Torah and Science, Lesson 4

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[Speaker G] It doesn’t matter; that’s an argument about the example. I want to talk about the logic. You’re saying that a donkey that talks is not a donkey; you’re referring to the donkey’s physics, you’re saying its physics has changed, and therefore it’s a logical contradiction.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] According to the physics of language and consciousness. Because that’s not an essential characteristic of the sun. It’s an accidental characteristic. This world was created so that the sun moves this way. But the Holy One, blessed be He, can stop that. He can create a world in which the sun doesn’t move at all. He can create a world in which a donkey is intelligent. But if it’s an intelligent donkey, then it’s not a donkey. No, no, there’s a difference between essential characteristics and accidental characteristics. That’s Greek philosophy. There are characteristics without which the entity is no longer that entity; it’s something else. And there are characteristics that are accidental. I’m six foot five. If I were six foot four, I’d still be me, just a little shorter. But if I had a completely different soul, then it’s accepted to say that it wouldn’t really be me anymore; it would be something else. Fine. So up to this point—look, another example, maybe a more common one, and through it I’ll try to explain what this means. The stone that the Holy One, blessed be He, can’t lift—the well-known trick. What’s the meaning of that? What’s the problem in asking whether the Holy One, blessed be He, can create a stone that He can’t lift? I once heard what Rabbi Schlossberg said in high school—there are two guys from the class here. In any case, the argument is this: when you attack a certain position, you have to attack it on its own terms. You can’t attack that position on your own terms, right? That’s obvious. If you want to prove to someone that he’s wrong, you have to go with his assumptions and show him that they lead to a contradiction or that there’s some problem there. You can’t go with your assumptions. And let’s say I think that the Holy One, blessed be He, is omnipotent. Let’s say I really think that. Now someone comes and asks me: can the Holy One, blessed be He, create a stone that He can’t lift? So I think to myself—I’m trying to understand the question, I’m not answering yet, first I’m trying to understand it. How do you understand the question? So I check. Let’s see: a stone that the all-powerful cannot lift. Those are meaningless words, right? So if I think He is all-powerful, then there is no such stone. It’s exactly like a square triangle. He could just as well ask: can the Holy One, blessed be He, make a square triangle? The answer is no. Because if it’s a triangle then it isn’t square, and if it’s square then it isn’t a triangle.

