HaKones Chapter – Lesson 12

This is an English translation (via GPT-5.4). Read the original Hebrew version.

This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.

🔗 Link to the original lecture

🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI

The framework of the topic: indirect causation and the four cases
Bending another person’s standing grain toward the fire: a common wind and an uncommon wind
The question of the timing of the wind, and the precise reading of Rashi and the Maggid Mishneh
Rav Ashi: concealed property in fire, and a chain of indirect causation through the exemption for concealed items
Chazon Ish: the determining moment for concealed property, and the proposal that visible property is liable only if it remains visible the whole way through
Logical lessons and dichotomies: equivalent formulations and understanding the requirement
The Talmudic need-for-both-cases argument: the novelty of liability in the heavenly sense in both scenarios
The Meiri and the Yam Shel Shlomo: intent to cause harm, good intentions, and knowledge of the law of concealed property
The relation between the explanations: does Rav Ashi disagree with “the master,” and Maimonides who rules both
A proposal for understanding the wording “bends” according to Rav Ashi: he bends it and then conceals it, turning it into liability for indirect causation

Summary

General overview

The text deals with the topic of damages through indirect causation in the statement of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi about four cases in which the person who acts is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense, and it returns to the second case: one who bends another person’s standing grain toward a fire. The Talmud clarifies the exact scenario and distinguishes between a fire that arrives through a common wind and one that arrives through an uncommon wind, while Rav Ashi offers a different reading involving concealed property because “he made it concealed in relation to fire.” From there, several basic questions are examined: whether the wind is already blowing at the time he bends the grain, what the determining moment is for the exemption of concealed property, how the Chazon Ish builds the conclusion that liability requires something to be “visible the whole way through,” and what can be learned from this about the yeshiva-world tendency toward dichotomies and logically equivalent formulations. After that, the discussion turns to the Talmud’s need-for-both-cases argument, the interpretations of the Meiri and the Yam Shel Shlomo concerning the damager’s intention and liability in the heavenly sense even when his intention was for the good, and finally the relation between the explanation of an uncommon wind and Rav Ashi’s explanation, along with the difficulty of how Maimonides rules both.

The framework of the topic: indirect causation and the four cases

The discussion opens by situating the learning within the topic of damages caused indirectly and within Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi’s statement about four cases of exemption in human courts and liability in the heavenly sense. The speaker notes that he had already connected the first case—one who breaches a fence before another person’s animal—to the discussion in the Mishnah about bandits taking it out, bandits breaking in, one who stations the animal, a guardian, and everything that comes up in that context. Now he goes back in the Talmud to the statement itself in order to deal with the second case.

Bending another person’s standing grain toward the fire: a common wind and an uncommon wind

The Talmud asks: what exactly is the case of one who bends another person’s standing grain toward the fire? It suggests that if the fire reaches the place of the bending by way of a common wind, he should be liable even in human courts, because this is like placing the grain into an existing fire, and there is no difference between bringing the fire to the object and bringing the object to the fire. The Talmud therefore establishes that the case involves an uncommon wind, in order to explain exemption in human courts but liability in the heavenly sense. The speaker emphasizes that the fire is not in that place at the time of the bending, because if it were there, that would be direct damage and liability in human courts. He argues further that the prior history of how the fire got there is irrelevant if, at the time of the act, there is already fire in that place.

The question of the timing of the wind, and the precise reading of Rashi and the Maggid Mishneh

The speaker raises the question whether the wind is already blowing at the time of the bending, and argues that if the wind is already blowing, there is no room to distinguish between a common and an uncommon wind, because a wind that is already “here” becomes common in the sense relevant to liability. He cites Rashi, who explains that when he bent it, the fire reached it, and notes that this wording creates ambiguity as to whether the fire arrived immediately after the bending. He then cites the Maggid Mishneh, who states that specifically the wind was not present at the time of the bending and only later blew; but if it was present at that time—even at an unusual intensity—he is liable in human courts.

Rav Ashi: concealed property in fire, and a chain of indirect causation through the exemption for concealed items

Rav Ashi explains the case in terms of concealed property, because the one who bends it makes the grain “concealed in relation to fire,” and by doing so causes the one who lit the fire to be exempt from payment due to the unique exemption of concealed property in cases of fire. The speaker describes a case in which a person concealed another person’s grain so that when the fire burns it, the owner of the fire is exempt for concealed property, and the injured party loses compensation. That loss is attributed to the one who concealed it as indirect causation, and therefore he is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense. He emphasizes that Rav Ashi implies that the exemption for concealed property applies even when, at the time the fire was lit, the item was exposed and only afterward became covered—because otherwise there would be no “chain” of causation in which the one who concealed it causes the fire-setter’s exemption.

Chazon Ish: the determining moment for concealed property, and the proposal that visible property is liable only if it remains visible the whole way through

The Chazon Ish raises an inquiry whether the exemption for concealed property depends on the moment of negligence or on the moment of burning, and suggests that when it was concealed at the time the fire was lit, there is exemption even if it became exposed before the fire consumed it, because otherwise the exemption for concealed items inside a stack would never exist, since at the time of burning they become exposed. He then adds that from Rav Ashi’s discussion it also follows that even if the items were exposed when the fire was lit and became covered at the time they were burned, there is exemption. He concludes that one is not liable unless the property was exposed from the time of ignition until the time of burning, and that if it was covered even for one moment, there is exemption. The speaker presents the conceptual lesson here: the inquiry “is the decisive moment the moment of ignition or the moment of damage?” need not be a strict dichotomy. The solution may be that liability requires visibility all the way through, so that exemption results if the item was concealed at any stage.

Logical lessons and dichotomies: equivalent formulations and understanding the requirement

The speaker emphasizes that in conceptual learning, possibilities are often missed when things are presented only as “either this or that,” while there is also “both” and “neither.” He shows how a logically equivalent formulation can be clearer when one translates “or” into a requirement stated negatively regarding a certain state. He illustrates this through the example “either entirely for you or entirely for God,” explaining that the requirement is simply not to split it, and also through the “paradox of the ravens,” in which logically equivalent statements lead to different intuitions about confirming a theory. He adds the point that statistically, a confirmation like “a white table” is negligible.

The Talmudic need-for-both-cases argument: the novelty of liability in the heavenly sense in both scenarios

Later, the Talmud presents a need-for-both-cases argument and explains that in the case of an uncommon wind one might have said, “How was I supposed to know that an uncommon wind would come?” and therefore he should not be liable even in the heavenly sense; the Talmud teaches that he is liable in the heavenly sense. According to Rav Ashi, one might have said, “I merely covered your grain,” with the intention of protecting it, and therefore he should not be liable even in the heavenly sense; the Talmud teaches that he is liable in the heavenly sense.

The Meiri and the Yam Shel Shlomo: intent to cause harm, good intentions, and knowledge of the law of concealed property

The Meiri presents the claim that one could say his intention was for the good, so that the fire should not burn so strongly, and therefore he is exempt in human courts—but liable in the heavenly sense if his intention was to eliminate the payment obligation. The speaker finds the wording difficult and also has trouble understanding the initial assumption as against the conclusion. The Yam Shel Shlomo cites an inference from Tosafot and innovates that even if he intended something beneficial, in order to make rescue possible, he is nevertheless liable in the heavenly sense because he should have been careful. He adds that knowledge that concealed property is exempt in fire is needed in order to attribute this responsibility to him. He writes that if the person did not know the law of concealed property and intended something beneficial, it is obvious that he is exempt because this is an unavoidable circumstance. That raises a discussion whether ignorance of the law exempts, and whether one should distinguish between basic laws tied to ordinary reality and novel laws that one cannot be expected to know generally.

The relation between the explanations: does Rav Ashi disagree with “the master,” and Maimonides who rules both

The speaker argues that Rav Ashi’s explanation is strained in the wording “bends,” because he introduces concealed property even though it is not mentioned explicitly. Therefore, it seems likely that Rav Ashi does not accept the explanation involving an uncommon wind—perhaps because the initial assumption there, that one should be exempt even in the heavenly sense, is too strong. He notes that Maimonides rules both laws: both that one who bends grain in the path of an uncommon wind is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense, and that one who conceals another person’s grain in a way that causes the fire-setter to be exempt is also treated that way. He proposes a resolution according to which “the master” can accept the law of concealed property as well, while interpreting the sugya as dealing with an uncommon wind, whereas Rav Ashi needs a different case because he does not accept the first explanation.

A proposal for understanding the wording “bends” according to Rav Ashi: he bends it and then conceals it, turning it into liability for indirect causation

The speaker raises the possibility that Rav Ashi is not replacing “bends” with “covers,” but adding that he bent it and afterward covered it, so that the bending in a common wind would have made him liable in human courts, but the concealment creates the exemption for concealed property, removing the payment and thereby turning the loss left with the injured party into indirect damage through the prevention of compensation. He compares this to halakhic structures in which the identity of two exemptions is not canceled out even when both are found in the same person, and notes that this assumption depends on how one understands the exemption for concealed property—namely, that it is not based on unavoidable circumstances. He concludes by referring to the guidance sheet for the next lecture and to the upcoming discussion of whether fire is treated as “because of his arrows” or “because of his property,” in the dispute between Rabbi Yohanan and Reish Lakish in chapter two.

