Fulfilling the Commandments, Lesson 5

Last time I spoke, I continued talking about the meaning of observing commandments without—meaning, on the one hand, observing commandments not out of commitment to the command given at Sinai or to the Holy One, blessed be He; and on the other hand, about the meaning of transgressions committed by someone who doesn’t believe or isn’t committed. And if I summarize briefly, I said that Maimonides writes in the Laws of Kings, chapter 8, that commandments require faith. Meaning, even if commandments don’t require intention, they do require faith. In other words, observing commandments has to be done מתוך commitment to the command at Mount Sinai. And if it’s done in some other way—out of all kinds of reasons, not because of religious commitment—then it has no significance as a commandment-act. It can be a good deed, it can be something wise a person does, but it is not a commandment-act. In a moment I’ll get to your article; it’s very interesting in this context. And on the other hand, I wanted to argue that the transgressions of such a person are also, in essence, not transgressions. And that’s a bigger novelty. Even Maimonides on this point isn’t simple, but this claim is an even bigger novelty. I tried to explain this in light of the Talmudic passages that deal with liability for a sin-offering in the case of a child captured among gentiles, an unwitting sinner. I tried to show there that at least according to some of the medieval authorities (Rishonim), and it seems to me this is the simpler explanation—it explains the passages much more straightforwardly—the sin-offering is brought for the unwitting error and not for the act of transgression. Meaning, for the very fact that you didn’t know that, say, selecting is forbidden on the Sabbath. And therefore, in the case of a child captured among gentiles, one brings one unwitting-offering for each type of transgression, no matter how many times he did it over the course of his life. According to Jewish law, he brings one unwitting-offering for each type of transgression. According to Rabbi Yohanan, he doesn’t bring a sin-offering at all. According to the practical ruling, we rule like Rav and Shmuel—I think—that he does bring a sin-offering for each type of transgression. And what that really means is that the problem with a habitual offender—if you want to call him that in this sense, where he keeps repeating something because he simply isn’t aware that it’s binding at all—the problem is the lack of awareness, not the acts he performs. He can desecrate the Sabbath a hundred times; the act of desecrating the Sabbath is not the problem. The problem is that he is not committed to keeping the Sabbath. But for the fact that he is not committed to keeping the Sabbath in itself, you can’t obligate him to bring a sin-offering. So what is the indication? Jewish law works by things having to come to practical expression. Therefore the sin-offering is imposed for the unwittingness when it comes to practical expression—when a person commits a transgression out of that very unwittingness. But really the offering comes for the absence of knowledge, not for the action. That’s what I wanted to argue there. And therefore now, if we’re talking for example about causing someone to stumble, then if a person is not aware of his obligation, does not believe in his obligation, then even if I cause him, say, to turn on a light on the Sabbath, that is not causing him to stumble and it has no significance. He wasn’t aware of that obligation before, and he isn’t aware of that obligation now either, and all that happened is that once again he expressed this practically—it came to practical expression again. So what? The problem is not the act; the problem is what the act reflects. And therefore there’s really no significance to this type of transgression unless you say it’s a case where that person is doing that type of transgression for the first time in his life. Meaning, he only did it once and that was because of me. And even then I’m very uncertain, since causing him to stumble at most caused him—well, harmed him economically, so to speak—it caused him to become liable for a sin-offering. That’s clear, because without this he wouldn’t have been liable for a sin-offering for that type of transgression. But conceptually—meaning, the question is whether I did something bad here. Did I make him into more of an offender? His offending is his lack of commitment, not the practical expression. Therefore even if I cause him to stumble the first time, I’m not sure there would really be a case here of “do not place a stumbling block.”

Yes. And that’s a jump—from the laws of the sin-offering to saying that if there shouldn’t be a sin-offering, and since there’s no transgressive act, then it means it doesn’t matter if he does an additional transgression. Because the whole topic you discussed has to do with liability for a sin-offering generations later, to say—and then just to say that an extra Sabbath desecration or something like that, when he does it…

Say, there’s a Ran in tractate Nedarim who probably doesn’t hold this way—I brought the Ran in Nedarim. But I’m following the approach of Rashi, Maimonides, and I think this is overall the simpler explanation of the sin-offering passages. That really the whole problem is the problem of unwittingness. Others have to arrive at explanations of the sort that really every act is a transgression, as you suggest, but there’s some rule that one sin-offering brought for one transgression also atones for the other transgressions, so long as there was no recollection in the middle—if it all came out of that same unwittingness. Why say such a thing? Why? Where does that come from? I mean, I don’t… You can say it; I don’t have some crushing proof against it. There are medieval authorities who think that way. But in my opinion it’s a much less simple explanation. Now if I combine that with what I see in Maimonides regarding positive commandments, then I say it joins together—it fits together. If I understand that there are no positive commandments without faith, then the way to conclude that there are also no prohibitions without faith is shorter. So putting those two together seems to me—yes?

What about the verse, “You shall surely rebuke your fellow”? If it won’t help, then don’t rebuke him? So why? If you’re not causing him to sin, not causing him… the problem is that he lacks knowledge. He has one sin-offering, let’s say, okay. After that he doesn’t. So why not tell him? Why not rebuke him? What’s the problem? Rebuke him.

But they say that someone for whom it won’t help—don’t rebuke him if it won’t help. “And you shall not bear sin because of him.”

Because the verse says, “and you shall not bear sin because of him.” If because of this he’ll hit you, or you’ll come to conflict, when there is no benefit to it—then all the more so, if it won’t change anything, don’t rebuke him. But they’re not telling you: if it won’t help, there is an prohibition against rebuking. There’s no prohibition against rebuking; on the contrary, you should rebuke. The point is only: “and you shall not bear sin because of him.” That phrase can be interpreted in two directions: don’t bear sin because you fail to rebuke where you should, or because you do rebuke where you shouldn’t. Okay? And the implication is that even someone who observes commandments—if he is unwitting regarding some Sabbath law, there’s no reason to remind him to do it a second time, because it has no significance; he already did it once, so it’s…

No, there is significance in awakening his memory. True, if you don’t stop him, no additional transgression was caused to him—that’s true—but on the other hand, he is still continuing in his state of not being aware of his obligation, and that is problematic. If you can solve that—because someone who is committed to the commandments, if you tell him, listen, this thing is forbidden, then he’ll draw the conclusions. So certainly you need to tell him. Why? You need to tell him in order to save him from not knowing, to restore him to observance. The transgressions he committed, he committed—true. So what? Is that neutral? No, it’s not neutral. Again I’m saying: you are not preventing more transgressions, but you are preventing the continuation of that state of transgression in which he exists. He is inside a transgression—the transgression of not knowing. That is what you have to prevent. But the practical stumbling is not relevant here. You have to tell him: listen, this is forbidden, to get him out of… In another moment I’ll say this more explicitly. Look.

