Doubt and Probability—in Halakha, Thought, and in General—Lecture 5

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[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, until a heavenly voice came out and said, “Both these and those are the words of the living God, but the Jewish law follows Beit Hillel.” And the Talmud explains: why did Beit Hillel merit having the Jewish law established in accordance with them? Because they were gentle and humble, and they would state the words of Beit Shammai before their own. Something like that—I don’t remember the exact quotation—but they put Beit Shammai’s words before their own. Usually people read that Talmudic passage in a pluralistic way. Meaning: “Both these and those are the words of the living God”—both sides are right. So why is the Jewish law ruled like Beit Hillel? Because in the end you need one binding bottom line, so let’s give them a prize for good behavior. They put Beit Shammai’s words before their own, they behaved politely, so let’s rule like them, since in any case both sides are right. I could just as well draw lots. So at least we’ll gain some moral-educational benefit and rule like them in order to teach the public that it’s worthwhile to listen, and so on. But Rabbi Yosef Karo, in his rules of the Talmud, says the opposite. He asks: why did they merit having the Jewish law follow them? Because they were gentle and humble? What does that mean—because of that we rule like them? We are looking for the truth. In other words, he assumes there is one halakhic truth, not the pluralistic view I described before. And then he explains: the fact that Beit Hillel put Beit Shammai’s words before their own simply helped them arrive at a more correct conclusion. In other words, the fact that you listen to the considerations of the other side and take them into account before forming your own position actually gives you a better chance of reaching the truth. That is why the Jewish law was ruled like them—not because they behaved nicely, but because nice behavior, good character traits, in this case are a methodological tool for reaching the truth. Not some result of heavenly assistance, where if you’re righteous then they help you reach the truth. No. That righteousness itself is a tool for reaching the truth. And therefore the claim—and I think this is a very correct statement—is that when you hear a person who may be very… by the way, about Beit Shammai, the Talmud in Yevamot says that Beit Shammai were sharper. Tosafot there mentions this in Eruvin. They were sharper, more incisive, and still the Jewish law was ruled like Beit Hillel. Why? Precisely because they were sharp, they didn’t have the patience to weigh Beit Hillel’s arguments before forming their own position, and because of that they fell short. That’s why they fell short. “The sharper the mind, the greater the error.” And the reason a sharp person reaches distorted conclusions is exactly that. He falls in love with his brilliant logical move, and he doesn’t listen to the claims or arguments of other people who are less sharp than he is but who could perhaps explain to him where he is missing something, where he is mistaken. Even people who are less intelligent can illuminate angles for you that you didn’t notice. And therefore the Jewish law was ruled like Beit Hillel even though they were less sharp, because they put Beit Shammai’s words before their own. And in that sense I think this is a tremendous lesson, even though it seems terribly simple. But very few people actually apply it. As for our own disputes, the ones we are involved in today—think about any dispute where you have a position: political, religious, whatever it may be, philosophical, moral, anything you like. In the end, if standing opposite you is a large public that also includes smart people and decent people—and in a large public there are usually smart and decent people—then that means there are probably things there that you are missing. Listen very, very carefully to the arguments there and see. Now, it’s not certain you’ll be persuaded, but it is definitely possible that if you take them into account you’ll reach a more balanced position and one closer to the truth. Because the truth is usually more complex than what either side presents. And the great advantage—just one second—and the great advantage in arguments like these does not go to the smarter side or the more educated side. On the contrary, sometimes that is even a disadvantage, as I said before about Beit Shammai. The great advantage goes to the side that listens. In other words, the side that listens carefully to the other side, takes its arguments into account, and only then forms a position—just as Beit Hillel did with Beit Shammai—that side will in the end reach more correct conclusions with a higher probability. There is never certainty, but with a higher probability it will reach more correct conclusions. And therefore, precisely in order to be right, you need to listen to the other person—and not fail to listen to the other person, as is customary in our districts. In our world, each person lives inside some bubble where everyone thinks like him, echoes back his own views, and he is convinced that he and his people are the children of light, while everyone outside is either children of darkness, or stupid, or wicked, or both—usually both. And therefore there is no point listening to them, and all the truth is on my side. Now, sorry if I sound preachy, but here I’m not preaching; I’m teaching. I’m telling you: pay attention to this point. It’s a simple point, and we all fail at it. Even though it’s a simple point—like the introduction to Mesillat Yesharim, yes, Ramchal says, I did not come here to innovate, these are very simple things—but pay attention to these simple things, because we don’t notice them. And in this matter, look at the arguments going on now. I was just at… on the eve of Independence Day, some friends were here at our place—yes, Shmuel is here, this was after you left—it came up, mainly I think, maybe not, I don’t remember anymore. Yes yes, after you left. So a debate started about the political matters too, and Bibi and all these things, and I think you know my attitude toward Bibi, but I told them that I think they are literally a mystical sect—that is, a fundamentalist, religious sect. I mean the opponents of Bibi, and also the supporters. There is Bibism and anti-Bibism, and both are religious cults. What characterizes religious cults is that they are incapable of seeing any side or argument that supports the other side. Incapable. Everything gets interpreted in the same direction. Everything is black on this side and white on that side, and the reverse on the other side. And I told them that in this particular case—sorry that I’m getting a bit into politics, but I want to show why what we’re talking about here is so important—in this case I told them that they are carrying Bibi on their palms into the next elections. In other words, they are the ones who will bring Bibi back on us in the next elections. And again, maybe some of you are happy about that, never mind, I’m not. But the fact is—and this I say to a great many people I am in contact with who belong to the anti-Bibi camp, some of them among the most extreme—I tell them: friends, you are bringing Bibi back on us in the next elections with your own hands, all ten fingers. And the reason is that your attitude is not substantive. In other words, you are unwilling to give him credit where credit can be given, you are unwilling to see a complex picture, you are unwilling to see that when someone adopts a certain position in the war, or regarding the hostages, or regarding judicial reform, or regarding whatever you want—you are unwilling to see that there is another position here. As far as you are concerned, it’s only schemes. Schemes of a person who is either wicked or stupid or both, and with Bibi it’s mostly wicked—it’s hard to suspect him