Topics in Halakhic Thought – Lesson 20
This transcription was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- Introduction to changes in Jewish law and the question of authority
- Mixing substantive arguments with authority arguments and the example of women’s testimony
- Illusory correlations, politics, and the conversion controversy
- Practicing intellectual honesty and the possible substantive connection between the levels
- Formal authority according to Maimonides: the Sanhedrin and the Talmud
- The contradiction in chapter 2 and the distinction between Torah-level and rabbinic law
- “Authority-bypassing” routes: interpretation, acceptance, and the claim of error
- Maimonides and omitted laws: the evil eye, demons, and evil spirit
- The Raavad’s objection, when the reason ceases, and the decline of the generations
- A summary about Rabbi Akiva
- A fence around the Torah and the distinction between uprooting for generations and uprooting temporarily
- Emergency ruling as an authoritative route even nowadays, and courts that punish extrajudicially
- The boundaries of honesty in temporary suspension and the example of women’s testimony
- A fixed time versus “forever” and illustrating the idea of temporariness
- “Do not add” and “do not subtract” and the distinction between Torah law and a fence
- Conclusion about “there is no authority” and the scope of possibilities for change
- The ethical example and permitting killing as an uprooting through positive action for the needs of the hour
Summary
General Overview
The text draws a distinction between a substantive discussion of whether a change in Jewish law is legitimate or even required, and a separate discussion about the authority to carry out such a change in practice. It argues that in reality the two levels tend to become connected, because the willingness to use “authority-bypassing” mechanisms depends on how strongly one is convinced of the substantive need for change. The author analyzes Maimonides’ position in the Laws of Rebels regarding the authority of the Sanhedrin, the difference between changing Torah-level law and rabbinic law, and the limits on canceling enactments even when their rationale no longer applies. From there he develops practical routes for change even in the absence of a Sanhedrin, through interpretation, the claim of error, and above all “temporary uprooting” for the needs of the time. On that basis he argues that the claim that “there is no authority” does not always block change, because Jewish law contains very broad tools when the goal is to strengthen religion and close breaches, so long as honesty is preserved in distinguishing between setting law for generations and an emergency ruling or temporary suspension.
Introduction to changes in Jewish law and the question of authority
The example of swimsuits illustrates that the justifications for changing Jewish law can actually arise from a desire not to change, because loyalty to tradition sometimes requires changing the implementation when life circumstances change. The text states that even if change is possible or required conceptually, a separate claim can still arise that there is no practical authority to change anything in the absence of a Sanhedrin and ordained judges. The text argues that a sharp separation between the substantive level and the authority level does not reflect actual practice, because the readiness to look for an authoritative solution grows the more the change seems necessary for the observance of Jewish law and for doing God’s will.
Mixing substantive arguments with authority arguments and the example of women’s testimony
The text describes how, when a proposal comes up such as validating women for testimony, objections and justifications immediately get mixed together between arguments on the merits and authority arguments, such as the claim that this is a ruling of the Talmud and cannot be disputed without a Sanhedrin. The text explains that the questions are indeed independent in their pure form, but in practice people recruit arguments from every direction to support the conclusion they want. The text connects this to the fact that authoritative bypass mechanisms are sometimes not perfectly “glatt,” and the willingness to use them depends on how certain one is of the necessity of the change.
Illusory correlations, politics, and the conversion controversy
The text presents the idea of “illusory correlations” through a sticker from the Rabin era that read, “Rabin has no mandate to return the Golan,” and distinguishes between the question of the political morality of changing policy without a renewed mandate and the separate diplomatic-security question of whether it is right to agree to return the Golan. The text argues that although these are two independent questions that should have generated four possible positions, in practice only two camps emerged because of ideology and lack of honesty. The text applies this to the conversion controversy after the Ashdod religious court invalidated the conversions overseen by Rabbi Druckman and sent thousands of converts back to the status of gentiles “like the dust of the earth,” and describes how, although many positions should have existed based on the range of factual and halakhic questions, the public split into only two camps, and camp pressure imposed uniform answers.
Practicing intellectual honesty and the possible substantive connection between the levels
The text recommends practicing a systematic analysis of disputes by breaking them down into sub-questions and deciding each one separately, in order to discover that the opposing position may be more legitimate than it first appears. The text argues that there are cases in which a substantive link arises between the question of authority and the substantive question, because when an authoritative solution is marginal, the decision whether to use it depends on the substantive consideration. The text emphasizes that an honest presentation of one’s position requires admitting uncertainty about authority and certainty or uncertainty about the need for change, and not presenting the connection between the questions as though it were necessary.
Formal authority according to Maimonides: the Sanhedrin and the Talmud
The text states, following Maimonides, Laws of Rebels chapter 1, that formal authority exists only for the Sanhedrin, and that no “leading halakhic decisor of the generation” possesses formal authority requiring obedience merely by virtue of having spoken; at most he is an expert whose likelihood of being right is high. The text adds that the Talmud has binding force because the Jewish people accepted it upon themselves, and cites the Kesef Mishneh, who explains that from the sealing of the Mishnah and the Talmud onward, the people “upheld and accepted” not to dispute the earlier authorities, and not because they are supposedly incapable of error. The text notes the Rosh and the Shulchan Arukh, Choshen Mishpat section 25, as sources for the idea that after the Talmud there are no similar formal authorities.
The contradiction in chapter 2 and the distinction between Torah-level and rabbinic law
The text presents an apparent contradiction in Maimonides, Laws of Rebels chapter 2: in law 1, any high court of its generation may dispute an earlier high court; in law 2, one cannot cancel a decree, enactment, or custom that spread throughout all Israel unless the later court is “greater than the earlier one in wisdom and number.” The text cites the Kesef Mishneh, who distinguishes between Torah-level law and rabbinic law, and offers a principled explanation: in Torah-level law, the issue is a dispute over interpreting the Torah, so this is not really a rebellion against the authority of the earlier court; whereas in rabbinic law, the issue is legislation by the sages, and canceling it is an undermining of their authority, so greater wisdom and number are required. The text emphasizes that Maimonides rules that even if “the rationale has ceased,” one may not cancel a rabbinic enactment that spread widely except under this condition, and explains that “number” includes the number of sages of the generation who accepted it and did not dispute it, not only the seventy-one members of the Sanhedrin. It brings the example of Rabbi Akiva, who did not sit on the Sanhedrin because he was the son of converts.
“Authority-bypassing” routes: interpretation, acceptance, and the claim of error
The text states that the severe constraints apply when the law was set by an institution to which “do not deviate” applies, or by the accepted Talmud, but when a rule was established by medieval authorities (Rishonim) or later authorities (Acharonim) through interpretation, one may dispute it as interpretation rather than as a “change in Jewish law.” The text adds another route when it becomes clear that the factual basis was mistaken from the outset, such as erroneous scientific reasoning; in that case the matter resembles a mistaken transaction and is not defined as change but as annulment from the root. The text gives examples such as overnight-drawn water, the louse that supposedly does not reproduce sexually, and the dispute over violating the Sabbath to save an eye and how it depends on a medical rationale that may turn out to have been mistaken.
Maimonides and omitted laws: the evil eye, demons, and evil spirit
The text argues that Maimonides consistently omits laws that depend on the evil eye and spirits, such as “A person may not stand over his fellow’s field when the grain is standing,” stated in Bava Batra because of the evil eye, as well as formulations about an evil spirit in the laws of handwashing. The text cites Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides’ defense that reality changed, but argues that this defense actually sharpens the difficulty according to Maimonides himself, because if a rationale ceases, authority of a court greater in wisdom and number is still required. The text suggests that Maimonides viewed this as an original error rather than a change in reality, and adds a strained possibility of distinguishing between the Sanhedrin, which has “do not deviate,” and the Talmud, which is binding by force of public acceptance.
The Raavad’s objection, when the reason ceases, and the decline of the generations
The text cites the Raavad’s objection to Maimonides from the passage in Beitzah about “adorning the streets of Jerusalem with fruits,” which Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai canceled after the destruction because the rationale had ceased. The text explains that the Raavad sees this as proof that one may cancel when the reason no longer applies even without being greater than the earlier authorities in wisdom and number, and notes that the Raavad’s assumption that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was not greater than the earlier authorities rests on the notion of the decline of the generations. The text argues that if the decline of the generations were absolute, the law requiring a court “greater in wisdom and number” would become a dead letter, and concludes that it is reasonable that a later court can in fact be greater than an earlier one, otherwise the law itself is impractical.