[Speaker B] But that’s according to our conception.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, no, one second, I’ll make it clearer—it’s not a matter of conception. There’s something deeper here, I think. What really bothers people on the theological level is: how can it be that we say about the Holy One, blessed be He, that there is something He cannot do? What do you mean, cannot? He’s omnipotent—I just said that. And I also believe that He’s omnipotent. So how can you say about Him that there are things He cannot do? So here the point is this. And both Maimonides and Rashba hint at this in a long responsum—it’s worth looking at. There are two meanings of “cannot.” Or in other words, there are two meanings of “laws.” We use the word “law” here—and by the way this is a common mistake—we have the laws of logic and the laws of physics. But “law” doesn’t mean the same thing in both cases. The laws of logic and the laws of physics are not “law” in the same sense. The laws of logic are laws that define things as they are. It’s not some nature imposed on the world. It’s simply that if you are a triangle, you are not square. It’s not a law such that someone who doesn’t obey it has violated the law. He hasn’t violated the law; it’s impossible not to obey it. It’s simply undefined. Not obeying it is undefined. Here, when I say that I cannot make a square triangle, there’s no damage here to my much-admired omnipotence, yes? Or to the omnipotence of the Holy One, blessed be He. Why? Because what is omnipotence? Omnipotence means someone who can do everything that can be done. There is nothing that can be done that He cannot do. That’s what omnipotence means. But if there’s something that doesn’t exist—not physically doesn’t exist, no, there is no flying donkey—He can make a flying donkey. Why? Because on the conceptual level the notion is defined, so He can actualize it. But if you’re talking about something that is a contentless concept—what is… explain to me what a square triangle is, and I’ll be happy to answer whether the Holy One, blessed be He, can make it or not. I didn’t understand the question. That question is just empty chatter. Meaning, it’s a collection of words that has no content behind it. They don’t point to anything. So that’s not a question. A question is not the collection of words. A question is what the words signify—what the words express. Now in these cases, those words express nonsense. There is no such thing; it’s just silliness. Like, yes, is virtue triangular? Virtue in the sense of character traits—good traits, compassion, and so on. Is virtue triangular or red? What do you say, yes or no? Explain the question and I’ll try to answer yes or no. There are collections of words that are what Carnap calls pseudo-statements. They’re not statements; they’re just collections of words. They don’t hide any content behind them. So when I say that the Holy One, blessed be He, cannot make a square triangle, or cannot create a stone that He Himself cannot lift, that is not the same thing as saying that He cannot hold a stone in the air so that it won’t fall down. There are two meanings of “cannot,” because from the outset the laws that this “cannot” falls under are laws in different senses. There are laws that are laws of nature. The Holy One, blessed be He, created nature, so He can also freeze it, He can deviate from it, there’s no problem. But there are laws that are laws of logic. Laws of logic—as Maimonides notes in his opening formulation—“for what is impossible has a permanent, fixed impossibility; it is not the product of an agent’s action.” It’s not the result of creation. The Holy One, blessed be He, did not create a square so that its diagonal is longer than its side; that’s what a square is. He could create a square and He could refrain from creating a square, but a square is what it is. If He made something else, then it simply wouldn’t be a square. He can do whatever He wants within the bounds of what is defined. So it’s impossible to do something that is nonsense. Impossible not because the Holy One, blessed be He, isn’t omnipotent, or because He has some weakness. There simply is no such thing. Explain to me what you’re asking, and I’ll be happy to answer whether He can do it or not—you won’t be able to explain the question to me. That’s why this reluctance people often have—to say, we are not willing to say that the Holy One, blessed be He, cannot do something; how can there be an impossibility to which the Holy One, blessed be He, is somehow subject—that reluctance is understandable, but it’s incorrect with respect to the laws of logic. When I say that the Holy One, blessed be He, is subject to the laws of logic, that’s just a borrowed way of speaking. He isn’t subject to anything. The laws of logic simply define reality as it is. If you departed from logic, there’s no such thing. There isn’t some boundary where logic is here and if you depart from logic then you’re over there. There is no such thing. There isn’t. It’s like a finite infinity—there is no outside to logic.

[Speaker B] Maybe knowledge and free choice are also like that—it’s the same story.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maybe yes, that too.

[Speaker B] “And the Lord opened the mouth of the donkey.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then it’s not a donkey.

[Speaker B] Okay, right, right.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not a donkey.

[Speaker D] They also say that during the six days of creation He created—

[Speaker B] He created it during the six days of creation because it isn’t a donkey.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] By the way, it could be that “And the Lord opened the mouth of the donkey” means that He opened the donkey’s mouth and the donkey spoke. That doesn’t mean there was cognition behind the speech. And in that sense it is a donkey, I don’t know. You can explain it in many ways, okay?

[Speaker E] That I can understand—it’s a matter of definitions. But with knowledge and free choice, that certainly isn’t one of the impossibilities like the example brought here.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The question of knowledge and free choice—no, I brought it as an example in order to talk about the principle. I didn’t discuss the example; we weren’t dealing with knowledge and free choice. Knowledge and free choice came in to illustrate the principle I just laid out. Now, of course, this depends on the question—and by the way Maimonides talks about this later in Guide for the Perplexed, later in that same chapter, which is less well known—that there can be disputes about what exactly counts as a logical impossibility. There can be disputes over whether something is really a logical impossibility, or whether you’re mistaken and applying your concepts to it, while in truth it is logically possible. But diagonal and side—about that there is no dispute, says Maimonides; “no one among the thinkers would deny it.” Meaning, there’s an area that is clearly beyond dispute. True, there are areas where one can argue. By the way, knowledge and free choice is probably one of them. My position is that it’s a logical contradiction, but that’s my position. Here I understand that there are people who see it differently. I think they’re very mistaken; I think there are good proofs against that. But we’ll deal with that when we talk about knowledge and free choice. For me it’s just an example: assuming it is a logical contradiction, then what Maimonides says here applies to it. But I completely agree that this really is the kind of issue that is not like diagonal and side. People can come and say: why does it seem that this is not a logical contradiction, it’s simply not physically possible, and therefore the Holy One, blessed be He, has no problem deviating from it. Again, I don’t agree, but that’s a discussion in its own right.