Responsibility for one another?

What?

Mutual responsibility.

Right, there’s the obligation of mutual responsibility.

So I’ll get to that too. Today I’m devoting the meeting to that, so I’ll get to all these points, but step by step. Fine. So that’s more or less the picture we arrived at up to this point. And really, two clarifications that I already said, but I’m repeating them now because they also relate to that comment, and later I’ll make it more precise. After I wrote an article about this and published it, it naturally caused a stir, and there were all kinds of responses—more bizarre and less bizarre—and a large part of them, almost all of them in fact, were simply responses based on misunderstanding. Because people basically said: wait, so what do you mean? Then there’s no point in bringing someone back to repentance? The kind of questions being asked here. Or there is no “you shall surely rebuke,” or no mutual responsibility, or all kinds of things like that? Exactly the opposite. I’m saying: if I see, say, the secular person or the non-believer as a habitual offender, then he no longer counts as “your fellow.” Then I have no obligation toward him; he is wicked, he is an offender. But if I see him as someone who—on the contrary—is completely coerced, then toward such a person all my interpersonal obligations toward him remain in force. He is not wicked. Ah, you’ll say: then why bring him back to repentance? Why complicate his life? Let him stay that way—he has no transgressions. True, he has no transgressions; he also has no commandments. Anyone who wants neither transgressions nor commandments should be a gentile. This is the Talmudic discussion in tractate Ketubot and elsewhere—whether there is a rule of acting to someone’s benefit in conversion for a minor, for example a minor convert whom a religious court converts on his behalf. There they discuss whether conversion is a benefit. And what’s the question? The question is—well, if you’re Jewish, you can get punished for transgressions you commit. If you’re a gentile, then you’re basically free among the dead, meaning you can do whatever you want aside from, of course, the seven commandments or some moral framework, but all the detailed Jewish law you spare him. So is it a benefit to be Jewish? The accepted view is yes. It’s not a benefit if he won’t observe. Meaning, if you convert someone—this is an additional claim beyond the fact that conversion requires acceptance of the commandments—but the claim is that even if there were real acceptance of the commandments, yet you know he won’t live up to it later, don’t convert him. Don’t convert him, because there you really are harming him. Because if you convert him and you know he won’t live up to it later, you are simply causing him to commit many transgressions. He will commit transgressions if he doesn’t keep it afterward. But assuming the person will convert, or in our case become religious without conversion, and observe commandments, the assumption is that this is a better state than being totally neutral—with no commandments and no transgressions—basically, being a gentile.

If you know that the chances are more than fifty percent that he’ll return to observance, then the expected gain… If not, then right now he’s coerced and you’ll turn him into an intentional sinner, or at least someone liable in many ways.

A big question. But if you take the view you don’t believe in—yes—then now he’s already an offender, an unwitting offender, but still an offender, so at least you’ll gain fifty percent. That’s true. Even though right now he is an unwitting offender and there’s a fifty percent chance he’ll become an intentional offender, there is room to wonder what the expected value is here, but yes, true, on the principled level that’s correct. With an eighty percent chance it’s already better. With a twenty percent chance—that he’ll be an intentional offender then, compared to now where he’s certainly an unwitting offender—that already looks better. In your view the chance is eighty percent, at least something like that. For you the percentage is larger. No, no, I mean regardless—I’m saying if that is the chance, then the question is stronger.

In short: obviously the conclusion is not that I have no obligation toward this person, that he has become a gentile. Sadly, he is now in a state like a gentile: no commandments, no transgressions. But one of the halakhic obligations, and moral obligations too, is to get him out of that state. Certainly there is such an obligation. I am not claiming that there is no obligation toward a person who does not believe to try to bring him closer again, to bring him back to repentance. On the contrary, of course there is. I need to return him to his commitment. I’m only claiming the opposite: so long as I haven’t returned him, if I put tefillin on him on the street, I haven’t done anything. He didn’t do anything. What good does it do? On the contrary, the whole obligation is only to bring him back to repentance. Because if I succeed in bringing him to awareness of his obligation, then now his commandments will be commandments—and of course his transgressions will also be transgressions. Then one needs to try not to commit transgressions. Okay? That’s…

Maybe, but putting tefillin on a totally secular person is not intended to grant him a commandment but to connect him to something…

Fine, that may be. That’s why I’m saying: I’m talking about the halakhic value of it. Obviously one can discuss it in other contexts. It may cause some kind of experience that in the end brings him back to repentance, or a stronger religious feeling, a stronger Jewish feeling—fine. Those are arguments of another kind. I think I once told here about a correspondence between Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner and the Lubavitcher Rebbe. There’s a very beautiful correspondence—I once saw it on the internet, I don’t remember where; I need to find it sometime. A fascinating correspondence. Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner argues there that what you’re doing is just pointless—putting tefillin on people in the street. And the Rebbe basically answers with responses of that sort too, but he also has the metaphysical argument, which I don’t agree with. That argument says that deep down every Jew, even though on the surface he doesn’t believe and so on, deep down really has it in him—like Rabbi Kook in relation to secular Jews. And “we compel him until he says, ‘I want to.’” And “we compel him until he says, ‘I want to,’” yes. Maybe at some point I’ll comment on that too. Fine, not now. But in my opinion there is no rule of “we compel him until he says, ‘I want to’” for such a person. Today you can’t compel a bill of divorce from someone who doesn’t believe—I mean someone who doesn’t believe. Someone who believes, as usual. But someone who doesn’t believe—you can’t compel a bill of divorce. That’s exactly the point, because I don’t accept that metaphysics, and I also don’t think Maimonides means that. Maimonides speaks about real belief, not hidden belief. Someone who really believes, but has a strong evil inclination and is angry at his wife and doesn’t want to give her a bill of divorce, wants to leave her chained—then you compel him until he says “I want to,” because he is a person who is indeed committed to the commandments. Here he has some impulse, he’s angry—that’s often the situation, after all.

Okay, that’s what the Talmud says.

That’s what the Talmud says—why isn’t that what the Talmud says? That is what the Talmud says; the Talmud is speaking about believers.