A summary about Rabbi Akiva
The text summarizes that Rabbi Akiva is the root of the whole structure of the Oral Torah, as stated in Sanhedrin 86a: “An unattributed Mishnah is Rabbi Meir… and all of them are according to Rabbi Akiva.” The text describes how Rabbi Akiva “saved the Torah” after the death of his twenty-four thousand students by establishing five new students in the south, who rebuilt Torah anew. The text emphasizes his ability to see in “every tiny point of every letter” an entire world of laws and to connect details to the whole, with the central principle being “Love your fellow as yourself.”
A fence around the Torah and the distinction between uprooting for generations and uprooting temporarily
The text cites Laws of Rebels chapter 2 law 3, according to which prohibitions decreed “to make a fence around the Torah” and accepted throughout all Israel cannot be uprooted even if a later court is greater than the earlier one. The text emphasizes law 4, according to which even these things may be uprooted “temporarily,” even by a court smaller than the earlier one, because there are no rabbinic decrees stricter than Torah law itself, which may be suspended by emergency ruling. The text quotes Maimonides on courts that punish not according to the regular law and on canceling a positive commandment or violating a prohibition in order “to bring many back to the religion” or “to save many in Israel from stumbling,” and compares this to a doctor amputating a limb to save the body, and to the saying, “Profane one Sabbath for him so that he may keep many Sabbaths.”
Emergency ruling as an authoritative route even nowadays, and courts that punish extrajudicially
The text argues that the ability to suspend Jewish law temporarily does not specifically require a Sanhedrin, and bases this on the fact that Maimonides derives it from the mechanism of “courts that punish not according to the law,” which is an authority of every court in every generation. The text cites the Shulchan Arukh, Choshen Mishpat section 2, which rules that “every court, even if they are not ordained in the Land of Israel,” may judge and punish for the needs of the hour, even without complete testimony, in order “to fence the breaches of the generation.” The text concludes that this is governmental-communal authority that does not depend on ordination, and therefore allows temporary suspension of laws, both Torah-level and rabbinic, when the times require it.
The boundaries of honesty in temporary suspension and the example of women’s testimony
The text sets a limit of honesty: temporary suspension is not a tool for disguising a principled disagreement with the Talmud or with an earlier court, but a tool for responding to an exigency of the time and to a real breach. The text applies this to women’s testimony and formulates the dilemma: is this a need of the hour that justifies temporarily suspending the disqualification, or is it a principled change in the law, which is impossible without authority? The text argues that a temporary suspension can de facto continue “until the end of all generations” so long as in each generation it is determined that the need still exists, without rewriting the law itself but rather as a “black slide” laid over the existing clause.
A fixed time versus “forever” and illustrating the idea of temporariness
The text compares this to the laws of conditions in a bill of divorce, where a condition “forever” undermines the requirement of severance, but a condition for a fixed time—even a very long one, like three hundred years—is still essentially not eternal, even if in practice it is unrealistic. The text uses this comparison to argue that even a long-term suspension remains defined as “temporary” so long as it is formulated as an emergency ruling and not as setting law for generations. The text clarifies that in every generation, a court would have to decide whether to keep the suspension in place or remove it.
“Do not add” and “do not subtract” and the distinction between Torah law and a fence
The text cites Laws of Rebels chapter 2 law 9 and explains that the warning “You shall not add to it and you shall not subtract from it” applies when one adds or subtracts and establishes it “forever” as Torah law. The text illustrates this with meat and milk: the Torah forbids meat of domesticated and wild animals cooked in milk, while poultry with milk is permitted by Torah law, and if a court were to forbid poultry and say that it is forbidden by Torah law, that would be “adding”; but if it says that it is permitted by Torah law and forbids it by decree “to make a fence around the Torah,” that is not “do not add.” The text connects this as well to temporary suspension, and argues that there is no violation of “do not add” because the wording of the law for generations is not being changed; rather, a practical instruction is being given for the present time together with an explicit declaration of its nature.
Conclusion about “there is no authority” and the scope of possibilities for change
The text concludes by arguing that claims of authority mainly block change that is based on a principled disagreement with earlier generations or with Talmudic law, but they do not block broad actions of emergency ruling and temporary suspension when Jewish law creates a contemporary problem and there is a need to repair a breach. The text requires that the court be recognized and accepted by the public, but emphasizes that there are “many authorities” even in our day, and that such mechanisms are not merely theoretical but have existed in the past. The text promises that further examples and additional mechanisms of change will be presented later to show how this is done in practice.
The ethical example and permitting killing as an uprooting through positive action for the needs of the hour
The text brings from the Talmud in Bava Kamma the law that it is permitted to kill an informer under the law of a pursuer, and even extends this to an informer about money, describing it as a severe permission for murder through positive action without an explicit biblical source. The text explains that this accords with the principle that when the times require it, a Torah law may be uprooted temporarily even through positive action, and notes that there are medieval authorities (Rishonim), among them the Raavad in Baalei HaNefesh, who write this explicitly, even though Talmudic law is more commonly associated with passive omission. The text emphasizes that this is a case in which the Amoraim themselves acted this way, and concludes that this illustrates the principle that for the needs of the hour and for closing a breach, “everything can be done” within the framework of an emergency ruling.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay. Last time I finished the introduction, the conceptual introduction, let’s call it that, to the topic of changes in Jewish law. I spoke about the example of swimsuits to show that the justifications for changing Jewish law can actually be based דווקא on a desire not to change, on a desire to continue the tradition, and changing circumstances dictate a change in how it is implemented. And therefore precisely loyalty to tradition can lead to claims that there is a need to change the practical implementation. After I spoke about that, I began talking about questions of authority. And the claim is that even if we are speaking about possible changes in Jewish law on the conceptual, principled level, people can still come and say: yes, but we have no authority to do this, there is no authoritative body that can do this, there is no Sanhedrin, there are no ordained judges, and therefore even though the changes are called for and correct and everything is fine, there is no practical way to do it. And that is a dispute on a completely different plane. Very often these disputes get mixed together, but really we are dealing with two different planes of discussion. Because after we discuss the authority questions a bit—and that’s what I started last time and will continue today—I just want to place this in context, because I want to argue that if I become convinced on the principled level that such changes are legitimate and even required in certain situations, then when I find a way out of the authority problem, I will use it. Meaning, you can’t divide the discussion too sharply between these two planes. Those who oppose change because of authority questions, I think at least, are often not sufficiently convinced that the change is legitimate in itself. If in their eyes it were legitimate in itself, it would be possible to find loopholes in the rules of authority and carry out the change. In other words, the degree of your willingness to use mechanisms for change, mechanisms that deal with the question of authority, depends on how much you accept this change as something required, or at least possible, within the rules of Jewish law. And therefore the discussions are connected to each other. In places where I see that the change is obligatory, that I am not doing God’s will—in fact He wants something else from me and I am doing something different—and they tell me yes, but there is an authority problem, I say yes, but I want to observe Jewish law, and I want to do God’s will. I have an authority problem, so let’s see—maybe I won’t be able to, maybe I haven’t solved the authority problem, and there’s nothing to be done, I’m stuck. But if I succeed in finding a solution to the authority problem, or at least a possible solution, then of course the decision whether to use it depends on how much I like the argument for change on its own merits, beyond the authority questions. And therefore I think it’s no coincidence that in these discussions the substantive arguments always get mixed together with the authority arguments. Right—when I raise the question, we spoke about validating women for testimony. What? I can’t hear well. Did someone say something? Okay. When I raise the claim—for example, if I raise the claim that today women ought to be validated for testimony—then immediately, first of all, they’ll tell me that I’m a heretic and a Reform Jew, that’s obvious. But after that, when the arguments come, the arguments will get mixed together between the substantive argument—who told you that the disqualification was really because they weren’t educated, or something like that, maybe the disqualification was for some other reason; we spoke about this last time, those are the arguments on the merits—and of course the authority arguments will also come. But we have no authority to do this, this is a ruling in the Talmud, today we don’t have a Sanhedrin or any factor that can dispute the Talmud. Now usually these arguments come together. Those who support the change will support it substantively and will also find solutions to the authority question, and those who oppose the change will oppose it on the substantive level and will also say, well, besides that we have an authority problem. On the face of it, this is of course not a direct dispute, because these are independent questions. The question whether it is right to do this or not right to do this is one dispute, and the question whether we have authority or do not have authority is another dispute. Why is it that whoever takes one side on this question also takes the matching side on that one? Because apparently we’re not