[Speaker D] On the logical level, is the very question whether the Holy One, blessed be He, is omnipotent itself illegitimate, similar to the question of corporealization?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You have to understand its meaning. It’s like asking whether the king of France is a king.

[Speaker D] In other words, the meaning isn’t—this—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In essence the meaning of that is: does the Holy One, blessed be He, exist—that’s the question. If He exists, He is omnipotent; there is no other kind of Holy One, blessed be He. You can say, you can ask whether He exists.

[Speaker D] On the question of corporealization, there are those who would apply the same rule you said here, and there are those who would make it an exception.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, exactly—that’s an excellent example of the reservation I mentioned at the end in Maimonides’ name. For Maimonides, it’s obvious that corporealization is something impossible—not just false, but impossible. And in fact the Raavad already struck him on the head over this and said that many great people did think that way. That is exactly an excellent example of an issue over which there is a dispute whether it belongs to the first type of impossibility or the second type. But no one—and this is what Maimonides and Rashba are saying here—no one disputes the principle. Namely, that if there is an impossibility of the first, logical kind, then even the Holy One, blessed be He, cannot do it. On that there is no dispute. There may be a dispute over where the line runs between impossibilities of the first kind and impossibilities of the second kind, and there are disputes about that. Okay?

[Speaker D] Fair enough. But if you accept the question whether He can or can’t, then the question whether—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Can He create a stone that He cannot lift—then it sticks. No. Again, I don’t think I can accept that question. It’s just a not-careful-enough way of asking whether the Holy One, blessed be He, exists. If He exists, then when I speak of the Holy One, blessed be He, I’m speaking of someone who is omnipotent. You can ask whether the Holy One, blessed be He, exists. Maybe He doesn’t exist; maybe only entities that are not omnipotent exist. Do you follow? Fine. So very often there is—maybe this is a mistake—very often there is a difficult feeling. Let’s say we see a great person before us. And we say, wait a second, he was created with abilities that I didn’t receive and never will receive. Like Moses our teacher—when he was born, a ray of light shone from his face. As far as I’ve been told, when I was born no ray of light shone from my face, and therefore this isn’t fair. Why does the Holy One, blessed be He, do it this way, so that Moses our teacher reaches such levels and I can’t? Bottom line, I can’t reach those levels. I wasn’t given the capacities he was given. So there is a conceptual mistake here. It isn’t a problem in the realm of morality; it’s a problem in ontology. Because if I had been given those capacities, I would be Moses our teacher, not me. There are things that are essential to a person. It seems that the Jewish people needed some one person who was Moses our teacher—some unique thing, different capacities. There’s nothing to brood over. It’s like a leg shouldn’t ask: “Wait, why did you make me a leg? I want to be a head.” If you made the leg a head, then it would be a head, not a leg. It’s not that the leg would be a head; rather there would be two heads. But the body needs a leg and a head. So many times we perceive something as an accidental feature of a thing, when in truth it is an essential feature of the thing. And therefore we ask: wait, why did you give me this feature—give me more money. More money or less money really is an accidental feature; I could be the same thing with more money or less money. But I could not be the same thing with essential characteristics of personality or of spiritual level that are fundamentally different, completely different. Then I wouldn’t be me; it would be someone else. So there’s no point at all in asking, why didn’t you make me different? If it were different, it wouldn’t be me, so how does that help you? If I made you different, it wouldn’t be you. So how does that help you? That question is based on the same failure to distinguish between essential and non-essential characteristics. Okay, good. That brings me to the third point, which is maybe more sensitive, closer to our world—not quite all the way yet, but closer. The question is how to relate to the sages and to issues in the Talmud and Hazal and the sages after them. My assumption—my assumption—is that Hazal were people like me and like you. Let’s put that on the table: that’s my assumption. It’s an extrapolation I make just as I do in all areas of life. I know human beings; I know more or less how they’re built. And I assume that people I don’t know are built the same way. Now there are several indications of this, several indications. There are indications that Hazal made mistakes in certain cases, and I’m not going to give an entire lecture now on the mistakes of Hazal because then they’d really stone me to death. But there are such cases. And Hazal also admitted it; Hazal conceded to the sages of the nations of the world—I brought the Talmud in Pesachim, Maimonides as well—certainly in scientific matters. Hazal consulted experts. Meaning, when they entered a certain professional field, they consulted the experts in that field, exactly as today’s sages do and should do. So now I ask: if Hazal really were these supermen who knew all science and could not err even in Torah and no—they were really perfect people, as they are often presented—when did that end? Because I know the people of today, including Torah greats whom I respect very much. But they are not angels; they are people. People who studied hard, people who know a great deal of Torah, but they are people, and as people they can err—and they do, not infrequently, unfortunately. So now the question is: in the nineteenth century was it also like this? We’re in the twenty-first century. The twentieth century—I was still around then, so I can say I assume it was like this in the twentieth century. In the nineteenth century I wasn’t around, okay? Was it like this then? I extrapolate; I think yes. Okay? I’m not entering now into the question of decline of the generations; I’ll comment on that later. I think yes—the human type is the same human type. In the seventeenth century was it like this? I assume yes. When does it end? Where is the line between people who were supermen, who knew everything and could not err, and the state in which there are people greater and wiser, and people lesser and less wise, but all are human beings, all can err. That can happen.

