Yoma, Chapter 8 – Lesson 1

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

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[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s what I said is really puzzling. It really is puzzling what he’s doing. Even suppose I accept what he says, that this isn’t called a sacrifice because it isn’t slaughtered. By the way, slaughter is a rite that is valid even if done by a non-priest; specifically slaughter is not the point that actually offers it, it’s not what defines the sacrificial rite. But never mind. So Ibn Ezra says he means to say they don’t slaughter it and don’t do the whole procedure; of course there is no sprinkling of blood either. He means the whole sacrificial procedure, not specifically slaughter. So even if I accept that when there is no sacrificial procedure it is not a sacrifice, still—so what if it’s not a sacrifice? If I do some kind of rite, not a sacrifice, isn’t it still supposed to be done only for the Holy One, blessed be He? Can it be done for some other entity? That’s a little strange. If I did such a thing for an idol, according to Maimonides’ definitions in the Laws of Idolatry—which are based on Talmudic texts—that would be outright idolatry. You don’t have to do the four standard acts of worship to violate the prohibition of idolatry. Any idol, according to the procedure defined for it, that’s what defines the prohibition of worshipping it. If one does the four standard acts, that applies to any idol—that’s what is unique about those four acts. But if he worships it through some other act, if that is the act characteristic of it, then he violates the prohibition of idolatry in the fullest sense. So this is a strange thing.

[Speaker H] But why not say—why not say that it is a sacrifice to God? It’s simply the only sacrifice that one is commanded from the outset to offer not in the normal sacrificial way and outside the Temple, but rather by means of pushing it off a cliff and so on.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know why not say that, but Ibn Ezra doesn’t say it. I’m asking about Ibn Ezra. Right now I’m learning him.

[Speaker H] Oh, he doesn’t say that?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Look—he says it’s not a sacrifice.

[Speaker H] But it says it is for God, doesn’t it?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] “Because the sent one is not a sacrifice.” No, Rabbi Shmuel says that the sent goat too is for God. And to that Ibn Ezra says, “There is no need.” Ah—because the sent one is not a sacrifice, since it is not slaughtered, and it does not go through the sacrificial procedure, so it is not a sacrifice. In any event, there is no need to reach what Rabbi Shmuel says, that the sent goat too is for God. No—it’s not for God, it is for something else. A bit, a bit. And then he goes on and says: “And if you can understand the secret that follows the word Azazel, you will know its secret and the secret of its name, for it has companions in Scripture, and I will reveal to you a bit of the secret by hint: when you are thirty-three, you will know it.” This is one of Ibn Ezra’s riddles. What he really means to say is that thirty-three verses after the verse of the sent goat there appears: “And they shall no longer slaughter their sacrifices to the goat-demons.” And what he means here by “when you are thirty-three, you will know it” is: if you go thirty-three verses forward, you will understand the secret of the goat to Azazel. Namely what? That it is actually brought to the goat-demons and not to God, as he argues against Rabbi Shmuel. We send it to the goat-demons, not to the Holy One, blessed be He. And the purpose of the whole thing is to prevent us from coming to worship the goat-demons as idolatry. “Goat-demons” means demons, yes, such forces and others. In any event, that’s what Ibn Ezra says. So Nachmanides says there: “Now Rabbi Abraham is faithful in spirit and conceals a matter, but I, the talebearer, will reveal his secret, for our rabbis have already disclosed it in many places, and it is explicit in the chapters of Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer the Great. Therefore they would give Samael a bribe on Yom Kippur, yes, the kabbalists are careful not to say this, they say S.M., a bribe on Yom Kippur so that he would not annul their sacrifice, as it says: one lot for God and one lot for Azazel.” Yes, so that is basically what Ibn Ezra means. “And they shall no longer slaughter their sacrifices to the goat-demons”—meaning that the goat to Azazel is directed as a sacrifice—not as a sacrifice, sorry—as a rite to the goat-demons. Its purpose, of course, is to keep us from worshipping the goat-demons, but this sacrifice, or this rite, is directed toward the goat-demons. And that’s what Nachmanides explains here, revealing Ibn Ezra’s secret: that they would give Samael a bribe on Yom Kippur so that he would not annul their sacrifice, as it says: one lot for the Lord and one lot for Azazel. Azazel is the addressee of the goat; it isn’t only the place, the cliff from which they push it. Azazel is the name of the one to whom this rite is directed. The lot of the Holy One, blessed be He, is for a burnt offering, and the lot of Azazel is a sin-goat, with all the sins of Israel upon it, as it says in the verses, yes: “and it shall bear upon it all the iniquities of the children of Israel.” And now he informed us—I’m skipping around here, doing this a bit selectively—“and now he informed us of its name and its deed, and this is the secret of the matter: for there were those who worshipped other gods, namely the angels, and offered them sacrifices.” Not that the angels worshipped idolatry, but rather people worshipped the angels as idolatry—or the goat-demons, which are basically demons. “They offered them sacrifices, and they came to them as a pleasing aroma. And behold, the Torah completely forbade accepting their divinity and any worship of them, but the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded on Yom Kippur that we send a goat into the wilderness to the prince who rules over desolate places, and that is fitting for him, because he is their master, and from the emanation of his power come drought and desolation, for he is the one who presides over the stars of sword and blood and wars and quarrels and wounds and plagues and separation and destruction.” Okay, meaning: there is some prince that rules over places of destruction. We usually think the demons are in the wilderness because it’s empty there; Nachmanides argues that it’s empty there because the demons are there. Meaning it works the other way around: the desolation comes from their power, not that they are there because there is desolation. Fine, this is a bit of Nachmanides’ demon theory, and he continues and says this: “And the intention regarding the sent goat is not that it should be a sacrifice from us to him, Heaven forbid.” But then what is it? “Rather, our intention should be to do the will of our Creator, who commanded us this.” It’s not clear whether this “no”—“the intention is not”—means the intention is not that it be a sacrifice, or that it is a sacrifice, just not from us to him. Because Ibn Ezra says it’s not a sacrifice at all, and Nachmanides says the intention is not that it be a sacrifice from us to him. Is he disputing Ibn Ezra and claiming that it is in fact a sacrifice, only it does not go to Samael? Or is he saying like Ibn Ezra, continuing to explain him, that it is not a sacrifice? Although even something that is not a sacrifice still cannot go to someone other than the Holy One, blessed be He—that would still be idolatry. Right? And if he is interpreting Ibn Ezra, then of course the meaning is the second option.

[Speaker C] It’s hard to understand how Nachmanides thinks one can somehow give a sacrifice to someone else, to Samael. It simply doesn’t work, this thing.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Even if it’s not a sacrifice, it still doesn’t work, as I said before.