Yes, but the fact is that he stands under the wedding canopy and doesn’t believe at all, and he says all the blessings—or not all the blessings, he says amen.

Fine, he said it because the rabbi told him to; otherwise he won’t be registered as married. Or he’s doing a folkloristic ceremony, fine. Same thing with a bill of divorce. Why is divorce different? A bill of divorce is also a religious matter.

Fine, if he does it willingly, very good. But if you compel him, then it’s a coerced bill of divorce.

What do you mean? His marriage is also like that.

No, in marriage he wants to get married. The blessings mean nothing to him. I’m speaking about divorce. Not that he doesn’t want to give a bill of divorce; he doesn’t want to divorce. He has no problem with the religious act of giving the bill of divorce. The problem is that he doesn’t want to divorce his wife. If he wants to divorce his wife and, say, even without believing, you compel him to give the bill of divorce because in his anger he doesn’t want to give it, he’s angry at the religious people—but he is willing to divorce his wife—then there compulsion might help. I think even apart from “we compel him until he says ‘I want to,’” it would help there.

Suppose to discharge someone else’s obligation—someone who performs the commandment but doesn’t understand the commandment, doesn’t do it because of the commandment, he does it because he is Jewish—can he discharge someone else’s obligation?

No, no. You are not in the commandment; you are not in the commandment. Yes. According to Maimonides.

Not according to what I think—I don’t know what this has to do with Maimonides.

No, this is also…

He doesn’t believe.

Ah, according to Maimonides? Yes, that’s what I said here, that’s what I think. Again, I brought Maimonides, Rashi—everyone who… Yes, according to that conception, I think it’s true, yes. You can’t include him in a prayer quorum, he can’t discharge obligations… I think it’s obvious.

To include in a prayer quorum three flowerpots? You have seven people praying and three flowerpots. Flowerpots without leaves. Okay? What is this, are you kidding? Is that a quorum? It’s not a quorum. You can’t say sacred matters in such a forum. If there are three here who don’t regularly pray, they slack off or something—that’s something else, no problem. But if there are three for whom this means nothing, they don’t know what it is, they’re just doing you a favor by completing your quorum, they don’t believe in it at all…

Would you check?

Check? I don’t know how you check such a thing, but you can, yes, you can. Actually you can ask. Yes, it’s not always pleasant, but yes. When in the army they look for the duty secular guy to complete a prayer quorum, that’s meaningless.

Depends what kind of secular guy; I’ll speak about that in a moment. But yes, true—someone who doesn’t believe or isn’t committed, yes, absolutely. If he knows how to take out a white kippah and put it on his head, then he’s passed the test.

Ah, okay—he hasn’t passed. I’ll explain in a moment why. Maybe regarding divorce, maybe like in the case of coercion in a sale—there are all kinds of possibilities. Maybe regarding acquisitions it’s different. The issue that you need the intent of the transferor. Maybe there it’s another matter, even with a bill of divorce. It’s not a matter of intention in that sense; it’s a matter that at this moment I…

But he needs intent for the acquisition. He doesn’t want it; he completes the acquisition.

No, he needs intent for the acquisition, but the question is who says that he completes the acquisition? In coercion in a sale that really is a big question. What’s the connection between coerced sale and “we compel him until he says ‘I want to’”? Simply speaking, according to what I’m saying—according to what Maimonides says there, for example—that because of the inner point that really comes out of him, then a coerced sale is a valid sale. I’m saying maybe one can distinguish between commandments and matters of acquisition. But what is divorce—is it a commandment or an acquisition?

I would say regarding the bill of divorce itself, you don’t need the element of commandment. Maybe there’s a commandment there, but it’s a legal act.

So then why, in the case of coerced sale—why isn’t coerced sale enough for “we compel him”? Why do you need Maimonides’ whole theory? Just say: a coerced sale is valid. Fine, he says that coerced sale is a topic that needs discussion.

Rabbi Hutner—yes—he doesn’t agree with you on this.

Rabbi Hutner? Why? Who says he doesn’t? On the contrary, that’s what he said there.

But according to what he says, apparently he does agree with you; it’s just not clear.

No, who says he doesn’t agree with me? Why are you assuming he doesn’t agree with me, and then saying wait, it doesn’t work out? Maybe he agrees, I don’t know—I never asked him. But why assume he doesn’t agree with me? I don’t understand. You’re assuming as if what I’m saying is certainly wrong, and now the only question is how it can be that all sorts of good Jews say it anyway. What is it based on? It’s based on what I based it on, I think. I don’t know what not. But is it written somewhere? It’s simple reasoning. If you want, it’s written in Maimonides. Then ask: where did Maimonides get it from? Is it written somewhere? He got it from reasoning. So I say the same reasoning. So what? If it’s reasoning, it’s reasoning. Why do I need a verse? Reasoning itself is enough. If I don’t need a verse when I have reasoning, then do I need Maimonides? Why this fear of using reasoning? I don’t understand.

The Rabbi once mentioned an article discussing this—maybe I won’t quote it precisely—that Rabbi Levinstein, after the Yom Kippur War in Jerusalem, there was a case where they wrote a Torah scroll at the Western Wall in memory of those killed in the Yom Kippur War. There was some government minister there who was quite publicly not observant. They wanted him to write a letter or half a letter, and there was grumbling about it. Rabbi Levinstein got up there, joined those grumbling in the corner, and said that he belongs to the Jewish people as a whole and is also commanded in all these things, even if he doesn’t believe.

Okay. But the question now—what you’re saying, about adding a flowerpot to a prayer quorum—I’m sort of…

No, but writing a letter in a Torah scroll is, again, a different topic. Maybe he can do that even without faith. Who says not? Writing a Torah scroll doesn’t require intentions. Maybe he won’t have the commandment of writing a Torah scroll, but the scroll itself may still be valid. The divine names are a bit different. There you need fear of Heaven and various things. Fear of Heaven in order to have the proper intent when writing the names and so on. If you write a letter and you’re not Jewish…

