Ein Ayah – Lesson 23

Table of Contents

• The Talmud in Berakhot: Hezekiah, Isaiah, procreation, and Manasseh
• Rabbi Kook: kingship versus prophecy, the present versus eternity, and preserving the royal line
• Rejecting an “anti-deterministic” reading and Rabbi Kook’s claim of obligation despite determinism
• The continuation of the Talmud: “A decree has already been issued against you” versus “one should never refrain from seeking mercy”
• Internal analysis: what is the dispute really about—the choice of Manasseh or breaking the decree
• The claim about the “conclusion of the passage”: Hezekiah accepts the action but not the reason
• An alternative reading of behadey kivshey d’Rachamana lama lakh: rejecting metaphysics as a tool for practical decision-making
• A qualification of the generalization: metaphysical certainty, prophecy, and the reversal of roles in the story
• Can practical lessons for our own time be derived from aggadic literature
• First application: clarifying matters of faith, hard questions, and paying a short-term price for the sake of a future chain
• The lesser evil: criticism of compromises that perpetuate systems
• Blank ballots, abstention, and democratic policy
• Messiah, metaphysics and Jewish law, and false messianism

Summary

Overview

The text presents the passage about Isaiah and Hezekiah in tractate Berakhot through a developing reading that sets opposite one another considerations of kingship and prophecy, present and eternity, and determinism versus the possibility of changing a decree. It brings Rabbi Kook’s interpretation, according to which even if it is clear through divine inspiration that Manasseh will turn out wicked, one still must not interrupt the royal line, and the obligation to be fruitful and multiply takes precedence because of the long-term benefit for the people. It then proposes another reading of behadey kivshey d’Rachamana lama lakh as a methodological stance against relying on metaphysics in decision-making, and examines whether the Talmud’s own conclusion actually supports that principle or perhaps narrows it. The text then expands into contemporary applications, mainly around Zionism and messianism, questions of “the lesser evil” in public systems, and whether practical conclusions for our day can be drawn at all from the aggadic passages of the Talmud.

The Talmud in Berakhot: Hezekiah, Isaiah, procreation, and Manasseh

The text states that in the Talmud, Isaiah comes to rebuke Hezekiah for not taking a wife and not engaging in procreation, and Hezekiah explains that he saw that a wicked son was destined to come from him—Manasseh. It quotes Isaiah’s response, behadey kivshey d’Rachamana lama lakh, and presents it as an instruction to perform the commandment without getting into heavenly calculations. It describes how Hezekiah proposes marrying Isaiah’s daughter so that the merit of both of them might stand by him and perhaps outstanding sons would come from him, and that in the end they do marry.

Rabbi Kook: kingship versus prophecy, the present versus eternity, and preserving the royal line

The text brings Rabbi Kook, who connects the opening of the passage to the tension between kingship and prophecy, where the king represents concern for the present and the prophet a broad eternal perspective. It presents Rabbi Kook’s claim that Hezekiah, as king, was deeply anxious about the people’s present condition, and that a corrupt king can corrupt the people “very greatly,” because this is influence on a macroscopic scale. It quotes Rabbi Kook explaining that even if Manasseh will be wicked, “the days of one generation are considered as nothing” in relation to the eternity of Israel, and that stopping the monarchy could cause “an enduring eternal downfall” if “the throne should fall from the ruling family.” It sums up Rabbi Kook’s conclusion: “Therefore you have no grounds to rely on stopping the eternal chain because of a temporary perspective, even if it comes through divine inspiration”—meaning that even when the perspective is correct and comes through divine inspiration, the chain must not be interrupted.

Rejecting an “anti-deterministic” reading and Rabbi Kook’s claim of obligation despite determinism

The text argues that the common reading is that Isaiah rebukes Hezekiah for determinism, because a son has free choice and perhaps he will not turn out wicked—but Rabbi Kook rejects this. It states that according to Rabbi Kook, even if Hezekiah is right and Manasseh really will turn out wicked, as revealed through divine inspiration, the commandment to be fruitful and multiply still obligates him. It emphasizes that the command is not based on doubt about the forecast or on the possibility that Manasseh might choose differently, but applies even “on the assumption that Manasseh really will be wicked.”

The continuation of the Talmud: “A decree has already been issued against you” versus “one should never refrain from seeking mercy”

The text quotes the continuation of the Talmud: Hezekiah says, “Give me your daughter,” so that “my merit and your merit together may cause” there to come forth “worthy children,” and Isaiah replies, “A decree has already been issued against you.” It emphasizes Hezekiah’s response: “Son of Amoz, finish your prophecy and leave,” and “Thus I have received from the house of my forefather: even if a sharp sword is resting on a person’s neck, he should never refrain from seeking mercy.” It points to a reversal of positions, in which Isaiah now sounds deterministic, while Hezekiah stresses the possibility of change through prayer and mercy.

Internal analysis: what is the dispute really about—the choice of Manasseh or breaking the decree

The text argues that the discussion is not focused on Manasseh’s free choice, but on the question whether a heavenly decree about the circumstances into which he will be born can be broken. It claims that Hezekiah is not talking about Manasseh choosing good, but about changing the decree through prayer, merits, and joining his merit with Isaiah’s. It adds that Tosafot wanted to say that Manasseh “in fact had no other choice,” and that his choice had already been taken into account, presenting this as part of the tension between the forecast of divine inspiration and the room left for change.

The claim about the “conclusion of the passage”: Hezekiah accepts the action but not the reason

The text argues that Hezekiah “rules like Isaiah, but not for Isaiah’s reasons,” because he accepts that one should not refrain from procreation—but only because “one should never refrain from seeking mercy” and because there remains the possibility of tearing up the evil decree. It suggests that according to this reading, the principle of behadey kivshey d’Rachamana lama lakh does not remain as the final conclusion, and that if there were certainty that the outcome would not change, there would actually be room to justify refraining from procreation. It connects this to the Talmud in Bava Batra about the decrees of the wicked kingdom, where “it would have been fitting for us to decree upon ourselves not to engage in procreation” when the result would be an inability to fulfill the commandments.

An alternative reading of behadey kivshey d’Rachamana lama lakh: rejecting metaphysics as a tool for practical decision-making

The text proposes a reading according to which Isaiah is claiming that metaphysics is not a tool for making halakhic or practical decisions, and that one should decide only on the basis of realistic, halakhic, and value-based considerations. It applies this to the dispute between Religious Zionism, which sees historical processes as “the beginning of redemption,” and anti-Zionism, which describes them as “the other side of impurity,” and argues that both sides are mistaken when they base current decisions on metaphysical interpretations. It gives an example from Nachmanides on Joseph and the dream, and presents the criticism according to which Joseph was not supposed “to worry about making the dream come true,” because “leave the Holy One, blessed be He, to that,” and sees in this an expression of the principle of behadey kivshey d’Rachamana lama lakh.