[Speaker C] That’s basically idolatry.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So he says like this—and I’m continuing to read in Nachmanides, look here—“And the intention regarding the sent goat is not that it should be a sacrifice from us to him, Heaven forbid, but rather that our intention should be to do the will of our Creator, who commanded us this.” In other words, he says: this rite, whether you call it a sacrifice or not, is directed toward the goat-demons or toward Samael, but we do it because of a command from the Holy One, blessed be He. The Holy One, blessed be He, commanded us to worship Him in this way: offer a sacrifice to Samael. This is what I want you to do on Yom Kippur; this is your worship of God. So Nachmanides here continues the direction of Ibn Ezra. He says this is not idolatry, of course, but it is indeed a rite directed toward another authority that is not the Holy One, blessed be He. And this itself—whoever knows Maimonides at the beginning of the Laws of Idolatry—Maimonides there talks about how idolatry historically developed. He explains there that when they worshipped the heavenly bodies, at first they worshipped them as representatives of the Holy One, blessed be He; they thought that in this they were giving honor and glory to the Holy One, blessed be He, because they are really His representatives, His attendants on high. And according to Maimonides this is called idolatry, even though my intention is to bring pleasure to the Holy One, blessed be He. Here too, the fact that I do this by command of the Holy One, blessed be He, yet I am still directing worship to an intermediary factor or some other factor. It is not so simple that this would not fall under the category of idolatry. But Nachmanides says it very much is not simple.

[Speaker D] What? Very not simple. Yes, very not simple. Okay, in my opinion this is the same problem as in the book of Job with the Satan, where Satan is sort of a separate authority from the Holy One, blessed be He. Here too it comes up that way.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, here you could say not so, because here the Holy One, blessed be He, Himself says to offer the sacrifice to Satan, so there is worship of Satan here. So it’s not even entirely similar to what Maimonides says at the beginning of the Laws of Idolatry, because there Maimonides is speaking about a situation where I worship them not because of a command of the Holy One, blessed be He, but because I decided that this is the best way to honor Him. That is idolatry. Here the Holy One, blessed be He, Himself tells me to do it—this is how Nachmanides explains it. So it really isn’t simple, but one can understand the distinction. Still, it’s not the same thing.

[Speaker C] And this is similar to the fact that the Holy One, blessed be He, said “Do not murder,” but still He said to our father Abraham, “Go kill, go slaughter your son.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Or “kill Sabbath desecrators,” for example, yes? Never mind. Right, fine, it’s not absurd: the mouth that prohibited is the mouth that permitted. He said this and He said that.

[Speaker C] And the fact that the Holy One, blessed be He, said it—that itself makes it a commandment.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Correct, that’s the point, exactly. So that is exactly what he is claiming here. It’s true that there is in fact an element of idolatry here—you’re directing this rite to someone else, not to the Holy One, blessed be He. In that sense, yes, he takes Ibn Ezra even further. But he says, don’t worry, this is not idolatry, because the Holy One, blessed be He, Himself instructed us to do it. Okay. Now he continues: “And this is the reason for the lots: for if the priest had verbally consecrated them to the Lord and to Azazel, it would be as if he were serving him and vowing in his name; but he would stand them before the Lord at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, for both of them are a gift to the Lord.” There is no consecration of the sacrifice to Azazel; the consecration of both sacrifices is to the Lord. Afterward the Holy One, blessed be He, tells us: take one of them and give it to Azazel. Azazel eats from the high table. Fine? The Holy One, blessed be He, gives it to them; He gives him this thing, essentially. “And Rabbi Abraham hinted to you that you should know its secret when you reach the verse: ‘And they shall no longer slaughter their sacrifices to the goat-demons.’” I added the explanation here in parentheses, yes? That is a verse appearing thirty-three verses later. “And I cannot explain”—now this is an interesting remark in Nachmanides, and I’ll comment on it later as well—“lest we need to shut the mouths of those who sophisticate with nature, those drawn after the Greek Aristotle, who denied everything except what is sensed by him, and became arrogant”—yes, puffed up—“to think, he and his wicked disciples, that every matter which his reasoning did not attain is not true.” How did we get from all this theology of demons and goat-demons and commandments and idolatry to the Greek Aristotle, who arrogantly thinks that only what he understands exists, and whatever he cannot grasp or understand does not exist and is false? What—how is that related? How did we get from here to there? Fine, so let’s pause this discussion for a moment, and now I want to go into the description of the procedure of sending the goat to Azazel. I think there is a fascinating phenomenon there that will shed light on these riddles posed to us by Ibn Ezra and Nachmanides, and perhaps also on the very nature of the Yom Kippur service. So, fine, we basically begin the procedure of the goat to Azazel by taking two goats. They must, of course, be equal in height, in value, in weight. The Mishnah says this is not indispensable, but they are supposed to be equal. They stand them before the Lord and consecrate them. The Talmud in tractate Yoma 62b—I won’t go into all the sources because I want to give you a general picture, not drown in details—the Talmud in Yoma 62b says that if someone slaughters one of the two goats, it doesn’t matter which one, outside—yes, outside the Temple courtyard—before the lottery, he violates the prohibition of slaughtering outside. Meaning, it is like offering a sacrifice outside the courtyard. What does that mean? That these two goats in fact have the status and sanctity of a sacrifice. Right? That is clear. Therefore it is forbidden to offer them outside; whoever offers them outside has essentially offered sacrifices outside, which is the prohibition of slaughtering outside. Something that is not a sacrifice has no prohibition against slaughtering outside. Meaning that at this stage both are consecrated, and this is not just some empty ceremony; both become holy with the holiness of a sacrifice, intrinsic sanctity. Okay, that is the first stage. Now at the next stage—and of course at this stage it is obviously forbidden to eat them, use them; they have sanctity in every respect, both goats. The next stage is the lottery. When they do the lottery—and there was a hint of this in Nachmanides’ words—the Gevurat Ari on Yoma 39 says that regarding the goat that goes to the Lord, the priest says, “For the Lord, a sin-offering.” But regarding the one that goes to Azazel, nothing is said. There is some hint in Nachmanides’ wording that we read earlier, if you remember, that the goat to Azazel is not explicitly consecrated to Azazel, but rather both are consecrated to the Lord. But the Gevurat Ari argues that even in the lottery itself we do not really draw a “goat for Azazel”; we draw a “goat for the Lord,” and consequently the other one goes to Azazel. This continues the same outlook that says we do not want to create here some kind of worship toward another entity that is not the Holy One, blessed be He. There was some…

[Speaker I] There were two lots, and on one of them it said “for Azazel.” What are you saying? There was some… there were two lots, and on one of them it said “for Azazel.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s an interesting question. I’m not sure that according to the Gevurat Ari there were actually two written labels. It could be that one was blank and one said “for the Lord.” And it could be that he says this only about speech. On the lots themselves, what is written is written, but speech is what consecrates the sacrifice, so in speech, no—they do not explicitly say that it is consecrated to Azazel. In Rashi there, by the way…

[Speaker H] If you write something on a sacrifice, doesn’t that consecrate it?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Say that again.