of stupidity. And that is a mistake. A big mistake. There are good arguments. I told them that on this matter of the hostages and the war, I am entirely with him. Now tell me where I am wrong. Why do you think I’m wrong? Or why do you think I’m wicked and don’t care about the hostages at all? Because I say I oppose any deal? Any deal that Hamas would agree to, I oppose? I mean a deal for all the hostages. Now tell me why I am wicked and hard-hearted and don’t care about the hostages. And they were silent. Maybe they were uncomfortable, after all I was in the room—it’s not like Bibi on television. But I want to think they really understood that they don’t think I’m such a terrible wicked person or such a terrible fool. So I told them: then how do you know Bibi is? In other words, how can you assess that Bibi doesn’t care about the hostages—he could not care less, as people always say about Smotrich, Bibi, and Ben Gvir—they don’t care about the hostages, the hostages don’t interest them at all. Now that’s outrageous. I detest these people, I think they act in outrageous ways, but I absolutely do not agree with that assessment. They have a different policy—which in this case I also happen to agree with, even though I oppose them on many other issues. But leave aside whether we agree or disagree—it’s a legitimate argument. But how do you assume they are so wicked and hard-hearted that they care about nothing? Because you are not examining their arguments. You are not examining and raising arguments. You are not willing to listen. And the same is true on the other side, of course. Both sides are like this. But I am trying to show you how important this very simple point is. How much this is what is blocking us—not stupidity, not our different assumptions, not our different worldviews. “Messianism”—you know that headline, messianism? That is the biggest nonsense I have ever heard. On our political map there are almost no messianists. None. The accusation of messianism is demagoguery. And by the way, the one making that accusation is religious, is messianic—because he is unwilling to listen to the fact that the people opposite him are raising arguments in favor of their direction. You can accept them or not accept them, but they have arguments, arguments on the same plane as yours. It has nothing to do with the coming of the messiah or anything else. It has to do with security, policy, various values. Fine—argue, disagree, but the accusation of messianism basically means: I am not willing to argue with your arguments because they come from somewhere else. You are a mystic, you don’t know where you are, you are not thinking at all on the rational moral plane on which I stand. And that—that thing—is bluntness. Absolute dullness of perception. There are two religious camps here fighting each other, two churches fighting one another, neither willing to listen to anyone else; anyone who says anything different is a heretic in the fundamentals, and one must not listen, and they cast him down and do not raise him up. And I don’t know which side is more religious than the other. Both of these sides are truly fanatically religious. And I’m telling you—I am in close dialogue with both sides, even with senior people on both sides. I have ties with senior people on both sides, and I keep trying to persuade them: listen, there are arguments on the other side. I have positions, but I think—I at least try—to listen to the arguments of both sides, because I really think there are arguments on both sides. There are arguments. In the end, form a position, weigh things, reach a conclusion. But listen carefully to both sides. The great advantage, beyond the fact that you reach an answer that will probably be more correct when you listen to both sides—beyond that there is another advantage no less important, maybe more important: that suddenly you understand that the person standing opposite you is not merely wicked or stupid. He thinks differently from you; he has different arguments. Maybe he is also not listening to your arguments—too bad, it would be good to persuade him too—but the arguments he raises are not stupid arguments, and not wicked ones either. Think about it and see whether you accept them or not. Once we reach that conclusion, even if we still disagree, even if we remain in dispute, the dispute will not look the way it looks today. People will understand that there is a dispute here between people with different positions, legitimate positions. They think differently from me. There’s no choice—in a democracy we vote and the majority decides. But in a place where the other person is wicked or stupid, you are not willing at all to vote, to sit around a round table and make decisions by majority, because you are not willing to accept the authority of the majority if it is wicked and stupid. If you thought he merely thinks differently from you—that is, he has a different position from yours—that would be perfectly fine. That is what democracy is for: making decisions by majority. But you don’t believe that he is really weighing things substantively, just like you are, and so you are unwilling to accept majority rule in any direction. By the way, not only the political majority in the sense of the coalition and so on. This is true of both sides. And I think this double advantage—of listening to the other side and understanding that it too raises arguments—not only brings you to more correct conclusions, and by the way many times it will also bring us to agreement, not only to better conclusions if we truly listen. And even if not, at least we will be willing to recognize the other as legitimate, hold a vote, and let the majority decide what to do. The Talmud says that the clear-minded people of Jerusalem would check who was sitting with them at a meal. They would not sit down to a meal before checking who was sitting there. Of course this is brought as a parable for forming a panel of a religious court. When people ask me to participate in a certain panel of a religious court, say, and there are two other judges—I need to check not whether they are in my camp, whether they agree with me, whether they think like me. No. They don’t think like me, and that is perfectly fine. That is why you need three judges, so there should be three different perspectives. It is not good to have three judges with the same point of view. That is why in capital cases they begin with the least senior and not the most senior, so that each one will express an independent position. But what I do need to check is this: assuming we come to the conclusion that they think differently from me, and they are the majority, the two of them, and I am the minority—am I willing to sign the ruling together with them? If I respect them, then there is no problem. Even if they think differently from me, that is perfectly fine; that is the way of the world. And if they are two and I am one, I too sign the ruling, because I understand that this is their opinion, and their opinion has the majority, so that is the ruling. Perfectly fine. But if I do not respect them, because I think they are either stupid or wicked, then I don’t sit down to the meal with them in the first place. Why? Because if I sit with them on a religious court and they are two against me, I will be in the minority, and I will not be willing to sign the ruling. I do not recognize their ruling as correct; it is either stupid or wicked. So I simply cannot enter that panel at all. Do you understand that someone who does not accept the rules of democracy—in both camps here they do not accept the rules of democracy in the current disputes—it is because he is simply unwilling to sit at the meal with the other side. In other words, he claims that the other side is illegitimate. Therefore I am not willing to go along with the rules of democracy and let them decide which side prevails, or which side’s opinion will be accepted, because I do not see the other side as legitimate.