Full Transcript

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, so we’re really in the topic of damages caused by indirect causation, the statement of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi, who talks about four cases where someone who does them is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense. We spoke a bit about the concepts of indirect causation in general. After that I moved to the first case, someone who breaches a fence before another person’s animal. That issue of breaching a fence before another person’s animal I had already connected to the discussion in the Mishnah about bandits who took it out, bandits who broke in, one who stations it, a guardian, and everything that comes up in that context, because I had already connected it to the discussion of someone who breaches a fence before another person’s animal, since that was the context—apparently the context because of which this statement appears here in our topic. But now I’m going back again, also backward in the Talmud, to this statement itself. And the second case is one who bends another person’s standing grain toward the fire. He bends another person’s grain toward the fire. Let me share the file for a moment. Okay. “The master said: one who bends another person’s standing grain toward the fire”—what exactly is the case? Right, so someone who bends another person’s grain toward the fire is apparently bringing it toward the fire, and that’s one of the cases where someone who does it is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense. The Talmud asks: what exactly is the case? What are we talking about? If you say that the fire reaches it by way of a common wind—right, if the fire reaches the place to which I bent the grain by way of a common wind—then he should be liable even in human courts. Right? Because then you’re basically—if it comes through a common wind—it’s like putting the grain into the fire. After all, we know there’s no difference between my bringing the fire and burning the grain, and my throwing the grain into an existing fire. In both cases it’s obvious that I’m liable. So here too, the Talmud says, if the fire is supposed to reach this place through a common wind, then for me that’s basically like a fire that already exists here, and when someone bends the grain into that area, he has effectively put the grain into the fire, so he’s liable in human courts too, not only in the heavenly sense. Rather, it reaches it through an uncommon wind. So we have to say that the case is where the fire would have reached that place through an uncommon wind. And Rav Ashi said: it was stated regarding concealed property, because he made it concealed in relation to fire. Meaning, Rav Ashi is actually suggesting a different direction. We’re not talking about someone who bends the grain to a place that the fire reaches through an uncommon wind, but about someone who concealed another person’s grain. He turned the other person’s grain into concealed property—bearing in mind in the background that there is an exemption for damage to concealed property caused by fire. Meaning, if someone causes damage by means of fire and the fire burned a stack, then if other things were hidden inside the stack, the person is basically exempt from paying for them. He pays for the heap as though it were entirely made of wheat or barley or whatever is visible outside. That’s called the exemption for concealed property, which is a unique exemption in the laws of fire damage. Now what happened here is that the person bent another person’s grain—sorry, a person concealed another person’s grain—and then what happens is that when the fire comes and burns the grain, the one who lit the fire is exempt from paying the owner of the grain, because the grain was concealed, say, inside some sheet or something like that. So the owner of the fire is exempt from paying the owner of the grain. Once I concealed the grain, I effectively damaged the injured party, because now the injured party won’t receive compensation for the damage that happened to him. And since that damage is indirect causation—because I didn’t damage him directly, I only prevented the damager from paying him—therefore this is damage through indirect causation, which is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense. It’s pretty clear that we’re not talking here about a situation where the fire is already in that place to which I bend the grain. Right? Because if the fire is already there and I bend the grain there, that’s directly setting it on fire. That’s obvious. Incidentally, in the laws of the Sabbath too, in the laws of cooking for example, and really also in the laws of kindling, but also in cooking, it makes no difference whether you light a fire. We don’t distinguish in the laws of damage by fire either between someone who throws something into the fire and someone who brings the fire to the thing. So if the fire was already here in this place and I bent the grain to the place where there is fire, it’s obvious that I’m considered one who directly causes damage and I’m liable in human courts. More than that, it’s also obvious that it doesn’t matter whether it was a common wind or an uncommon wind. Why do I care what wind brought the fire here? Right now there is fire here and I bent the grain into the fire. Even if the fire got here through an uncommon wind, who cares? That’s history. Right now, at the moment there’s fire here and I put the grain into it, I’m liable. The history of how the fire got here is completely irrelevant to the discussion. So it’s obvious that when we’re talking here, we’re talking about a situation where the fire was not yet in that place to which I bent the grain. It arrived afterward. Then the Talmud distinguishes: if it arrived through a common wind, then he is liable in human courts; if it arrived through an uncommon wind, then he is liable in the heavenly sense. But now let’s ask a more far-reaching question. Was the wind already here? And the fire was, let’s say, five meters away from here, and I bent the grain into the area, into the path where the fire later arrived. Okay? So that’s called bending another person’s grain toward the fire. But the wind—the fire got here by means of wind—and the Talmud distinguishes between a common wind, in which case he’s liable in human courts. Notice: I bend the grain to some place, the wind is not there yet. The wind, though, is about to come as a common wind. The fire, sorry, the fire isn’t there yet. The fire is about to come through a common wind. In that case, says the Talmud, I’m liable in human courts. Meaning, not only if I put the grain into a fire, but even when I put the grain into a place where fire is expected to arrive through a common wind, although right now it still isn’t there, that too is full-fledged damage by fire and is liable in human courts. But if the expected wind—right, or really the unexpected wind—is an uncommon wind, and suddenly an uncommon wind comes and brings the fire here and burns the grain that I bent, then I’m exempt in human courts and liable in the heavenly sense. Now I’m asking: I already know that the fire isn’t in the place to which I bent the grain, because otherwise that would be liable in human courts; that’s not what we’re discussing. So the fire isn’t there—but is the wind already blowing?

[Speaker B] Apparently not. Why? Because if the wind is already blowing, then what difference does it make whether it’s a common wind or an uncommon wind?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Do you agree? It’s a simple line of reasoning. Because if the wind is already blowing, why should I care whether it’s an uncommon wind? After all, if it’s already here right now, what does “uncommon wind” mean? An uncommon wind means I wasn’t supposed to anticipate that such a wind would come. But if that uncommon wind is already blowing, I’m already in the middle of a typhoon, so you can’t say this is an uncommon wind, I didn’t think of it. When you bent the grain there, you already did it while the wind was blowing at full force. You can’t say you didn’t expect the wind to arrive because it’s uncommon. A wind that is already present is common. Incidentally, “common” here works in two senses. An uncommon wind means a wind that is not frequent—it appears only rarely. But here I mean that the wind is present here, in terms of this place. And once the wind is already present, then even if it isn’t common in the other sense—even if it’s unusual in its intensity—if it is already present in the place, I would be liable in human courts. That’s what logic suggests. There’s no difference between a common wind and an uncommon wind. Rashi indeed says, “that it reaches it,” sorry, “that it reaches him,” through a common wind. So Rashi says: “that it reaches it—when he bent it, the fire reached it.” Right? Meaning, after he bent the grain, how did the fire get there? In other words, the fire isn’t there. So Rashi is first of all saying clearly that the fire isn’t here. The wind brings the fire to the place to which I bent the grain. But as for the wind, it’s not entirely clear in Rashi what’s going on here—whether the wind is already there or not. As I said, logic suggests no: if the wind is there, then it really doesn’t matter whether it’s common or uncommon, and you would be liable in human courts. But Rashi doesn’t say that explicitly.

[Speaker B] Apparently the wording “when he bent it” is a little off. He should have said “after he bent it,” or something like that.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, “when he bent it, the fire reached it”? You mean it sounds as if he bent it into the fire?

[Speaker B] No, I mean the wording “when he bent it” sounds as if he bent it and immediately the fire arrived, not that he just left it bent there.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean immediately? A second later. Wait—but it came afterward; it wasn’t there when he bent it. If it came much later, then I don’t know—even though he keeps it bent, let’s say if he bent it and then went away, I don’t know exactly what—that the fire would arrive who knows how much later, I don’t know. Here, yes, the idea is that it happened right afterward. The Maggid Mishneh says as follows: “One who bends another person’s grain”—a beraita at the beginning of the chapter HaKones. “And the meaning of an uncommon wind has already been explained—and specifically, it was not common at the time of the bending and only later it blew.” Of course here “common” is in the second sense, right? “But if it was present at that time, then even in human courts he is liable.” Notice—even if it was present at that time at whatever intensity it might be. Meaning, if the wind is present at that time and it’s a typhoon, an uncommon wind in the sense of rarity, a rare wind, but it’s already blowing at the time when he bends the grain—in that case he is liable in human courts. That’s obvious. Okay, I think that’s just simple reasoning. So now look at the second section—we may go back to the Talmud for a moment. You see, after the Talmud brings one answer, that it’s talking about an uncommon wind, it brings another answer: Rav Ashi said, “it was stated regarding concealed property, because he made it concealed in relation to fire.” There are two explanations here: the explanation of the master, that it reaches it through an uncommon wind, and Rav Ashi’s explanation that it’s talking about concealed property. Let’s look for a moment—afterward I’ll deal with the question of the relation between the two explanations. But first let’s look at what Rav Ashi says. What does it mean that he made it concealed in relation to fire? Notice, this is very interesting when you think through the situation. Try to picture the situation. A person lit a fire, and the fire is already advancing, or is about to advance through a common wind, because notice, Rav Ashi is apparently speaking about a common wind. He’s coming to disagree with the answer that sets the case up as an uncommon wind. Meaning, he says: I want to set this up in a case of a common wind. So we’re talking here about a fire that someone lit and by way of a common wind it is supposed to get here. Okay? Now I conceal the grain on the path of the wind. At the time the person lit the fire, the grain was exposed, right? At the time the person lit the fire, the grain was exposed, and I concealed it. In such a case, is there an exemption for concealed property? The Talmud here says yes, right?

[Speaker B] Since the way we’ve defined it here is concealed property, then okay, it could be that it doesn’t fit the rationale for concealed property, but—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In Rav Ashi’s words you see that yes—even before getting into the reasoning, from what the Talmud says itself. In Rav Ashi’s words you see that in such a situation there is an exemption for concealed property, otherwise the whole chain of causation never gets off the ground. After all, the one who bent it caused the fire-setter to be exempt, and that’s his indirect causation in damages, right? He is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense. How did he cause the fire-setter to be exempt? By concealing the grain. So you see that if a person lights a fire and the fire advances while the grain is exposed, the fire is advancing toward the grain, and now someone comes and wraps the grain, okay?—the one who lit the fire will be exempt, and the one who wrapped the grain will be liable in the heavenly sense—also exempt in human courts because it’s indirect causation, but liable in the heavenly sense. But the one who lit the fire will be exempt in such a situation, and that’s strange, because simply speaking, apparently the determining moment—when something is considered concealed and when it is considered exposed—would be the moment the fire was lit, not the moment of the damage.