[Speaker H] If you write it—like a document—on a sacrifice, that doesn’t…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Plainly, no, because consecrating a sacrifice is a vow. All the laws of vows are learned from the consecration of sacrifices. And a vow requires explicit articulation. Explicit articulation means verbal speech. True, in several places we see writing treated like speech. There is a Rabbeinu Tam who wants to claim that even in one’s heart or in writing it can also be a vow. But plainly, it requires verbal articulation. In any event, the next stage, as I said, is the lottery. The Gevurat Ari says that we are essentially doing the lottery only regarding the one for the Lord, and the one for Azazel is excluded automatically. But Rashi there writes that both lots must be brought up. Why? Because this is not merely clarification; it’s not just that if you want to know which goat goes here and which goat goes there. Rather, this is a rite. And the rite has to be done on both sacrifices. Both are holy with the holiness of a sacrifice; on both of them a rite must be done, and therefore both of them must be designated explicitly by lot. That’s what Rashi claims there on page 39.

[Speaker B] In parentheses—in the Mishnah in chapter 4 it says that on one of them it says “for Azazel.” At the beginning of chapter 4. No, what wasn’t clear—in the Mishnah in chapter 4 it says that one of them has written on it “for Azazel.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ah, okay, so the Gevurat Ari is apparently speaking only about the verbal declaration. Okay. So the Gevurat Ari is apparently speaking only about the fact that they do not say “Azazel,” but it was written. And Rashi says they also say it, because that is part of the rite. What comes out of this for our purposes? That even at the stage of the lottery, Rashi still understands that a rite is taking place here, and “rite” means that both are still holy with the holiness of a sacrifice. Okay? After the lottery comes the stage of tying the crimson thread. They tie a crimson thread to the horns of the goat to Azazel. Some commentators asked: how is it permitted to do that? After all, that is using a sacrifice, and that is forbidden. Mainly later authorities—Gevurat Ari discusses this, Rabbi Chaim, and others. Apparently they hold that even at this stage after the lottery—I spoke before about the act of the lottery itself, but after the act of the lottery, one of the goats is already designated for Azazel—at this stage, is it still a sacrifice? Gevurat Ari and Rabbi Chaim assume that it is, and therefore they ask: how is it permitted to tie the crimson thread to it? After all, that is using a sacrifice. Their assumption, of course, is that tying the crimson thread is not part of the rite of the goat to Azazel, but rather is for the sake of atonement, or so that we know that we have been atoned for, or whatever it may be. By the way, according to some views there were two crimson threads; one was tied to the rock. But still, they assume that even at this stage, when the two goats are already sorted—one for the Lord and one for Azazel—even at this stage both still have the sanctity of a sacrifice, and all the laws that apply to a sacrifice apply to both. After the lottery and the tying of the thread, there is laying on of hands. The priest has to lay his hand on the goat’s head. In Mikdash David, in the laws of the Yom Kippur service, he brings several proofs that this laying on of hands has the law of laying on of hands for sacrifices. I’m muting everyone simply so there won’t be noise here; whoever wants to ask should press and ask, okay? Or unmute yourselves so there won’t be noise. So I’ll say it again: the next stage after the tying of the thread—he brings several proofs for this in section 6, several proofs that this laying on of hands is like the law of laying on of hands for sacrifices. Meaning the goat to Azazel at this stage is still a sacrifice. Even at the stage after the lottery, with the laying on of hands and tying of the thread, and also at the stage of laying on of hands. True, there are later authorities who want to claim that this laying on of hands belongs to the laws of repentance, not to the laws of the Yom Kippur service. But he has several not-bad proofs there in Mikdash David on this point, and so at least, let’s say, there are well-grounded views that still see the goat to Azazel as a sacrifice at this stage as well. After that comes the stage of confession over the goat that goes to Azazel. In Rabbi Chaim’s stencil edition, he writes there in the heading—the heading is “regarding the crimson thread”—that from this point onward, from the stage of confession over the goat, it no longer has the sanctity of a sacrifice. But in Mikdash David he brings a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim) whether this confession is by the law of repentance or by the law of sacrifices, which require confession over sacrifices. And once again we see that there are still views—though they are gradually dwindling—if at the stage of laying on of hands Mikdash David brought it as something agreed upon, at the stage of confession it is already a dispute: is there sanctity of sacrifice here or not? Meaning the sanctity of the sacrifice is slowly leaking out of the goat to Azazel. Notice this—we see it expressed in the fact that more and more commentators already view this as something that is not a sacrifice. The next stage is sending the goat to the cliff. At this stage they send the goat by the hand of an appointed man. Who is this appointed man? The Talmud says he is a layman, not a priest; he does not have to be a priest. That is already a hint that here this is no longer a priestly rite, because a rite has to be done by a priest. It is a hint that here this is probably not exactly a sacrifice anymore. And therefore indeed several commentators write that since this is valid when done by a layman, the sending is already not a rite involving a sacrifice, and therefore it does not require a priest. More than that.

[Speaker I] But slaughter too is valid when done by a layman. What? Slaughter too is valid when done by a layman.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, slaughter too is not a rite.

[Speaker I] Yes, but that doesn’t remove the fact that it’s still a sacrifice, that—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning slaughter is also still part of a sacrifice. It’s still a sacrifice. With slaughter it is still a sacrifice; basically the sacrificial procedure has not yet begun. Slaughter is very… it’s a bit tricky, but that is the simple conception. The Talmud itself says slaughter is not a rite. Some of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) claim that the sending is not indispensable at all. One can achieve atonement even without the sending. So it’s not only that it is no longer a sacrifice, but somehow in fact we are already after everything. According to some of them it could be that we could actually stop here and finish the whole story. See how the goat to Azazel is somehow gradually evaporating out of the whole affair. Now further on, along the way, the Talmud says the appointed man can eat and drink. Of course he violates the prohibition of going beyond the boundary, since he goes outside the Sabbath boundary. For him Yom Kippur is just an ordinary weekday. Fine? Notice all this despite the fact that according to at least some medieval authorities (Rishonim), the sending is not even indispensable. So here something really seems inconceivable. It isn’t indispensable, it’s all basically optional, and yet one is allowed to desecrate Yom Kippur for it, in order to do it. A really strange business. It looks like, specifically, they’re coming to poke us on purpose. We’ll see in a moment.

[Speaker J] Maybe it’s on purpose like that? What? Maybe it’s on purpose like that, to emphasize the contrast between the goat for the Lord and the goat for Azazel? Like, the goat for the Lord is in the Temple, and this one goes to the outside places through outside people?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I said it could be on purpose, and later I’ll want to pour more content into that. Fine. Along the route there were booths they set up for people, and the people would pull the hair of the goat. And that too—several commentators already noted this—you are not allowed to do that to a sacrifice. So that is yet another indication that at this stage we are no longer dealing with a sacrifice. At the end of the route they arrive at the cliff, the cliff of Azazel, and they push the goat down. In the Talmud itself it is explicit that the pushing is not indispensable. Meaning, it is not part of the commandment of sending, and therefore even if no pushing took place, the commandment of sending, or the atonement, was fulfilled. As I said, even about the sending itself there are medieval authorities (Rishonim) who say it is not indispensable. So did it basically already become unconsecrated? So it basically had become unconsecrated already, but now these acts do not even need to be done at all. It’s not only that it is unconsecrated; the whole thing keeps becoming stranger and stranger by the minute. After the push from the cliff, the limbs of the goat—the goat usually gets smashed to pieces. What do they do with them? They are permitted for benefit. Anyone can have a barbecue with them. You can have a barbecue with them.