A qualification of the generalization: metaphysical certainty, prophecy, and the reversal of roles in the story

The text qualifies this by saying that where there is metaphysical certainty, perhaps one may take it into account—but it states that in our time there is no prophet, and therefore such certainty does not exist. It points to the irony that דווקא in the presence of a prophet, Hezekiah does not accept Isaiah’s practical conclusion regarding the decree, but instead relies on a tradition “from the house of my forefather.” It emphasizes the entanglement here, in which Hezekiah may accept Isaiah’s forecast while rejecting the practical instruction, and the way the passage twists between prophetic authority, divine inspiration, and a conception of mercy and prayer.

Can practical lessons for our own time be derived from aggadic literature

The text states that generally one should not derive practical conclusions from aggadic literature, but raises the possibility that here one can extract a rule against relying on metaphysics when there is no certainty. It argues that Rabbi Kook takes the passage in a different direction—a value-based discussion of one generation under a wicked king versus preserving the monarchy for generations—and therefore someone who does not accept the methodological reading will interpret it differently and will not change practical positions. It presents this as a methodological claim that people “will dress it up with what they already think” and will not move from their positions even if the “plain meaning of the Talmud” is presented to them.

First application: clarifying matters of faith, hard questions, and paying a short-term price for the sake of a future chain

The text compares Rabbi Kook’s consideration to claims made against raising difficult questions of faith, where people argue that it is better to keep people within the framework even if they are “hollow,” so that their children or grandchildren will be committed. It says that there is a distinction here between a first-order discussion about what is true and what ought to be done, and a second-order discussion about risks and consequences. It illustrates the confusion in disputes such as the status of women and egalitarian prayer groups, where the question “what will happen next” replaces the discussion of “is this permitted or forbidden.”

The lesser evil: criticism of compromises that perpetuate systems

The text presents a criticism of “the lesser evil” considerations and argues that they may lead to systemic petrification. It gives an example from a public struggle in Yeruham against a corrupt council head, where he explains that he would have preferred to refrain from voting, even at the price of the corrupt person being elected again, in order to continue the struggle and create conditions for real change. He extends this to national elections and argues that constant voting for a “home party” removes any incentive to improve and makes it harder for new forces to emerge, whereas a low turnout can create “tremendous motivation” for new blood.

Blank ballots, abstention, and democratic policy

The text says he would like to put in a blank ballot to show, “I went to vote and I have no one to vote for,” but argues that “those scoundrels” do not count blank ballots in order “to perpetuate their own corruption.” He claims that someone to whom democracy is dear “must not vote” when there is no worthy candidate, presenting this as the opposite of the public brainwashing that says, “You have to vote.” He adds that there is a limit to compromises, and that there is a “line” beyond which it is not right to compromise even if there is no perfect candidate.

Messiah, metaphysics and Jewish law, and false messianism

The text distinguishes between a situation in which an identified messiah from the line of David appears—in which case this becomes a halakhic consideration within commandments such as building the Temple and appointing a king—and a situation of general metaphysical assessments without a prophet. It refers to his daughter’s work on “false messianism and Religious Zionism” and argues that there are “dimensions of false messianism” within Religious Zionism, whose central characteristic is reliance on metaphysics instead of substantive considerations. It states that there is no prohibition against being a false messiah; the prohibition is against being a false prophet. And it defines the problem of false messianism as an application of “Why should you involve yourself with the hidden things of the Merciful One?”—that is, decisions being made from metaphysical motives rather than out of realpolitik, values, and Jewish law.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Let’s begin. Last time we saw the Talmudic passage in Berakhot about Isaiah and Hezekiah, where Isaiah comes to rebuke Hezekiah for not marrying and not engaging in procreation. And then Hezekiah tells him that it’s because he saw that a son would come from him who would be wicked—Manasseh. Then Isaiah says to him: what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One? Why are you getting into the calculations of the Holy One, blessed be He? You should do what you are commanded to do—that is, engage in procreation. Then the Talmud says there that Hezekiah asks Isaiah: maybe you’ll give me your daughter, and then the combined merit of the two of us will stand in my favor, and maybe my son will nevertheless turn out righteous. And in the end, they do of course get married. That’s the Talmudic passage. We saw Rav Kook on the first section of this Talmudic passage, where he deals with this struggle between kingship and prophecy, because the Talmud begins with the question of how the Holy One, blessed be He, manages to reconcile two justified positions: the king, who wanted the prophet to come visit him, and the prophet, who wanted the king to come in to him. And the Holy One, blessed be He, basically reconciles two justified positions. I’ll just connect that for a moment—connect between two justified positions. So Rav Kook spoke there about in what sense they are justified, long-term versus short-term, that kingship deals with the present while the prophet deals with the longer term, with the spiritual, and with material versus spiritual. I spoke a little about the fact that the relationship between the present and the long term is not always parallel to the relationship between the material and the spiritual. It’s not always the same thing.

In today’s passage—I’m moving on, I’m now sharing this passage of Rav Kook—here Rav Kook continues and says as follows: Hezekiah, as a king before whom stands the concern for the present—Hezekiah, as a king before whom stands the concern for the present, was very anxious about the people’s current condition. We spoke about the fact that the king deals with the present and the prophet deals with the long term. When, through the spirit of God that was upon him, he saw that if he fathered sons they would be destructive, then surely they could cause very great destruction to the people when they sit on the royal throne. When a king is corrupt, that has very broad implications. It’s something macroscopic. It’s not like a private individual who is corrupt. Therefore Hezekiah’s consideration is certainly a weighty one. In other words, the fact that his son would turn out wicked is not like an ordinary person whose son turns out wicked. Hezekiah’s son is going to be king after him, and if he is wicked, then you have a wicked king here—that changes the macroscopic situation.

However, Isaiah said: what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One? Don’t make heavenly calculations, because prophecy reflects the eternal condition of the people. As he said in the previous passage, the days of one generation are considered as nothing. So there will be one generation with a wicked king—but one generation does not count. The eternal people are not afraid of a long road. For if the kingship is interrupted and the throne falls from the ruling family, an enduring eternal collapse may come about. Because in the end, one generation of wickedness is not so terrible compared to the alternative. And what is the alternative? If Hezekiah does not have a son, then the royal chain of the people of Israel stops, is annulled. Once the throne falls from the ruling family, it may be that there will be an eternal collapse—we may lose kingship altogether. And the stumbling block of one wicked king—let’s continue reading—and the stumbling block of one wicked king who comes from the seed that God chose, the royal line—this will pass. So there will be one wicked king for one generation, but it will pass, because in the end the throne will be established in justice and uprightness. In other words, if not him then his son or his grandson—eventually these kings will return to the proper path. And therefore he says: therefore you have no right to rely on a temporary perspective in order to interrupt the eternal chain, even though it came through divine inspiration.