honest enough. We set up the target after shooting the arrow and then draw the bullseye around it. We basically recruit all the arguments in favor of the conclusion we wanted from the outset. But here, in this case, I actually want to argue that it’s not completely independent. It’s not completely independent, because your willingness to make use of authority-bypassing routes, let’s call them that, depends on how convinced you are that the argument itself is correct. If it were totally clear-cut, zero or one, then there would be no dependence, but it’s not zero or one. And if I offer you a mechanism to bypass authority, and you say: yes, but this mechanism isn’t really glatt. And if you are sure that this change is necessary, you will be willing to use even a mechanism that isn’t glatt. But if you don’t think that this change is necessary or possible or whatever, then you won’t be willing to use such a mechanism unless it is completely glatt. And even then you won’t use it, because it isn’t right to make this change. So it’s true that these are two questions, and it’s true that in their pure form they are independent, but in practice they are not independent. And as we’ll see, there are loopholes in the authority question. And once we find loopholes in the authority question, the question returns: to what extent do we accept the possibility of change in general? And I’ll add in parentheses maybe—that old expression, I can’t help myself—and many times in arguments, not only in the religious context but in general, we find what I call in various places illusory correlations. Illusory correlations mean that there are two questions that are independent, but anyone who answers question A with yes will also answer question B with yes, and vice versa—even though A and B are independent questions. For example, once I was riding on a bus and I saw through the window some—it was around the Rabin government, before he was assassinated, sometime in the early 1990s—and I saw a sticker on a car that said: Rabin has no mandate to return the Golan. And obviously this was one of those times when once again the argument flared up: whether to make agreements with the Syrians, give them the Golan, not give them the Golan, there was some discussion like that. I asked myself whether the person driving the car was in favor of returning the Golan or against it. I don’t know what those sounds are, whether they’re directed at me or not, so I’m muting. Whoever wants to speak can break in. Fine. So I asked whether the owner of the car was in favor of an agreement with the Syrians or against it, and I answered myself that of course there’s no way to know. Why is there no way to know? Because the question whether Rabin had a mandate to hand over the Golan has two aspects, and both came up in that discussion. One aspect is the moral aspect: you promised something before the elections, after the elections it seems to you that this policy is not right, and you want to change policy. Is a prime minister allowed to change policy, or does he have to return the mandate to the public, go to another election, present his new agenda, and see whether he gets a mandate from the public or not? That is a question of political morality. Is a prime minister allowed to change his mind without asking the public for a renewed mandate? By the way, that question is not simple; it has two non-simple sides, you can definitely say yes, you can say no, and there are not bad arguments in both directions. The second question is the diplomatic, ideological, religious, security question, whatever you want to call it: is it worthwhile to make an agreement with the Syrians? Not related to morality—a question of politics, religion, ideology: is it worthwhile or not worthwhile? That too is a question with two sides; some think yes, some think no, it has two sides. Is there any connection between the two questions? Obviously not, no connection, right? No connection whatsoever. Now, in the public debate at that time, how many groups would you expect there to be? Four, right? Two independent questions, each with two possibilities; two times two, as I recall, is four. So there should have been four groups in the population: those who say it’s not moral but it’s desirable; those who say it’s not moral and not desirable; moral and desirable; moral and not desirable. Right? Four possibilities. How many groups were there in practice? Two, of course. Only two. Yes—left and right, obviously. So how do you explain this fascinating phenomenon? This is of course an illusory correlation. There are two independent questions here.
[Speaker D] Interference of ideology and politics.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. So there are two questions, but they really are independent questions. There’s a perfect correlation between the answer to the first question and the answer to the second. Why? Because people aren’t honest. Because people answer these questions in a way that helps them promote the goal they believe in, and they recruit all the aspects in its favor. That’s how we end up with arguments in which one side sees all the negative aspects of a certain act and the other side sees all the positive aspects. Nobody says: look, there are positive aspects and negative aspects, but overall my opinion is such-and-such. You’ll hardly ever find a position like that. That’s what is called an illusory correlation. Once I wrote a response in Makor Rishon about the conversion controversy—yes, after the religious court in Ashdod said that all the conversions of the state conversion system under Rabbi Druckman at that time were null and void. The court are wicked people, and therefore all those conversions are null and void like the dust of the earth. Meaning, thousands of converts go back to being gentiles. And then an argument exploded. Everyone shouted at everyone else—Religious Zionists, Haredim, this one and that one. In short, at some stage I decided to write an article for Makor Rishon, a pretty short article, after I had even heard some lecture by someone, a ridiculous lecture on the halakhic aspect of these things. So I wrote an article there and said this: without thinking for more than a minute, I wrote down on paper fifteen questions that you have to answer in order to form a position on this issue. Some of them factual, some of them halakhic, all kinds. Okay? At least fifteen questions, and there are more—that’s just what came to me in literally the first minute I devoted to the matter. On each question you can answer yes or no. How many groups should there be in the population? Two to the fifteenth power, right?
[Speaker E] That’s thirty-two thousand seven hundred sixty-eight.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Correct. Ten thousand times thirty-two. So sorry—one thousand times thirty-two. Groups, not people. Okay? How many groups were there? Two, of course. Right? Those who answered yes to everything and those who answered no to everything. That’s it. You couldn’t find someone who says, look, on questions one, two, three, five, ten, and twelve I answer yes, on all the rest I answer no, and in the bottom line it seems to me that I think such-and-such. There was none, nowhere to be found. Now I tried to check with Religious Zionist halakhic decisors and ask them what their substantive opinion was about Rabbi Druckman’s conversions, and I discovered that almost all of them agree with me that these conversions are a joke. But in the public sphere you wouldn’t hear a word like that, because there it’s the struggle between Religious Zionists and Haredim, so you can’t say anything but: are you with us or against us? You have to answer yes to all the questions if you are a loyal Zionist. There is a really foolish mentality here. Now there are places—and I’m saying all this—what?
[Speaker B] No, it’s like all the studies on cognitive dissonance show that we change our position according to our behavior.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Cognitive dissonance is a good example of this kind of bias. Yes, these illusory correlations are also basically a type of cognitive dissonance. You justify the bottom line you reached in any case. So the point is that this is a situation—that is, it’s a lack of honesty in arguments in general. By the way, it’s worth practicing this a little; I very much recommend it. Take some topic that’s under dispute in public discourse and try for a moment to neutralize what your gut is telling you. Put on paper which questions have to be clarified in order to reach a conclusion. Then try to examine, question by question, what you think about each one independently of the others, and then form a position—or see what those with the opposing position say, and you’ll see that they aren’t talking nearly as much nonsense as it seems to you. And you’ll discover wonders, I promise you. You’ll discover that things that make you furious, on a second look, actually seem like a completely legitimate position. Maybe you’ll even agree with it, maybe not, but it’s not something so absurd and crazy as it appears to you. We are very much prisoners of our own gut. In any case, what was this whole introduction for? I’m closing that parenthesis now. What I want to say is that there are situations in which this correlation has some substantive justification. Just as I explained here. I said the question of authority is independent of the question whether the change is proper or not. Two independent questions. But in a place where, regarding the authority question, I have a complex position, and I manage to find an authority-bypassing route but it’s not glatt in my eyes—in other words, I’m not fully certain I stand behind it—then my answer will depend on how much I support the change itself. If the change itself seems to me right, necessary even, and vital, and its opposite seems very problematic, then I’ll find even a strained way to get around the authority question and I’ll use it. And suddenly we get a connection between the authority question and the substantive question, even though they are independent questions in principle. Okay? But still, even in order to say that, you have to be honest. And you have to say: look, on the authority question I’m uncertain, but since I’m uncertain about authority and certain about the need for change, I nevertheless decide to take the step that allows it. That is an honest presentation of your position. And then it’s true that you connected the questions, but you basically preserved their independence. In other words, you didn’t fool yourself or others, and you expressed yourself honestly. So that’s why once I gave a course on this and gave people exercises on these matters. I gave them articles, asked them what they thought, and they poured out buckets of bitterness on them. And after we sat down and analyzed it in an orderly way and saw the sides this way and that way, they suddenly discovered completely new things. People are not used to stopping and thinking in a cool, systematic way. Their gut says what’s right, and then they recruit their head to bring all the arguments in favor of what the gut dictates. That’s how people are built, unfortunately. Okay. So let’s get back to our topic. Basically there should be a connection between the questions because the authority question may not be unequivocal. Last time I started reading Maimonides, Laws of Rebels.