[Speaker B] I’m not entering the meal. I don’t understand, Rabbi. It really could be that the other side is doing… after all, in the end we are talking about a value judgment. If the other side decides in favor of a value that I see as even wicked and detestable, that’s simply the fact. For example, on the matter of the hostages, it would definitely be legitimate to think—my impression is that a large part of the rabbis who oppose [a deal], they prefer the honor of Israel, and I hear them say it in lectures, very well-known rabbis: the honor of Israel cannot allow Hamas to dance over blood. And we will go out mourning and hanging our heads. And you say to yourself, okay, that’s a value judgment. The honor of Israel—that’s the messianism—is more important than compassion for people who are suffering before our eyes right now. That’s a value judgment; there’s nothing to argue about here, that’s what he thinks, I think the opposite. So can’t I say that in my eyes that is distorted? How can I not say that?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll tell you. First point, the one I already spoke about: say that it is distorted in your eyes after you’ve listened. And you haven’t listened. You haven’t listened when you quote two rabbis or three rabbis you heard, when there are fifty percent or I don’t know how many tens of percent of the public who think that way. Don’t bring me three people and what they

[Speaker B] say.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Bring me the position of those who disagree with me. This is exactly the failure to listen that I’m talking about. There are many people who oppose a hostage deal not because of the honor of Israel. I, for example, oppose hostage deals not because of the honor of Israel—the honor of Israel interests my grandmother. And I oppose a hostage deal, and I think my arguments are good arguments. Maybe you won’t be persuaded by them, that’s fine. But I do not think I am messianic. And if you choose those positions and present them as messianic positions, as though they represent the opposing view, that is exactly the failure to listen I’m talking about.