Okay, so that’s the picture in general, with the implications in general. But now I really want to break it down in detail. Maybe one more remark—I can’t ignore an article; I got an article to read, very interesting, from the New York Times. Some sociologist—anthropologist, sorry—writes there an article saying that you can basically go to church and do all the religious activity, the religious ceremony, without belief in God. God isn’t necessary for this whole thing. And he says there is a growing movement of people who do this, from the Unitarians, but then it expands beyond that. The Unitarians originally were believers, but at some point the Unitarians also became people who are not committed at all to religious dogmas, not only to the Trinity, and in the end, he says, they can even be atheists. Meaning, he describes a group in Britain and things like that who come to church, do all the services and all these things. Why not? Because it’s very nice, and why do you need God for that? You hear beautiful songs and interesting talks. The priest is also of that same type—or the priestess, I don’t know—that same type, and they give talks that are interesting and relevant to that public. And there are community relationships; they help each other, something that the broader world usually doesn’t provide. And therefore he says he doesn’t understand what the problem is—why do you need God for this whole matter? This is an interesting example, I’m saying briefly, because the model I presented here sets up two anomalies. One anomaly is someone who believes but doesn’t observe commandments, and the second anomaly is someone who observes commandments but doesn’t believe. Right? Those are really the two anomalies. Someone who believes and doesn’t observe commandments—say, Ahad Ha’am, or an extreme version of Ahad Ha’am. Suppose Ahad Ha’am kept all 613 commandments to the last detail but without belief in God, for nationalistic or other reasons. That’s one model. The second model is all those we know today who say: look, I believe in God in some abstract sense, but I don’t think there is Jewish law or that there is halakhic obligation; all that doesn’t mean much to me. So about each of them one can discuss. About the first one one can ask what his commandments are worth, and about the second one one can ask whether he joins a prayer quorum. Okay? He doesn’t perform commandments, so there’s no point discussing his commandments, but the question is whether he joins a prayer quorum. So I say the answer to both questions is negative. Meaning: the commandments of that person who doesn’t believe are not commandments, and someone who believes but is not committed does not join a prayer quorum, cannot discharge others’ obligations, and things of that kind.

And here there’s a subtle point, because after some of the things that were written after I published this article, people said: look, there are surveys saying that most of the public believes in God—in the United States, and I think also here in Israel—that most of the public believes in God in some sense or other. Okay, and therefore when you meet a secular person on the street, you can’t simply assume he is an atheist. In the sense that—we spoke about whether to take your foot off the crosswalk because then he brakes and turns on the brake lights, after the hundred thousand sparks he ignites in a second, and then he also turns on the brake lights and that’s the “do not place a stumbling block” that we’re causing him. But let’s say that such a thing really were “do not place a stumbling block.” Then the question is: how can you know? This person might belong to those sixty percent who believe even though he doesn’t observe commandments—he’s traditional, this, that, there are all sorts of types and shades. So how can you know he’s an atheist? You’d need some kind of atheism-meter, an atheist gauge—like what you asked, how do you check? So I say the answer is simpler: it’s not true. What I’m saying is not directed only at atheists. It’s also directed at those—or a large part of those. First, just statistically: if sixty percent of the public are believers, subtract the twenty-five percent who are actually religious. Someone driving on the road on the Sabbath certainly isn’t from that twenty-five percent, right? Now among the remaining seventy-five percent, there is still a majority of atheists. You need statistics to know that too. But beyond that, I’m saying: even if that weren’t true, I’m not talking only about atheists. I’m also talking about someone who even if he believes in God, doesn’t believe in the revelation at Mount Sinai or is not committed to what happened at Mount Sinai—doesn’t think it’s binding. If, say, a Christian also believes in Mount Sinai—the Christian believes in Mount Sinai. So what now, if he performs commandments it’s a commandment? No, because he thinks it’s no longer binding, it changed. So that doesn’t count as a believing person in this context. He believes in God, but he’s not a believer for this purpose. We saw this in Maimonides in chapter 9 of the Laws of Kings, where Maimonides writes that someone who performs one of the seven commandments on the basis of intellectual decision and not because the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded Moses at Sinai—that is the alternative to acting because of intellectual decision—then he is one of the wise of the nations, but not one of their pious. So you see that for Maimonides, the alternative that would count as a religious act is not a person who believes, but a person who does it because he understands that there is halakhic obligation—because the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded at Sinai and this obligates us. That’s the figure I’m talking about. In other words, anyone who is not like that—even if he believes in God in some philosophical sense—still cannot discharge obligations for others.

You’re saying there are two aspects one has to understand here. You need to understand in this status.

Right, in the halakhic obligation. Because Mount Sinai—you know, even without the pyrotechnics, the pyrotechnics don’t bother me.

Most surveys don’t say “Mount Sinai.”

Exactly. That’s why those surveys don’t say much either. When you ask a person whether he believes or doesn’t believe—what does “believes” mean? Some people will tell you, “I just have religious experiences.” We already discussed that religious experiences are not faith. Faith is a factual claim. Religious experiences—so what? It’s like he describes: you go to church and it gives you a very nice experience. Does that make him a believer? No. He himself says: some of these people don’t believe. But what? You have experiences, you have a religious wing in the soul, in the psyche, and it gets activated by religious ceremonies. Does that make you a believing person? For many people today in the street, yes—they’ll answer that as “yes, I’m a believing person.” Even though if you ask them philosophically, “Do you really think as a matter of fact that there exists some transcendent entity that created the world,” or things like that—they don’t think so. But if someone joins a prayer quorum, how do you know that depends on faith? It depends on whether you keep commandments; I’m not going to check your intention.

I said that commandment observance without faith is not commandment observance, so what good does it do that he keeps commandments? Again, if you don’t accept that premise, then fine, but that is my claim.

But you don’t have to accept that premise. Meaning, in Judaism there isn’t a thing where we inspect your opinions; we go by actions.

I don’t know how to inspect; I don’t know how to inspect. But assuming he tells me…

Fine, he checks.

Doesn’t matter. Not sure, not sure. If a secular person comes into the synagogue only at my request to complete a prayer quorum, not because he wants to pray—well, that’s fine. There are people who don’t observe but from time to time genuinely want to pray. They understand what prayer is and are committed to it and so on, but they slack off; they don’t have energy during the week. Fine. You don’t need to check such a person. Such a person is perfectly fine to complete a prayer quorum. That’s why you can’t know whether he is this sort or that sort. But if a secular person comes in at my request—there is reason to think he belongs to those who are not committed to the commandments, right? So maybe you can ask him. I don’t know; maybe that could hurt him—I don’t know exactly. Personally, I simply don’t call such people. I pray alone, and that’s that.