[Speaker C] Why is that the simple assumption? Where does the Rabbi infer that from?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In just a second we’ll see, in just a second. I am indeed assuming something here—for the moment. So let’s look at the Chazon Ish. The Chazon Ish writes: “And there is a practical difference…” wait, sorry. “And one must consider whether the exemption for concealed property depends on the time of his negligence or on the time of its burning. And the practical difference is if it became exposed between the ignition and the burning.” Right? Meaning, when I lit the fire it was concealed, and then suddenly it became exposed and was burned. So when it was burned, it was exposed. That’s the opposite of our case, right? The opposite. It was concealed when I lit the fire, and when the fire reached the thing it had already become exposed; in other words, when it was burned it was already exposed. “And at the time…” “And at the time the fire burned them they were already exposed. And it appears that whenever they were concealed at the time he ignited the fire, he is exempt even if they became exposed before the fire consumed them.” Meaning, the exemption for concealed property depends on the moment of lighting the fire, the moment of ignition, not the moment of damage. That’s what the Chazon Ish argues on logical grounds. It seems to him that if they were concealed at the time he ignited the fire, then he will be exempt even if afterward they became exposed. “For if not,” says the Chazon Ish, “he would always be liable for the utensils in the stack. There would never be an exemption for concealed property in the world.” Why? “Because when the stack burns, the utensils become exposed.” Let’s say you burn the stack and utensils are hidden inside it. That’s the Talmud’s example for the exemption for concealed property. Once you burned the stack and the fire reaches the utensils, the utensils are already exposed. The stack has burned.

[Speaker B] But that’s already a factual question. What? It’s already a factual question—what destroyed the utensils? Maybe the heat was enough while the stack was burning.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Let’s say not. For the sake of the discussion, utensils of a kind that are destroyed only by the fire itself, not by the heat. Would there be an exemption in such a case? It doesn’t seem reasonable. We don’t see such an exemption anywhere. The Chazon Ish says you see that if the thing became exposed between the ignition and the damage, that doesn’t remove the exemption—you’re still exempt. Yes. Meaning, the exemption is determined by the moment the fire is lit. That’s the Chazon Ish’s claim. “However,” the Chazon Ish continues, “if they were exposed at the time he lit the fire and became covered at the time they were burned”—our case. They were exposed when the fire was ignited. When the fire reached them, they were covered. “He is also exempt,” says the Chazon Ish. Also then he is exempt. Why? “Because the Talmud says on page 56a that one who made it concealed is liable in the heavenly sense because he caused him to suffer loss.” And what is the loss? That he exempts the one who lit the fire from paying. Meaning, you see that in such a case the one who lit the fire is exempt from paying. “And according to this,” says the Chazon Ish, “he is not liable unless it was exposed from the time of ignition until the time of burning. And if it was covered even for one moment, even though it became exposed again at the time of burning, he is exempt. For if not, what difference does it make that he made it concealed? After all, at the time of ignition it was exposed, and at the time of burning as well it is exposed, since first the covering burns and the utensils become exposed.” Okay? Just as a little logical note before I continue. There’s an interesting logical point here. A lot of times, let’s say someone presents an inquiry—let’s say I had opened the lecture with an inquiry: what is the determining moment for the exemption of concealed property—the moment of ignition or the moment of damage? Then we would bring our Talmudic passage as a practical difference and say: from here you see that what matters is the moment of damage. A practical difference would be that if something was concealed at the time I lit the fire and afterward became exposed, I would be liable. Right? Because at the time of the damage it was exposed. But here we see that’s not true. And that teaches us a very important logical lesson for people who engage in conceptual analysis. These yeshiva-style inquiries often tend to be dichotomous—either this or that. And then immediately you make a practical distinction and show where this law applies and where that law applies. But sometimes there’s also the option that it’s both. The inquiry that asks why a person is liable when his property caused damage—is it because of negligence in guarding it, or because of the very ownership of the property that caused damage? It could very well be that it’s not either this or that, but both together. You need negligence in guarding it and that I be the owner. But yeshiva-style inquiries often have some tendency to choose only one of the two sides and present only two options: either A determines or B determines. It could be that you need both A and B. In this case, for example, if I had presented the inquiry in the yeshiva style, I would have started with the question: what is the determining moment—the moment of igniting the fire or the moment of damage? Once our Talmudic passage shows us that it’s not the moment of damage that determines—if the moment of damage determined, that would mean that’s what matters and I don’t care what happened at the moment of ignition. And if that were so, then the practical difference should have been that if it was concealed at the moment of ignition and afterward became exposed, you would be liable. There is no exemption for concealed property. I don’t care that it was concealed at the moment of ignition; what matters is the moment of damage. The Chazon Ish says that’s not correct. What matters is both: both the moment of ignition and the moment of damage. In order to be exempt as concealed property, it has to be concealed all the way through. Okay? Incidentally, one could also present a fourth possibility, if we’re talking about conceptual options, right? One could say that he is liable only if it was exposed the whole way through. Then it would be enough for it to be concealed in one of the two stages in order for there to be exemption. True?

[Speaker C] But that’s his option, no? That’s what the Chazon Ish is saying, isn’t it?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m saying there are two possibilities here. One possibility is to say that for there to be an exemption for concealed property, it has to be concealed the whole way through. A second possibility is that in order for there not to be an exemption for concealed property, it has to be exposed the whole way through. Okay? Now in our case, the Chazon Ish says that whether it is covered at the time of ignition or covered at the time of damage, you will be exempt. Or in other words, in order for you to be liable, it has to be exposed all the way through. Meaning, he chooses one of four options. And that itself is just a very interesting lesson.

[Speaker C] But the fourth option can’t really work—concealed all the way through—because the moment the fire burns the stack, it becomes exposed; in the end it’s always exposed.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, that’s one side, and the other side is our Talmudic passage, yes. So that’s why the Chazon Ish basically concludes here that in order to impose liability, it has to be exposed the whole way through, or in other words, in order to be exempt it’s enough that it be concealed either at the time of ignition or at the time of damage. Now this is another important logical lesson. If I had told you that directly as the conclusion—that in order to be exempt it has to be concealed either at the moment of ignition or at the moment of damage—that’s a strange formulation. Because what do you mean either-or? What does the Torah want? What is the Torah talking about? What do you mean either-or? So notice, I formulate it differently. I say: in order to impose liability it has to be exposed all the way through; automatically, if it was concealed during part of the process, I don’t care which part, you will be exempt. Meaning, the second formulation, which is of course logically equivalent to the first, gives you the insight. The insight is that this is a requirement for liability; it’s not a requirement for exemption.

[Speaker D] It still doesn’t make sense logically, but fine.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, before the reasoning—first of all in terms of the definitions. Let me give you maybe another example. There are discussions here regarding a Jewish holiday: half for God or half for you, okay? Now one of the opinions there is: either entirely for you or entirely for God. What does that mean, either entirely for you or entirely for God? What does the Holy One want—that it all be for us, or that it all be for the Holy One? What does it mean, either entirely for you or entirely for God? What sort of logic could there be in such a thing? To grasp such a thing? My claim is that here too, look at the other side of the coin. What the Holy One wants is that it not be split. Do it all one way; I don’t care whether that one way is for you or for God. Meaning, whenever you have—this is logical equivalence—either A or B always means, and this is logically equivalent—this sign means logical equivalence—not true, that’s negation, that not-A and not-B. Right? Either A—remember this notation? That used to be “or.” Right? Either A or B, okay? That is logically equivalent—this is the sign for logical equivalence—to not: not A and not B. Look at this rule, it’s a logical rule. If you want either A or B, that means what you don’t want is both not-A and not-B, right? Now notice: here it’s “or,” and here it’s “and.” From a logical point of view, “and” always has an advantage. Because when you say “or,” it sounds kind of vague—what do you mean, either this or that? The question is: what is wanted? How can you want either this or that? But when you turn it into this—and it’s logically equivalent, you can always turn it into this formulation—then suddenly you see that we don’t want both not-A and not-B; that is, we don’t want one particular thing. There isn’t this idea of one out of two things, something like that. What we don’t want is one thing. What don’t we want? That it be neither A nor B. In short, “either half for you or entirely for you or entirely for God” means that we don’t want it to be neither entirely for you nor entirely for God. We don’t want splitting at all, okay? It has to be whole. I don’t care which kind of whole, but it has to be whole. That’s really the point. So with us too it’s the same thing, and again, these are just logical maneuvers, but they’re very helpful in conceptual analysis, because in conceptual analysis we are very much captive to dichotomies and you have to know how to deal with that. So first of all, when A and B are on the table, you have to know there are options: it could be A, it could be B, it could be either A or B, it could be neither A nor B. Right, there are four ways to play that game. Second, when we say “or,” it’s worth translating it, with the equivalence rule I showed you earlier, into an “and.” Through negations and “ands” you can always translate the “or” into an “and,” and then suddenly you discover something that makes much more sense even though it is completely equivalent. These are two entirely equivalent claims, but when you have one requirement it’s much easier to understand logically than when you have one of two possible requirements. Do whatever you want, either this or that. So what, you don’t care what I want? What I do? You don’t care what I do on the holiday? No, the Holy One does care what I do on the holiday. He doesn’t want it to be split. That’s what He doesn’t want. Decide what your holiday is, but don’t make it half-and-half. Okay? So many times, even though it’s logical equivalence, one side is easier to understand and explain than the other side. I’m reminded of something else, since we’ve already drifted off a bit—do you know the paradox of the ravens? The paradox of the ravens was raised against the claim that one can confirm a scientific theory. After all, Karl Popper said that a scientific theory can be falsified; it cannot be proved. Right? For example, if I say all ravens are black, then I can never know that I observed all ravens, so it’s impossible to prove that theory. If I bring one pink raven, I’ve falsified the theory. And a scientific theory can be falsified; it cannot be proved. And there were those who argued against Popper that his picture is too weak, because there is also a positive way to confirm a scientific theory—not prove it, but confirm it. For example, if I observe one black raven, then true, I haven’t proved the theory that all ravens are black, but I have confirmed it. Meaning, it got a little stronger. If I observe another black raven, then it gets stronger still, and so on. The more ravens I observe, the more the theory is strengthened or confirmed. Okay? So Popper is right that you can’t prove a theory, but he isn’t right that all you can do is falsify it. Because you can also confirm—or maybe corroborate, I don’t know what word to use. That’s the claim. Okay? Now, I think it was Carl Hempel who raised this paradox, though I no longer remember. He asks the following question: Suppose I want to confirm the theory that all ravens are black. So we know how to do that: I observe a raven, I see whether it is black, and the theory is confirmed. If I observe another raven and it too is black, it’s confirmed even more. The more ravens I observe, the more the theory is confirmed. Now let’s look at a statement that is logically equivalent to the statement all ravens are black: everything that is not black is not a raven. It is completely logically equivalent. Right? Everything that is not black is not a raven. If A implies B, then not-B implies not-A. These are two equivalent implications. Okay? Now how do you confirm the theory that everything not black is not a raven? You take a non-black object—say, the table in front of me is white. You look: ah, it’s a table, it’s not a raven, so I’ve confirmed the theory that everything not black is not a raven, right? Now look what comes out of that. When I look at a white table, I’ve confirmed the theory that all ravens are black. Meaning, this indicates that sometimes, when we deal with two statements that are logically equivalent to one another, we cannot always do exactly the same thing with them. The meaning of what we do to one is not always exactly the meaning of what we do to the other, even though they are logically equivalent. So here, to say that when I saw a white table I confirmed the theory that all ravens are black—that sounds strange. But seeing a black raven certainly does confirm the theory, even though the two theories are completely equivalent. And I want to claim the same thing here. Here too, when you present two completely equivalent formulations of a claim, it doesn’t mean you gained nothing. Meaning, sometimes you can use a formulation that is fully equivalent to the first claim, but it is more illuminating; you can explain it better or understand it better. So logic sometimes can be useful too. Ariel, did you want to comment on something?