[Speaker C] How nice.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Interesting whether the appointed man can still eat after the push too, but if so, he can sit down at the end and have a barbecue with the limbs.

[Speaker K] In the novellae of the Griz on Yoma page—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] 61, he says—

[Speaker K] that if the goat remains alive after the push, one can slaughter and eat it. There are those who permitted eating it even without slaughter. The push is the slaughter. At this stage, of course, nothing remains of it, certainly not the sanctity of a sacrifice, but really nothing remains at all.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This whole business turns into—

[Speaker D] some cheerful goat that jumped—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] from the top of the cliff over there, and that’s all.

[Speaker D] all the thrilling procedure we went through until now.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Can I ask a question? Yes. Rabbi, there is also another fact, namely that before they choose the goat to Azazel, the two goats could each potentially be the goat for the Lord. Meaning, before there was a lottery, each of the goats was a sacrifice at the beginning. Both of them were fit for either role, right? They are equal and have to be exactly equal. That is part of the point—we’ll come back to that. Now, the Rabbi of Brisk, the Griz on Yoma 61, says that if the goat remains alive after the push, one can slaughter and eat it. There are those who permitted eating it even without slaughter. The push is the slaughter. At this stage, of course, nothing remains of it, certainly not the sanctity of a sacrifice, but really nothing remains at all. The whole thing turns into some cheerful goat that jumped off the top of the cliff over there, and that’s all. All the thrilling procedure we went through up to this point somehow evaporated completely. You can eat it, have a barbecue with it. It goes back to being just an ordinary goat. Okay? Just some goat, like it was before this whole story. There is something here like—yes—Alice in Wonderland. You know Alice in Wonderland? Alice in Wonderland dreams all sorts of crazy dreams, goes through exciting and intense experiences, and in the end she wakes up and it was all a dream. There was nothing. She dreamed the whole thing. There is some feeling here that the Torah is creating some kind of Alice in Wonderland spectacle. The two goats begin as complete sacrifices; there is no difference between them, they are both the same thing. They don’t yet decide which is for the Lord and which is for Azazel. Both are going along, then the lottery. One is chosen for the Lord, one is chosen for Azazel. And then slowly the sanctity begins to be stripped away from the goat to Azazel, and even the procedures themselves begin to become some unclear matter, not necessary. And they desecrate the Sabbath for them even though it’s unclear and unnecessary, and they desecrate Yom Kippur. And in the end you can just eat it. And this whole business is very, very strange. Somehow we wake up from the dream and find ourselves having a barbecue in the Judean Desert. After we finished all the Yom Kippur service with all the noise and the afflictions and the crimson thread and the tension over whether we were atoned for or not atoned for, it ends with some nice barbecue with a goat in the Judean Desert. What is happening here? What is the meaning of this story? I’ll ask this question in a slightly different way. There is a rule—the Talmud in tractate Nedarim 29—

[Speaker J] I’m saying also the whole issue of the randomness here.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, clearly it’s… isn’t it a little strange for Yom Kippur? But we already spoke about that, and I’ll come back to it too. The Talmud in tractate Nedarim 29 brings a dispute between Abaye and Bar Pada whether intrinsic sanctity can lapse on its own or cannot lapse on its own. What does that mean? If there is an animal sanctified with intrinsic sanctity, can that sanctity lapse without my doing anything—on its own? Or can only an act remove sanctity? What does “on its own” mean? For example, I consecrate it with intrinsic sanctity for a fixed period, for a week. Or I consecrate it conditionally, and if the condition is not fulfilled, the sanctity lapses. The practical Jewish law ruling is that intrinsic sanctity does not lapse on its own. Meaning that intrinsic sanctity, once it takes effect, is irreversible. Only if you did an act can the sanctity be removed. How is it removed? Usually, if you did what was required of you. “There is nothing whose commandment has been fulfilled and yet misuse still applies to it.” Meaning, if you carried out the whole procedure, then you have already fulfilled your obligation, and then it stops being holy because it reached its purpose. All the sanctity is basically meant to preserve the thing for the sake of performing the commandment. Once I performed the commandment, I sprinkled the blood, everything is fine, you can eat the meat. The thing is no longer holy. Okay? So that’s after its commandment has been fulfilled. But all that is when there was an act. If I want to remove intrinsic sanctity on its own, that cannot be done. If I come back here—what removed the sanctity of the sacrifice? We began with the fact that according to everyone it has sacrificial sanctity. Even after the lottery, not only before the lottery—even when it is already defined as the goat to Azazel. How is it that in the end we find ourselves at a barbecue? Here intrinsic sanctity lapsed on its own. Fine, one could say… its commandment was fulfilled. In the end we completed the procedure for which we consecrated this goat; we did everything that was supposed to be done with all the stages I described before, and therefore now its sanctity lapsed. But the question is, where did that happen? After all, we see it happens gradually until in the end suddenly it disappears. There is even a dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) about exactly when it disappears. This whole procedure is supposedly aimed in the end at the stage of pushing it off the cliff. That is supposed to be the climax of the offering, after which indeed it stops being holy with sacrificial sanctity. But we saw that the push is not indispensable at all. Even the sending, according to some opinions, is not indispensable. So what is going on here? What does “its commandment has been fulfilled”—which ends the laws of misuse, which removes its sanctity—what exactly is the fulfillment of the commandment of this goat? None of the actions toward which this whole procedure is moving actually even has to be done. So what exactly is going on here? How are we to understand this strange thing? So let me suggest to you—and in general I’m adding in all the questions of Ibn Ezra and Nachmanides—what is this thing of a sacrifice to the “other side,” yes, a sacrifice to someone other than the Holy One, blessed be He? How will this in the end keep us from offering sacrifices to the goat-demons? Or according to Nachmanides, how will this blunt the teeth of wicked Aristotle and his arrogance, that only what he understands exists and what he doesn’t understand is false—what is the meaning of this story? So I want to make the following claim. I want to begin—I’m pausing for a moment—with an introduction. Okay? When we—we know how a logical argument is built. A logical argument is built from premises from which I derive a conclusion. Okay? All human beings are mortal, Socrates is a human being, conclusion: Socrates is mortal. I prove the conclusion on the basis of the premises. Right? That is the logical argument. And where did the premises come from? Either I prove them on the basis of other premises, but then I’ll ask: and those other premises, where did they come from? In the end, in the end, I remain with a set of premises for which I have no proof. Right? Once I asked students—they call it induction—

[Speaker J] Rabbi, or an axiom?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, an axiom. It has nothing to do with induction; this is deduction. It’s a deductive derivation of a conclusion from premises. Once I asked high school students what is truer in geometry, the theorems or the axioms? The theorems have proofs; the axioms don’t. But clearly you cannot say that the theorems are truer than the axioms, right? Because why are the theorems true? Because I have a proof for them based on the axioms. I rest them on the axioms; that is why they are true. So their maximum truth can only be as true as the axioms. You cannot—there cannot be a situation in which the theorems are truer than the axioms, right? Even though the theorems have proof and the axioms do not. So what do we do with this issue? Well, in fact, as a result of this strange phenomenon there are those who want to claim that one really arrives at a skeptical position that says that in fact there is nothing that can be proven. Because every proof is built on fundamental premises, and the fundamental premises cannot be proven, and therefore I cannot accept any claim. Everything is in doubt for me. All I can do is amuse myself by deriving conclusions from premises and premises from other premises and conclusions from other conclusions, but none of it has any meaning because I cannot say about anything that it is true.