[Speaker D] I’m opening it again now.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We read chapter 1, and there we saw that formal authority exists only for the Sanhedrin. No rabbi, no matter how great—leading decisor of the generation, whatever you want—has formal authority. At most he can be considered a halakhic expert, like a doctor, such that if he says something there’s a decent chance it’s correct. But formal authority means that I have to obey him because he said it, not because of the chance that it’s right. No one has that except the Sanhedrin, and the Talmud, which we accepted upon ourselves—and I spoke about that. Now we started chapter 2, and in chapter 2 we saw a contradiction between law 1 and law 2. In law 1 Maimonides writes that every court—and the court discussed here means the high court, the Sanhedrin—every high court in every generation can dispute earlier high courts from previous generations. There is no limitation, it does not need to be greater in wisdom and number or anything like that. If it seems differently to you, rule differently. You do not need to stick to what earlier courts ruled. That is law 1. In law 2 Maimonides says: a court that issued a decree or enacted an enactment or instituted a custom, and the matter spread through all Israel, and another court arose after them and wished to cancel the earlier matters and uproot that enactment and that decree and that custom—it cannot, unless it is greater than the earlier one in wisdom and number. So we saw—only one greater in wisdom and number can do so. How does that fit with what he said in law 1? So you can see from his wording, and that is what the Kesef Mishneh writes here: law 1 speaks about Torah-level laws. In Torah-level laws, when the high court establishes a law, it has the authority. But if another high court comes two hundred years later and thinks that law is not correct, it may dispute the first court. There is no limitation at all; it does not need to be greater in wisdom and number, nothing of the sort. In law 2 Maimonides is dealing with rabbinic laws. What are rabbinic laws? These are laws that are basically the product of legislation by the sages, not interpretation of the Torah or derivation through the hermeneutic principles by which the Torah is interpreted, but rather new legislation by the sages. We spoke about the difference between Torah-level and rabbinic law—that one is interpretation and the other is legislation. And here Maimonides says that if a later high court comes, a later Sanhedrin, it cannot dispute the first Sanhedrin unless the second is greater than it in wisdom and number. What is the difference between them? And that’s where I stopped last time. On the face of it, this is one of those laws where the sages gave greater reinforcement to their words than to Torah law. Yes, you find such things sometimes: they reinforce rabbinic law more than Torah law so people won’t come to belittle rabbinic law. So here too: a Torah law does not require a court greater in wisdom and number, while a rabbinic law is harder to change than a Torah law. For rabbinic law you need a court greater in wisdom and number. So apparently that would be because the sages gave greater reinforcement to their words than to Torah law. But in truth it is hard to understand that, because the consideration I just mentioned is rabbinic in its very essence. Right? The sages reinforce their words more than Torah law—that is an act of the sages, a rabbinic rule. This reason is a rabbinic reason. But in Maimonides there is no hint that this is a rabbinic law. In Maimonides it appears explicitly that this is Torah law. A later Sanhedrin changes a law established by an earlier Sanhedrin—in Torah law—that is not some special rabbinic enactment that enables this; it is the essence of the law. As it says, “to the judge who shall be in those days,” you are obligated to follow the court of your own generation—that is a Torah law, not a rabbinic one. The whole move here looks like core law, not a special enactment of the sages. Therefore it seems to me that the explanation is a different one. When I said that a Torah-level law is a law that results from the sages’ interpretation of the Torah, or a law given to Moses at Sinai, or something like that, while a rabbinic law is the product of legislation by the sages. Now if I disagree with—say I am the later Sanhedrin, and I disagree with the interpretation of the earlier Sanhedrin—then what I’m basically claiming is that the Torah does not say what they interpreted it to say, but says something else. So I am not really going against the authority of the first court; I simply understand differently what the Torah says. After all, I want to do what the Torah says, and in my view what the Torah says is what I understand there. So I do what I understand. “I” meaning the later Sanhedrin. In rabbinic law this is not interpretation of the Torah, it is legislation by the sages. If the earlier Sanhedrin legislated a law and I claim the law should be canceled, then I am going against their authority. Here I need to be greater than them in wisdom and number; otherwise I cannot dispute them. If I am not greater than them in wisdom and number, I cannot dispute them. In Torah law I am not disputing them; I simply understand differently what the Torah says. I am not going against what they said, I just want to do what the Torah says, and for that I need to interpret what it says, and according to my interpretation that is what it says. One moment, I need to mute some—I don’t know what—just a second. Oy.
[Speaker D] The little thing is walking on all fours, twenty centimeters tall, and making noise like an elephant, more than an elephant. Fine, so that’s the difference between law 1 and law 2. Maimonides says, that’s as far as we got, now I’m continuing.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If it was greater in wisdom but not in number, or in number but not in wisdom, it cannot cancel the words of the earlier court. Even if the reason for which the earlier ones decreed or enacted has ceased, the later ones cannot cancel it unless they are greater than them. Yes—even if the rationale for the earlier enactment or decree has ceased or no longer exists, the later Sanhedrin still cannot cancel that enactment unless it is greater in wisdom and number than the earlier Sanhedrin. Maimonides says: and how can they be greater than them in number? After all every Sanhedrin, every court, has seventy-one members. So how can there be a Sanhedrin that is greater than the previous one in number? It needs to be greater in wisdom and number—how in number? It’s always seventy-one. Maimonides says: this means the number of the sages of the generation who agreed to and accepted the matter stated by the high court and did not dispute it. For this purpose, the sages of the generation who are outside the Sanhedrin are also counted. As a reminder, for example Rabbi Akiva, who was the son of converts, did not sit on the Sanhedrin. And the Talmud says that he was so great that there was no one like him in all the Land of Israel, and therefore even when he went to Babylonia he intercalated years from Babylonia, an authority entrusted to the head of the Sanhedrin. But he did not sit on the Sanhedrin because he was the son of converts; he could not serve on the Sanhedrin. That is what Maimonides says here. Greater in number—being a court greater in number—does not refer only to the court itself. The court is always seventy-one. Rather, all the sages sitting outside the Sanhedrin also join in, all those who agree with them. And it needs to be greater in wisdom and number in order to cancel the words of the earlier court. And note—even if the rationale is canceled, reality changed and the rationale from then no longer exists—
[Speaker D] even then it still needs a Sanhedrin greater in wisdom and number.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A first remark that I—this whole chapter in Maimonides we are learning in order to see what the authority constraints are on changes in Jewish law. After all, that is exactly what Maimonides is discussing here. What happens when a later Sanhedrin wants to change a law established by an earlier Sanhedrin? So up to now we have seen the basic authority constraints. What are they? In Torah-level law, the change must be made by the high court, the Sanhedrin, but it does not need to be greater in wisdom and number. In rabbinic law, it needs the high court and it also needs to be greater in wisdom and number. For example, nowadays, when we do not have a high court, then apparently it would seem that we cannot change either Torah-level laws or rabbinic laws, right? Because we don’t have a court at all, regardless of whether it is greater in wisdom and number. But I already want to qualify that. I’m constantly learning Maimonides in order to find authority-bypassing routes. How can change still be made despite the constraints of authority? So here is the first point. If the earlier law that we are coming to change was not established by the Sanhedrin or in the Talmud—by medieval authorities (Rishonim), I don’t know, it somehow became accepted—does that too prevent us from changing it? No. Everything Maimonides is talking about concerns a law established by an institution to which “do not deviate” applies, by the high court. There I cannot change it except according to the rules for changing it: a high court, greater in wisdom and number, Torah-level law, rabbinic law, and so on. But if the law was not established from the outset by the high court, then in principle it is not binding at all. In principle, anything not established by the high court, I can do what I understand; there is no other authority. So it’s not just that I can change it—it’s not called a change at all; there is nothing there to change.