Even at a bar mitzvah ceremony, which is not necessarily about faith—how can you even call them up to the Torah and do…

I have no problem, just not within the framework of the seven required aliyot. He also has an issue of a blessing in vain; he can say whatever he wants. But if it happens in the framework of a regular prayer service—fine, call him up as an additional aliyah. I understand. The seven required aliyot need to be given to people whose aliyah means something. That is why, by the way, they do these extra aliyot at bar mitzvahs, which everyone gets so upset about because it delays the service and burdens the congregation and so on—but it seems to me that’s what should be done. Meaning, I don’t think you can count such a person among the seven required aliyot. Again, if he’s traditional in the sense that he is committed to the commandments but he slacks off or something like that, then absolutely fine. But I’m speaking on the assumption that I know this is someone who is not committed—then in my view only as an additional aliyah.

So what are the two conclusions? There are two answers here?

Someone who doesn’t observe commandments basically doesn’t participate in a prayer quorum?

Someone who is not committed to the commandments, not someone who doesn’t observe. If he is committed—he understands this is what should be done but he doesn’t have the strength—that’s something else. A lot of Jews from Eastern communities are like that. Fine.

Heaven forbid?

I don’t know, everyone has to… They know it’s not good…

Right, right, so I’m not talking about them. Exactly, that’s the point. That’s why I’m giving these figures, because I want to clarify whom I was talking about in the last two classes. I wasn’t talking about everyone who walks around without a kippah, or everyone considered non-religious. It depends. But on the other hand, it’s also not only philosophical atheists—that’s also not true. In other words, I’m talking about those people who do not believe in halakhic obligation. Not those who don’t do, but those who don’t believe. By the way, the same applies to conversion. On conversion too I once wrote something, and I’m considered some kind of strange strict person, very stringent on conversion, and on that too I got angry responses. Especially there, because that was politics—the Haredim against the Religious Zionists—so how am I joining the enemy? But I think that in conversion too there are extremely lenient positions that I’m willing to go with, far beyond what the lenient people are willing to go. And that’s on the level of practical observance. If the person ultimately won’t observe in practice, that really doesn’t interest me. But if I have a serious concern that at the time of conversion he is not accepting the commandments upon himself, then it is forbidden to convert him. And these are two things that go in opposite directions, but it’s the same idea. Exactly the same distinction I made here. The question is whether he understands the obligation. What he will do with it later is his decision. He may decide not to.

He accepts?

Yes—if he understands that he is obligated. That’s what I meant to say. But how will you know when he enters, unless maybe he had thoughts of repentance at that moment? Fine, you can’t know. That’s why I say: you can’t know about anyone. A person who performs commandments or comes to convert—there’s a presumption: why is he doing all this? Let me explain why he’s doing it—you know yourself why he’s doing it. In today’s State of Israel there are good reasons for a person to convert that have nothing to do with wanting to observe commandments. Truly. And therefore all the traditional precedents—and maybe we’ll discuss this sometime—all the traditional precedents are irrelevant. Because in a place where there was no reason at all to convert, then if someone converts, the presumption is that he means it seriously. Why else is he doing it? But if today we know there are good reasons to convert that are not connected to religious motives, then the presumption definitely changes.

But there’s also a presumption in conversion in the days of King Solomon, where it was also the same issue.

Fine, the conversions in the days of King Solomon, with his wives—that’s a story in Maimonides. Let’s discuss it when we discuss conversion. I’m only saying that in this case, how do I know that at the time of conversion he didn’t mean it seriously? First of all, the truth is that the presumption, in my eyes today, is that he does not mean it seriously. That’s the simple presumption. If he does mean it seriously, I need indications of that. That’s my opinion. And when our eyes see—listen, it’s not that ninety-eight percent fail; that everyone meant it seriously but ninety-eight percent fail. I don’t know if it’s ninety-eight, but a very high percentage. So what is this? This isn’t accidental. There’s some phenomenon here, and we understand it very well—we know why people convert. We know people also know why they’re coming and what they’re supposed to say and all kinds of things like that. So how long can we keep closing our eyes and playing games? On the other hand, I also wrote in that same article that if a religious court sat of valid judges—and here I do not join Rabbi Sherman who says they are all wicked and invalid by Torah law; that’s nonsense—but if a religious court of valid judges sat and decided that he is a convert, the conversion cannot be annulled. Meaning, I would not convert him; it is forbidden to convert him. But in order to annul the conversion you need proof that he did not intend it. Proof that he did not intend it—I do not have. I have a presumption. Therefore I say: that is the law. Each case on its own merits.

So really the first point that was important for me to clarify here is that commitment is no less important for this issue than faith. Meaning, when I talk about such a person, I’m talking about a person who does not believe in obligation, not only someone who doesn’t believe in the Holy One, blessed be He. That’s the figure standing before our eyes here. By the way, in connection with that New York Times article—the Jewish person who wrote there—when we speak about Christians it’s more problematic. The philosophy is the same philosophy, but it’s more problematic because there is no Jewish law there in our sense, at least not in the explicit sense in which we have it. There are some things that must be done, but they are few and very meaningful; they’re not technical details. They are more or less part of the belief itself, except maybe prayer, which is almost the only thing there that obligates in practice. Okay? Now in such a place, then indeed if a person comes to church and does that ceremony, most likely maybe there is some kind of belief in him—even if he denies it. In my opinion there probably is such belief in him, even that person who wrote the article. Meaning, he can deny it a thousand times, but if it does something for him, that means there is some type of belief in him. But in a place where we are dealing with a system that demands from you a very elaborate system of commandments, then in such a place, if someone comes to pray, it means he is committed to the commandments. In Christianity there is only that. Meaning, there isn’t something else. All that remains there is whether you believe or don’t believe. You can’t check whether you believe and are committed, or believe and are not committed. There is almost no such thing as believing and not being committed. There is, but it’s negligible. In Judaism there is very great significance to the category of believing but not committed. There are many obligations that you do not do merely because you believe. You need more than believing in God in some general sense. Therefore the comparison to Christianity here too has to be made carefully.

On the other hand, what they have to believe is much stronger—that is, the details of what they have to believe. Okay. Although I think even there there are disputes about the dogmas, you know. There thought is really the hard core of their religiosity. So I spoke about the conception of Kant and Spinoza, that Judaism is not a religion; it is a kind of practice. Because they are used to religion meaning a system of beliefs, a system of experiences, morality or moral demands, and in the Jewish world that is on the margins. It’s not really at the core. But there is a large group of people who keep the commandments and they are inside this sector and do everything necessary so their children will get accepted to certain schools and all that, and they don’t really believe.

Okay, those are the people I’m talking about.