[Speaker B] Yes, over there in the ravens case it’s a matter of statistics. Meaning—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I completely agree. There are many more objects that are not black than objects that are ravens. Right, and so on. The second claim is dealing with a much larger class of objects. So really the point is this: first of all it depends on the order. If I first take the object without knowing whether it’s a raven or not, and I see that it’s not black, and then I discover that it’s not a raven, then I really have confirmed the claim that all ravens are black. I really did confirm it. I just confirmed it so slightly that it’s completely negligible. Such a confirmation has no real significance. It adds almost nothing to the credibility of the claim. Why? Because the number of objects that are not black and are not ravens is enormous. Meaning, this is such a broad claim that seeing one example of it is a joke. So it’s this epsilon-level confirmation. Yes, clearly, the paradox can be answered, even though it looks very confusing to people. To me it’s very easy to answer. I even have some column on the site, I think, where I once answered it.

[Speaker D] The problem is that there are things that are not ravens, and apparently that’s an infinite set, and then—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know if it’s infinite, but it’s very large.

[Speaker D] Yes, but both sets are infinite, so then you can’t really make that comparison.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, those are very large sets, not infinite.

[Speaker D] Why? If we’re talking about atoms, it could be infinite. Fine, that already depends on another thesis, but—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There aren’t infinitely many atoms in the world.

[Speaker D] That’s an open question,

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Their number is completely finite.

[Speaker D] as far as I know.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I don’t think it’s open. The number of atoms in the world is finite. Otherwise it would have to take up infinite volume.

[Speaker D] Who says it doesn’t take up infinite volume? The observable universe is, but what—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because the volume of the universe is finite.

[Speaker D] Observable. You can’t know that.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, the volume of the universe up to the boundaries of the expanding sphere.

[Speaker D] Fine, but that’s a claim, okay, that’s a theoretical claim.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Let’s say that the objects about which we make our claims are the objects within the boundaries of this expanding sphere. Then it’s a finite number. In any case, that really doesn’t concern us. For our purposes, all I want is what I think is an important logical lesson to notice: many times we make moves and don’t notice, first, that we’re missing options. It seems to us that it’s either A or B—what else could there be? No, it could be both A and B, neither A nor B—there can be all sorts of things. Second, sometimes a formulation that is logically equivalent can be more understandable or easier to explain than another formulation, despite the logical equivalence. So those are two lessons. Okay, I’m returning to the Chazon Ish.

[Speaker C] And here too, yes, one could say specifically that when the fire reveals it, it’s still considered concealed.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] For if not… the rabbi is washing his face. Ah, sorry. Here I am. And it could be that specifically when the fire reveals it, it is still considered hidden. For if not, you would never find a case of hidden property that the Torah exempts. But if someone else revealed it, one could say that it is considered exposed. Which was really a simple logical point.

[Speaker C] I didn’t understand that sentence, Rabbi. Huh? I didn’t understand that sentence.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, his claim is a claim… above, he proved that it can’t be that something which is revealed at the end would make you liable. Because then you would never find an exemption for hidden property in your life. After all, the fire always burns the outer part, so the inner part gets revealed. He says, נכון, if the fire itself was what revealed it, then that doesn’t count; obviously that is still called hidden. But if someone else revealed the thing, then it could indeed be that you would be liable. So that proof of his is not really a proof. What is he aiming at? He is basically aiming at the possibility that only our passage is a constraint, while the opposite logic is not a constraint. After all, he built his whole picture on two premises. One premise is based on logic. What is it? That we would never find an exemption for hidden property if something that becomes revealed while it is being burned would also be… would also generate liability. Because then there would never be an exemption for hidden property. That is a logical argument. Therefore it is clear that the determining moment is the moment of ignition, not the moment of the damage. In our passage he tilted to the opposite side, that the determining moment is the moment of damage and not the moment of ignition; because when you combine those two things, you reach the conclusion that it has to be exposed the whole way through, exposed to all the nations. Okay? So he says to him: the first part is not necessary, because that part is just logic. Why? Because there we are talking about the fire itself revealing the thing that had been hidden. If the fire revealed the thing that had been hidden, it could be that this is indeed an exception; that is precisely what the Torah’s exemption for hidden property was said about. But if someone else reveals that thing between the ignition and the damage, then it could indeed be that you would be liable—who says not? By the way, we find many things like that. For example—and today I’m in a methodological mood—the famous question on the Arukh. There are two questions with the same logic. The Arukh says that an inevitable result that one does not want is exempt. Right? An unintentional act on the Sabbath where the outcome is inevitable is liable, but if he doesn’t want the outcome, then he is exempt. Right? So everyone asks: if so, then he is always exempt. Is there anyone on earth who wants the result when it is an inevitable outcome and they go and stone him for it? If he wanted that, they would stone him. So obviously he doesn’t want this thing to happen, this unintentional inevitable outcome. Someone cut off the head of a chicken, okay? That is an inevitable result. He wanted the head in order to play soccer with it, and the chicken died, to his surprise. Okay? So he says, no, I didn’t intend—I didn’t want the chicken to die; on the contrary, I very much wanted this chicken, but I just wanted a soccer ball for my child. So the Arukh says to him, yes, then that is an inevitable result that one does not want. So several later authorities ask the Arukh: what do you mean? According to that, there is no such thing in the world as an inevitable result that one does want. Every inevitable result will always be one he does not want, because he does not want it to materialize, since then he becomes liable to stoning.

[Speaker B] Why? He says, on that condition. Huh? Witnesses come, warn him, and he says, on that condition.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, meaning in that case that will never happen, there would be liability.

[Speaker B] In that case where, in the ordinary way they execute, yes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In that case that will never happen. No, but I mean on the principled level there is no such thing. Forget it—you don’t even need to warn him; there is no such creature. Nobody really wants such a thing. Why?

[Speaker B] I’m saying no, in the ordinary warning case—and why?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll formulate the question. In the ordinary warning case, where there is no stoning—we don’t have stoning punishments today, okay? But there is still a punishment, there is still a prohibition against intentional Sabbath desecration, right? Not punishment, sorry—there is a prohibition against intentional Sabbath desecration. Now if it all depends on whether he wants it, what person in the world wants to have intentional Sabbath desecration on his record? Nobody wants that. So in practice you can exempt every person—at least every person who believes in this. Okay? So there are no transgressors in the world, even aside from capital punishment. The question is deeper than just the very existence of the Arukh’s case. So the claim—and this is what they answer there—is that if the lack of desire is because of the punishment itself, that is not called lack of desire. Any other lack of desire would exempt you, but lack of desire whose basis is that you don’t want the punishment—that is not called lack of desire. Some sort of carve-out for a specific case. That is exactly what he is saying here. If someone else reveals it, then you would be liable. If the fire itself is what revealed it, that is not considered revelation. But the logic is very clear, yes. Once they tell you there is such a principle, if you do not apply it to this exceptional case, then the principle will never have any application. So it is obvious that in this specific case it won’t apply. Yes, like there with the yoke on the calf in the Talmud in tractate Bava Metzia 30b. “If one gives,” “if it is put,” there—you need the person to want the yoke to be placed on his heifer designated for the broken-necked calf rite or his red heifer, or putting water for impurity. So the Talmud there says—and Tosafot there asks—what do you mean? Obviously the person does not want to work with the red heifer; he doesn’t want it to become disqualified, he is losing millions. A red heifer is worth a huge amount of money. So obviously when he works with it, he does not want it to be disqualified, and yet there has to be desire in order for it to be disqualified. And again they answer there, Tosafot answers there: every lack of desire really does invalidate, except for lack of desire that stems from the very disqualification itself. Same logic. In a place where the law itself would lose its meaning, obviously you have to carve out the inherent case, the case where this factor will always appear. Okay? It is the same principle. The Chazon Ish says, if we return—

[Speaker C] —to the Chazon Ish—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Sorry,

[Speaker D] I’m just asking on the factual level—it doesn’t seem to me really true that it can’t burn while still hidden. I think it can. Here the point is probably that in his eyes that would limit it too much, and that’s why he—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t understand, I didn’t understand the comment.

[Speaker D] I’m simply making a straightforward factual claim. It can happen that something burns while still hidden, without being revealed. It will only be revealed after it has burned.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, I agree. So that is what I answered you before: the Chazon Ish claims that nowhere do we find anyone distinguishing between things that burn immediately and things that burn only when the fire actually reaches them. So based on logic he says it is obvious to him that the exemption for hidden property applies to such a case as well.