[Speaker F] But wait, the laws in the Talmud were established by the high court? They weren’t established by the cour
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The supreme court of Jewish law, and even so—
[Speaker F] we can’t change it.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So I said that in the case of the Talmud, because the entire Jewish people accepted it upon themselves—and by the way, the Kesef Mishneh comments on this very Jewish law, Jewish law 2 that we just read—he says that regarding the Talmud, we accepted it upon ourselves, and therefore even though it was not the supreme court of Jewish law, the Talmud too has formal authority, something like “do not deviate.” But that’s where it ends. I spoke about the Rosh in tractate Sanhedrin, who discusses this at length and says that after the Talmud there are no authorities with that kind of power. This is also brought as practical Jewish law in the Shulchan Arukh, Choshen Mishpat, section 25. So for our purposes, the first point I want to make is this: if the Jewish law was not established by an authoritative institution like the Sanhedrin or the Talmud, then no authority is needed in order to change it. A Jewish law that is accepted because the Rashba said it, or Maimonides said it, or whoever, great halakhic decisors—that is not binding in that sense. If I think differently, I can change it; that is not called changing the Jewish law. And there are many such laws—actually, most of them are like this. Because most laws are simply not explicitly written in the Talmud; they are interpretations by medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) of the Talmud. And interpretations—I can disagree with interpretations. Once I disagree, then it’s not written in the Talmud; it’s an interpretation. I have interpretations too. Many things we think are straight Talmudic law are not necessarily straight Talmudic law, but rather interpretations given by medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) to what is written in the Talmud. To reject their interpretation and want to change it—that’s not possible, because the Talmud has authority. But if I disagree with them in interpretation and I claim that this is not what the Talmud says, that is not called changing the Jewish law. So that is the first authority-bypassing route. A second authority-bypassing route: what happens when the first court that established this law made a mistake? Maimonides speaks about a situation where we established a law and the reason changed. I’m saying—not that it changed, but that it was never correct in the first place. Suppose they were working from mistaken scientific information. In the example of our water, okay? “Water that stayed overnight.” It has to stay overnight because the sun travels above and below and all the Talmud’s ideas in tractate Pesachim. Today it’s clear that that’s not true. Does that law still stand? People say: what do you mean, this is Talmudic law, we have no authority to change it. Not true. In a place where the reason changed—that is, then it was correct and today reality changed—that is what Maimonides is saying here. But in a place where today it becomes clear to me that they simply acted on the basis of a mistake, it was never true, that is not called changing; it’s like a mistaken transaction. If I made a mistaken transaction with someone, I sold someone a certain object by mistake—does he have to sell it back to me after the mistake becomes clear? The transaction is void. There was never any transaction at all, because it was based on a mistake. It’s not that he has to return the object to me; he doesn’t have to return it—the object is mine. The transaction doesn’t exist because it was based on a mistake. Same thing here: if the Sages established something and the rationale, the reason for the decree, was correct and then changed—that is what Maimonides says here—you need a court greater in wisdom and number in order to change it. Even that is not universally agreed upon, but that is Maimonides’ position. But where today it becomes clear to me—for example through scientific tools—that the reason was never correct and they simply erred, that is not called changing the Jewish law. It’s a mistaken transaction; it is void from the outset. It was never true. They only thought it was true. For example, lice, which supposedly do not reproduce sexually and therefore may be killed on the Sabbath. That’s a scientific error of the Sages. Now if I say that it is forbidden to kill them on the Sabbath, have I changed the Jewish law? In this case it’s a stricter ruling, so it’s easier to make that move, but suppose it were a leniency—so what? That still would not be called changing the Jewish law; it simply turns out that the Jewish law was never really that way to begin with. The Sages were mistaken. For example, one may desecrate the Sabbath for an eye condition—for saving an eye. Even though this is not life-threatening in the ordinary sense, and for an ordinary limb one does not desecrate the Sabbath on the Torah level just to save a limb. But for the eye, yes. There is a dispute between Rashi and Rabbenu Tam why. One opinion is because a blind person is considered like dead; losing an eye is like losing life, and that counts as life-saving. The second opinion is because loss of an eye is life-threatening—it can cost you your life for physiological reasons. And suppose that today—and I think today this is indeed true—we know that that is not correct; in other words, it turns out to have been a medical-scientific mistake in this case. Then according to that view, it would be forbidden to desecrate the Sabbath to save the eye. Is it written in the Talmud that it is permitted? It is. It’s still a mistake. Meaning, there are things which, if they were mistaken from the outset—not that they were once true and reality changed—then from the outset there is no need to adopt them at all. It’s not a question of changing Jewish law. Look at Maimonides, for example. Maimonides consistently omits laws connected to the evil eye. A person may not stand over his fellow’s field when the grain is standing. Talmud in tractate Bava Batra, first chapter, page 6. Why? The Talmud says: because of the evil eye. You will not find this law in Maimonides. Also laws of hand-washing connected with an evil spirit and so on—you will not find them in Maimonides. Why? Does he disagree with the Talmud? What is interesting is that Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides, his son, defends him. What does he say? Reality changed. Once it really was like that—there were demons, there was this—but today there aren’t. But that defense is self-defeating, because if reality changed, that puts us in the category of “the reason was nullified.” But when the reason is nullified, you need a court greater in wisdom and number in order to change it. You cannot change a law established in the Talmud even if the reason no longer applies. I argue that Maimonides says—and maybe Rabbi Abraham really agrees, only he’s uncomfortable saying it openly—that Maimonides is saying the Talmud was mistaken. There is no such thing as the evil eye, and no such influences, and no demons, and no spirits; it’s all nonsense. That became clear to him in light of the science of his time, the philosophy of his time—it doesn’t matter that they didn’t make that distinction. So the law written in the Talmud was not correct from the outset. Not that reality changed. In that situation there is no problem; Maimonides can omit that law, because he is not coming to change the Jewish law. He simply found that the law is based on a mistake, and it was never true. Only then they didn’t know it, and now he knows it. The defense his son offers is really an attack. The defense offered by Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides actually strengthens the difficulty rather than answering it. Because he says reality changed—but if reality changed, that is exactly what Maimonides writes here: if the reason no longer applies, you still cannot nullify the enactment unless you are a court greater in wisdom and number. Maimonides cannot nullify a law that appears in the Talmud. But if you know that the reason was never right from the outset, was never right, then there is no problem; that is not called nullifying it. With some pressure I could defend Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides and say that the relation to laws fixed in the Talmud is not the same as laws established by the Sanhedrin. Because there is no “do not deviate” regarding the Talmud; “do not deviate” applies only to the Sanhedrin and ordained judges. The Talmud was in Babylonia; there were no ordained judges in Babylonia, no Sanhedrin, nothing. So what is there? We accepted it upon ourselves. And in a place where it becomes clear to me that reality changed, there I can change the law of the Talmud, because this is not “do not deviate.” Everything Maimonides writes here is about “do not deviate.” Where there is “do not deviate,” then even if the reason no longer applies, there still has to be a court greater in wisdom and number. But regarding the Talmud, my inability to disagree with it does not stem from “do not deviate,” but from the fact that we accepted it upon ourselves. In that situation, it could be that even if the reason changed, that is enough for me to nullify the law—unlike a law established by the Sanhedrin, where even if the reason changed there still has to be a court greater in wisdom and number. None of this is written by Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides; I haven’t found proof for it. Maybe it’s right, maybe not. Otherwise, what he says there is not a defensive argument but an attacking one. Just so you can see what I said earlier, I’ll bring you the Kesef Mishneh here on this Jewish law.
[Speaker D] Wait, this is on the previous law, not on Jewish law 1, I think. One second. Yes, here—it’s on Jewish law 1. He says like this: up to here he explains the difference between a Torah-level law and a rabbinic law. And here he begins. He says as follows:
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “And if you say, if so, why don’t the Amoraim disagree with the Tannaim?” If every court can disagree with a previous court regarding Torah-level laws, then why don’t Amoraim disagree with Tannaim? “For everywhere we challenge an Amora from a Mishnah or a Baraita”—everywhere we object to an Amora from a Baraita or from the Mishnah—and if he has no answer, his words are rejected. He cannot say, “I disagree with the Mishnah or the Baraita.” He has to say, “I am speaking in accordance with that Tanna.” And if he does not say that, there is a difficulty against him. “And according to our master’s words, they have permission to disagree with the words of the Tannaim.” So why indeed don’t they disagree? And why don’t the medieval authorities (Rishonim) disagree with the Amoraim, and so on? “One can say,” says the Kesef Mishneh, “that from the day the Mishnah was sealed and finalized, they established and accepted that later generations would not disagree with earlier ones. And they did the same at the sealing of the Talmud—that from the day it was sealed, no person was given permission to disagree with it.”
[Speaker D] So what is he saying? That the authority of the Talmud does not come from the fact that it has divine inspiration and never makes mistakes. It’s authority from below. Authority from below.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. We simply accepted their authority upon ourselves, and therefore we cannot disagree. It may be that they were great giants, irrelevant—still, that is not why one cannot disagree with them. One cannot disagree with them because we accepted them. But if so, then this is not “do not deviate.” “Do not deviate” is authority the Torah gives to the Sages, to the court. Here this is authority accepted from below. Okay? And then, as I said earlier, there may be a difference in the definitions of what can be changed and what cannot be changed. Now look at an interesting comment of the Raavad. I’m talking about the Raavad’s second gloss. The Raavad’s gloss: “must be greater in wisdom,” etc. “Abraham said: the ornamenting of the markets of Jerusalem with fruit is a difficulty against him, for the earlier ones instituted it, and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai nullified it after the destruction because the reason for the earlier ones had ceased, and he was not greater than the earlier ones.” There is a Talmud in tractate Beitzah about ornamenting the markets of Jerusalem with fruit, where Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai canceled that enactment after the destruction because there was no longer pilgrimage to Jerusalem, so there was no reason to decorate the markets of Jerusalem. The reason ceased, and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai canceled the enactment. The Raavad says: this is difficult for Maimonides. Why? Because Maimonides basically said that you cannot nullify even if the reason ceased unless you are greater in wisdom and number. Yet here we see that you can. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai came later than they did, and still he nullified it once the reason ceased. Therefore the Raavad disagrees with Maimonides, and in his view if the reason ceased, one may nullify the enactment—but you still need a court; it does not need to be greater in wisdom and number. Like the Torah-level case—according to the Raavad, there is no difference between Jewish law 1 and Jewish law 2.