[Speaker B] No, of course, Rabbi. I know the Rabbi’s position, and it’s clear to me that the Rabbi is not in that position, and I don’t have that attitude toward the Rabbi. I’m talking about those people, those who really do have a large presence in the public.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But I’m telling you, that is exactly the point. I am not claiming that every single person is righteous, or that no one is messianic. I’m claiming that the position is not a messianic position. The position is driven by substantive considerations. And by the way, ask those same rabbis you heard—I promise you that besides “the honor of Israel” you will also hear substantive arguments from them. Almost certainly. I don’t know, maybe there are some who won’t, but almost certainly you will hear substantive arguments too. Now it could be that they also don’t listen. Most likely. It could be that they are also biased. All of that is true. But there is substance in their substantive arguments. And it would be worthwhile for you to listen very, very carefully before you form your own position. After you form your own position, you can say, okay, I don’t agree, my position is different. You can even say they are wicked, messianic, stupid—if you listened to them and truly came to the conclusion that that is the situation. My claim is that in most cases we don’t really get past the listening stage. We decide what the other side is before we have listened. We latch onto some word here or another word there, and that’s it. And that is exactly the failure to listen I’m talking about. And I think that when you listen carefully, you will almost never find people who have no arguments—arguments that you yourself could be persuaded by. Again, arguments this way and that way. In the end, you form your position from all the arguments. But there are very good arguments this way and very good arguments that way on both sides. And someone who thinks there are arguments only on one side immediately arrives at the conclusion that the other side is stupid or wicked. Right? Because it has no arguments, so how can it hold such a position? Once it is stupid or wicked, there is also no point listening to it. And obviously then it has no arguments, because after all I didn’t listen to it. So if it has no arguments, then it is stupid and wicked. And you understand that this system feeds itself. And that is how each side becomes more and more convinced that on the other side there is some mixture of stupidity and wickedness, maybe both together. And it builds itself up, because once it is stupid and wicked then there is nothing to listen to. If I don’t listen, then it has no arguments. If it has no arguments, why does it hold this position? Apparently it is stupid or wicked. And this keeps building all the time. And you can’t get out of it. It’s a process of escalation that is simply maddening. Maddening in both senses of the word—it takes us out of reason, out of arguments. We stopped relating to arguments and started relating to people. And that is absurd, because in these disputes there really are two sides. There are two sides, and you don’t hear both of them anywhere. Nowhere. If there is a panel devoted to, I don’t know, Brothers in Arms, then you’ll hear one side there. If there is a panel with, I don’t know, Ayala Hasson, then you’ll hear the other side there. There is no place where you hear both types of arguments. So you can say, okay, let’s discuss and see: this argument prevails, that argument doesn’t prevail, this is right, that is not right. You can go on and on, that’s fine. You can shout, you can curse, that’s fine. I’m not talking about manners and etiquette. Curse me, shout at me, do whatever you want to me—but listen to what I’m saying. And form your position after you’ve heard what I’m saying; after that, curse me. And that doesn’t happen. It’s a shame. I think we all lose from it. We all lose from it because our decisions are less correct, because we aren’t really making a correct decision, since a complex situation also requires more complex decisions, not things as simplistic as what we hear from both sides. And second, of course, the rift between us—the rift between us that stems from the fact that we don’t listen, and therefore the other side is stupid and wicked, and therefore there is no point listening to it, and if we don’t listen to it then it has no arguments, so it is stupid and wicked, and so on, and that’s it. We’re already beyond everything; now it’s black versus white, that’s all. The only argument left is who is black and who is white. That is the only argument there is. And it’s absurd, simply absurd. I’m telling you: for two years already I’ve been listening to both sides, and I see that there are indeed two sides. There are arguments on both sides. There are good arguments on both sides. On judicial reform too, and on the hostage deal too, and on whatever you want—the war and whatever you want. There are good arguments on both sides. Afterward you can argue about the weighting; that’s fine. Okay. And it doesn’t seem to me that I’m suspected of lacking decisiveness. I mean, I am very decisive in my positions. But I try—not always successfully, we’re all human—but I do try, before my decisive position, to listen carefully to the arguments of those who think differently. And many times I learn. I learn; there are arguments there I hadn’t thought of, that I hadn’t weighed properly. And then, on the contrary, afterward I can be even more decisive, because I’ve also heard the other side and now I’ve reached a clearer conclusion. You know, many times—I once saw this in a eulogy for Rabbi Gedaliah Nadel in Haaretz. A woman wrote it—Rotem, not Yehudit Rotem, I think her daughter—she wrote a eulogy for Rabbi Gedaliah Nadel and said that he had two character traits that seemed contradictory to her. On the one hand, he was open to directions different from his own; on the other hand, he was very zealous and decisive. And then I thought: that is not contradictory at all. Because once you are open and hear the arguments of the other side, you can be much more decisive against it, because you know what it says. You took that into account too, and in the end you concluded that it is mistaken, so you can be much more decisive in your position. But of course you can also respect him more, because you understand that he also has his own position, his own reasoned position. So on the one hand I respect him, I understand that he has his own position; on the other hand I am now more decisive than I was before. Because now I know: I also weighed the reasons of the other side, and therefore I am more certain that I am right. There is no contradiction at all. On the contrary. I think that if you don’t listen to the other side, if you are not open to the arguments of the other side, there is much less room for decisiveness. Who told you there aren’t arguments there that refute what you think? As long as you haven’t listened, you can’t know. What, are you the only wise person in the world? But in our reality today, the fact is that she presented this as a contradiction, because in our reality today somehow decisiveness goes together with lack of openness. In other words, if you don’t hear the arguments of the other side, you are more decisive. And by the way, that is one of the reasons people don’t hear the arguments of the other side—because if you hear them, heaven forbid you might lose a little of your decisiveness. You might suddenly discover that maybe there are good arguments there too. Just as religious people don’t want exposure to other arguments because that will damage their religious devotion. Yes, it can undermine. “Do not stray after your hearts and after your eyes”—so in all the churches around us in our districts there is “do not stray.” In all the churches there are heretics. In all the churches it is forbidden to hear arguments that lead in other directions. All of them—it’s all just churches. We have no secular people in the world today. There are only churches and priests. And that is really a shame; we all lose from it. In any case, for our purposes, what I want to say is that the existence of different or opposing opinions—I’m returning to peer disagreement—does not mean that there is no single truth, or that we are in doubt. Why? Because if the other side holds a different position, that should at most cause me to reexamine my views, hear its arguments, and only then form a position. But after that I can form a position. Peer disagreement stops in the middle. It says: since there is someone else, no less smart and expert than you, who thinks differently, therefore you are in doubt; therefore it is impossible to know what is right. I say no. Take it in a constructive direction. If there is someone else who thinks differently from you and is no less intelligent than you and is a professional and so on, then that means you need to weigh his arguments very, very carefully before you form your position. But after that, form a position. By the way, in most cases, as I said before, if you formed a position and he remained in his own position, in a great many cases, if you formed a position after checking and he remained in his position, it is because he did not check. And if he didn’t check, then I’m no longer troubled by the fact that he thinks differently and is no less intelligent than I am, because if he didn’t check, then that’s not wisdom, and it does not undermine the confidence I have in my own view. If he also, of course, checked things thoroughly and tried to examine my arguments and listen to them and so on and reached a different conclusion, that really does raise a more difficult question—but it is very rare. It is very rare that there are two sides that carefully examined the other side’s arguments and still remained in dispute. In a great many cases, when you examine both sides carefully, it’s not really a dispute. Even if you think it is—check carefully and you’ll see, it’s not a dispute. You are looking at two sides of the issue. It seems to me I’ve mentioned here more than once the protests against judicial reform, where in the newspaper you can see ads from those who support the reform saying: true, the government went too far, but reform is necessary. In other words, the current situation is untenable. Do you understand that both sides are saying the same thing here? The whole question is just where the emphasis falls—whether the emphasis is on the beginning or the end. Is your emphasis on the current situation not being okay, or on the fact that they went too far? But both sides agree about both things: that the current situation is not okay, and that the government’s reform went too far. So what does that mean? It means you don’t really have any dispute at all. You are basically saying: the current situation is not okay, reform is needed, but a more moderate reform. Both sides say that.

