t do it. You won’t do it not because morality matters more to you than to me. Morality does not matter more to you than to me; morality matters to me exactly as much as to you. But other things matter to me too—the religious values matter to me as well. And sometimes, because I have more values in my Cyclone—my bag, let’s say—I am in more conflicts than you are, and sometimes in those conflicts I have to choose one value and it will trample another value. That’s the reality. Therefore the secular criticism of these things stems from a lack of understanding. They claim that the Torah is not moral, but that is not true. The Torah strives to achieve religious goals; sometimes that has a price in moral currency, but the Torah does want morality, it does expect us to be moral exactly like any other person in the world. There is no inferiority here of the moral value compared to the secular world. I want to conclude with the first category. This is an interesting point. The first category in Jewish law is the category of moral laws. I spoke about the a-moral laws, which come to achieve religious goals. The anti-moral laws—that is the second category. I said: the contradiction does not trouble me now, because Jewish law comes to achieve religious goals, and morality is harmed because moral values here stand in conflict with the religious value. Not because this is moral behavior—it is not. What happens with the moral laws? I argue that this has implications there as well. My claim is that the command do not murder has nothing to do with morality in any way. Not do not steal, not honor your father and your mother, not do not murder—none of these things. Not love your fellow as yourself. None of these things has anything to do with morality. I argue that morality says these things in a way that preceded the Torah. Earlier we spoke about Maimonides in his commentary on the Mishnah in Hullin. There are things that I fulfill by force of a command—or by force of an expectation—from before the Torah, and that is morality. The laws are fulfilled by force of the command at Sinai, as Maimonides said. Now I’m spelling that out. When I do not murder, I do it for two reasons—or the prohibition of murder consists of two layers: the moral layer, it is forbidden to murder; and the religious layer, the prohibition of do not murder. Two different layers. The prohibition do not murder does not come to give me a moral message; it has nothing to do with morality. It comes to tell me that whoever murders is not only a moral criminal; he is also a religious criminal. He also damages the eternity within the splendor, not only damages society and social and human morality. That is the purpose of do not murder. Now look, there are discussions in Sanhedrin that talk about, say, constricting someone, or bringing the thing close to the fire, all kinds of things like that. Meaning, all kinds of cases where you murder in such a way that you are exempt. Through indirect causation, with your left hand, you ignite the fire and tie him there and leave, and he burns. So you are exempt. Exempt from what? I ask you, morally is there any difference between that and sticking a knife into him? No difference at all. You are a murderer. You performed an action that clearly was going to kill him, and it did in fact kill him in the end, so you are a murderer. When they say you are exempt, the meaning is that you did not violate the religious prohibition, but the moral prohibition you certainly did violate. There is no difference whether you did it indirectly, with the left hand, by constricting, however you want. None at all. It changes nothing. All these parameters are religious-halakhic parameters, not moral parameters. And therefore there is a difference in the definition of the moral commandments. When you enter into their religious definition, their halakhic definition, you discover that it does not overlap with the moral definition. Why not? Because this is a religious command, not a moral command. The moral command is exactly as all human beings understand: even if you murder with your left hand, you are a murderer. You are equally wicked in the moral sense. But as for the religious command, that depends on the halakhic definitions. And if you did not do it according to the halakhic definitions, then you did not violate do not murder. You violated murder in its moral sense, not the halakhic prohibition against murder. The same with theft, the same with all the other prohibitions. With honor your father and your mother, by the way, there is the opposite. Jewish law is much stricter than morality. In murder, Jewish law is more lenient. In honoring parents, Jewish law is more stringent. There are obligations toward father and mother that no normal person thinks one ought to do. They take my wallet and throw it into the sea, and I have to keep quiet. It is written in the Shulchan Arukh. No one would say such a thing morally—what are you talking about? Why should I give up my money because my father had a fit? Because Jewish law does not come to tell me the boundaries of morality. Jewish law speaks about religious values and the way to achieve them. It does not speak about morality. Sometimes this is more stringent, sometimes more lenient, but it is an independent category. And if I summarize what I have said now about the three halakhic categories—the moral, the anti-moral, and the a-moral—the final picture I want to propose is the following: morality and Jewish law are two religious categories, neither of them atheistic. Two independent religious categories. Morality is part of the Torah, but it is not part of Jewish law. Jewish law does not deal with morality; it deals with achieving religious values. No—it has nothing to do with morality. Morality deals with repairing society. And sometimes there is a clash between them. And when there is a clash between them, one has to decide; I am in conflict. But even if I decide against morality and in favor of the religious value, that does not mean I don’t care about morality. And if Jewish law says that killing in a certain way does not violate do not murder, that does not mean Jewish law does not regard me as a moral murderer. Of course I am a moral murderer; I just did not violate the religious level of the prohibition, the do not murder, the verse. That is why this verse is also needed. After all, the Torah—the Holy One, blessed be He—came with claims against Cain long before the Torah was given. Where is Abel your brother? The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground. There was not yet any command against murder. So what does He want from Cain? Clearly He came to him with a moral claim. Fine—so if that was clear beforehand, then why do we need the verse do not murder? Why was it written? Isn’t this obvious, isn’t it self-evident by reason? No. Not self-evident. Because the verse do not murder does not say that it is immoral to murder. It says that murder is also a religious offense, and that I would not know by reason if there were no verse. Therefore all these questions about why such things were written if they are obvious also fall away on their own in light of the picture I am describing here. Fine, I’ll stop here. In the next class I’ll complete the issue of Jewish law and morality, and that will be our final class. And we’ll finish it there.
[Speaker B] Thank you very much. Thank you very much. Sabbath peace. Sabbath peace.
[Speaker E] You were. You were.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You were.