[Speaker G] Meaning, though, you still need a Sanhedrin.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. A matter established by a quorum requires another quorum to permit it, apparently. On that point, at any rate, the Raavad does not write that he disagrees. Okay? At least when the reason has ceased. If the reason has not ceased, it may be that he accepts Maimonides’ answer, that you also need a court greater in wisdom and number. But notice an interesting point. What can Maimonides answer him?
[Speaker D] What would Maimonides answer to this difficulty from the Talmud?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He’ll say that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was not smaller than them. What kind of question is that? He was greater than the earlier ones in wisdom and number. What sort of objection is this? Maimonides says you need a court greater in wisdom and number even if the reason ceased. The Raavad says back: but Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was later than the earlier ones, and the reason ceased, and he still nullified it. True, he was later—but greater than them. What is the Raavad assuming? That he was not greater.
[Speaker H] Based on what?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] On the basis that the generations decline. Ah—he is assuming decline of the generations, right? But if that’s so, then I really don’t understand. Because if there is decline of the generations and it can never happen that a later generation is greater than an earlier one, then this law is a dead letter. Because how could a later court ever nullify a law established by an earlier court by being greater in wisdom and number, if by definition being later means it is not greater in wisdom and number? Then this law is meaningless. A law for messianic times, a theoretical law. Very strange. So in this respect the Raavad turns this law into a dead letter, and it does not seem that he disagrees with the law itself. If the reason has not ceased, then he too requires a court greater in wisdom and number. He only disagrees if the reason has ceased. But if the reason has not ceased, then how can the law ever be nullified? A later court is never greater in wisdom and number than an earlier one. So there are all kinds of suggestions—that perhaps Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was considered lesser, because it says “the least of them all was Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai,” among the students of Hillel the Elder. The least of them all, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai—I don’t know, these are very forced answers. The Kesef Mishneh talks about this here, and other commentators too—very forced. But in any case, for Maimonides this is certainly no difficulty. Maimonides will say that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai regarded himself as greater than the earlier ones, and therefore he nullified it. And notice first of all one more thing we see here: decline of the generations is not an iron law. It is not always true that there is decline of the generations. There can be a situation where a later court is greater than an earlier court. Otherwise this law could never exist—that a later court should be greater in wisdom and number in order to nullify the words of its predecessors. Because there is no such thing as a later court greater in wisdom and number? Clearly there is such a thing. Okay, here we’ve finished Jewish law 2. We’ll go out for five—
[Speaker D] minutes and then we’ll come back afterward to continue.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] To summarize the matter of Rabbi Akiva that we’ve been seeing over the last few weeks—there was a desire from many of the listeners to summarize this issue—let’s try, very briefly, to stand on the main points. Rabbi Akiva is the one who established for us the entire Oral Torah. The Talmud says in tractate Sanhedrin page 86: “An anonymous Mishnah is Rabbi Meir, an anonymous Tosefta is Rabbi Nehemiah, an anonymous Sifra is Rabbi Yehuda, an anonymous Sifrei is Rabbi Shimon, and all of them are according to Rabbi Akiva.” Meaning, the entire great structure of the Oral Torah, all of it comes from the root of Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Akiva was the one who saved the Torah. After all his students died—twenty-four thousand students—he did not despair. He went and established five new students in the south, and they were the ones who rebuilt the Torah. All our Torah today is Rabbi Akiva’s. What was unique about Rabbi Akiva is that he saw in every single detail, in every tiny serif of a letter, an entire world of laws. He knew how to connect the details to the great whole, and his great principle was: “Love your fellow as yourself”—this is a great principle in the Torah. This is—
[Speaker D] the central point. We continue.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m moving on to Jewish law 3. “When does this apply? To matters that they did not prohibit in order to make a fence for the Torah, but rather like the other laws of the Torah. But matters which a court decreed and prohibited in order to make a fence for the Torah—if their prohibition spread throughout all Israel, another court cannot uproot them and permit them, even if it is greater than the earlier one.” There are major disputes about this—the question is exactly how you define a fence as opposed to an ordinary decree—but I’ll leave that aside for the moment; it’s less important for our purposes. Now, Jewish law 4 is very important for our purposes. “And the court may uproot even these matters temporarily”—those same things that were made as a fence and cannot be uprooted—even those can be uprooted temporarily, “even though it is smaller than the earlier one.” Meaning, a later court, which is smaller than the court that established this fence, can uproot it temporarily—for a period of time, temporarily. “For these decrees should not be more severe than the words of the Torah itself, for even words of the Torah may be uprooted by any court as a temporary ruling.” How so? “A court that saw a need to strengthen religion and make a fence so that the people would not violate words of Torah, may strike and punish not according to the formal law, but they may not establish the matter for generations and say that this is the Jewish law. Likewise, if they saw a temporary need to nullify a positive commandment or to transgress a prohibition in order to bring many people back to religion or to save many in Israel from stumbling in other matters, they act according to what the hour requires. Just as a physician amputates this one’s hand or foot so that the whole person may live, so too a court instructs at certain times to transgress some commandments temporarily so that all of them may endure, in the way the early Sages said: ‘Desecrate one Sabbath for him so that he may keep many Sabbaths.’” What is Maimonides saying? That if we are talking about uprooting temporarily—temporarily, a temporary suspension—then one may uproot both Torah-level laws and rabbinic laws, and even things made as a fence, which in the previous law he said cannot be changed at all. Why? He has proof—and the reasoning is an a fortiori argument. Obviously such decrees cannot be more severe than Torah law itself, and even Torah law a court can uproot temporarily—at least by passive omission, right? Therefore, he says, one may nullify this too. By the way, he says “to nullify a positive commandment or to transgress a prohibition,” meaning it is possible even by positive action to do this temporarily, okay? Because of considerations of whether the benefit outweighs the damage. Now I’ll stop this for a moment so I can see you too—I can’t see you when I share the screen.
[Speaker G] Just a second, I’m not clear. Passive omission—that’s Torah-level. Positive action, that too is possible on the Torah level?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, if the nullification is temporary—not to abolish it completely, but a temporary freeze. Yes. That’s what Maimonides says here. Now the question is this: Maimonides’ reasoning is that even laws made as a fence can be temporarily nullified. What is his proof? That after all, even Torah-level laws can be temporarily nullified, and rabbinic laws cannot be more severe than Torah-level laws. I don’t understand. Jewish law 1 and Jewish law 2 that we read establish that the ability to change rabbinic law is much more limited than the ability to change Torah-level law. Changing rabbinic laws is harder than changing Torah-level laws. For rabbinic laws you need a court greater in wisdom and number, and for Torah-level laws you do not. So what kind of a fortiori argument is Maimonides making here one law later? Did he forget what he wrote two laws earlier?
[Speaker D] What kind of a fortiori argument is that? What do you say? If you remember, I offered two explanations—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] for the difference Maimonides makes between Torah-level law and rabbinic law. One explanation was that the Sages strengthened their own words more than those of the Torah. According to that, what Maimonides writes here really is not understandable. If the Sages strengthened their own words more than those of the Torah, then maybe Torah law can be temporarily nullified, but rabbinic law cannot. So what sort of a fortiori argument is this? This is further proof that the interpretation I suggested earlier is the correct one. Why is it really that regarding Torah-level laws, any court can disagree with its predecessor, but regarding rabbinic laws only a court greater in wisdom and number can? So I said there: it is not because of severity, but because of the character of the law. If you disagree with their legislation—with a rabbinic law—then you are disagreeing with them themselves. If you are disagreeing with them themselves, you need to be greater than them in wisdom and number. But if you disagree with them in interpreting the Torah, in interpreting the Torah, then you are not really disagreeing with them. You are simply saying that the Torah does not say this, it says that. Therefore there, any court can do it; it does not need to be a court greater in wisdom and number. What happens in a temporary suspension? In a temporary suspension I am not disagreeing with them at all. There is an earlier law that exists, established by an earlier court. Now I see that a very great need has arisen and I must suspend that law, because otherwise people will go off the rails—I don’t know exactly why, okay? So I decide to nullify it temporarily. Am I disagreeing with the earlier court? Of course not. I am not claiming they were wrong. I am saying that right now, in the situation that has arisen here, I want to suspend it temporarily because right now I have a problem with it. For that you do not need to be greater in wisdom and number than the earlier court. You can do that because you are not disagreeing with them at all. I’ll say more than that: for this, not only do you not need to be greater in wisdom and number; any sage in any generation, or any court in any generation, can do this, even if it is not a Sanhedrin. What is my proof? I’ll tell you what my proof is. A very simple proof. I’m bringing back this law, sharing this law again, and look at what Maimonides explicitly writes. “How so?” Maimonides brings here the source for the idea that any court can temporarily suspend Torah-level laws. Where does he get it from? “A court that saw a need to strengthen religion and make a fence so that the people would not violate words of Torah may strike and punish not according to the law, and they may not establish the matter for generations and say that this is the Jewish law.” His proof is from the rule of “striking and punishing not according to the law.” About whom was this law said? Which court strikes and punishes not according to the law? Any court in any generation. Not the Sanhedrin. You do that as a court by virtue of your authority over the community you are appointed to govern. Because you are not disagreeing with the previous court. You are not saying: here we impose seventy lashes and not thirty-nine, or here I strike although one need not strike. This is called striking not according to the formal law. I strike not according to the formal law not because I disagree with an earlier court, but because I have governing authority over this community here, to maintain order. That authority belongs to every court in every generation. It does not need to be the supreme court of Jewish law; they do not need ordained judges, nor the supreme court of Jewish law. How do I know this? Simplest thing in the world. Do you know where this was ruled as practical Jewish law?