[Speaker B] There’s the authority of the Sanhedrin, there’s Jewish law according to a decisor—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Wait, I’ll get to those concepts, I’ll get to those concepts.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m saying that in principle, that line does not pass through this part of history, which is built like the part of history we know. Where can I accept that there was a relatively clear line? For example, with the end of prophecy, which is the beginning of the Second Temple period. At the beginning of the Second Temple period, prophecy ended. Prophecy is intervention of the transcendent—there the Holy One, blessed be He, intervenes, does things; there are perceptions that are not exposed to all human beings. And so I understand that there really there are different things. To say that a prophet erred is much more far-reaching. I wouldn’t die if someone said that too, but that certainly seems much more far-reaching. I agree. But the sealing of the Talmud is a sealing whose meaning is formal. It is formal. What that means is that what appears in the Talmud is halakhically binding. It does not mean that what appears in the Talmud is true. Those are two different things. It’s like in law: when there is a constitution that stands above ordinary laws, and it overrides ordinary laws in the case of contradiction, that does not mean the constitution is right. It means the constitution is the authority; that’s how the law is built. Now, we accepted the Talmud upon ourselves as something binding. Does the authority of the Talmud draw from some special holy spirit, as people often tell us? There are those who say that; I don’t know the basis for it.

[Speaker B] What does that add?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m not inclined to think so.

[Speaker B] What does it add that it’s holy spirit?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That supposedly they don’t err, that it means they’re certainly right. I’m saying that the authority of the Talmud does not depend on its always being right. By the way, that claim strengthens the authority of the Talmud; it doesn’t weaken it, contrary to what many people think. Because that claim says—to many people I meet, every day I meet people—people who say, my friend, there are mistakes here. We know where this came from, from those influences and such-and-such considerations that belonged to their time, and what does that have to do with us? Surely that isn’t true. And there are things that are not correct both in the Talmud and among the medieval authorities (Rishonim).

[Speaker B] There are situations where sometimes a certain person held a minority opinion and Jewish law was not ruled like him, and that tanna still held his position, so that shows that it’s not simply a matter of whether he erred or didn’t err—maybe it’s a subtler conception, because—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The question is how you relate—

[Speaker C] To differing opinions—“these and those”—whether both are true, that’s already another discussion. But I can’t get into that now.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That issue.