[Speaker D] I didn’t understand what he didn’t find—a distinction between things that burn immediately—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —that burn from the heat, say, even earlier, versus things that burn only after the fire reaches them?

[Speaker D] No, that’s not the distinction. I’m saying even if the fire has to reach it physically, it can burn something that is under something else—what’s the problem? More than that, I’m saying I think that is the usual reality. If you burn a stack, you generally find the things burnt underneath a layer of ash. They are not revealed and then burned.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A layer of ash is already exposed; it isn’t covered, because ash disperses. Ash doesn’t cover, ash doesn’t cover everything. But I’m saying again, I’ll give you the same answer: the Chazon Ish is probably relying here on some logic that says we haven’t found such a distinction anywhere. It is completely obvious that for all hidden things you are exempt, not only hidden things where the stack above them burned in a way that does not cover them.

[Speaker D] That’s exactly the problem. It’s clear that this distinction doesn’t exist, but his logic—that it can’t be this exemption because then it uproots the Torah’s law—that is impossible to understand.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, it can be understood, because if his logic says there is no distinction to be made, then saying otherwise would indeed uproot the Torah’s law.

[Speaker D] No. Fine, he didn’t need to say that distinction. He means that from the fact that no one ever made the distinction, you can prove that no one imagined that this was the situation—that’s true. But to say that you can’t accept it because it would uproot the Torah’s law—that is simply not true. No, that’s what I said: after—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —after you accept the logic that nobody distinguishes, then saying this would indeed uproot the Torah’s law. That’s fine; it’s the same thing.

[Speaker D] Why agree with them? I’m not… okay, I understand. One could come and make the claim that all the earlier authorities—in principle one could say you proved that they did not hold this logic, that’s true. But if we disagree with them on that and say that one can distinguish, then you can’t say the Chazon Ish’s logic here, because it does not uproot the Torah’s law. I’m only noting that.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. That’s what I’m saying: he is clearly assuming the logic that one cannot distinguish. Right, that’s what I’m saying.

[Speaker C] Something is missing for me here, something is missing for me here. Shouldn’t we first have discussed the logic of why hidden property is exempt before getting into the Chazon Ish’s discussions? I feel like… we’re discussing all this, and I don’t understand the basis of everything.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s the reverse direction, the reverse direction. You know, it’s like in science: is it not more correct first of all to understand the law of gravity, and only after that discuss whether a certain object falls or does not fall? No. Why not? Because I learn the law of gravity from observing objects that do and do not fall, and based on that I formulate the law of gravity. Here too, same thing: I look at what the Talmud, the medieval authorities (Rishonim), and the later authorities (Acharonim) say about the laws of fire and hidden property, and from that I will try to understand how they understood the exemption for hidden property.

[Speaker C] Wait, the Talmud itself derives it from the verse, right? From an exposition, if I’m not mistaken.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, but you don’t know—

[Speaker C] It doesn’t give a logical explanation for it; it learns it from an exposition. Meaning the Talmud itself does not give a logical explanation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, but behind it there is apparently some logic sitting there, I assume, okay? That’s also true here and there.

[Speaker D] Once someone told me that it’s better not to discuss something that nobody knows the answer to.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? I can’t hear.

[Speaker D] I said that the main thing is that it’s better not to discuss something that nobody knows the answer to.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I don’t agree. I absolutely do not agree.

[Speaker D] What? That it’s better to discuss it, or better not to discuss it, or that nobody knows?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I don’t agree that nobody knows the answer.

[Speaker D] Ah, okay. I don’t know, but if I leave here with an answer…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, not today. We’ll probably get to it later in the chapter. Here I’ll mention two possibilities. Look, there are two ways to understand… what two ways? There is one way to understand the law of hidden property, and another possibility not to understand it.

[Speaker D] One way to understand it is negligence—that the negligence is greater in such a case.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Some kind of coercion-based exemption, meaning: you didn’t see that there was something inside there; if you had seen it, you wouldn’t have done it, so they exempt you. Some kind of exemption based on being forced by circumstances.

[Speaker D] The parameters of hidden property don’t fit that, but fine, I hear.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s really not so simple. Not simple at all. Fine. The conception of the later authorities, by the way, is that there are two laws of hidden property. And one law of hidden property is a law of compulsion. Because we see that the Talmud itself later in our chapter, the Talmud later in our chapter deals a lot with the law of hidden property.

[Speaker D] I’m talking about the second law, yes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The Talmud there talks about someone who throws a chest into the sea with money inside it, and exempts him under the law of hidden property. What is that? There is no fire here at all; this is not even damage by fire.

[Speaker D] Fine, but I’m talking about the exemption unique to fire, not that.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That is exactly the point. Meaning, even within fire, sometimes the second exemption appears, which is a general exemption. Fine, that makes sense. One needs to distinguish it. It’s like unintentional action in all of Torah versus unintentional action on the Sabbath—many times there is a specific law, but it comes against the background of… So what is the second possibility? The second possibility is that the Torah decreed that there is some exemption for hidden property for reasons of its own; I don’t know exactly.

[Speaker C] That the Rabbi doesn’t accept.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That I don’t accept.

[Speaker C] The Rabbi doesn’t like those kinds of things.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Doesn’t like—not that I don’t accept. If I see that these are the laws that appear in the Talmud, then I’m forced to accept it, and I assume there has to be some explanation that perhaps I don’t understand. But there ought to be some explanation behind it, because after all someone, someone derived the exemption for hidden property from the verses. And when he derived the exemption for hidden property from the verses, he had to have had some idea, because the verse itself does not… yes? “Just as the standing grain is exposed, so too everything must be exposed”—that is the exposition. Yes, fine. Just as standing grain is made of stalks, then maybe only something made of stalks is liable. Why didn’t you say that? Why, why specifically is what characterizes standing grain that it is exposed and not hidden? Obviously you had some logic for exempting hidden property. This is not something completely detached from logic. By the way, every exposition is like that. An exposition is never a textual decree, never. There is no exposition that is just a textual decree. Meaning, only things written explicitly can perhaps be called a textual decree; things derived by exposition are never a textual decree. Because in the end, you have to decide why you derive this rather than that. There has to be at least some supporting logic that explains why it is derived this way. Fine. In any case, that is what the Chazon Ish says. After that he moves into the question: “Still, it is not reasonable that he should be liable for the hidden property once it was revealed, for now he is already under compulsion, because he can no longer save it.” You see? What is this?

[Speaker C] Here he enters the logic of compulsion. Apparently, right?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He says here that he is already compelled, he can no longer save it, so how can you obligate him? Does this show that the exemption for hidden property is an exemption based on compulsion? I’m not sure. Not sure. It could be that he means the criterion of compulsion as a criterion for defining when the item has to be hidden, but not necessarily that the exemption for hidden property is an exemption based on compulsion. Two different things. Fine, but I’m saying we’ll see more about that, I hope we’ll get there. In short, it’s not so important for our purposes right now. But if I return to our Talmud, according to Rav Ashi, we really do see that if the thing is covered at the time it was damaged, even though it was exposed at the time the fire was ignited, there is the exemption for hidden property. And this itself, by the way, seemingly shows that this is not an exemption based on compulsion. Because if it were an exemption based on compulsion, then how could you exempt in such a situation? After all, when the person lit the fire he saw what was there, and with an ordinary wind the fire was supposed to get there and burn the thing, then suddenly someone else comes and covers it—so now he becomes compelled by circumstances? Why in the world should that exempt him? Meaning, seemingly Rav Ashi’s words here unequivocally indicate that the exemption for hidden property is not an exemption by reason of compulsion. Not only that, but this is, for example, a source that says it quite clearly. Fine, let’s stop here for a few minutes for a break, and after that we’ll come back. Let’s say four or five minutes. Okay, let’s come back. Turn on cameras, come back to us. Later in the Talmud they discuss why all four cases in this statement of Rabbi Yehoshua were necessary, and regarding “someone who bends his fellow’s grain” the Talmud says as follows. “Someone who bends his fellow’s grain” as well—they want to ask what the novelty is here, why this case had to be taught. “You might have said: let him say, how could I have known that an unusual wind would come? And therefore he should not be liable even in the heavenly court. Therefore it teaches us otherwise.” So what is the novelty in the law of someone who bends his fellow’s grain? That the person who bent the grain could have claimed that he could not have known an unusual wind would come, and therefore even in the heavenly court he would be exempt, not only in a human court. And in truth, by the way, there is a strong logic to that. Think about someone who just bends his fellow’s grain, just like that. It’s an unusual wind, meaning he does not imagine that a wind will come and bring fire. He takes the grain and moves it a little to the side. Suddenly an unusual wind comes and brings fire there. Why should he be liable even in the heavenly court? He just did something, and the unusual wind could just as easily have burned the grain where it had been before he bent it. Meaning, the unusual wind reaches wherever it decides. So there is… “And according to Rav Ashi, who says that it was also said regarding hidden property,” according to Rav Ashi’s explanation, what is the novelty here in this statement? “You might have said: I merely covered your things, and therefore I should not be liable even in the heavenly court. Therefore it teaches us otherwise.” I was only trying to help you protect the things as much as possible, so that they would burn less; and as a result the one who started the fire became exempt because of the law of hidden property—so what do you want from me? I came to help you. So one might have thought that he would not be liable even in the heavenly court; therefore it teaches us that in the heavenly court he is liable, even though in a human court he is not. So the Meiri here says as follows: “If a fire was spreading and coming, and someone hid his fellow’s grain, and it thereby became hidden from fire, and the owner of the fire was exempted from payment, he can say that he intended for the good, so that the fire would not burn so much; and it follows that there was no intention to damage, and he is exempt in a human court. Nevertheless, he is liable in the heavenly court if his intention was to remove the obligation of payment.” First of all, he is assuming here some premise that one needs intent to damage in order to be liable, and on two levels. First, one needs intent to damage in order to be liable in a human court. So he says here—yes, look at this—“and it follows that there was no intention to damage, and he is exempt in a human court.” What is the connection between intent to damage and a human court? What do I care about intentions? Somehow it seems that if there is intent to damage, it won’t be considered indirect causation. The Meiri’s position—we discussed the various definitions of when something is direct causation and when it is indirect causation. One of the definitions depended on the question whether you had intent to damage. We even saw that in the Meiri, who explained Maimonides that way. So it really seems that the Meiri here is following his own approach: if you had intent to damage, it will be direct causation and not indirect causation. And therefore there was a preliminary assumption here that he intended for the good, and there was no intent to damage, and therefore in essence he is exempt in a human court. “Nevertheless, he is liable in the heavenly court if his intention was to remove the obligation of payment.” I don’t understand. So what was the preliminary assumption? That he is exempt in a human court? He really is exempt in a human court. That is indeed the law: exempt in a human court and liable in the heavenly court. The preliminary assumption is apparently to exempt him even in the heavenly court, right? Because his being exempt in a human court is true—that’s not the preliminary assumption, that is the law. Rather, there is some preliminary assumption here that since there is no intent to damage, then it is not even indirect causation. Not only is it not direct causation, which would make him exempt only in a human court, but he is even exempt in the heavenly court; it is not even indirect causation. And why? As I told you before—no, sorry, not as I told you before, because he is speaking about Rav Ashi. Rav Ashi, when he talks about hidden property, is talking about fire with an ordinary wind, not an unusual wind. So a person who bends the grain, a person who wraps the grain when the fire is coming with an ordinary wind—then in such a situation he is trying to protect that grain from a fire that is expected to come, right? This is an ordinary wind. So the fire is expected to arrive here. In such a case it could be that he would be exempt even in the heavenly court, because he really did want and intend for the good. All he did was try to save something; after all, if he had not done it, this whole thing would have burned completely. So he said: I tried at least partially to save your grain or something like that, and maybe I didn’t notice, or forgot, or I don’t know what, that the one who started the fire would be exempt from payment because I turned it into hidden property. Okay? “Nevertheless, he is liable in the heavenly court”—that is probably the answer. This Meiri is written in a very unclear way. The preliminary assumption is worded as if he is exempt in a human court, but being exempt in a human court is the law, not the preliminary assumption. The preliminary assumption is that he should be exempt even in the heavenly court for the same reason, yes—that he did not intend harm, he intended good. It teaches us that nevertheless he is liable in the heavenly court. Why? “If his intention was to remove the obligation of payment.” I don’t understand. After all, what did you think? That he could say he intended for the good, and then he would be exempt in a human court and in the heavenly court. So what does it teach us? That if his intention was to remove the obligation of payment, then he is liable in the heavenly court. But if his intention was to remove the obligation of payment, then there is no preliminary assumption in the first place. If you know that his intention was to remove the obligation of payment, then he cannot claim that his intention was something else. So what is the point? You don’t know. So if you don’t know, then he can claim that his intention was indeed something else. So what does it mean to say that if his intention was to remove the obligation of payment, then he is liable in the heavenly court?