Yes, right. What I’m saying is that there is still a difference. I didn’t say this doesn’t exist in the Jewish world—what am I talking about here? I’m talking about them. But I’m just saying we need to be careful in comparing Judaism to Christianity on this point, because the presumptions are different. In Christianity, it seems to me, someone who goes to church is presumed to believe—believe in the almost full Christian sense, maybe not every detail, but to believe. אצלנו not so. Among us, no. Because he may believe, yes, but he is not committed. And for us, faith also includes halakhic commitment. Now that is not necessarily true. Therefore the presumptions are different; it doesn’t work the same way. And therefore very often the public’s concepts of religiosity are borrowed from the Christian world. So when people conduct a survey asking whether you’re religious or not religious, you give a Christian answer. In the Christian sense I’m religious—I believe in God, I have religious feeling. You are not religious in the sense of the halakhic definition of the term, namely that you understand yourself to be obligated by the commandments. That’s a different question. But how many people ask that? How many surveys ask that? They don’t ask it.

Yes. In terms of commitment to Jewish law, basically there are some who say, okay, there is God, there are commandments, but the way Jewish law developed over two thousand years—maybe not…

I have no problem with such people. No, really. It’s simply different Jewish law. Yes, right. It’s like a dispute within Jewish law. As long as they operate within the halakhic framework, even if they reach completely different conclusions, in my eyes they are Jews within the halakhic field. I may disagree with them, but to pray with them, to include them in a prayer quorum—there is no problem with that at all, in my opinion. Conservative Jews, for example, on the right wing of Conservatism. There’s no problem with that. Long ago they switched places with the left wing of Orthodoxy. So today these are just sociological labels; they don’t really mean anything.

What’s the problem with including a non-religious Jew in a prayer quorum?

If he doesn’t believe, then he’s a flowerpot. You can’t include a flowerpot in a prayer quorum. He’s a flowerpot with a beating heart inside, and he’s doing nothing. He doesn’t understand what he is doing there. There is no God; he’s not standing before the Holy One, blessed be He. There are not ten people praying here. There are nine people praying and a flowerpot. “Congregation”—after all, that’s derived from an assembly, a congregation—that’s ten. They didn’t tell you they need to be religious.

No, it doesn’t say “religious.” They need to be praying. There have to be ten people praying. Someone who is not praying is not part of this thing.

But the very fact that he is willing to join—isn’t that…

I don’t think so. No. He did you a favor, so what? He’ll be a nice boy, he did you a favor. Like a deaf-mute, an imbecile, and a minor.

That’s an act—yes, he did you a favor. After all, why do a deaf-mute, an imbecile, and a minor not join a prayer quorum? Because they’re not part of the act—exactly. That’s a good example. Yes, right. Yes.

But there are Conservative Jews—for example the Conservatives also believe in the Written Torah, just not that it’s word for word as written there.

I know a few other good Jews who believe that too. And they also don’t believe in the Oral Torah at Mount Sinai. So that’s…

No, I don’t know what exactly “doesn’t believe” means—I’m not sufficiently expert in their theology. But there are some elements there that they do accept. Now there is a debate over which of those elements are authentic and which are not, what developed over the generations and what did not. I’m not expert enough to give a clear opinion. If I needed to write a halakhic responsum, I would first need to investigate the reality better. But on the principled level, someone who accepts the system itself, but completely disagrees with the whole halakhic conception we have today, yet understands that the Torah was given and there is halakhic obligation—even the Oral Torah was given there—but okay, it developed and some things yes and some things no—in my eyes he is perfectly fine in this field. Maybe not fine because I disagree with him, maybe not. But in this field he is perfectly fine; he is part of the prayer quorum.

You can free a slave and bring him into the prayer quorum.

The moment you free him he accepts all the commandments.

He accepted them before—what do you mean? He was obligated in commandments like a woman even before you freed him. He was obligated, but you can’t force him even… Fine, but the prayer quorum—I don’t know where the term… The law of a slave that was made such against his will is again a function of what things were like back then, and I’ll speak about that in a moment—not about a slave specifically, but about what things were like then. The outlook was that obviously there is a religious world. A kind of pagan pluralism: okay, if you’re Jewish, then you serve the Holy One, blessed be He, and if you belong to something else, you serve that. By the way, that’s why in the past they converted people who came for marriage—people who converted in order to marry. Why? Because in the past it was obvious that even if he came not because of faith in the Holy One, blessed be He, but in order to marry, he knows that if he is part of the Jewish community then he will keep commandments, he is committed to the commandments. Not necessarily that he connected to faith at all.

No, that’s the same thing. He understands that being committed is also being—I don’t think there was a difference. These philosophical abstractions are a new phenomenon. Meaning, he understands that if he is in this community, these are the commandments he performs; and if he is in another community, those are the commandments he performs. In the past there wasn’t this distinction. Today we’re philosophers. Today we have this kind of distinction, like Ahad Ha’am—we perform commandments but don’t believe. That’s why, by the way, there isn’t even a hint of all these things in the words of the Sages. I can derive it from them via various principles, through the sin-offering and all that, but they didn’t write it anywhere explicitly. Why not? Because from their perspective it was an abstraction. There was no such thing. It was like, I don’t know, a flying ox. So what is this doubt of my friends? Meaning, there’s a person who even performs commandments, but if he has no faith he is invalid. The assumption is that he performs commandments. I’m saying they never made this distinction. Exactly—but they didn’t make it because in practice it really didn’t exist. That’s my claim. So that is exactly the point. People told me: they never made that distinction. And that’s the argument raised against me. I said: no, they didn’t make that distinction because things really didn’t work that way. Because in the past, if someone converted to marry a woman, he understood that he was entering a community committed to the commandments. That’s what being Jewish was. Today that’s not true. Therefore today, if someone converts to marry, it is forbidden to accept him. Forbidden—and also ineffective. Not only was it forbidden in the past too, but then they accepted him after the fact. Today in my opinion it’s also ineffective. It’s ineffective because it’s not true; there is no indication that he really understands or accepts halakhic commitment upon himself.

And social commitment?

That’s exactly it—what existed in the past. No, I don’t think so. I think there was some perception that a person does not live without God. Meaning, that was taken for granted. Either it was this idol or that God, and social commitment and religious commitment were the same thing. In other words, it was clear to you that if you are here, this is what you do—you really are obligated to do it; it’s not just playing games. Again, I’m talking about a presumption. There were always people who were more philosophical, but I’m saying the typical slave probably wasn’t much of a philosopher. I mean that sincerely. And therefore if someone took him, even against his will, he understood he was a slave. It’s like in the past people accepted the kingship of the king. Everyone understood that the king was born to rule, that the Holy One, blessed be He, appointed him. You couldn’t even question it. Who thought about democracy? Who thought that the public could decide? A social contract? No. It’s a divine gift. Where would such an idea come from? I don’t know. There were all sorts of perceptions that were self-evident, and today we don’t understand them because anachronistically we don’t live that way and don’t think that way. We don’t understand that people in the past really thought differently. So at least in that time there was no practical application of such a law. Meaning now we are renewing the law.