What does that mean? He is basically saying this. His claim—and here I think his final sentence is exactly what he is trying to sharpen—is this: one might have said that the superiority of Isaiah’s consideration over Hezekiah’s consideration—that is, the superiority of the “yes, engage in procreation” position, despite the fact that through divine inspiration it appeared to him that the son would turn out wicked—comes from the fact that, after all, the son has free choice. The fact that you see that he is destined to turn out wicked does not yet mean that it will definitely happen. It could be that he will change the matter if he chooses good, because in the end free choice is given to every person. And therefore it could be that you are mistaken. And maybe what Isaiah is claiming against Hezekiah is basically saying to him that if the son really were wicked, then perhaps indeed it was good that you did not engage in procreation. But how can you know that? After all, this son has free choice. It could be that in the end he will turn out righteous, and therefore you need to engage in procreation.

But Rav Kook wants to claim something else. Rav Kook claims that even assuming Hezekiah is right, and indeed through divine inspiration what was revealed to him was that Manasseh would be wicked—even so, he still needs to engage in procreation. Not because of the possibility that maybe he will not turn out wicked because Manasseh will choose good, but even assuming Manasseh really will be wicked, still the consideration says: nevertheless, you need to engage in procreation. And that is why Rav Kook basically concludes here—he says, the concluding sentence: therefore you have no right to rely on a temporary perspective in order to interrupt the eternal chain, even though it came through divine inspiration. Meaning: this perspective came through divine inspiration, and therefore it probably shows you the truth as it really is. In other words, it’s not that maybe he’ll choose good and therefore he won’t be wicked—no, he will be wicked, because if divine inspiration told you he would be wicked, then he will be wicked. And still Isaiah says: I am telling you that you must engage in procreation. In other words, the commandment to engage in procreation is not because divine inspiration is not necessarily right, because he has free choice. Even assuming it is right and he really will turn out wicked, it is still preferable that you nevertheless engage in procreation. That is the claim. That is all Rav Kook is trying to say here.

And he is trying to reject the understanding that I think usually is what we would say when we read this Talmudic passage. We would say that basically what Isaiah says is: what do you know? Divine inspiration tells you this, so it is expected—but if he chooses to be righteous, then he will be righteous. So because of that you are now deciding not to bring him into the world at all? Give him the option—maybe he will be righteous. Rav Kook says that is not how the Talmud should be read. “What business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One” means that even if you are right that the son will turn out wicked, still you need to engage in procreation. That is the point. And therefore, even though it came through divine inspiration—that perspective—even though it is of course correct, meaning it will not be falsified because it is divine inspiration—even so, you need to engage in procreation. That is basically the claim.

Now the question is: why, really? So look—later in the Talmud, let’s look here. I’ll move for a moment to the next passage. Just look at the Talmudic text for the moment—I’m not yet reading Rav Kook’s passage, just the continuation of the Talmudic passage that appears here. He said to him: give me your daughter. So Hezekiah says to Isaiah: then give me your daughter as a wife. Perhaps my merit and yours together—the combined merit of the two of us—will cause it so that sons of worth will come from me, meaning that outstanding sons will come from me, righteous sons, and then in the end we will manage to change what divine inspiration showed me. He said to him—Isaiah says to him—yes, notice this, follow who is speaking. Isaiah said to him: a decree has already been issued against you. What does he answer him? He answers: no, you cannot change it. Divine inspiration told you that the son would turn out wicked, so he will turn out wicked, and even the combined merit of the two of us will not help.

Then Hezekiah says to him: son of Amoz, finish your prophecy and leave. Thus I have received from the house of my father’s father: even if a sharp sword rests on a person’s neck, he should not refrain from mercy. Nothing is fixed; everything can change. It could be that Manasseh will choose good and change. We must never despair of mercy.

Now notice the interesting reversal of positions that happens here in this paragraph. When we read earlier the paragraph with “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One,” I said that the common understanding of that paragraph is that basically Isaiah wants to say to him: what are you, such a determinist? How can you be sure that your son will turn out wicked? It could always be that he will choose good and turn out righteous. “What business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One?” Do you know what is going on in the hidden furnace of the world? You do what is incumbent upon you, and what Manasseh chooses, he will choose. So apparently the argument between Hezekiah and Isaiah is that Hezekiah is the determinist and Isaiah tells him that everything depends on free choice. Apparently.

What happens in this section? Exactly the opposite. Right? Hezekiah says to him: give me your daughter. Why? Because maybe the combined merit of you and me will help so that my son turns out righteous. Meaning that Hezekiah does take into account the possibility that maybe it won’t come out that way, maybe divine inspiration wasn’t right and the son will indeed turn out righteous. And specifically Isaiah answers him: no, a decree has been issued. If you saw it through divine inspiration, then that is what will be. I’m now pulling this back, and then Hezekiah says to him: a person should never despair of mercy, thus I have received from the house of my father’s father. He remains with his own position—but he married. He obeyed Isaiah.

Now look at the interesting dialectic happening here in this discussion, and this brings me back to what I said earlier about Rav Kook. In the previous passage of Rav Kook we saw that he was trying to reject the simple understanding, that basically Hezekiah was a determinist and Isaiah rebukes him for that. Hezekiah said: well, if divine inspiration showed me, then for sure the son is wicked. And Isaiah says: what do you mean? It could be that the son will choose good and be righteous—that’s the apparent reading. Rav Kook says: what are you talking about? Isaiah tells him: you need to engage in procreation despite the fact that it came through divine inspiration, and divine inspiration does not err. In other words, the son will turn out wicked, and still you need to engage in procreation. So Isaiah is not rebuking him for determinism—on the contrary. Isaiah says to him: despite determinism, you are not exempt from procreation. In a moment we’ll see why, but that is the claim.

And now—from where does Rav Kook get this? Simply from what he saw in the Talmud. Here you see it explicitly. It is clear proof for Rav Kook. Because what the Talmud says here is that Isaiah really held that the son would turn out wicked, that divine inspiration does not err. And nevertheless he rebukes Hezekiah and says to him: what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One? Meaning, Isaiah is basically telling him: even though the son really will turn out wicked, you still need to engage in procreation. That is Isaiah’s claim. Isaiah’s claim is not that the son could choose otherwise. No—he won’t choose otherwise, because if it was revealed to you through divine inspiration that he will be wicked, then he will be wicked. And still you need to engage in procreation. And specifically Hezekiah argues: what do you mean? A person must never despair of mercy. A decree has been issued, but if I pray, through your merit and mine together, it could be that this changes the picture and the son will still turn out righteous.