[Speaker D] So why are there many situations in the Talmud that remain in argument, in dispute?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In my opinion there are few such cases. In my experience there are few such cases, both in philosophy and in current affairs. The problem is that many times people don’t manage to reach a situation where both sides truly listened and weighed each other’s arguments. Once you really reach such a state, it seems to me that many times you discover either that there is no dispute, or that the dispute is illusory, or that the dispute is over nuances, but it is not a substantive dispute. And the problem is that the initial stage of listening is missing. I think the reform was a wonderful example of this. And the people who sat in forums trying to formulate a balanced middle position discovered this. I heard it myself from people. Various forums of law professors and various forums where people sat seriously and thought about the arguments on both sides—they reached an agreed framework very quickly. Very quickly. From both sides: those who supported the reform and those who opposed the reform. They reached an agreed framework, and it was clear to them that they basically agreed. They weren’t even compromising much. This agreed framework was reasonable in everyone’s eyes. Almost all of us are in the same place in this context.

[Speaker B] But what… after all, it’s obvious, Rabbi, if those who, say, supported the reform—if they felt that the other side, those who oppose the reform, if they felt that the other side really, really understood their distress and fears, the importance of democracy… And that’s true of the other side too, Shmuel. That’s true, but let’s look for the moment from their point of view. No, I’m answering—no, that is exactly the point.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You are describing exactly what I am saying. You are describing exactly what I am saying. Exactly—you are right, that is what I am saying. I only claim that it exists on both sides. That is exactly the problem, and you are choosing to look at it from one side. It exists on the other side too.