[Speaker I] Disciplinary lashes.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? Disciplinary lashes are Talmudic law,
[Speaker I] but it’s basically disciplinary lashes. What they’re doing here is basically disciplinary lashes.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, disciplinary lashes are according to the law. I’m talking about striking not according to the law. Striking not according to the law appears in Choshen Mishpat, section 2. I’m sharing. Section 2—the whole section: “A court may strike and punish for an emergency need.” “Any court, even if they are not ordained in the Land of Israel, if they see that the people are lax in transgressions, may judge regarding death, money, and every kind of punishment, even where there is no full testimony. And if he is violent”—we’re talking about a violent person—“they beat him by means of gentiles, and they have authority to confiscate and destroy his property as they see fit in order to fence the breaches of the generation.” Any court, even if they are not ordained in the Land of Israel. In every generation. The best proof of this is that this whole clause appears in the Shulchan Arukh. The Shulchan Arukh does not write laws that apply only to ordained judges. It writes only laws that are practiced in our times. It’s not like Maimonides. The Shulchan Arukh writes only laws that apply nowadays. And if it brings a whole section and devotes it to the fact that a court strikes and punishes not according to the law in order to repair the breaches of the generation, that means that in its view this is true in its own generation too. The sixteenth century. No ordained judges, no Sanhedrin. And why? Because this is governmental authority, not halakhic authority. This is how we maintain order. And for that you do not need ordained judges or the supreme court of Jewish law. So when Maimonides uses this as the source for the idea that any court can temporarily suspend laws of an earlier court, even if they were made as a fence, and this is his proof—
[Speaker C] what are they doing?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] what does that mean? It means that any court in any generation can do this. A simple proof, right? Obviously that’s the case. And why? In light of the explanation I gave earlier of the difference between Jewish law 1 and Jewish law 2, this is very clear, because the later court here is not coming to disagree with the earlier court. The later court is simply coming to repair a breach that arose in its own generation, in its own place and time. And that is within its authority, even if it means overriding words of Torah. As long as it is not disagreeing with the earlier court, there are no such requirements. Anyone who is a recognized court and whom the public accepts can do this. This already goes very, very far in what Maimonides is writing here, but it is clear that that is what he is saying.
[Speaker H] According to this interpretation, why does he need an a fortiori argument at all? What? According to the interpretation you’re giving, he doesn’t need an a fortiori argument.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The a fortiori argument is what proves this interpretation—what do you mean?
[Speaker H] No, because you’re saying he isn’t disagreeing. The Rabbi is saying he isn’t disagreeing, so that’s it. If this court isn’t disagreeing, then he doesn’t need an a fortiori argument.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Who said this line of reasoning? Where does this reasoning come from? From an a fortiori argument. From the a fortiori argument he says, look: Torah-level laws, if I’m not disputing, I can change them even though I’m not greater in wisdom and number, so why not rabbinic laws? That’s exactly what he says. But what is actually written here? Notice that what’s written here is a bypass route around every authority in the universe, because what this really means is that if today I see a need to change a Torah-level law or a rabbinic law, I have no authority, I’m not the Great Court, I’m not the Sanhedrin, I’m nothing like that, but I see that there’s such a need, that this generation needs this change. I can declare a temporary suspension. I’m not ordained, not the Great Court, and I don’t need to be. A temporary suspension can be done by any court in any generation, just like a court may administer lashes and punishments not according to the strict law. There you go—all the arguments from authority against changes go down the drain, as long as there is a need for it, and that is the major limitation. Meaning, if I change something because I disagree with the previous court, I think it was wrong—then I cannot do that through a temporary suspension, because I’m not allowed to dispute them. I can, through a temporary suspension, do something if I see that it is required in order to fence off breaches that are arising today. That I can do. But to dispute them by a trick, as though I’m only making a temporary suspension—that’s just a trick, and I can’t do that, because in truth I’m forbidden to dispute them. I’m not playing games, I really want to understand what Jewish law says. Jewish law says I’m allowed to suspend temporarily; I’m forbidden to dispute. So if there’s a breach that requires it, I’ll suspend temporarily. For example, changing the law regarding women’s testimony. If I want to disagree with the Talmud—or not disagree, but to change the law that appears in the Talmud and validate women today as witnesses because in my opinion that’s what is correct today—according to Maimonides I cannot do that. It is indeed a Torah-level law, so I don’t need the Great Court in wisdom and number, but I do need a court, and today I have no Sanhedrin. So what do I do? I suspend it temporarily. But after all, I’m not making the claim here that this creates a problem for me today and therefore I’m changing it; I’m claiming that it needs to change in principle. That I cannot do. What I can do is suspend it temporarily—that I can do. If in fact I see that some need regarding women’s testimony arises in one way or another in this generation, then I can say, okay, the prohibition on women’s testimony is temporarily suspended. That I really can do—but honestly. If I’m really doing it not because I want to dispute the Talmud or change the Talmudic law, but because I genuinely think this comes to fence off some necessary breach. Okay? So there is a very powerful mechanism here, but using this mechanism honestly limits it quite a bit. You can’t use it to dispute earlier generations or previous rulings of the Sanhedrin, because that you can’t do. But where a real problem genuinely arises, there you can do it. Now you’ll ask me: for how long is this? What does “temporary” mean? For a year? Ten years? A hundred years? How long? I don’t think there’s any limit. What is Rabbeinu Gershom’s ban? Rabbeinu Gershom’s ban was originally stated for a thousand years. It seems to me there was a discussion about this not long ago because the thousand years had passed, and somehow they renewed the ban, but nobody really renewed the ban; they just keep it going as usual. What’s happening? The temporary thing only means, basically, that I’m not now writing a new Shulchan Arukh, I’m not changing the Jewish law. I can’t say that today the law is that women are valid witnesses. But I can validate them as witnesses until another court comes and cancels this, because it sees that there is no longer a need. That is perfectly fine. And even if that takes a thousand years or five thousand years, it doesn’t matter—that’s still called temporary. And that reminds me of something very interesting. You know that in the laws of bills of divorce and marriage, really mainly in divorce law, there is a rule that if the divorce depends on a condition that is eternal, then the condition is void because it is not severance. That’s what the Talmud says. For example, if I say to her: you are divorced on condition that you never go to your father’s house—ever. The condition is void, because the bill of divorce has to create severance, cut off the relationship between the husband and his wife, and if their relationship continues forever, even if only conditionally, that is not severance. But let’s say I tell her: on condition that you do not go to your father’s house for ten years from today. That is fine, because it is a fixed period of time, so that does count as severance. What happens if I tell her: on condition that you do not go to your father’s house for three hundred years? No human being lives three hundred years. So that is effectively the same as saying forever. So the Rashba’s view—I think the Beit Yosef brings this—is that… why is it valid? Because on the essential level it is not eternal. If she lives three hundred years, then she lives three hundred years. True, people don’t live three hundred years, but that is a technical matter. On the principled level there is severance here, because after three hundred years it is severed. True, in practice no one lives to that age. Fine, but that’s still not considered something eternal. I’m bringing this up—I just remembered it now—because that is what I want to claim here. I can in fact change this law forever. I just can’t write it into the Shulchan Arukh as law, my innovation. What I can do is say: I am suspending this law until another court comes and says the suspension has ended, because the problem that arose no longer exists. But if the problem continues to exist all the time, then that law will continue to be changed in practice all the time. And that will still be called temporary. It will be called temporary because I did not dispute the previous court; I am only claiming that this is a suspension for the needs of the time, in order to fence off a breach. And if the court fifty years from now also thinks this is needed to fence off a breach, then it will continue. And if all the courts until the end of all generations think so, then it will continue further. And it will still be a temporary suspension. Because we did not change the law. We are suspending temporarily, except that this “time” will be measured as long as there is a need for it. And when a law is defined that way, then even if it lasts forever, that is still the definition of a temporary law and not a permanent law. And if so, this law in Maimonides is a very, very important key to things that can be done even nowadays despite the lack of authority. At least on the level of suspension, and of course only when the time requires it. So for example, regarding validating women as witnesses, that is not a simple question, because