[Speaker H] Because just as I don’t know that the premises are true, then automatically I—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] also cannot say that the conclusion is true. Okay? Does this also touch empirical observations? If you are a skeptic and you do not accept the data of the senses, then yes. If you do accept the data of the senses, then no. And again, even about that assumption itself I can ask: how do you know the data of the senses really reflects the world correctly? The genuine skeptic will say that about sensory data too. At the root of everything there has to be arbitrariness. Right. And therefore I say that the question that arises here is how to relate to this system. There are two ways to relate to this system. One possibility is to say: okay, the axioms, because they have no proof, are arbitrary, and therefore the conclusions too are arbitrary, everything is arbitrary—and then you become a skeptic. Another possibility is to say: no, true, I have no proofs for premises and no proofs for axioms, but not everything for which I have no proof is arbitrary. There are things that my common sense, my intuition, my simple perception, plain reason if you will, tells me are true, and I have faith in them. I don’t have a proof, but I have faith in them. And since they are true, then for me what is proven on the basis of those axioms is also true. Meaning—

[Speaker H] Why do you have faith in that?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because my plain reason tells me.

[Speaker H] And why does it tell you that? In the end it still comes down to arbitrariness.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. No.

[Speaker H] That’s arbitrary.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. When I ask you why one straight line passes between two points, which is one of the axioms of Euclidean geometry, you can answer me: it isn’t really true, I just assume it arbitrarily and let’s see what follows from it. But according to the definition of two points—

[Speaker H] and a line—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] it follows from that, it is derived from that. All the mathematicians—at least the ones I checked on this—are Platonists. Only philosophers amuse themselves with mathematical anti-Platonism; mathematicians are Platonists. And therefore the mathematician will tell you: it is true, period, even though I have no proof for it. In Euclidean space, of course.

[Speaker H] Doesn’t it derive from the definitions?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no. The claim is that it is true—that is exactly the difference between the Platonist and the non-Platonist. The non-Platonist says: this is a definition, I define Euclidean space this way. And the Platonist says: no, there is such a thing in the world called Euclidean space, and I tell you from a kind of observation—not observation with the eyes but with the eye of the intellect, through intuition—that between two points there passes one straight line. Isn’t the first position something like logical positivism? What?

[Speaker H] Isn’t the first position something like logical positivism?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, on the contrary. Logical positivism, in my view, is the non-Platonists.

[Speaker H] But you said there are those who say it comes from the definition and those who base it on observation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. So those who base it on the definition are the positivists. Yes. Yes. In any event, let’s not get too deep into this, I think I wrote books about it, I’m not going to get into all that here. I just want to sharpen the point that concerns us. So those are the two ways to relate to this system. Either you give weight to the premises, and then of course the conclusions too acquire meaning; or you say the premises are arbitrary, but then of course the conclusions too are arbitrary, so everything is arbitrary. Your attitude toward the premises determines how you relate to the whole system—premises plus conclusions, what are called theorems. Okay? That is a short introduction. Now, one more sentence. You know that in Kabbalah there are several sefirot, ten sefirot. There is wisdom, understanding, knowledge; kindness, might, beauty; victory, splendor, foundation, and kingship. What is the difference between wisdom, understanding, and knowledge? It repeats itself in the lower triads as well. Understanding is to understand one thing from another. What does that mean in the language I described before? The rules of logic, right? That derive a conclusion from premises. That is understanding. What is wisdom? The Ari of blessed memory writes: it is “the power of what.” Wisdom means grasping that the premise is true just like that. I have no proof, it does not follow from something else. It is true by virtue of itself; it is self-evident. Okay? That is the power of wisdom. The power of wisdom is to recognize certain claims as intuitively true, not because I have a proof that grounds them in other premises. That is wisdom. Okay? So basically, if I now translate that language into the language I said before, I am saying that one who accepts as valid only understanding, as admissible only understanding, in fact has no understanding either. Because he cannot accept either the axioms or the theorems, right? Because the proof of the theorems is based on the axioms. If you do not accept the axioms, then the conclusions have no meaning either. So if in your world you are prepared to accept—if you think that the only non-arbitrary thing is the rules of inference and nothing else—then there is nothing in the world you can know; remain a skeptic. And then all you do is amuse yourself with inferences: from this follows that, from this follows that, but they are only derivations. There is no claim you can stand behind, only the derivation of one claim from other claims. Okay?