There was such a law; it just had no application.

I’m saying there was such a law; it just had no application. It was dormant.

Exactly. Where do you see the law?

I’m saying in Maimonides, in the laws of sin-offerings, everything I discussed earlier. But Maimonides is a philosopher—he already…

Okay, okay, but Maimonides is a halakhic source, all right? And it also fits my reasoning. I’m saying that even without Maimonides I would say it. But if you’re looking for a halakhic source, what’s the problem? I brought a halakhic source. It’s true that among the Sages you don’t find explicit statements like this. But there’s an excellent reason for that, and I’ll get to it in a moment. There are excellent reasons why the Sages don’t bring explicit statements like this. Because the Sages hardly knew such a person. It was some bizarre phenomenon—a person who believes in God but doesn’t observe commandments. On the contrary, even someone who didn’t observe commandments—it was obvious that he believed and was committed. Why did people persecute the prophets in the past? Elijah the prophet, Ahab, all those stories—why? That persecution… If a prophet like Elijah came today and preached to, I don’t know, Bibi Netanyahu to eat kosher and keep the Sabbath and what is all this, stop already with these things—at most they’d hospitalize him in some psychiatric ward. No one would persecute him; he’d just be some oddball. Right? Why did they persecute him then? Because they knew he was right. Why did the prophet sometimes succeed in the end? Because once he managed to break through the desires of the time, everyone knew he was right. Meaning there was a clear assumption that one had to observe commandments, and if we are Jews then we have to serve the Holy One, blessed be He. That was self-evident. There were no abstractions like, okay, I was born to a Jewish mother, but what does that have to do philosophically? I don’t think I’m obligated in commandments. That is a modern phenomenon. I assume there were isolated people like that then too, but as a presumption—when you ask yourself who is the person standing before me? I don’t know kidneys and heart; who is he? The presumption of the Sages was different.

You know, there’s… I’ll give you an example. The Talmud says that the Men of the Great Assembly nullified the evil inclination toward idolatry and the evil inclination toward sexual immorality, except for a married woman—okay, close relatives. Fine. What does it actually mean that they nullified it? People today don’t understand what that means. Maybe I’ll start from another point that will clarify this. There is the Radbaz; Radbaz says that someone who is coerced in his opinion is coerced. There, I brought him. Someone coerced in his opinion—that too is coercion. He thinks differently. He is a heretic, but he thinks differently. What do you want? He’s coerced. Fine? That too is a kind of coercion. Coercion is not only with a gun to the head. That’s what he writes about someone who said that Moses our teacher is God, and they asked him what to do with this creature. So he said: leave him alone; that’s his view. What do you want? Yes, I think I brought this. Now the claim against that is: okay, then what about all the punishments the Torah prescribes for idol worshipers? If they did it, they probably believed, right? So they’re coerced. So where are the punishments? Why are there punishments? Why do we lower and not raise the heretics and the apikorsim and the idol worshipers who are stoned? Why? What’s the problem? All of them are basically coerced. This is anachronistic. It’s not true. Because in the past, when someone did such a thing, while doing it he knew it was not right. That was the inclination. It was clear to him that it was forbidden. Again, as a presumption—there were isolated others—but the simple outlook was that it was clear to everyone what one had to do. He had an inclination, so he transgressed.

And the example I bring to illustrate this is the nullification of the inclinations by the Men of the Great Assembly. They nullified the evil inclination toward idolatry and toward sexual immorality. What does that actually mean? It means that today we do not have this urge to worship idols. Today we don’t understand how someone can worship wood and stone because he has an inclination to do that. If he does it, he is probably just an idiot who believes it’s true. We don’t even consider the possibility of someone doing it despite knowing it isn’t true. If you know it isn’t true, why would you do it? But look at adultery. In adultery there are many people who do it and if you ask them, they’ll tell you it’s not okay. I have an inclination; I can’t overcome it. But they’ll agree it’s not okay. Some make an ideology out of it too, but I’m saying there are many people even in our time who do it but tell you it’s not okay. They understand it’s not okay. They don’t hide only because they don’t want their spouse to find out; they really understand it’s not okay. So how do they do it if they think it’s not okay? Because they have an inclination. In the past there was also such an inclination toward idolatry.

But what is the inclination toward idolatry without belief?

Wait, let me explain for a second. That’s exactly the story with Elijah and the prophets of Baal at Mount Carmel, where they say “The Lord, He is God,” and afterward go back. Exactly. That’s why they persecuted Elijah—because they understood he was right. Even when they worshiped idols, they understood he was right. More than that—one second—Rav Ashi speaking about Manasseh, in the Talmudic story, and Manasseh appears to him at night and says: if you had lived in my time, you would have lifted the hem of your garment and run to idol worship. What is he telling him? That he wouldn’t have believed then? That some other philosophies were dominant? I’ve never seen anyone run, lifting his robe, because of a philosophy. If you run, that’s an inclination. It means that in our time there was something you don’t know, he says to Rav Ashi. In our time there was an inclination to worship idols. What you know as adultery—that inclination still exists regarding a married woman—the inclination toward idolatry used to be like that.

Now, it doesn’t matter whether the Men of the Great Assembly nullified it; rather, that describes a historical process in which it disappeared, was driven out of our inner world. Today we don’t know such a thing, don’t really understand it, although in my opinion it still exists a little. And what does it add to say that it was only an inclination, and how does that fit with the Maimonides we learned, that one needs to accept a deity in order to worship idols? That’s actually the opposite. If you need acceptance of a deity, that would mean it doesn’t come from inclination, right? Then you couldn’t punish any of them for idol worship.