Now what is basically written here? Isaiah’s position is clear. Isaiah’s position—well, clear, it still needs to be explained—but what is he saying? He is basically saying: your son indeed will turn out wicked, because if divine inspiration said so, it knows, and that does not exempt you from procreation. You should not concern yourself with the hidden furnace of the world; you need to do what you are commanded. That is Isaiah’s view.

But Hezekiah’s position is strange, because his position says that yes, it can be changed. So if it can be changed, then why did he want to refrain from procreation? After all, according to his own position, despite the fact that divine inspiration showed that the son would turn out wicked, there is still a possibility of changing it—not despairing of mercy. So what did he originally think? Why at first did he not want to engage in procreation? Apparently he thought that if the most likely outcome is that a wicked son will come from him, then even that is enough to refrain from procreation. That is an even more far-reaching approach. In other words, if the expected result and the highest probability is that the son will be wicked—even though there is a possibility of changing it, one must not despair of mercy—but if the son will be wicked, then it is preferable not to bring him into the world at all. Better not to bring him into the world. Really far-reaching.

Maybe in this context I’ll just make one remark. When we speak about a conception of free choice, obviously the intention is not that a person operates in a vacuum. It is clear that each person has—and of course wise people maybe do this better, and the Holy One, blessed be He, maybe does it best—but we can try to predict what will come from a given person. There is a way to estimate more or less what he will do, how he will react, how he will conduct himself. That can be done. The libertarian conception does not say that prediction is impossible, only that certainty is impossible. The prophecy is the expected outcome. But if a person chooses to do otherwise, then he can also do otherwise. Prophecy only tells me what is expected to happen if he does not take some exceptional path, some very surprising choice. If the Holy One, blessed be He, or divine inspiration gives such a forecast, then it is probably a forecast that takes all the influences into account, and therefore most likely that really is what will happen—except in a case where he suddenly chooses good, because choice is something that cannot be predicted in advance.

And on that Hezekiah says: fine, but usually this prediction is in fact correct. There are rare cases in which a person can choose and do otherwise than what the circumstances dictate to him. A person can do that, but still the prediction is not a bad prediction. Most likely the prediction is correct. Say, out of a thousand people, if the circumstances say that people in such a situation will react in way X, then if I have to bet whether a given person from that group will do X or not, I’ll bet on X. Even though he has free choice, since most people will do what is expected. There will be some who choose otherwise—fine. Hezekiah says: since what is expected, since divine inspiration told me—it is not certain, because a person must not despair of mercy and it could be possible to choose otherwise—but still, since that is the expected result, since that is the expected result, that is enough for me to refrain from procreation. Because I am not willing to take even that risk. True, there is some chance that he will also turn out righteous, but most likely not. That is enough not to engage in procreation. So that is an even more far-reaching view.

But if you notice, beyond that—at a higher resolution—Hezekiah is not really speaking at all about Manasseh’s own choice. He is not speaking about Manasseh’s possibility of choosing good. He is talking about breaking the decree that was decreed. What does Isaiah say to him? A decree has been issued. What does that mean—a decree has been issued? It is not about Manasseh’s character. It is about a decree from Heaven that the son will turn out wicked. Not because Manasseh will choose evil, but because it was decreed from Heaven that he would be wicked. He can later choose to go against that decree and choose good, but the decree is that he will turn out wicked.

Now what does Hezekiah say? Hezekiah—not only Isaiah, also Hezekiah—is not speaking about Manasseh’s choice. Hezekiah does not say: yes, yes, that is the decree, but Manasseh can choose good. That is not what he says. He says: that is the decree, but it can be broken through prayer, through the merits of Isaiah, of himself, the combination of the two. He is not speaking at all about Manasseh’s choice. He is still talking about the circumstances into which Manasseh will be born—the circumstances that dictate that he be wicked. Manasseh’s choice is another stage; that comes afterward. First of all I am talking about the question of what the circumstances into which Manasseh comes will dictate. The decree was that he would come into circumstances that dictate that he be wicked. Hezekiah says: I can pray, or through your merits and mine, so that even the circumstances will not dictate that to him. We are not talking about the fact that Manasseh can also choose to act against the circumstances. We are talking about the question of what the circumstances themselves will say. In other words, there is really no discussion here about Manasseh’s free choice—not from Isaiah’s side, not from Hezekiah’s side, in no way. The whole question is how deterministic these decrees are, not what Manasseh will choose. Can these decrees be broken? And Hezekiah claims yes, the decrees can be broken if you pray, if you have merit, or if your future in-law and you together have merits—all that can break the decree. Then the decree will no longer be that he is wicked.

Besides that, even if the decree remains, it could still be that he can choose good—but that does not arise here at all. That is a different discussion. And I mentioned a bit at the beginning of the previous lecture that Tosafot wants to say that here Manasseh really had no other option; in the end he was wicked. He had to be wicked. That his choice had already also been taken into account when the forecast was made. Fine. In any case, that is Rav Kook’s claim.

But notice what that means. If we go by—well, I won’t say Jewish law because this is not a halakhic dispute—but what is the Talmud trying to teach me? Isaiah’s view or Hezekiah’s view? It is not entirely clear. Because apparently it is Isaiah’s view, right? Isaiah rebukes Hezekiah and says to him, “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One?” and everyone quotes that. Apparently that is the approach we learn from the Talmud: what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One. But when you look into the Talmud through these lenses, you see that this is not correct. Not correct. Because in the end Hezekiah sends Isaiah away and accepts Isaiah’s position, but only partially. He accepts Isaiah’s position that he may not refrain from procreation—but only because he can avoid despairing of the decree, avoid despairing of mercy. Because of the option that the decree can be broken, only because of that did he accept Isaiah’s claim.

In other words, notice: he rules like Isaiah, but not for Isaiah’s reasons. Isaiah argues against him: you need to be fruitful and multiply even if your son will turn out wicked—what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One? Hezekiah does not do that and does not accept that either, and that is not the conclusion of the Talmud. In my view, the conclusion of the Talmud is the opposite: if the son turns out wicked, it is better to refrain from bringing him. That is the conclusion of the Talmud. What Hezekiah argues, or understands in the end, is that since the decree can be broken by prayer and merit and the like, only because of that is it forbidden to refrain from procreation. In other words, he rejects Isaiah’s conception. Isaiah’s conception does not remain. Isaiah caused him to change his view, but did not bring him to adopt Isaiah’s own view. Rather, he brought him to adopt some more moderate position. And that position basically says that if there is a chance to break this decree, then one may not refrain from procreation.