[Speaker H] Doesn’t that lead to pragmatism? What?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, this leads to two shades of pragmatism, but I don’t want to get into those things now. There’s one kind of pragmatism like this, and another kind that isn’t. The second possibility is to accept wisdom too as a legitimate source, or in other words: common sense or intuition tells me that one straight line passes between two points. Why? Because that’s how it is. Not “that’s how it is” arbitrarily, but because I know it’s true. Not because I feel like it, but because it’s obvious to me that it’s true. I’m not looking for proofs; I don’t need proofs; it’s self-evident. Okay? Someone who holds such a view is basically someone who gives status to wisdom as well, and not only to understanding. By the way, anyone familiar with postmodern literature, yes, of the past few decades, will see that it’s all basically literature of the first type. It all derives conclusions from premises, and other conclusions from opposite premises, and everything is of equal value and everything is wonderful and nobody is right and nobody is wrong. Why? Because from their perspective only consistency matters. If the conclusion follows from the premises consistently, everything is fine. And if you have the opposite conclusion following from opposite premises, as long as it’s consistent, that’s also fine. Like the judge’s wife—she’s right too. Meaning, everyone is right. Okay? In my opinion, postmodernism in its philosophical root stems from giving absolute weight to logic. That somewhat contradicts people’s intuition when they think about postmodernism, but it seems to me that that’s its source. And then you’re trapped inside some kind of consistency. You can’t say to anyone that he’s wrong, or to anyone else that he’s right, unless there’s an internal contradiction in what he says. But if he’s consistent with his premises, even if his premises differ from yours, then he’s right just like you are. We become pluralists, as they say. Okay. Now let’s move one step further; those were the introductions. Let’s take a look for a moment at wisdom and understanding. We know there are fifty gates of understanding. The Talmud says this in Rosh Hashanah and in Nedarim: there are fifty gates of understanding. And corresponding to them, fifty gates of impurity. Fine? Now there’s a verse—wait, let me share the sources with you again—a verse in Proverbs 16:4, do you see? “The Lord has made everything for His own purpose, even the wicked for the day of evil.” So the Vilna Gaon there, in his commentary on Proverbs, says as follows: “everything”—in gematria—is fifty. And “also” in gematria is forty-nine. “The Lord has made everything”—the gates of understanding are fifty. “Even the wicked for the day of evil”—the gates of impurity are on the side of wickedness, and that is forty-nine. There are fifty gates of understanding but forty-nine gates of impurity. That’s what the Vilna Gaon claims. Now on this the Leshem asks several questions. We could add a few more, but I’ll summarize the questions and say this: first, there is a midrash—in the New Zohar, actually—which says that when the children of Israel were in Egypt, the Holy One, blessed be He, took them out before the completion of the four hundred years so that they would not sink into the fiftieth gate and no longer be able to get out. You see there that there is a fiftieth gate of impurity. The Vilna Gaon said there are only forty-nine. Another thing: we know that “God made one corresponding to the other,” right? If there are fifty gates of understanding, then why not fifty gates of impurity? Where does the symmetry break? What is the meaning of this breaking of symmetry? And one more thing—I’m just asking a question—why is the opposite of the gates of understanding the gates of impurity? The opposite of the gates of understanding should be the gates of foolishness. Or the opposite of the gates of impurity should be the gates of holiness. Why is understanding the opposite of impurity? What’s the connection? To answer this, let’s try to think for a moment about this metaphor. I’m taking a bit of a roundabout route, but in the end I’ll tie it all together. Let’s look a little at the metaphor of a gate. What are gates of understanding? A gate is something that leads us from one space to another. Right? It connects one room to another, or the outside to the inside. It leads us, links two spaces—two rooms, for the sake of discussion. Okay? When we say “gates of understanding,” why is the metaphor being used that of a gate? Why gates of understanding and not rooms of understanding, balls of understanding, or clouds of understanding? Why gates of understanding? Why specifically gates? Because understanding means understanding one thing from another. A gate is what takes me from this place to that place, what connects this room to that room. Therefore the metaphor is a metaphor of gates of understanding. Okay? Now if I have forty-nine gates of understanding, how many rooms are there? After all, every gate connects two rooms. How many rooms are there? A basic math question. Forty-nine? It depends on the boundary conditions. Fifty! If the boundary conditions are circular—you close the chain in on itself—then there are forty-nine rooms and forty-nine gates. You just go in a circle. You pass from room one to room two—that’s gate one. From room two to room three—that’s gate two. From room forty-nine to room one—that’s gate forty-nine. Forty-nine rooms, forty-nine gates. But if I close the boundary conditions differently, then there is basically a chain of rooms, and there is a gate at the beginning, so there are forty-nine gates and forty-nine rooms. What is there before the first gate? Some kind of room too. So there are fifty rooms.

[Speaker H] The empty space.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There are fifty rooms and forty-nine gates. But the first room has no gate leading to it. Right? There’s no gate that leads to it, only one that goes out from it. What does that mean in the language I defined earlier? The first room is wisdom. Right? It’s something that does not derive from premises preceding it. It is true in and of itself, self-evident. The other rooms are results, they are theorems, they are derived by the rules of understanding. I pass through a gate from the first room to the second, from the second to the third, and so on. That is basically the logical argument that takes me from premises—which is wisdom—by means of understanding, to the theorems, to the derived propositions. Those are the subsequent rooms. Therefore there are fifty rooms and forty-nine gates. The gates of understanding are forty-nine, but there are fifty rooms. But all that is if I look at it as a linear chain. If I look at it as a circle, the previous model I described, then there are forty-nine gates, forty-nine rooms, and there is no room that a gate does not lead into. That is what symbolizes the view that sees only understanding as legitimate, that sees wisdom as something arbitrary. If I see something that seems true to me, that’s just arbitrary. If you don’t have a proof, it’s arbitrary. That view is basically a view that closes the chain in on itself as a circle. Then there are only forty-nine gates of understanding and forty-nine rooms, and then “God made one corresponding to the other.” There are exactly forty-nine gates of understanding and forty-nine rooms, and also forty-nine gates of impurity. Except that the fifty gates of understanding—I asked why there are fifty gates of understanding and forty-nine gates of impurity—because the first forty-nine gates of understanding, if you close them in on themselves and do not understand that there is a room at the beginning, are themselves the gates of impurity. Not something else. Looking at logic as something that has independent status, that does not begin from wisdom, from some foundational assumptions that are true by their own force—that itself is a perspective of impurity. What is impurity? Do you know what impurity is? The ultimate source of impurity is a corpse. What characterizes a corpse? Its body is disconnected from the point that gives it life, from the soul. Right? The body lies there complete. Everything is as it was. Only the point that animates it, the soul that breathes life into it, is gone; it is disconnected from it. That is the ultimate source of impurity. When I disconnect the forty-nine gates and the rooms from the foundational room from which everything comes, then what I am left with is a carcass. The forty-nine gates of understanding are themselves gates of impurity if I think there is no room at their beginning that stands independently. Therefore there are forty-nine gates of impurity, and corresponding to them forty-nine gates of understanding. As against the fiftieth—the fiftieth is not a gate; the fiftieth is a room. And it is not a room of understanding; it is wisdom. And understanding stands opposite impurity; wisdom stands on its own. By the way, Nachmanides says this as well. Wait—Nachmanides, you see: “And our rabbis already said: fifty gates of understanding were created in the world, and all of them were given to Moses except one, as it is said, ‘You made him little less than God.’ And their number was received by tradition as fifty less one. And it may be that this gate is knowledge of the Creator, exalted be He, which was not given to a created being. And do not focus on their saying ‘were created in the world’—the fiftieth was not created, for they speak according to the majority. And that one gate was not created.” Because to be created is, again, to come into being out of something. That one gate was not created. It is not a gate; the first room has no gate leading to it. Okay? It is different from all forty-nine rooms that come after it, which are products of understanding. Now what basically—

[Speaker B] Where does it actually say there are rooms?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m saying that if there are gates, then there are also rooms. Got it.

[Speaker B] And we have—there is a room that we don’t have? Is that the idea?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, there is a room that is exceptional.

[Speaker B] That we have no gate to. And how do you reach that room if there’s no gate? You don’t reach it.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] On the contrary—you go out from it. Got it.

[Speaker B] Premises—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But whose premises are they?

[Speaker B] What do you mean? Axioms of common sense?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean, “whose”?

[Speaker B] What you understand to be true.

[Speaker C] What you assume.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You see it. It’s true. It’s simply true. You understand that it’s true.

[Speaker B] It’s some sort of conception above logic, as it were.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not above logic; it precedes logic.