Ah, you’re saying that if he accepts it as a deity, that means he really believes? No. One really has to explain that the acceptance of the deity itself was part of the inclination. There was an inclination to define myself as someone who worships another god, to belong to the church of idol worshipers. To accept it as a deity and know at the same time that it isn’t true? Yes—like what we do in adultery. That’s what an inclination means. In adultery there’s the act—no, there too there is also the acceptance, I agree. There too there’s also the acceptance, yes. You affiliate yourself with the church of idol worshipers because you have an inclination. What is “an apostate out of spite”? It says only that accepting a deity on the one hand and understanding it’s not true—the category is problematic. I said at the beginning that I actually initially made the opposite calculation, but I was wrong. No, I think here one really has to say that even on the level of thought you can live with this sort of duality. There are cases of “be killed rather than transgress,” where it seems that there are implications there. There is a dispute. But even if not—every time there is a matter of, even if not death, where you are liable for something, “be killed rather than transgress.” Because there is also a prohibition on the act itself. There is also a prohibition on the act. Essentially you’re claiming that if you are coerced there is no significance to the act. Why are you not coerced? You can die. What do you mean there’s no significance to the act? The claim is that regarding idolatry, if you can be killed and not transgress, that is not coercion. You can be killed. You decided not to be killed and instead to transgress. So regarding idolatry that is not coercion according to Tosafot. According to Maimonides it is coercion, and then you are exempt from punishment.

So in short, what I want to say is that the inclination toward sexual immorality gives us an example that illustrates something very hard for us to understand: people who worship idols but know they are not acting properly. Because of inclination—but they know they are not acting properly. We don’t understand that. If they worship idols, then that must be what they believe, and then they are coerced. That’s anachronistic. Once again, it’s this notion that a person now decides whether he believes this or believes that. That’s not how it worked. Back then everyone knew how God should be served. They had all sorts of inclinations—the inclination toward sexual immorality, the inclination toward idolatry, many inclinations. And therefore that is what they did. So for the Sages, if someone worshiped idols, obviously he deserved punishment, just as someone who commits adultery deserves punishment. Why? Because he knows it isn’t right. So what if he has an inclination? He knows it isn’t right, so let him overcome the inclination. But if there is someone who worships idols because he thinks it’s okay, because that’s what he truly believes, then yes indeed—this doesn’t really apply to him.

Many times we look at the rabbinic sources through our modern glasses and then we say: wait, why didn’t the Sages say everything I’m saying here? This is such a fundamental thing. I would have expected them to say it. I think they did say it indirectly—through the laws of the sin-offering, through… whatever—but they really didn’t say it explicitly. They didn’t say it because it is an abstract phenomenon. Just as they didn’t deal with airplanes. Who knew airplanes? Why would they deal with airplanes? At most they dealt with a flying camel. But what is an airplane? They didn’t know that phenomenon. This phenomenon of ideological heretics—those who reached the conclusion that they don’t believe in God but believe in something else. Conversion to Christianity, apostasy, all sorts of things of that kind—these were all understood as transgressions. Transgressions, because he knows he’s not acting properly.

What about Acher?

Exactly, the question is what was with Acher. I don’t know. If he really understood that it wasn’t right, then he was an offender. If he really reached a different conclusion, then he was coerced. So there, at least they knew of one such person.

I don’t know whether he was such a person. Why? But he himself says that…

Exactly: “Return, wayward children—except for Acher.” Meaning they did view him as an offender.

He testifies about himself that he doesn’t believe in anything.

Not true. Where does he testify to that? He says he saw the… he says he knows it’s already too late. Meaning, he does believe.

No, he said that at the end.

Yes, but the question is what was happening during the period of Acher. I saw that child performing two commandments and then falling. Right. And all this is not true. Okay—but what is that? The fact that you rationalize things doesn’t mean that’s really what you believe. Almost anyone who does something will present you some rational explanation for why he does it. But he was a great Torah scholar; he wasn’t just some person drawn by inclinations. And as is known, “the greater a person is, the greater his inclination.”

But this isn’t about inclination—it’s philosophy.

Okay, maybe that too. I’m not at all sure. Who says? Today he would be the leading genius of the generation. More than that—I’ll say more: it could even be that the Sages were mistaken about Acher. So what? I don’t know. If you’re talking about Acher himself, how would you define him?

I don’t know. If he really was the kind of person you describe, if that was the reality, and if I also knew that was the reality, then I would define him as I’m saying now. So there you have an example.

No, but that’s perhaps an example only if it’s true. But beyond that, I’m saying: the Sages, after all, don’t know what is in a person’s heart. You have to rule according to presumptions. Now in the time of the Sages the presumption was that if you abandon, or disbelieve, or worship idols, you know it’s not right. You are an offender. Exactly. That was the presumption. Now if Elijah comes and tells me: look, this one is different, he’s a philosopher—fine, then maybe I’d exempt him. But we don’t rule from Heaven, and Elijah can’t tell us anything in Jewish law. So that’s irrelevant.

But today the presumption has reversed. Today the presumption is that if a person doesn’t do—actually this is also starting to change. Until twenty or thirty years ago we were more philosophical. Back then the drawers were very clear. Meaning, if a person didn’t believe, then he didn’t believe. There wasn’t someone who did this because he was traditional or because he liked it or because of all sorts of things like that. Today there’s everything. So indeed the presumptions are being undermined today. Today it is harder to judge these things.

Okay, so that is the question of the kinds of secular people or kinds of non-believers I’m talking about. There are all kinds, and each one needs separate discussion. But the second part of the discussion, which I probably won’t really manage to get to, is the question of the kinds of causing someone to stumble. Because when I say it is permitted to cause such a person to stumble, the question is what exactly I mean. I’ll just say in a few words so you understand the topic. There is causing someone to stumble in the sense of not stopping him. There is causing someone to stumble in the sense of actually causing him to stumble, violating “do not place a stumbling block,” or failing to fulfill “you shall surely rebuke,” violating “do not place a stumbling block,” okay? There is causing someone to stumble by active assistance—actually handing him a prohibition directly. There is causing someone to stumble through speech—telling him to do a prohibition, like telling a gentile to do something. Okay? Each of these needs separate discussion. Even after everything I’ve said now, and let’s assume I permit a top-grade atheist—yes, one I know, I have clear evidence, the man believes in nothing. Fine? Even so, that still doesn’t mean you can do anything with him. He doesn’t join a prayer quorum, he doesn’t discharge obligations—this seems obvious to me. But regarding a specific act of causing him to stumble—and now this is really a specific halakhic question—can you cause him to stumble? A Shabbos goy, right? Can you make such a person into a Shabbos goy? Exactly. So someone asked me last time, I think—can one make such a person into a Shabbos goy? After all, his transgression isn’t really a transgression. Okay? That’s the question: can one make him into a Shabbos goy? Those are the kinds of questions I want to discuss a bit, but that will already be next time.