[Speaker B] Rabbi, it comes out from this that when the Sages said that Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel did not fully serve their teachers, and that is what caused the disputes—then according to the Rabbi’s words, the meaning is not that they failed to serve sufficiently by hearing mainly their teacher’s words, but rather by hearing the words of the opposite school.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Could be. I’m not sure that “did not fully serve their teachers” there means דווקא that, but clearly that too would lead to the same result. If you do not hear both sides of a dispute properly, you will reach incorrect conclusions. Of course there will remain a polarized argument, and therefore the dispute will arise from your not having “served sufficiently” in that sense, and you also will not reach correct conclusions. It is simply one of the drawbacks of this method. But our instincts take us there. And in my eyes this is the number one trouble we have today. Not the disputes, not the different opinions, not the different assumptions. Our assumptions, by the way, are not so different. By mistake, the closer we are to one another, the more the disputes seem to us abyssal and extreme. It’s actually the opposite. The disputes are really not polar and extreme. Really not. We are very close in our outlooks—80 or 90 percent of the population are very close to each other in their views. But they are unwilling to listen and understand that this is the situation.

[Speaker E] That’s why we rule like Beit Hillel—because they honored, they listened.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s why I brought it, right? Because they put Beit Shammai’s words before their own, therefore the Jewish law follows them. And Rabbi Yosef Karo says the Jewish law follows them because they are right, not as a prize for good behavior. Because someone who seriously weighs the arguments of the other side is in fact more right. And he need not be troubled by the problem of peer disagreement. True, Beit Shammai are sharper than us, Beit Hillel might say to themselves, and they think differently. So how can I follow my own ruling and desecrate the Sabbath on that basis? Kill people on that basis? After all, these rulings have fateful consequences. And Beit Shammai are sharper than I am and think differently. So what, Beit Hillel were not troubled by this? They were very troubled by it. So therefore what? Therefore they listened very, very carefully to Beit Shammai’s reasoning. They did not take it in the skeptical direction that says, well, if Beit Shammai think differently then apparently I’m not right. That is a skeptical conclusion. No. If Beit Shammai think differently, then I need to listen to them before I form my own position. But after that I will form my position. Ah, Beit Shammai don’t agree? Right, because they did not listen to my arguments. If they had listened to my arguments, they probably would have been persuaded too. Okay, so that is regarding peer disagreement. I want to slightly… perhaps one needs to distinguish here—one word, perhaps one needs to distinguish—between doubt and humility. When there are other opinions, that is certainly a source for arousing a sense of humility. It is not certain that the truth is with you. Listen carefully to what they are saying. But it does not have to arouse doubt. The postmodern world thinks that if there are other opinions, then there is no truth, so we are condemned to a state of essential doubt. Not true. Simply not true. Yes, it should awaken in us… The opposing view says no, no, what are you talking about, then all the others are idiots. That isn’t true either. The others are not idiots. Listen carefully to what they are saying. After you listen and weigh, form your position, and that is perfectly fine—and remain with the same humility that says you could be wrong. It is not certain that you are right. But this is the best you can do, this is your position, and that is perfectly fine. You do not need to arrive at skepticism because of this peer disagreement. In the halakhic context, on this issue, I’ll say that this is the other side of the same coin, really, in the halakhic world, when you talk about a doubt arising from a dispute among many authorities. Yes, in the laws of doubt we distinguish between doubt about the facts and doubt about the law. Doubt about the facts is when you do not know what the reality is. Doubt about the law is when the reality is clear but you do not know what the law is that applies to that reality. For example, in the Mishnah in the chapter Kelal Gadol, yes—if you are in doubt whether today is the Sabbath or not, that is doubt about the facts. If you are in doubt whether sorting on the Sabbath is permitted or forbidden—you know that today is the Sabbath, you know the facts. The doubt is about the law. You do not know whether sorting on the Sabbath is permitted or forbidden, or whether this thing counts as sorting or not, and so forth. Doubt about the law. There is a third type of doubt—or some say it is a shade of doubt about the law—and that is doubt arising from a dispute among many halakhic authorities. What is that? A doubt that stems from the fact that there is a dispute among the halakhic decisors—the medieval authorities (Rishonim), later authorities (Acharonim), the great decisors, and so on. The accepted view is: this is doubt arising from a dispute among many authorities, and therefore the laws of doubt apply here. A Torah-level doubt is treated stringently; a rabbinic-level doubt leniently. All the laws of doubt apply in this context too. And I wrote an article about this long ago, and elsewhere too, and I think this is incorrect. The concept of doubt arising from a dispute among many authorities basically does not exist. This is exactly peer disagreement. In other words, I am in doubt because there is a dispute among experts—in this case halakhic experts. So of course it depends whether I am one of the experts—if I am capable, if I know how to do the halakhic weighing. Then what I need to do is simply listen carefully to the arguments of both sides and then form a position of my own. The fact that Maimonides and Rashba disagree—and let us say I am qualified to issue rulings, I examine the passage, I see, I weigh the considerations of Maimonides and of Rashba, or of the later authorities, I examine them, and I reach the conclusion that Rashba is right. If I reach the conclusion that Rashba is right, there is no reason whatsoever to say that I must remain in doubt just because Maimonides disagrees. Do you see? This is exactly the problem of peer disagreement. No—I think like Rashba, so I will act like Rashba. The fact that Maimonides disagrees does not instruct me to remain in doubt. It instructs me to weigh very carefully the considerations and arguments that lead to the other side, because Maimonides was not stupid either. Fine. So I will weigh that. But after I have weighed it, if I reach the conclusion that Rashba is right, then I am not in doubt, and I go with Rashba. By contrast, the accepted view in Jewish law today is that peer disagreement is a state of doubt. If there is a dispute among the halakhic decisors, then now we discuss it under the laws of doubt. And I think I once mentioned this—what