[Speaker B] Logic comes on that basis.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Logic only tells me how to derive one claim from another. It does not tell me how to adopt the first claim. And by definition that’s how it is. This isn’t mysticism. Without it there is no logic. Logic needs premises in order to operate on them. Where do the premises come from? That’s why this is part of reason, so it’s not above reason; it’s above logic. Reason itself is built from a faculty called wisdom, which grasps propositions that are true in themselves, and a faculty called understanding, which derives from those propositions further conclusions. Like in geometry. Okay? What do I actually want to say? There are many people in our world today—it’s even much simpler today—who live within a conception of understanding, what I called earlier the gates of impurity. Namely, that everything I can accept is only something for which there is a logical proof. If there is no logical proof, then it is arbitrary. And they do not notice the simple point that if you accept only things for which there is a logical proof, then you accept nothing. Because every logical proof is based on foundational premises, and those you cannot accept, because they themselves have no logical premise, no logical proof.

[Speaker H] But not necessarily. Not every such person refuses to accept premises for the sake of convenience.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t understand. Convenience doesn’t interest me. I’m talking about the question of what is true, not what is convenient.

[Speaker H] Such people aren’t looking for truth in the first place. Objective truth-values don’t interest them.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, then they aren’t looking. But from their perspective there is no objective truth. I don’t care what they are looking for. The question is what they think. They think there is no truth. Fine? So this illusion that one can live in a world where there is only understanding—that is basically ancient skepticism, and that is today’s postmodernism as another incarnation of the same thing. And in the end it is an illusion. Since if you understand that without accepting foundational premises you cannot relate to conclusions either, then all these games of consistency have no meaning at all. You’re living in a movie. It’s like building a huge palace with guards and rooms and gates and ceremonies and everything, but inside there is an empty room—there is no king. The king who is there at the end is what gives meaning to the whole palace. If there is no room at the beginning, then what meaning is there to all the conclusions you derive from premises? Who cares? Just as the premises are not true, the conclusions are also not true. So why should I care about consistency? Therefore there is a very, very great illusion here. This illusion is the Greek of whom Nachmanides says that he had the audacity to think that what he does not understand, what he has no proof for, is not true. Now how is this conclusion connected to the whole move I laid out earlier? So look. It seems to me that the assumption is this: where does idolatry come from? If you want, we can broaden this to where sins in general come from. Idolatry comes from—you know—“All mockery is forbidden except mockery of idolatry.” Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner explains in Pachad Yitzchak: why is mockery really permitted regarding idolatry? Because what characterizes idolatry? Idolatry is giving importance to something that has no importance. Taking wood and stone and turning it into God. What characterizes mockery? Mockery is sticking a pin in a balloon. Right? When you mock something, you are essentially draining it of its importance. That’s also why people are insulted when things important to them are mocked—very relevant to our own time. Why? Because they’re having the air let out of their balloon. The importance of something important in their eyes is being drained away. So Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner says that therefore mockery is permitted only toward idolatry. Because idolatry in essence is giving importance to something that is not important. So the way to deal with idolatry is to mock it, to lower the thing’s importance so as to restore it to its true size, its natural size. What does that really mean? That to worship idolatry is to live in a movie. A person who worships idolatry builds for himself some elaborate theory with premises and conclusions, and he has a form of worship and demons and powers and this and that, and he serves them, and he has built himself a whole world—the world Maimonides describes at the beginning of the laws of idolatry—and it’s all living in a movie; he projected his own movie onto himself. There is nothing there, it is simply nonsense, but you get so deep into it that you can’t free yourself, and you see this thing as something real. It’s a kind of illusory perception—you see it as something completely real. So the Torah tells us this: how do we deal with it? How do we get to a point where “they shall no longer offer their sacrifices to the goat-demons”? We take two goats that must be equal in height, in weight, and in value; there is no difference between them, and Jewish law requires that there be no difference between them. Fine? Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner, by the way, says this also—he says it about Purim. He asks: why do we need to drink until one cannot distinguish between “cursed be Haman” and “blessed be Mordechai”? On the contrary, isn’t the whole service of the day to distinguish between cursed be Haman and blessed be Mordechai? What is the idea of drinking in order to blur the distinction between them? So he says that the depth of distinction is the depth of comparison; the deeper the comparison, the deeper the distinction. Meaning, if you distinguish between Haman and Mordechai because Haman is coarse and hairy and repulsive, like in children’s books, like how Esau is drawn in children’s books, while Mordechai is depicted as some righteous man whose countenance shines heavenward—then you missed the whole point. Because the difference between Mordechai and Haman is not a matter of how they were born or how they look, but a matter of what they chose. Therefore the proper way to deal with the difference between Mordechai and Haman is to depict them in exactly the same way, and then understand that there is a great difference between them because this one chose good and that one chose evil. The deeper the comparison, the deeper the distinction. And the example he brings is the two goats. The Mishnah that says the two goats must be equal in height, weight, and value is a Mishnah that basically comes to tell us that what truly distinguishes the two goats is not that one is fat and one is thin, one superior and one inferior, but the lot. The lot is the expression of choice: this one was chosen to go inward and this one was chosen to go to Azazel. And the Torah is telling us: let’s do a metaphysical experiment. I’m going to take you by the hand so that you will see that there is no longer anything to sacrifice to the goat-demons. Or in other words, that there are no goat-demons; your whole idolatry is nonsense. What do I do? I now command you to bring a sacrifice to your goat-demons. Idolatry—I command you to practice idolatry on Yom Kippur. Fine? Take one goat all the way inside, into the innermost sanctum once a year, and the other goat all the way outside. A goat for idolatry—I command you to sacrifice a goat to the goat-demons, to Samael, yes, to idolatry. A metaphysical experiment: we go with it all the way. What do we discover? Slowly the illusion dissolves. It has no holiness; you don’t even need to send it away, you don’t need to push it off the cliff; you could make a bonfire cookout with it at the end. Why? Because when we go through this process, we are really supposed to understand that it has no destination. There is no one to bring this goat to. This is Alice in Wonderland. We wake up and see that all this idolatry is a dream. There are no goat-demons and no sacrifice to goat-demons and nothing at all. The purpose of this service—bringing a sacrifice to the goat-demons—is so that in the end we will become convinced that there is no such thing there. “And they shall no longer offer their sacrifices to the goat-demons” after finishing this whole matter. The whole Alice in Wonderland game is meant so that in the end we arrive at “they shall no longer offer their sacrifices to the goat-demons,” and these illusions that we live inside so powerfully will dissolve. And in the philosophical expression of this—that is the religious expression. One moment—the philosophical expression of it is to pull that Greek out of his notion that only things that are proven, yes, that he arrived at through reasoning, are true. Because in the end you can dissolve that same illusion in which he lives, that only logic really works and everything else is illusion—that’s what the Greek thinks. So that is what gets dissolved. Same thing, you understand—if you have another illusion, that there are demons and authorities and sacrifices and idolatry and everything—okay, we’ll go with you, come on, take it all the way, I command you to bring a sacrifice to idolatry. And in the end you wake up like Alice in Wonderland on the riverbank and it was all a dream. You make a bonfire cookout with the goat, with the meat of the goat. You don’t even need to finish the service. Why? Because if you already reached the correct conclusion earlier, then you no longer need to continue. How did he reach the conclusion? Just a second—I just want to finish before my time runs out. The whole purpose of this story is to bring you to a state where you understand that really, practically speaking, there is nothing to this whole story. You don’t need to actually do it. It comes to dissolve the demons for you. By the way, in Kabbalah these are beings without a root.