That same extreme position that I previously placed in Hezekiah’s mouth—that is what Isaiah managed to break. What was the extreme position that I previously put into Hezekiah’s mouth? Hezekiah claims: even though there is in fact a possibility that what divine inspiration said will not happen, nevertheless since most likely that is what will happen, I still need to refrain from procreation. An extreme position. Because after all, it could be that it won’t happen, so what permission is there to refrain from procreation? A positive Torah commandment—and not only a positive commandment, yes, this is a very foundational idea, “He created it to be inhabited,” the whole world was created for this. It is not only a technical matter of a positive commandment; it is much more than that. So that is really far-reaching: to refrain from that great value and from the positive commandment of procreation because of the concern that maybe the son will turn out wicked, since there is a chance he won’t. Most likely yes, but there is a chance not. Hezekiah says no: if it is most likely that he will turn out wicked, I do not engage in procreation. That is what he changed. He did not return to Isaiah’s conception; rather, that is what he changed. He said: since there is a chance that the son will nevertheless turn out righteous, then I really accept that I need to engage in procreation. In other words, the claim of “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One” is one that Hezekiah really does not accept. It is an incorrect claim; it does not remain as the conclusion of the passage.

Contrary to what people always quote—and I myself, by the way, also always quote it that way—“what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One”—in a moment I’ll come to those contexts. Apparently from this analysis of the Talmud—and this is really a compelling analysis of the Talmud—it comes out that this is not correct. In the final analysis, the principle of “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One” is not correct; it is rejected. What remains is that since there is a possibility of changing the result, only then is it unjustified to refrain from procreation. But if you imagine a situation where it would not be possible to change the result, in such a case there would be justification for refraining from procreation.

This is reminiscent of the Talmud at the end of the third chapter of Bava Batra. The Talmud says there that from the moment the wicked kingdom decreed against Israel that they should not engage in the week of the son and should not fulfill commandments, it would have been fitting for us to decree upon ourselves not to engage in procreation, not to bring children into the world. In a place where the result will be that it will be impossible to fulfill commandments, it is fitting to refrain from procreation—that is what the Talmud says there. And this is exactly Hezekiah’s conception. But Hezekiah said yes—if it is not necessary. If there is a possibility that it will not happen, then there is no need to refrain from procreation. Okay?

Now let’s see what rationale Rav Kook nevertheless gives. Rav Kook basically claims that—where is it—that Rav Kook explains why one nevertheless needs to engage in procreation, and he says: because in the long term it is preferable that the chain of kingship continue, even at the cost of one or two generations having a wicked king. Notice that this is a very specific consideration. There is no general statement here that the long term is always preferable to the short term. There is a very specific consideration here. The claim is that these problematic long-term consequences outweigh the problematic short-term ones, and therefore it is preferable. It is not a general statement that the long term always overrides the short term. It is a specific statement here, saying what? If you refrain now, then there will be no king in Israel at all. Isn’t it preferable that there be a wicked king for one generation, but afterwards the kings return to being righteous, rather than wiping out the chain of kingship entirely? That is not reasonable. It is a specific consideration. In not every dilemma between short term and long term can you raise the same consideration. I gave a number of examples in the previous lecture of dilemmas between short term and long term, and in some of them you can say this and in some you can’t. In other words, it seems here that the argument Rav Kook puts in Isaiah’s mouth—when he says why Hezekiah was forbidden to refrain from procreation—is a very specific argument. It is not a general statement to ignore the short term and always look at the long term. In this case the scales really are such that the long term prevails.

Beyond that, the plain reading of the Talmud, as I said earlier—or of Isaiah’s words, “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One”—I said one possibility has been taken off the table: the possibility that says “don’t be a determinist.” It could be that Manasseh will choose good or that the decree will be torn up and the son will nevertheless turn out righteous. You can’t build on that in order to refrain from procreation. Rav Kook rejected that. That is not Isaiah’s claim. But one could read it another way. One could say that, in principle, you are not supposed to resort to metaphysical considerations when making halakhic decisions or decisions in your life in the world. Metaphysics is not a tool for decision-making. I think that is the simple reading of Isaiah’s words. It is not a question of choice and not a question of anything else. You have a commandment to be fruitful and multiply—what do I care about metaphysics? Even if you are right—not because the claim is incorrect. As we saw, Isaiah was a determinist. Isaiah said: the decree has already been issued. He is not claiming that the decree can change. So what is he claiming? Rav Kook explained what he explained, but I want to make another claim. The plain understanding of Isaiah is not that. The plain understanding says that Isaiah is basically claiming that metaphysics is not an instrument for making decisions.

I used these ideas in current contexts. The dispute between Religious Zionism and, say, extreme anti-Zionist Haredi thought is a dispute over how to relate to the processes we are going through in these generations on the metaphysical plane. Religious Zionism tends to see it as the beginning of redemption. Basically, the Holy One, blessed be He, is signaling to us that redemption is beginning, the people of Israel are returning, there are all kinds of signs, the return to Zion, “and you, mountains of Israel, shall give forth your branches and bear your fruit,” something like that—yes, how does it go there? “And you, mountains of Israel, shall give forth your branches, bear your fruit.” These are signs of redemption, like the Talmud in Sotah. And therefore Religious Zionism says: since it is clear to us that this is the beginning of redemption, one must join this process.

Anti-Zionism—say, the Satmar kind, or at least the extreme anti-Zionist Haredi view—says: this is the footsteps of the messiah, this is the Other Side, all kinds of formulations of Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman—one must not join this thing, because it comes from the bad side, not the good side. The common denominator between these two camps or these two views is that both make practical decisions. Religious Zionism says: one should help the Holy One, blessed be He, move redemption along. And anti-Zionism makes its calculations because it is the work of the Other Side, so we oppose it or do not join it.

I think that in this matter both are mistaken, because I do not think one should take metaphysical considerations into account when making decisions. When you make decisions, you need to make them according to realpolitik considerations on the one hand and halakhic considerations on the other—halakhic and value considerations on the other. What will this bring about? And whether it will bring the messiah or, on the contrary, the anti-Christ or whatever you want—I don’t know—yes, the Other Side or not the Other Side, that is not your business. “What business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One?” Not for the better and not for the worse, not for good and not for bad. You need to make your decisions according to realpolitik considerations.