one could say that the time requires it. After all, if I have a better, larger pool of witnesses, of course the legal system will function better. There are things for which I won’t have testimony if I don’t validate women as witnesses. And if I do validate them, I gain testimony regarding more matters. So the time requires it. On the other hand, the time also required this in the days of the Sages, and they still prohibited it. The fact is, they did not accept women as witnesses. Yes, but on the third hand, in the days of the Sages there really was a reason to disqualify women from testimony. Today there is no reason. So is this called a temporary suspension because the time requires it, or is it called changing the law? I don’t know. It’s not a simple question. You understand the dilemma. I can say, look, basically I’m doing this because the time requires it—I want witnesses. It’s true that among the Sages, even though they too wanted witnesses, they disqualified women as witnesses. But among the Sages they disqualified women as witnesses because they truly were not fit to testify. But today women are fit to testify. The reason given by the Sages has lapsed. Okay? But on the other hand, the reason has lapsed, yet even if the reason lapses you still need a court greater in wisdom and number, assuming this is rabbinic. This is Torah-level, but I’m just saying generally—even so, you still need a court to change the law even if its reason has lapsed. Right, but the time requires it. And if the time requires it, then what I can do is temporarily suspend the prohibition on women testifying. Until when? Until the end of all generations. Unless a court in fifty years decides otherwise, in which case it will cancel the suspension—that is perfectly fine. I did not establish a law here, I did not rewrite the Shulchan Arukh. In my Shulchan Arukh it will still continue to say that women are disqualified as witnesses. But in practice I will act differently; I will accept women as witnesses, because this is a temporary suspension of that clause in the Shulchan Arukh. It is not a change in the law of the Shulchan Arukh. I’m not writing a different Shulchan Arukh. I’m placing a black slide over this law in the Shulchan Arukh, not erasing it from there. And every court in every generation will have to consider whether it leaves that black slide in place or tears it off. You should understand that this is a very powerful mechanism for change. I’ll just conclude with law 9. Law 9: Since a court has the power to decree and prohibit something that is permitted, and its prohibition will stand for generations, so too they have the power to permit Torah prohibitions temporarily; we saw that in law 4. What then is this that the Torah warned: “You shall not add to it and you shall not subtract from it”? It means not to add to the words of the Torah and not to subtract from them, and to establish the matter permanently regarding something that is from the Torah, whether in the Written Torah or the Oral Torah. How so? It is written in the Torah, “You shall not cook a kid in its mother’s milk.” By tradition they learned that this verse prohibited cooking and eating meat in milk, whether the meat of domesticated animals or wild animals, but poultry is permitted in milk by Torah law. If a court were to come and permit the meat of wild animals in milk, that would be subtracting; and if it prohibited poultry and said that it is included in “kid” and prohibited by the Torah, that would be adding. But if it said: poultry is permitted by Torah law, and we will prohibit it and inform the people that this is a decree, lest from this matter an obligation result and they say poultry is permitted because it was not specified, so too wild animals are permitted because they were not specified, and another may come and say even the meat of domesticated animals is permitted except for goats, and so on—therefore we will prohibit all meat in milk, even poultry—this is not adding but making a fence around the Torah, and so with everything of this sort. What does Maimonides say? Maimonides says all these things border on the prohibitions of “do not add” and “do not subtract.” You are adding prohibitions to the Torah and removing Torah prohibitions and commandments. Maimonides says: it depends. If you are truly adding it to the law—if you are truly adding it to the law—then that is “do not add” and “do not subtract.” But if you inform everyone, “I did this as a fence,” then you are not saying poultry in milk is prohibited by Torah law because it is like meat in milk. If the court had prohibited poultry in milk and said this is like meat in milk, that would have been “do not add”; they would have violated “do not add.” They must state in the margin of this enactment or decree: know that this is only a decree, not that poultry in milk is included in meat in milk—no, the opposite, the Torah permits it and we prohibit it because of a decree—and then there is no “do not add” here. But within this Maimonides also says that he is speaking about permissions and prohibitions for the time being, about the suspensions of law 4, and about that too he asks why this is not “do not add,” and the answer there is the same answer, because there too, as we saw, we do not write in the Shulchan Arukh that today women are valid as witnesses. If we did that, it would be “do not add.” We need to write a note on the side: this law is suspended until further notice, and then there is no “do not add” here because we neither added nor subtracted; we did not change the law, we only gave an instruction to the people of our generation what to do in practice. The law remains exactly as it is: women are disqualified as witnesses, and in practice we will accept women as witnesses. We did not change the law; we only established what we are supposed to do at this time. So if that is the case, Maimonides is really opening a very large door for us regarding changes in Jewish law, and questions of authority stop us only in places where we want to make a change because in our opinion the law of that time is no longer relevant today, or because we dispute earlier generations. But if the law creates a problem for us today, there is no limitation at all—you can change everything. It needs to be a major court accepted by the public, but a court today could do everything. That is what emerges from Maimonides, and it is a major novelty that in my opinion many good and serious people are not aware of. All sorts of people stop the entire issue of change because “we have no authority.” That’s not true. We have a lot of authority. There is no problem doing this in principle, at least in places where it serves as fencing off a breach that has arisen today. In the next lesson I’ll talk a bit about examples and bring mechanisms of change, and then you’ll see how this thing actually works in practice, and that it also happened in the past—it’s not only hypothetical. I’ll maybe finish with just two examples, or one specific example and its broader generalization, to show how far these things go. The Talmud in tractate Bava Kamma brings a law that one may seize an informer and kill him—an informer, the law of an informer. Someone who hands Jews over to the authorities may be killed under the law of a pursuer. But first, this is an expansion of the law of a pursuer, because we are not talking about someone you know is at this moment going to hand someone over; rather, by his nature he is a person who informs. You are allowed to kill him. But the greater novelty is that this law also exists regarding someone who informs on property. Even if he hands over his fellows’ property to the authorities, even then one is allowed to kill him. Where did we ever find that one may kill someone for informing on property? So the law of a pursuer applies to property? There is no source for this at all. They don’t bring a verse for it, there is no source by exegesis, nothing. It appears in the Talmud that this was how they were accustomed to act in Babylonia. They permitted killing. This thing is ruled as Jewish law in Maimonides and in the Shulchan Arukh and by all the halakhic decisors. How can that be? Now, not only did they permit killing, which is terrible enough, but this is permission for positive action, not passive omission. Right? After all, what they are permitting me to do here is an act of murder; this is not passive omission. Where did we ever hear that one may permit the Torah prohibition of murder through positive action? The answer is that where the time requires it, one may permit it for the time being. At least temporarily. And of course, every time the time requires it, they continue extending that permission further. And there are several sources among the halakhic decisors—there is the Raavad in Ba’alei HaNefesh, sorry, and elsewhere—where he writes, not only he but several medieval authorities (Rishonim) write, that the Sages can uproot something from the Torah even through positive action. Ah—but the explicit Talmudic law says only through passive omission, not through positive action. No—even through positive action. Why? In a place where the time very much requires it. Meaning, a place where the time very much requires it. The Talmud itself addressed a place where the time requires it and said that one may uproot only through passive omission. So where do the medieval authorities (Rishonim) suddenly invent permission to uproot through positive action? The answer is: in a place where the time requires it—that is, where there is a breach that needs fencing off, some breach has arisen here that needs fencing off—then we make a temporary suspension, whether through positive action or through passive omission. And there are no limits on that. And the permission to kill an informer is one specific case of this general rule. That is what the Raavad himself writes: in a place where the time very much requires it, one may even uproot something from the Torah through positive action. And not only did they uproot something from the Torah through positive action, but the ones who did it were not an ordained court at all. In the Talmud, these are Amoraim in the Talmud—Amoraim, not even Tannaim. How do they do such a thing? To permit the prohibition of murder?
[Speaker D] The prohibition of murder is not something a permanent court established; the Torah established it explicitly, not interpretations. The answer is that when the time requires it, you can do anything. Okay, I’ll stop here. If anyone wants to comment or ask, that’s possible.
[Speaker C] Thank you very much for the lesson.
[Speaker D] You’re welcome.