[Speaker D] I didn’t understand what—what isn’t clear?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What, what is the Meiri’s answer? There was a preliminary assumption that a person can say that his intention was for the good, and then he would be exempt in a human court and also in the heavenly court—that is the preliminary assumption. It teaches us, no: in the heavenly court he is still liable. But that is only if his intention was to remove the obligation of payment. I don’t understand. Do you know that his intention was to remove the obligation of payment? If you know, then what preliminary assumption is there that he can say, “I intended for the good”?

[Speaker D] And if I don’t know, what difference does it make—he can lie? No, the very fact that he can make that claim, that exempts him in a human court—that’s what the Meiri…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, in a human court it’s obvious. Nobody was talking about that. I’m asking what the preliminary assumption was.

[Speaker D] No, there are a few preliminary assumptions here. There is also the preliminary assumption that he was liable in a human court, and the Meiri says no. At first that is what he wants to say: because he can claim that he didn’t intend, he is exempt even in a human court. It isn’t even indirect causation, as you said, because there is no intent to damage. That is the first thing he is saying. Then he says: don’t drag that over into the heavenly court as well, so that he should be exempt there too, because there it is enough that he actually had such intent.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But if he had such intent, then—

[Speaker D] Why is he still not liable in a human court? Because he can deny it; that is enough to disconnect him from the act.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t understand. So he had intent and denies it?

[Speaker D] He had intent, and I don’t know whether he denies it in practice; I don’t think you have to get to that. Even because he is capable of denying it, it can no longer be called indirect causation, because the act itself does not contain that intent.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Intent is never contained in the act. For intent you always need other indications.

[Speaker D] Right, I meant that the act is not a clear indication. It seems that his criterion is not what the intent actually was, but whether the act itself indicates that he intended it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, then that never happens.

[Speaker D] Why? Usually the act… if you see someone setting his fellow’s stack on fire, that is a clear indication.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know, maybe I wanted to warm myself by the fire? What do I know? And you claim that’s not so. So that is exactly the—

[Speaker D] That’s not how one warms oneself. Fine, but you can always argue.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But I’m saying: whichever way you take it, if here the circumstances show that he intended to remove the obligation of payment… right. Then what—why is there any preliminary assumption?

[Speaker D] They don’t show it. That’s what the Meiri says—they don’t show it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If they don’t show it—

[Speaker D] —that is why he is exempt in a human court. In the heavenly court he is liable because he does have such intent.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, in heaven they know what his real intent was, but in a human court we do not know what his actual intent was, and he can always claim that his intention was for the good. Right—and even if he doesn’t claim it, he is exempt. So what is the novelty?

[Speaker D] The novelty is that basically he is exempt—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —that he is—

[Speaker D] —exempt in a human court and liable in the heavenly court. Both are novelties. One, that he is exempt in a human court, and two, that he is liable in the heavenly court. Why might one have thought that he was liable in a human court? And the Meiri teaches me that he is exempt. Why not? He caused damage.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, why is the second thing a novelty?

[Speaker D] Because it is direct causation. Why is the second a novelty, that he is liable in the heavenly court? Yes. Because true, he intended to harm, all fine, but in the end he didn’t do indirect causation—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —with intent to harm.

[Speaker D] Intent alone is not enough to obligate without any act. That’s what we discussed in previous classes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, in the heavenly court certainly it is.

[Speaker D] Not just in the heavenly court—intent alone? No, we discussed it: one intended to eat pork and instead ate lamb.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, indirect causation with intent to harm.

[Speaker D] But that’s exactly the point: if the act itself cannot be defined at all as an act of damage, that’s what the Meiri is coming to say. I could have said—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Cannot be defined? The man performed an act of damage with his own hands. What do you mean it cannot be defined as an act of damage? Maybe he had some intentions, but he performed an act of damage.

[Speaker D] No, he performed an act that caused damage. What is it comparable to? A doctor who performed surgery—this is an act that saves. Sometimes the surgery kills the patient, but nobody would say the doctor harmed the patient. The act caused harm, but the act he did was not an act of harming. So that is the point. The Meiri says I might have thought that a person who covered a stack is performing an act of rescue from the fire. You cannot obligate him for that, not even in the heavenly court, even if he intended harm.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s an act of rescue from the fire that—unlike surgery—clearly and unequivocally exempts the damager from paying. I don’t understand. In surgery sometimes you fail, sometimes you succeed. Here you certainly fail.

[Speaker D] No, but sometimes you succeed in that the fire doesn’t burn everything at all.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not burn everything—“the fire won’t burn so much.” You thought to save at least some of it, but in any case you exempted the damager.

[Speaker D] Fine, but it could be that the owner would have preferred to retain some of the property. I don’t know what the owner would have preferred here. The act, on its face…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So I don’t have a better explanation of the Meiri; that’s why it’s hard for me to argue here. But this sounds really strange to me.

[Speaker D] I don’t know, I would say it even without the Meiri. There are acts for which you cannot impose liability as damage, not even as indirect causation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean? This indirect causation is an act of indirect causation. Now we can argue about motives. But if the motive is that you intended it, then what preliminary assumption is there to exempt you in the heavenly court?

[Speaker D] Negative intentions cannot turn every act into an act of—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, negative intentions together with an act of damage, an act of damage through indirect causation.

[Speaker D] Exactly—that is the question, whether this act can be called an act of damage. If a person did only good acts, only good acts, and in the end they caused damage, does the fact that he had negative intentions make him into a damager? That seems exaggerated to me.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why is that? But here he performed an act of damage.