[Speaker J] Where can we see this afterward? You just said a huge amount and I didn’t have time to write it down.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] First let’s finish it and then I’ll tell you. So in short, the claim is that in the end the goal of this procedure is to reveal that although I consecrated it to Azazel, the scapegoat, there is no one to consecrate it to. This holiness does not exist; it falls away on its own. It falls away on its own because it never existed in the first place. This holiness that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded me to create is a holiness dedicated from the outset to Azazel. When I discover that there is no such thing, I can make a bonfire cookout with it. And then “they shall no longer offer their sacrifices to the goat-demons.” And I think the purpose of entering the innermost sanctum is to serve as an antithesis to the purpose of going out outside, yes, all the way outside to Azazel, in order to understand this as one opposite the other. When the priests entered the innermost sanctum—in the Second Temple, after all, hundreds of priests died in the Second Temple—because there we discover that there is something real and even dangerous. And that is how our passage begins, saying, “He shall not come at all times into the sanctuary,” so that what happened to his sons should not happen to him, because entering the holy is a serious thing. But to show the antithesis, the second goat, which is identical and only the lot distinguishes between them, they take it all the way outside. What do we discover there? There is nothing there; go make a bonfire cookout on Yom Kippur. And for this they desecrate the Sabbath, they desecrate Yom Kippur. The designated man violates Yom Kippur in order to reveal to us that there is no reason to violate Yom Kippur—because this is the most important service there is, which of course is not a service at all for one who understands. The goal is to reach the understanding that this is not needed at all, that there is nothing here. But reaching that understanding—that is the meaning of Yom Kippur, and maybe that also explains to us why Yom Kippur atones. Yom Kippur atones because all sins in the end—“a person sins only if a spirit of folly enters him.” And a person who sins does so basically because he built himself—for usually a person who sins has justifications. A person does not usually just commit sins; he explains to himself: no, no, this is really okay, and here it’s permitted, and here there is justification, and here and there. After a moment you understand that it was all nonsense. The scapegoat is simply a simulation that reminds you of everything that happened. It reminds you that every sin of yours basically begins with some kind of idolatry, some kind of illusion that you built for yourself and entered into, and it took you captive. You took it too seriously. When you understand that, then the sin is atoned for by itself. Therefore the very essence of the day, or the sent-away goat, atones for all sins—it also atones for all sins. Fine, I did this a bit briefly. Maybe really just a few words about summaries and recordings. For the classes I usually also have summaries, and they will also be recorded. Right now in Elul, since we are not working through the course platform and there is no organized group, then this is how it is. The recordings can be seen on my website, under classes on the eighth chapter of Yoma. And there are classes there, video classes—look there, there are many video classes—one of them will be on the eighth chapter of Yoma. Those are the recordings. As for the summaries, whoever wants a summary should send me an email. Or if he wants summaries in general, he should send me an email and write, “I would like to receive the summaries.” I’ll add him to a mailing list, and then I’ll send the summaries to those who registered. I’m not building a group here, so before I build the group the month will already be over. During the semester I build a regular group and then I send to everyone. Okay? And during the semester the recordings are also in the course platform, so there’s no need to go into my site. Here it will go into my website. Okay?

[Speaker J] Rabbi, I wanted to say—maybe that’s why, going back to what you said earlier, it says in the Mishnah that even though they made booths with food and drink, they were never actually needed. The Mishnah there says that they never actually had to desecrate Yom Kippur. So maybe that connects to what you’re saying, that from the conceptual standpoint they internalized the idea of the scapegoat and understood that there was no reason to desecrate Yom Kippur.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, definitely possible. Actually, more than that—even placing the food there in advance already comes to hint to them that this whole story is really nonsense. Really, you could even have eaten, if only you hadn’t been acting foolishly.

[Speaker E] Yes.

[Speaker B] I didn’t understand how it specifically dissolves through this whole business. I mean, how is it different when they worship idolatry? Is it because here it’s by God’s command that it dissolves?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ah—The Holy One, blessed be He, says: here, I am now commanding you to worship idolatry; let’s do a guided-imagery experiment. I command you to worship idolatry, and I show you, I lead you through this halakhic route, and I show you that nothing remains of it. At first you were terribly excited, right? Azazel and this and that, and you entered into that experience and that excitement, and in the end you made a bonfire cookout.

[Speaker B] Oh, I didn’t understand—if a person just worships idolatry on his own, doesn’t the same process happen to him? He does it all and in the end he—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Look, I’ve never experienced it, but apparently—

[Speaker B] Fine, but what—what is different here, that he does it by God’s command?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s what I’m trying to explain. Here, let’s return to guided imagery. What is the difference between guided imagery and ordinary imagination? Ordinary imagination is what comes up from your own consciousness; you don’t decide it. Guided imagery is when they take you and guide you how to construct the imagination and where to arrive.

[Speaker I] But even in the Torah, basically, there are also those who understand that there really are other powers. The sitra achra has power.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Nachmanides, later in that passage of his there—there is a big dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim).

[Speaker I] Nachmanides throughout his whole commentary on the book explains that every nation has—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It has a ministering power. Maimonides here stands against Nachmanides. Nachmanides here stands against Maimonides, and in Nachmanides it seems to me I should formulate it this way: you need to understand that they have no real substance. They have no power of their own. It is the Holy One, blessed be He, who bestows upon them. According to Maimonides, Azazel means there is no such creature. According to Nachmanides, Azazel means it has no independent status; there is nothing to worship.

[Speaker I] The Holy One, blessed be He, is King of kings, so the—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There is a long discussion in the responsa VeYashev HaYam by Rabbi Yaakov Hillel on this matter, on this dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim): whether there is actual substance in other powers that are not the Holy One, blessed be He, or not. On all the prohibitions of “You shall be wholehearted with the Lord your God,” sorcery, soothsaying, divination, and that whole list of prohibitions. They are all interpreted differently by different medieval authorities (Rishonim) depending on the view of whether there is actual substance or no actual substance.

[Speaker I] Because even Nachmanides, in that same passage, brings a parable—he says that Satan is like a general, meaning a general has power, but really power, right.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And Maimonides claims it’s all nonsense. All these commandments are a commandment not to be stupid. That’s Maimonides; that’s what he writes. Okay, so we’ll stop here. We’ll see each other on Tuesday, God willing. Thank you very much. Goodbye. Thanks. All the best.