[Speaker E] if there is a dispute in the Talmud itself, for example Abaye and Rava? We don’t enter every dispute and say who is more right. There is a rule: usually we rule like Rava except for six cases or something. There are many such rules.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So I’ll answer you first, and then continue what I intended to say earlier. First of all, in that case there is a rule that the Talmud itself states, so the dispute has been decided.

[Speaker E] I’m talking

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] about a dispute that remained undecided. I am not talking about a dispute in the Sanhedrin.

[Speaker E] There are rules that came from the Geonim and the medieval authorities (Rishonim). So those rules don’t interest me.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] As far as I’m concerned, these rules matter when they obligate me. Just as I’m bound by the rulings of the Talmud, I’m also bound by the rules of the Talmud. But once the Talmud stated a rule, then the dispute no longer remains a dispute—there’s a decision. I’m not saying one should argue with an existing halakhic ruling of the Sanhedrin. I’m claiming that where there is a dispute among the halakhic decisors, among the medieval authorities (Rishonim), even in the Talmud, among the Amoraim, and it was not decided—then that does not mean I have to remain in doubt; I have to decide. I’ll say more than that: even where there is a rule in the Talmud—yes, I’ve spoken about this more than once—“we do not derive law from general rules, even where an exception was stated.” The Talmud itself says that too. And based on this I explained that Maimonides, for example… for example, ruled in additional disputes between Abaye and Rava, and ruled like Abaye in more cases besides the six exceptions. For example, in the issue of “do not form factions.” For example, in “if one acted, it is ineffective”; at least according to some of his commentators, he ruled like Abaye against Rava. So the commentators invented all kinds of sub-rules here—that when Abaye and Rava disagree about the view of Tannaim, then this rule that the Jewish law follows Rava does not apply, only when the dispute is their own. Where did they invent this rule from? Out of the clouds, I have no idea where from. It’s just not true. Maimonides ruled like Abaye because he thought he was right. So what about the rule? The rule speaks to me when I have no position on who is right. So the Talmud wants to tell me, okay, let me help you decide what to do if you have no position of your own—then follow Rava, except for those six cases. If you do have your own position, then rule as you think. And therefore Maimonides rules like Abaye in other cases too, and so there’s no difficulty and no need to invent more and more such sub-rules. There’s the well-known story about the priest and Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschütz—like all good stories, it’s Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschütz. So the priest comes to him and says: after all, we’re the majority, the Christians, and it says in the Torah, “follow the majority,” so why don’t you follow us? So Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschütz says to him: I follow the majority where I’m in doubt; if I’m not in doubt, I don’t follow the majority. Now this isn’t—it’s not a joke at all. People always tell it as a joke. It’s not a joke; that’s the real answer. A completely genuine answer. Meaning, if you truly had no position between Judaism and Christianity, then maybe there would be room to say you should follow the majority. Again, we’d have to discuss the parameters of majority, but never mind. But if you have a position of your own, why follow this rule that the majority decides? The majority decides if I have no position, so I follow the majority. If I do have a position, what relevance does the majority have? It’s like if I find a piece of meat in the market: there are nine non-kosher shops and one kosher one in town, but the piece I found has a kosher seal on it. So because there are nine non-kosher shops, should I say that this piece is non-kosher? No. Going after the majority of shops is only when I’m in doubt about the piece. But if I have no doubt about the piece—there’s a kosher seal on it—then I’m not in doubt, and I don’t need to follow the majority. That is a completely serious answer; it’s not a joke. If I have a position, I don’t need the rules for deciding doubts. The rules for deciding doubts address someone who is in doubt. If you are in doubt, go with that rule. But those rules do not tell me that I’m required to be in doubt. That is for me to decide. If I decide that I don’t know who is right, Maimonides or Rashba, then indeed I am in doubt—but I’m not in doubt because there is a dispute between Maimonides and Rashba. I’m in doubt because I don’t know how to decide which side is right. So that’s not a personal doubt; it’s just a legal doubt. Therefore I claim there is no such thing as personal doubt. For ordinary people maybe there is—people who can’t formulate a halakhic position on their own. If there’s a dispute among halakhic decisors, then there I might accept that there is such a thing as personal doubt—but not for judges or halakhic decisors or people who are capable of that. For people who are capable of that, there is no such thing as personal doubt. So that is the halakhic expression of this matter of first disagreement. But for our purposes, what I just want to sum up here is that the fact that there are several positions or different arguments in different directions does not mean that we are in a state of doubt and need to apply rules like majority, statistics, probability, and the like. No, I don’t need to apply any rule. If I know the truth, then I’m not in a state of doubt, and all those rules are irrelevant. Those rules are relevant only when I’ve decided that I’m in a state of doubt. Therefore, first of all, when I come to topics of the kind we’re dealing with in this series, the first decision is to decide that I’m in doubt. The second decision—or first of all to map out the various possibilities—after that, I have to decide whether I’m in doubt between the possibilities or whether I know which possibility is correct. And the third decision is, okay, now what do I do in a state of doubt—which are the next stages we’ll get to.