[Speaker D] Right, so the Meiri sees it—this is what the Meiri says. He says like you, but he comes to reject the preliminary assumption that you might say it is not defined as an act of damage; it is a positive act that just happened to result in damage.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It sounds strange to me, but I don’t know. Again, I don’t have a better understanding of the Meiri, so it’s hard for me to argue here. Also, the Yam Shel Shlomo here infers this from Tosafot. He says: “And if you say: it is revealed and known before the Omnipresent what he intended, whether for good or for bad, so what is the novelty? Meaning, the Holy One knows. If he intended evil, then obviously he is liable in the heavenly court. So what is the novelty that he is liable in the heavenly court? One can answer that even if he intended for the good, so that it would not burn quickly and the homeowner would be able in the meantime to save things, nevertheless he is liable in the heavenly court, because he should have been careful and should have considered that this could lead to loss.” End quote. Here this is already stronger. Meaning, he does not say like you, that what it teaches us is that this is an act of damage. Rather, no—he should have been careful even though he intended for good. Meaning, not because he intended evil. He intended good, but even someone who intends good still has to be more careful. It reminds me a bit of a ruling by Aharon Barak, when he was president of the Supreme Court. Some appeal came before him concerning a woman driving a car. A cat passed in front of the car, the woman swerved and ran over a person. So they convicted her—I think, if I remember correctly, they convicted her. She appealed to the Supreme Court and said, listen, this was—any reasonable person would have reacted that way. I couldn’t have known; a cat crossed, you swerve, you have no time to check who is there and who isn’t. This was the action of a reasonable person. So Aharon Barak said something that was later described—I don’t think it was his original wording—as “the unreasonable instinct of the reasonable person.” Or in other words, despite the fact that it is the instinct of a reasonable person, I am not prepared to acquit her. Because I also require a reasonable person to exercise judgment while driving on the road and holding a steering wheel. And true, it may be that I too and every other reasonable person would fail in this, and still I think there is room to punish for it, so that people will see and fear. Meaning, at least that is how I understand it, to cause people nevertheless to be careful. And similarly, that is essentially what the Yam Shel Shlomo says here. He basically wants to claim that no—I have no doubt about his good intention, even if I have no doubt about his intention. His intention is for the good, but even a person who intends for the good—with all due respect to good intentions—pay attention to what you are doing here. You intended for good, but I lost my grain. So how does it help me that you intended for good? With a lot of good intentions, you can burn all my property, and I’m left without property. I too intended for good—I intended to remain with my property. Intentions are nice. Of course the assumption here is whether basically you are liable and you need arguments in order to be exempt, or whether basically you are exempt, as Binyamin said before, because this isn’t even an act of damage—and then one needs arguments against you in order to obligate you. So the Yam Shel Shlomo, in that sense, even though he sounds very similar to the Meiri, is actually taking the opposite direction. “And it seems from the wording of Tosafot that he also knew that hidden property is exempt in fire.” Meaning, the person who covered it knew that hidden property is exempt in fire. “Yet his intent was for good.” He thought he would succeed in saving the grain, as you said before, and then there would be no problem that the one who started the fire would be exempt, because the grain would be saved. And he made a mistaken judgment, and in the end I lost because of it, since the one who started the fire does not have to pay me. “If so, he should have been careful. But where he did not know the law of hidden property and his intent was for good, then it is obvious that he is exempt, because he is under compulsion. What else could he have done?” Which is really a fascinating novelty. It is far from simple in my eyes. He says it is obvious that he is exempt.

[Speaker C] Exempt even in the heavenly court? Exempt even in the heavenly court?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. We are speaking here about the heavenly court. But why should not knowing the law exempt him? Does ignorance of the law exempt? There is something here—that I didn’t know the law is itself negligence. Learn it.

[Speaker B] No, this is an unusual law. It’s not something natural within the legal system, within the basic system of rules.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then you have to learn it.

[Speaker B] Who said everyone has to know all the laws that exist? Why?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Listen, if you perform actions and damage results from the fact that you didn’t know, then you are negligent.

[Speaker B] No, let’s put it this way: there are damages—you can distinguish between damages that relate to what… legal theory or something that is a system of laws, and things that are—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —something that is logically understandable.

[Speaker B] Logically understandable, yes. Or whatever, as opposed to things where the Torah introduced all kinds of special laws that perhaps—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —there are.

[Speaker D] I think there is room here to distinguish, okay, not between two kinds of Jewish law. There are laws that you don’t expect every person to know. I think that is true in civil law too. There are laws that only a lawyer knows, and you do not really say that anyone who doesn’t know them is negligent. It depends what you are doing, yes, but a person who is just behaving normally and functioning near a stack of grain—maybe you don’t expect him to know the law of hidden property. You expect him to know basic laws. I don’t know.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In civil law, ignorance of the law is no exemption from punishment. I think that is said about every law.

[Speaker D] Are you talking about Jewish law or about civil law?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, about civil law.

[Speaker D] In civil law it is not said about every law. I think—I’m not expert in civil law—but it seems to me there are laws that the ordinary person is not expected to know.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] For example, if it wasn’t published in the official records. I don’t think the point there is the expectation of knowledge. It’s responsibility: if you don’t know, you can’t free yourself from responsibility by virtue of not knowing. I don’t think it is because… it’s like Aharon Barak earlier. Even if the reasonable person doesn’t know, that still doesn’t mean he has that defense.

[Speaker D] No, but if you had no way of knowing, then it is defined as compulsion.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course you had a way of knowing. Of course you had a way of knowing.

[Speaker D] No, then that is not called a way of knowing if you have to bend over backwards.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That goes back to the compulsion claim. What does it mean, you had a way of knowing? You know, a claim of compulsion: a reasonable person doesn’t know this. The question is whether we really mean here a defense based on the reasonable person, because after all the reasonable person really does not know all the laws, that is obvious. But in my opinion—well, one would need to check this with legal experts—I think the claim is a normative claim, not a factual one.

[Speaker D] Ah, but the claim is more than that. The claim is that a reasonable person should have checked the law in ordinary cases, and therefore he can’t say “I didn’t know.” You’re doing something—check carefully what the law says. But there are things that you don’t demand that from a person—for example if it’s some clause that most lawyers don’t know, then you can’t demand it of an ordinary person. I think that’s a claim—I don’t know, I don’t know civil law—but in Jewish law it sounds to me like a good logical distinction between these two kinds.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, that could be.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In any case, the Yam Shel Shlomo says it, yes, that is clear. So again, it is hard for me to argue with things he says; it is clear that he says this.

[Speaker D] Wait, but it’s interesting—the Talmud in tractate Horayot, if I’m not mistaken, distinguishes between different levels of error. There is “erred in an explicit Mishnah,” and there are all sorts of levels. Not every mistake is the same level of intentional or unintentional.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but the difference between “erred in an explicit Mishnah” and “erred in judgment” is in tractate Sanhedrin, not Horayot, and that speaks about a judge—whether a judge has to pay from his own pocket for his mistake.

[Speaker D] Right, right, but also in the Talmud in Horayot there are two kinds of error. There is an error that… I think there are two levels of error there. There is “erred in an explicit Mishnah”—it appears there; it appears there that “erred in an explicit Mishnah” is—

[Speaker C] Erred in something that even the Sadducees admit—

[Speaker D] —or do not admit, I think—that’s what is there. Right, right, that’s the… so you see that not everything is—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But “something that even the Sadducees admit” is the opposite distinction. Meaning, because that is something so obvious that everyone knows it—not that there is no indication that he doesn’t know it, but that it is completely obvious that everyone knows it. Meaning, this is much stronger than ordinary laws that are not just textual decrees. Here it is much, much narrower than that.

[Speaker D] But at least you see that the demand to know is not equal for everything; some things more and some less.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, fine, that is one point.

[Speaker C] Tosafot is not like the Meiri. What, no? I said Tosafot is different from the Meiri. No, it seemed to me earlier that the Rabbi said Tosafot goes in the same direction as the Meiri.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The opposite. I said that he apparently resembles the Meiri, but in fact his starting point is the reverse. Okay? The claim is that in the Talmudic passage itself there are two explanations. There is the explanation that it is talking about an unusual wind, and there is Rav Ashi’s explanation that it is talking about someone who concealed it in the fire. Rav Ashi’s explanation is a very forced reading of the passage. The Gemara is talking about someone who bent his fellow’s standing grain toward a fire. So how did you get from here to covering it with something, with a sheet? It was talking about bending the grain toward the fire. On the face of it, aside from the fact that it is forced, why was Rav Ashi compelled to go into such a forced reading? I ask myself whether these two answers, or these two views, actually disagree with one another. At first glance it seems that they do. Why? Because if Rav Ashi goes into such a forced reading of the Gemara’s wording, if he goes into such a forced reading, then it is quite clear that the previous answer did not seem right to him. He disagrees with it. Otherwise there is no reason to go into such a forced interpretation. After all, it says there, “one who bends his fellow’s grain toward a fire,” and he explains: no, no, that he wrapped it and turned it into something concealed in the fire. How does that fit the words? The main point is missing from the text. “Concealed” is not mentioned, and what about the bending of the grain? In Rav Ashi that does not appear. It is forced. Apparently Rav Ashi was not willing to accept the first opinion. Why? It could be because the first opinion, after all, sets it up as a case of an unusual wind, but in the case of an unusual wind the initial thought that would exempt him is so strong—it would exempt him even from liability in the heavenly sense—that Rav Ashi does not accept it. What is described later in the Gemara as the initial thought, which is the reason it was necessary to state the teaching according to the first answer, yes? That it is talking about an unusual wind. What was the initial thought? The initial thought was that he would be exempt even from liability in the heavenly sense; the Gemara teaches us that he is liable in the heavenly sense, right? That was the initial thought. Rav Ashi says no: if it is an unusual wind, then that initial thought is a good one. I do not agree that there is a different conclusion. That initial thought is correct, and therefore he is forced to offer his own forced explanation, because he does not accept the first explanation. And what is the reason for that? What I said before. Think about someone who bent his fellow’s grain toward a certain path. Now there is no chance that the fire will get there, so he is just fooling around with his fellow’s grain. Then suddenly a typhoon comes and brings the fire there. Why should he be liable even in the heavenly sense? What did he do? What do you want from him? He played with the grain. So what? He had no initial reason to think that a fire would get there at all. Understand: ordinary indirect causation is indirect causation where he explicitly knows that there will be damage. He knows there will be damage; he just causes the damage indirectly. In truth, this is the position of Nachmanides, who claims that if he knows, then it is direct tortious causation, but in the simple understanding of indirect causation, you do know. So if you know—like someone who hires false witnesses to testify—does he not know they will cause damage? That is the next case in this teaching of Rabbi Yehoshua. Of course he knows. Or one who breaches a fence in front of his fellow’s animal—does he not know it will get out and may cause damage? Of course he knows. Rather, what? He did it only indirectly; the connection between him and the damage is indirect. But that he knows there will be damage—he knows. Here, though, why should there suddenly be damage? This is some higher power. Suddenly an unusual wind came, brought fire here, and burned the grain—what do you want from him? That is what Rav Ashi says: in such a case he would be exempt even from liability in the heavenly sense, and therefore Rav Ashi says, I have no choice, I must offer an explanation here even though I know it is forced, because the ordinary explanation does not work. That is point one. So you see that apparently there is a dispute here between the two views. But look: as Jewish law, Maimonides—I am bringing Maimonides for the halakhic ruling—Maimonides rules both views: “One who bent his fellow’s grain toward the fire until it ignited—if the fire could reach it only through an unusual wind, he is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense. And one who concealed his fellow’s grain in dirt or straw, and the fire passed over and consumed it—that person who concealed it is exempt in human courts but liable in the heavenly sense, because the one who kindled the fire is exempt for something concealed.” So he apparently understands that the two views do not disagree. Also the Yam Shel Shlomo writes in Bava Kamma that most commentators say that these views do not disagree. To me that is very puzzling, because Rav Ashi goes so far into a forced reading—why did he need to say this forced explanation if he agrees with the first explanation? The first explanation is the obvious one: it is talking about fire that arrived through an unusual wind, and that is it, everything is fine, and therefore he is liable only in the heavenly sense. If Rav Ashi accepts that, there is no reason in the world to bring in this whole story of something concealed, which is not mentioned at all. Whenever you need to reach an interpretive narrowing, it is always because you are under pressure—because you do not agree with the ordinary explanation, so you have to make an interpretive narrowing. That is the first thing. But this can be resolved, because one could say, according to those who say this—according to Maimonides, for example—that Maimonides ruled like Mar and not like Rav Ashi. Meaning, Mar accepts Rav Ashi’s law, while Rav Ashi disagrees with Mar. And in the Gemara itself there is no problem seeing it that way, because Mar basically says it is talking about an unusual wind. Why didn’t Mar bring Rav Ashi’s explanation, that it is talking about something concealed? Why bring that forced explanation? He did not go there—not because it is incorrect. Mar accepts Rav Ashi’s explanation; he just says that is not what is being discussed here. Therefore he did not bring Rav Ashi’s explanation. So Mar certainly does not disagree with Rav Ashi. But I am asking the opposite: does Rav Ashi disagree with Mar? Certainly yes. Because otherwise why did Rav Ashi need his forced explanation? There is the first explanation. And after all, he offers this as an explanation of the teaching. Mar does not offer Rav Ashi’s explanation of the teaching because it is forced. That does not mean he disagrees with Rav Ashi in the law. He agrees with Rav Ashi in the law; he just says that is not the explanation here. Therefore if Maimonides rules like Mar against Rav Ashi, then there is no difficulty at all. Because Mar really does hold both laws. But Rav Ashi still disagrees with Mar. The fact that some commentators claim there is no dispute between the two views is, in my eyes, very difficult. That is one comment. Another comment: when we, when we read the—when we read the… just one second. Fine, okay, I’ll say it—I’ll get to it later, but I’ll already introduce it here because I see I can’t continue much further than this. So I’ll just say this point here. How does Rav Ashi simply fit with the language of the Gemara? Leave aside the “concealed,” which he introduces out of nowhere—it does not appear in the Gemara. But what does he do with “one who bent his fellow’s grain”? It says that the case is one who bent his fellow’s grain toward the fire. According to Rav Ashi, he did not bend the grain at all; he only covered it.