As they attribute to Ben-Gurion the saying that in the State of Israel, whoever does not believe in miracles is not realistic. In other words, the conception is that we are basically relying on a miracle. Why are we relying on a miracle? Because this process—it’s not Ben-Gurion, but Religious Zionism—because this is redemption and the Holy One, blessed be He, will not let this whole business collapse, and therefore we are relying on miracles. We will win here in any case, even though we are the underdog and there is seemingly no chance, and so on—we will win. That is a consideration that, in my opinion, one must not make. But the opposite consideration is also forbidden. If you oppose Zionism because they are transgressors, because they will lead the children of Israel astray, or all the inventions of the Satmar people—those are legitimate considerations. Legitimate considerations. Because of that, don’t cooperate. But if you tell me that the products of the Other Side and all kinds of demons stand behind this process, that is not a consideration on the basis of which you should refrain from cooperation.

You should make your decisions by realistically looking at the process and saying what its chances of success are, considerations of realpolitik and security and so on, and social and cultural considerations—all the realistic considerations, and of course values and Jewish law. Values and Jewish law tell me what is permitted and what is forbidden. That is the whole set of considerations that should stand before my eyes when I make decisions. Not considerations of what is happening in the seventh heaven at that moment, whether I need to join or not need to join.

It is somewhat like what they ask about Nachmanides, who asks why Joseph did not reveal to Jacob that he was not dead, that he was still alive. One of the answers—Nachmanides gives two answers there—one of them is because he wanted to bring about the fulfillment of the dream, that his mother and father and eleven brothers would come and bow to him. So he wanted somehow to roll things along so that the dream would be fulfilled, so he did not reveal it to him, and thus in the end everything unfolded so that they all descended to Egypt and bowed before him. And many attack Nachmanides over this point: what do you mean, are you responsible for the fulfillment of dreams? If the Holy One, blessed be He, gives you a prophecy or sends you a dream, He is supposed to take care of fulfilling it. “What business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One?” You have the commandment of honoring your father, so tell your father that you are alive. Don’t let him remain in mourning because you need to worry about the fulfillment of the dream. Leave that to the Holy One, blessed be He—He will take care of fulfilling dreams. That is His role, not yours. That is exactly the claim of “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One?”

Of course Nachmanides does not say that; in that answer at least—he gives two answers—but in that answer Nachmanides apparently holds that that is not the meaning of “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One.” But it seems to me that this is the plain meaning, and not for nothing do people attack him on that, because it really is not the straightforward perspective.

And so if I return to our own times, I think that on this matter the dispute between Religious Zionism and Haredi thought—the dispute I described earlier—is being conducted on the wrong plane. It is being conducted on the metaphysical plane, when in fact metaphysics should not take part in our considerations at all. Again, not because it is incorrect. I am not taking a position on which side is right, and I am not saying that you may not rely on it because maybe it is not true, as I wanted to say earlier about Hezekiah. Not because of that. You may not rely on it because it is not a legitimate consideration in making decisions in the world. Legitimate considerations in making decisions in the world are only the realistic, halakhic, and value-based considerations. That’s it. Leave metaphysics to the prophets—unless there actually is a prophet. If there is a prophet, that is something else, by the way. When there is a prophet, then one of his authorities is to use metaphysics as an instrument for decision-making. But in a place where you have metaphysical assessments of one kind or another, not on the basis of a prophet—and even a prophet only in very specific places, when he receives prophecy and is guided to act on it—we are not supposed to act on the basis of metaphysical considerations. And I think that is the straightforward explanation of Isaiah’s claim: “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One?”

But then one has to comment on the Talmudic move I mentioned earlier, because in the end it would seem that Isaiah’s position does not remain as the conclusion, the “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One.” In principle, “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One” is not a consideration; that is what Hezekiah rejected. Hezekiah engaged in procreation only because he said there was a chance to break the decree, to tear up the evil decree. Only because of that did he accept Isaiah’s rebuke and engage in procreation. Meaning that on the principled level, if you really know what will happen, then you can refrain from procreation and perhaps it is even preferable to refrain from procreation. That is the conclusion of the Talmud according to its plain sense.

And then I need to qualify a little what I said before. It could be that in a place where you have a metaphysical consideration that is clearly true, you may take it into account—but I don’t know whether such a situation can exist. All sides here are of course terribly convinced—both the anti-Zionists and the Zionists are very convinced that they alone are right and the others are idiots. But I think it is very hard to arrive at certainty in situations like these. We have no prophet today, and we have no one who can tell us the metaphysical meaning of these processes. Therefore, at least in this situation, I do stand by my view that “what business do you have with the hidden matters of the Merciful One” means that one may not take metaphysical considerations into account as long as it is not clear—and when you do not have a prophet, it is not clear to you.

By the way, what is nice here, in a kind of ironic twist, is that precisely Isaiah, who was a prophet—after all, Hezekiah had a prophet—and the prophet told him what was going to happen metaphysically, and Hezekiah did not accept it. That is very interesting. Everything here is upside down and inside out; it twists back into itself. Meaning, Hezekiah did not accept it, even though a prophet told him. Now Hezekiah also saw through divine inspiration, so I don’t know what his status was, how accessible metaphysical information was to him—maybe he also had access to it, I don’t know. But when he rejected Isaiah’s position, he rejected it because of some tradition from the house of his father’s father. It does not say here who that “father’s father” was, but he had some tradition, and apparently for him it was strong enough to reject Isaiah’s position.

But if he had accepted Isaiah’s position that a decree had been issued and it could not be changed, then he would have refrained from procreation contrary to what Isaiah himself says. Meaning, he would have accepted Isaiah’s evaluation of reality, but in practice he would not have behaved as Isaiah says. He would have refrained from procreation. Because the halakhic instruction he is not supposed to receive from Isaiah; what he is supposed to receive from Isaiah is the metaphysical forecast. Okay, so there are really many, many things here, at different resolutions, that somehow spread one into the other in the conclusion of this Talmudic passage. I think it is a very interesting move.

I am returning to the consideration Rav Kook mentioned. I’m leaving that issue now. You know what—maybe one more remark on that issue. Can one derive from this aggadic passage a lesson for dilemmas in our lives? That is always a question I ask myself about aggadic passages in the Talmud. I generally claim that usually not, almost never. But from this passage—maybe yes? I don’t know. It seems to me that the lesson I stated—that where you do not have certainty in the metaphysical interpretation, you may not rely on it in decision-making—that lesson I think I would derive from the Talmud here. Can I tell you that I am convinced that if I myself did not already think this way, I would also change my view because of this Talmudic passage? Not sure. It may be that I would adopt Rav Kook’s interpretation, which does not speak at all about using metaphysics in decision-making, but rather interprets it in terms of value considerations. According to Rav Kook, the discussion in the Talmud is about the value consideration: is it preferable to have a wicked king—even though kingship affects the whole people, it has macroscopic consequences—but only for one generation, and thereby preserve kingship for future generations? Or should one stop kingship altogether so long as there will not be a wicked king for one generation? That is a completely different discussion. It does not deal at all with whether one should use metaphysical considerations in decision-making. Therefore, in my opinion, what Rav Kook said is not the plain meaning of the Talmud.