[Speaker E] Okay, so then I’ll go right back again to Rabbi Yosef Karo, who says that if there is a dispute between the Rosh, Maimonides, and the Rif, then you follow the majority.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t agree with him.

[Speaker E] I go in and think every time—we know that most of the Shulchan Arukh is Maimonides.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay. I don’t agree with him.

[Speaker E] He doesn’t have everyone go in with his own head.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, Rabbi Yosef Karo definitely has a precedent-based approach. By the way, many halakhic decisors attacked him for that. The whole polemic around the Shulchan Arukh was basically because of this issue—that he determines a position, makes a majority out of three. Yes, the Maharal writes about this, the Yam Shel… And don’t tell me that most halakhic decisors agree with him, meaning that I don’t agree with going by the majority on that question. Okay, another question or comment?

[Speaker C] Now regarding the method of deciding between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel, I thought maybe that story teaches us that in every decision-making system, there needs to be a body that sits and clarifies the issue and investigates and brings up the points, and really there you need the sharpest and most intelligent people. But maybe one should really make a categorical separation between those who sit and clarify everything, and then they present it to people who have the ability to listen and exercise fair judgment.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Well, in principle, in principle, such a situation could exist. That is basically the Platonic proposal of rule by philosophers. It basically says: choose the people who, from your perspective, are the philosophers, and they’ll sit in parliament or wherever and make decisions on our behalf. Meaning, we have the possibility of deciding who the philosophers are. But you understand that it doesn’t work like that. Philosophers don’t go to elections, and we also don’t elect philosophers. And by the way, it’s not at all clear that it’s right to elect philosophers—I’ll get to that later; I’ll talk about this further on. But theoretically there is room for such an approach.

[Speaker C] Wait, let me sharpen it, because I’m not sure you understood me. I said that they are the ones who sit and clarify, but then supposedly present each of their conclusions before a panel of judges, where the judges’ quality is that they need to be wise to some degree, but their central quality is really the ability to listen and weigh things. Meaning, to separate these two abilities—the ability to clarify and the ability to make a decision.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A technical decision. I think you could also do that within the same forum. Why shouldn’t the philosophers also make the decision after they’ve sharpened the positions? Again, philosophers do listen. You want to separate philosophy from listening. Fine, that’s a technical question. It could be yes, it could be no, but for our purposes it doesn’t matter, because it’s only a question of how to implement that idea. After all, it’s clear that both things are needed. Whether to do it in two instances or one—that’s a technical matter.

[Speaker C] Yes, what I’m really talking about here is a model that maybe we should aspire to because of the difficulty you described—that those people who are very sharp, it’s hard for them; it’s not self-evident that they’ll also have that quality of…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It could be that you’re right. I’m saying again, it’s a technical question of how to implement it. I’m talking about the principled question. In principle, one has to sharpen the positions and listen to arguments from all directions. Exactly how to carry this out in society, or institutionally, how to put it into practice… okay. All right then, good news, Sabbath peace. Sabbath peace. All the best.

[Speaker E] Sabbath peace.