[Speaker C] Maybe he bent it under something—bent it, bent it so that now it would be hidden.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] One possibility really is to say that “bent,” although that too is a bit forced, means he covered it with something—he bent it under a covering. But maybe—and we will see this later—it could be that Rav Ashi comes to add, not to change. He bent it and afterward covered it. He bent it and afterward covered it. Now what happens is that in such a case, when he bent the grain toward the fire, then he himself actually should have been liable to pay. Instead of saying—for Rav Ashi is talking about an ordinary wind, let me remind you—so with an ordinary wind, as the Gemara said, if I bend the grain toward the place where the fire is expected to reach through an ordinary wind, I am liable in human courts. Okay? Now he covered it. After bending it, he also covered it. What did he do? He exempted himself from payment. Because he himself was liable to pay in human courts, and by concealing it he exempted himself from payment. Now when he exempted himself from payment, the damage to the injured party became indirect damage, because the covering did not bring about the injured party’s damage. The injured party’s damage was caused by the fire. The covering caused me to be exempt from paying the injured party, and now the injured party suffered the loss from the fact that I did not pay him, not from the fact that he lost the grain. That is already indirect damage; that is indirect causation. Therefore Rav Ashi does not disagree that the case is someone who bent the grain; he is talking about someone who bent it. It is just that if you bent the grain—we started the class with this—that if you bend the grain to a place where an ordinary fire is going to reach, that is direct damage by one’s own hands. Now Rav Ashi, after all, does not accept the approach that it is talking about an unusual wind, because then he would be exempt even in the heavenly sense. So it is talking about an ordinary wind. But with an ordinary wind he is liable in human courts. So Rav Ashi says no: that same person who bent the grain and made himself liable, like someone who kindles a fire, in human courts—now he covers the grain. So when he covers the grain, he exempts himself from payment and thereby causes indirect damage to the injured party. But that damage really is indirect damage, and that is how the one who bent it—the question was, how is the one who bent it a case of indirect causation? He should have to be liable in the heavenly sense; this is actual kindling, direct kindling, right? That was the question. The first answer was: an unusual wind. Rav Ashi says no, no, I say it is talking about an ordinary wind. So how do you turn this into indirect causation? After all, I am directly damaging when I covered it. If we see it this way, it is much easier to understand now. Rav Ashi adds another dimension of concealment that does not appear in the wording of the teaching. In the wording of the teaching, only the bending appears, but Rav Ashi says: look, if you explain it as an unusual wind, that is not reasonable, because then he is exempt even in the heavenly sense—he did nothing. Therefore Rav Ashi says: let me explain to you why the one who bent it is only an indirect cause and not someone who directly damages—because he concealed it. The moment he concealed it, he exempted himself from paying; consequently he caused damage indirectly, so he is not liable to pay in human courts, but he is liable in the heavenly sense. Meaning, he bends it and covers it. Then this is indeed an interpretive narrowing, but it is not such a forced interpretive narrowing. It is not that instead of bending he covered; rather, he bent it and turned it into indirect causation by covering what he bent. But of course there is some assumption here that has to be discussed: if a person conceals the very thing that he himself is burning, does he exempt himself from payment? Which of course brings us right back again to the question whether the exemption for concealed property is an exemption based on duress—which here is really absurd. Meaning, you yourself concealed it, so how can you say that you were under duress because it was concealed? You burned it and you concealed it. One might perhaps say this if one understands the exemption for concealed property for some other reason, but not because of duress, because from the standpoint of duress it does not belong here at all. And even if it is for some other reason, it is very far-fetched to say such a thing—that a person who wraps the grain that he himself is burning exempts himself from payment, and therefore becomes liable only in the heavenly sense under the law of indirect causation, because the damage itself he did not really do anymore. It is a bit reminiscent of setting one’s own dog on someone—we talked about this at the beginning of the year—where one who incites his own dog would be exempt, because just as when someone incites another person’s dog both the inciter and the owner are exempt, here too, when the inciter and the owner are both me, I am still exempt. Or someone who throws a vessel from the top of a roof, runs quickly downstairs, and smashes it a moment before it hits the ground—there too there are later authorities who want to claim that he would be exempt, because just as when two people do it, so too if the two are located in the same body, that changes nothing; he is still exempt. Something along those lines is what I want to say here, and then it is perhaps easier to understand Rav Ashi’s approach. I still maintain that Rav Ashi disagrees with Mar, because otherwise he would not have brought this interpretive narrowing—there is no reason to make one. But once he disagrees with Mar, I can understand why he was forced to arrive at this interpretive narrowing, and why this is, all in all, an interpretive narrowing of the kind one always makes. But it is not that instead of bending he covered; in addition to bending, he covered. That way the covering turned the bending into indirect damage rather than direct damage. Fine, but I want to get into that in the next class. I uploaded a guidance sheet—I do not know if you had a chance to see it—on Moodle I uploaded the sheet, and I think I also put it in Dropbox. I upload all the files to both places, starting already from last week, with some sources for preparation and thought, because I want to get a bit into the question of whether fire is considered due to his arrows or due to his property, which is also relevant to our issue here. The passage itself is in chapter two, page 24 I think, something like that—the dispute between Rabbi Yochanan and Reish Lakish. Look at the passage there—not really in all the details, but in broad outline, what emerges from that passage there. Look at the preparation sheet. Okay, that is all for now.

[Speaker C] Thank you very much, more power to you,

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Goodbye.

HaKones Chapter – Lesson 12

Table of Contents

Summary

General overview

The framework of the topic: indirect causation and the four cases

Bending another person’s standing grain toward the fire: a common wind and an uncommon wind

The question of the timing of the wind, and the precise reading of Rashi and the Maggid Mishneh

Rav Ashi: concealed property in fire, and a chain of indirect causation through the exemption for concealed items

Chazon Ish: the determining moment for concealed property, and the proposal that visible property is liable only if it remains visible the whole way through

Logical lessons and dichotomies: equivalent formulations and understanding the requirement

The Talmudic need-for-both-cases argument: the novelty of liability in the heavenly sense in both scenarios

The Meiri and the Yam Shel Shlomo: intent to cause harm, good intentions, and knowledge of the law of concealed property

The relation between the explanations: does Rav Ashi disagree with “the master,” and Maimonides who rules both

A proposal for understanding the wording “bends” according to Rav Ashi: he bends it and then conceals it, turning it into liability for indirect causation

Full Transcript

Leave a ReplyCancel reply

Table of Contents

Summary

General overview

The framework of the topic: indirect causation and the four cases

Bending another person’s standing grain toward the fire: a common wind and an uncommon wind

The question of the timing of the wind, and the precise reading of Rashi and the Maggid Mishneh

Rav Ashi: concealed property in fire, and a chain of indirect causation through the exemption for concealed items

Chazon Ish: the determining moment for concealed property, and the proposal that visible property is liable only if it remains visible the whole way through

Logical lessons and dichotomies: equivalent formulations and understanding the requirement

The Talmudic need-for-both-cases argument: the novelty of liability in the heavenly sense in both scenarios

The Meiri and the Yam Shel Shlomo: intent to cause harm, good intentions, and knowledge of the law of concealed property

The relation between the explanations: does Rav Ashi disagree with “the master,” and Maimonides who rules both

A proposal for understanding the wording “bends” according to Rav Ashi: he bends it and then conceals it, turning it into liability for indirect causation

Full Transcript

שתף

Leave a ReplyCancel reply