But I suppose that those who do not accept my view—for example Satmar or anti-Zionism—they will probably interpret the Talmud like Rav Kook, not as I do. And again, they will not draw conclusions from this Talmudic passage, but will project onto it what they already think, just as Rav Kook himself did. In any case, he could not interpret this Talmudic passage the way I did. So he had no choice and explains it differently. He basically says that the consideration was one generation of a wicked king versus loss for many generations. Then it does not touch the question of taking metaphysics into account at all. From Rav Kook’s point of view, taking metaphysics into account is certainly legitimate, even where we are probably not sure. Because I don’t think he could have been so certain when very many of the great rabbis of his generation thought exactly the opposite. So the interesting methodological point is: can one really derive practical conclusions for our own time from an aggadic passage like this? How should one conduct oneself? I would think yes. But the fact that Rav Kook takes it in another direction—and I don’t know how many people who disagree with me a priori I would be able to convince if I showed them that what I am saying is the plain meaning of the Talmud. Whether I could persuade them to retreat from their anti-Zionism or from their metaphysical Zionism and return to a Zionism of realpolitik, political Zionism, state-centered Zionism as it is called—in other words, a Zionism of realistic, value-based, halakhic considerations—or anti-Zionism based on realistic, halakhic, and value-based considerations rather than metaphysical ones—I doubt it.

Usually people do not change their view even if I show them that the plain meaning of an aggadic Talmudic passage says something. They will explain it differently, like Rav Kook. They will not change their position. And therefore I say that I do not know how much one can really learn and derive conclusions from aggadot.

Anyway, I now return to Rav Kook’s explanation. Let’s go back and study Rav Kook’s explanation. As I keep saying, I don’t think this is the plain meaning of the Talmud, but this is how he explains it. And perhaps, ironically enough, Satmar too would explain the Talmud this way. Because my explanation of the Talmud rejects both Satmar and him. In that sense they share the same position, that metaphysics should indeed play a role in our considerations. Okay? These are always interesting coalitions—two opposites meet on the far side of the circle.

Anyway, a consideration similar to Rav Kook’s can also be heard in contemporary discussions. I’m leaving metaphysics now; I’m moving to Rav Kook’s discussion. A consideration similar to Rav Kook’s can be heard today, for example, from people who ask whether, when I raise various difficult questions in matters of thought that can lead people to conclude that they do not accept the whole system, okay, and to leave—and such things have indeed happened. I know there are people for whom, at least apparently, I had some part in such a decision, unfortunately. And I’ve received quite a few criticisms on this point, that I raise the questions and raise the possibilities and am unwilling to accept certainty about anything. People say to me: wait a second, in the end what matters now is the instruments. The practical result is that you are bringing people into problematic situations.

Another claim that comes up is that there are people who will somehow lose trust in the system and go on observing it mechanically, just by force of habit. Merely because of external pressure. And of course that raises the question of how much value there is in that. Because my claim is that if people are really grappling with difficulties and you do not discuss them with them, then even if they stay in the system, they remain there just out of inertia, because it is comfortable, because they do not have the courage to leave it, but they are not really keeping commandments, they are not truly committed. There is no real value there.

And then people always tell me: yes, but maybe his child will be? Exactly Rav Kook’s argument here. Fine, so one person will remain religiously hollow, but he will remain in the framework, send his child to religious education, his child will grow up and perhaps really be a religious person. And if not, then the grandchild. But at least you preserve the continuation of the chain. So what do you care? Pay the price now so that in the long term the chain will continue. It is exactly this discussion that Rav Kook puts in the mouths of Isaiah and Hezekiah. And his claim is that it is worthwhile to gain the long term at the expense of the short term. A weighty claim; one can discuss it.

I think that here this is different from the discussion between Hezekiah and Isaiah, because here truth itself has value beyond the prices paid. First of all, the question is: what is the truth? And that is a sick tendency in many such discussions, where different levels of discussion get mixed together. There is one discussion: is the truth that one should fully investigate all these questions at the philosophical level? That is a yes-or-no question. In my view it is quite clear that yes. Then there is another question: what dangers are expected if we do that? And it could be that those dangers would keep me from doing what it is correct to do. That is a legitimate argument; it has to be discussed. But that is a second-order argument. One must not mix it with the first-order argument. First of all I want to discuss whether it is correct. Then afterward we can discuss whether it is worth giving up what is correct in favor of long-term consequences. Here one has to distinguish between these two arguments. People usually do not distinguish.

Many times—for example regarding the status of women—people discuss egalitarian prayer groups, and immediately the question comes up: but what will happen afterward? First discuss whether it is permitted or forbidden. Then ask what the expected consequences will be later—the slippery slope and all kinds of things like that. People immediately mix in the second-order questions while skipping over the first-order discussion. I think that is incorrect. First one has to examine what Jewish law says: is there procreation, is there not procreation? Afterwards one can discuss the long term. It may be that one should refrain from procreation because of long-term consequences, and it may be not. But that is already a second-order discussion.

Rav Kook’s own consideration is essentially a lesser-evil consideration, right? That is basically what he says: better to choose the lesser evil. Take Manasseh—although he will turn out wicked—so you’ll have one generation with a wicked king, but the generation after him, two generations after him, the continuation of the chain in the long term, will turn out righteous. Who told him that? I don’t know, but let’s say so. Because by the way, you can see in Rav Kook that if they won’t turn out righteous, then the mere continuation of kingship is not worth it. Only because in the long term he assesses that the kings will be righteous does that tip the scales. That too is an interesting remark.

Okay, so that is basically what he says: this is the lesser evil. Desecrate one Sabbath for him so that he will keep many Sabbaths, or considerations of that kind. Now on lesser-evil arguments too, I want to make a few comments. This was an insight that once hit me. We had some public struggle when I was in Yeruham against the head of the local council. The council head there was really corrupt. In the end they threw him out; the Minister of the Interior threw him out—against his will, doesn’t matter, he was forced to do it, he had supported him, but in the end he threw him out. He was very corrupt and we struggled there for a whole year in order to get him thrown out.

During that struggle, I was the one who initiated it, and many people asked me: tell me, if there were elections now, whom would you vote for? Because the previous council head, who was in general an honest person—I had opposed him because I didn’t like his policies. I said he was not a good council head. He was an honest person; there was no dishonesty there, but I opposed him. They asked me who I would vote for now—suppose they were both candidates, there were new elections, they throw this guy out, new elections. I said: I won’t vote for either one. They said: yes, but then the corrupt one will be elected again. I said: let him be elected again, and then we’ll fight him again, and we’ll throw him out again. So vote for the lesser evil, they said. The other guy isn’t such a good council head, but at least he’s not corrupt. Vote for the lesser evil.

And then some kind of realization hit me that is also true of national elections. In national elections too, each of us votes for the one who is the lesser evil. You never vote for the one you really want; you vote for the one you least don’t want, right? That’s what everyone does today at the ballot box. Nobody wants any of those people in the Knesset. We would prefer that none of them be there. But we choose the lesser evil.

Now what is the price? I am in favor of refraining—I even wrote posts about this on the website—I am in favor of refraining from voting if you really think that this is the situation. Why? Because the moment you choose the lesser evil, each person basically remains with his home party even though he is very dissatisfied with it. And that is a sure recipe for total petrification. Petrification of the system. No new forces will enter. Why? Because people vote anyway. Why should I improve? I don’t need to improve. Whoever thinks like me, whoever is right-wing will vote for me even if I am corrupt. Whoever is left-wing won’t vote for me even if I am not corrupt, and even if the left is corrupt. So I have no motivation not to be corrupt. I have no motivation to behave properly, because I know the right-wing votes will be mine in any case, or the left-wing votes will be mine in any case.

By contrast, if I am willing to pay a price in the short term and I say: I’m willing for the left to come to power—suppose I am a right-wing person—I’m willing for the left to come to power, and I will not give my vote to a corrupt right-wing person. And I know someone like that. I will not give my vote to a corrupt right-wing person. Then in the short term, suppose the left comes to power because of my one vote. But in the long term, if there are many abstainers, that is a great motivation for good people to enter the game, because people understand that there is a potential electorate that could vote for them. Today there is no potential electorate that will vote for new forces. New forces have a hard time entering the field because people vote anyway, and the existing politicians have no motivation to improve, since in any case they will get the votes of their home camp. A few people wobble from side to side, aside from certain games and combinations and conjunctures among the existing forces, each one shifting from here to there. That is the reason the whole thing keeps moving, because there is no other way to change the map. The only way to change the map is to take the existing forces and mix them differently. There is no motivation for new forces to enter, because no one will vote for them. People vote only for people they already know.

And that is a very heavy price, because although from your point of view you get the lesser evil, you get the lesser evil perpetuated forever. You will always stay with the lesser evil; there will be no improvement. Only if you are willing to pay a price in the short term and accept not the lesser evil but the greater evil for the short term, until good forces enter and I am willing to give them my vote and they prevail—only then will the government be in the hands of those whom I originally would prefer to have there. So the policy of the lesser evil is a very damaging policy.

And of course the question is where the line is, because it’s never the case that—what, you’ll only vote for someone perfect? There is no perfect person. One always has to compromise; that is obvious. I am not against reasonable compromise. But there is some line—without defining now what that line is—there is some line beyond which it is not correct to compromise. It is not correct to compromise, even at the price of having Ahmad Tibi come to power. For my part, today I would be willing to have Ahmad Tibi as prime minister rather than Bibi. Ahmad Tibi and Ayman Odeh and whoever else you want there, whom I detest. I would prefer them as prime minister over Bibi. Again, I’m not getting into a political argument right now; I mean on the principled level. Because if I do that, then someone else can come in place of Bibi to whom I can give my vote wholeheartedly, and that is the only chance to improve this situation. The lesser-evil policy petrifies the system. It is a policy that fossilizes the system.

There is of course a famous urban legend—I once argued about this with Aviezer Ravitzky—about a rabbi in South America to whom one of the community members came and said: look, Rabbi, I eat kosher every year only from the beginning of Elul until Yom Kippur. I make sure to eat kosher during that period. Should I start from the first day of the new month or from the second day of the new month? Ravitzky told me: I would tell him to start from the first day of the month—you gain one more day that he eats kosher. And I told him that I am not willing to say that. Do whatever you want; as far as I’m concerned, don’t eat kosher all year. I am not giving a halakhic ruling saying “start from the first day of the month and not the second,” because in principle I think that a halakhic decisor should not give rulings of the lesser evil. A halakhic decisor should say what is permitted and what is forbidden, and not give you a choice between two forbidden things as to which one is lighter. I think that is not the role of a halakhic decisor.

Again, this is another discussion of lesser-evil considerations. One could bring in Rabbi Ilai, that a person should go to a distant place and do what his heart desires. Is that a lesser-evil consideration or not, and is the Jewish law in accordance with Rabbi Ilai or not? I also once wrote an article about that. But in any case, this too is some kind of discussion of the lesser evil.

In this context, as I said, if I now translate this back to us, Rav Kook says that the long term overrides the short-term considerations. It is preferable for the chain of kingship to continue and in the long term to have a good king, even though now I will compromise and have a bad king for one generation. Meaning, this is preferable to not having a king at all and giving up the whole chain of kingship from here on. But there is another option here. If I say: I am not bringing this king if he is wicked—then as far as I am concerned, put in some other royal chain there. As far as I am concerned, it is possible that there should be no royal chain at all. But that is the only chance that in the end people will bring some king who is actually worthy. Because otherwise, once again, I surrender to the lesser evil. But the temporary lesser evil has this annoying tendency to remain—to become perpetual. The only way to get a good result in the long term is not to compromise in the short term—to be perfectionistic and not compromise on the lesser evil even in the short term. And if he is a wicked king, then let there be no king at all. “In those days there was no king in Israel; every man did what was right in his own eyes.” Better no king than a wicked king.

And then in the end we will all understand that one cannot do without a king, and we will choose a new king and not remain captive to the existing kings, all of whom are at best the lesser evil. Therefore even Rav Kook’s consideration—which is better than which—I ask the question again: even if I adopt Rav Kook’s explanation of the Talmud, can I now learn a lesson from this Talmud for our own time? That the lesser evil is preferable in light of the long term? Not even that. Because one can always say: fight in the short term, do not compromise, do not allow the lesser evil, because precisely then in the long term you will have good. Sometimes it is this way, sometimes it is that way. So when will you know what is right? When will you know what is right? Common sense and your evaluation of reality. So once again, you have learned nothing from the Talmud. In the end, in the end, it is impossible to learn anything from the Talmud. These are all correct ideas, by the way, and they sharpen things that I think deserve attention. But if you ask whether I can now take the Talmud and derive from it a conclusion that will decide a dilemma I am facing—I do not see how that happens here.

Okay, let’s stop here. Whoever wants to comment or ask?