[Speaker E] Are you saying that you can basically enter their system of considerations, or that their system of considerations is beyond yours?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I can enter their considerations with the same limitation that exists regarding the considerations of any person who wrote a book. Meaning, in hermeneutics, as is well known, there has been very sharp criticism, starting in the twentieth century—

[Speaker E] At least—of our ability—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] To enter the intentions of an author.

[Speaker E] We’re in a different world. Not his intentions—that their system of considerations is incomparably broader than ours.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Completely so. Since I don’t know what their system of considerations was, I can’t answer you, because I can’t enter that system of considerations—I don’t know it.

[Speaker E] What I can do is conjecture. So why do all the great authorities write “this requires analysis,” and what they mean is “I need to analyze the passage,” and they don’t attribute it to a mistake in the Talmud?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] On the first part I agree—that they write that it requires analysis. The interpretation you’re giving to “requires analysis,” I’m not sure I agree with.

[Speaker E] I mean, for example, in Ketzot HaChoshen there are lots of “requires analysis,” and in his responsa you see that he writes that he stands at the hem of the garment of—anyway, you see that all the great later authorities (Acharonim), these tremendous geniuses, saw themselves as nothing compared to the medieval authorities (Rishonim).

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll tell you how I understand it. There’s a book by Rabbi Neria Gutel about changes in nature in Jewish law. In one article he raised a havah amina—an initial possibility—and perhaps later retreated from it; in one article he raised a havah amina, a possibility he may later have backed away from, which of course in my opinion is the correct one: that “changes in nature” is a polite way of saying, friends, something here isn’t right. But there’s a polite way to say it, so we say it that way. Part of the issue is that this polite style is sometimes accompanied by a genuine notion that the medieval authorities (Rishonim) were vastly greater. But I’m not sure I agree with that notion, even if Rabbi Akiva Eiger did hold that notion—which I’m not entirely sure of—but even if he did, fine, so what? Why do I have to agree with it? What is it based on? Very often people take the principle that someone has authority, and in order to strengthen that, they build around him an aura of someone who cannot err—situations we see every day, even in our own time. And now I’m saying: the fact that I think he is a regular human being and therefore can err does not necessarily mean that I do not obey him, because he is the legislator. I accept the authority of the Talmud because we accepted it upon ourselves. And I brought that Kesef Mishneh, where the Kesef Mishneh asks why we do not disagree with the Talmud, and he doesn’t say it’s because they were heavenly flames on high; he doesn’t say that. He says because we accepted it upon ourselves.

[Speaker B] It’s like a lower court and the Supreme Court—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly, exactly. They have authority. That’s our constitution, and our constitution we don’t argue with—until we have a Sanhedrin that can change the constitution. A Sanhedrin could also change the constitution.

[Speaker F] Then why deal with reasons and arguments in empty matters? Why?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] On the contrary—no. It’s to understand what the constitution says. What do you mean, empty reasons and arguments? Interpretive reasons and arguments about what the constitution says. What the Talmud says is something defined.

[Speaker F] If in the Shulchan Arukh, in the Shulchan—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Arukh, I’m not sure it’s in the same category. But Talmud—

[Speaker F] From the Talmud and most of the medieval authorities (Rishonim), that’s how they understood the Talmud. Okay, so what’s the story—why start to—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, if the Talmud says so—then the story is over in the halakhic sense, right?

[Speaker F] Right. And really the story is over from the standpoint of the halakhic ruling—that’s correct, I agree with you. By the way, we’ll leave that for the afternoon. But there is midrash here.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We’ll leave it for the afternoon. And what about Torah study? Exactly—we have to understand what it is based on. First of all, understanding the reasons does not mean disagreeing.

[Speaker F] Ninety-nine percent of the time it’s to be submissive to what has been ruled as Jewish law. No, you have to understand.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Submission is another question—submission to what?

[Speaker F] To authority. Exactly that—submission to authority. Fine, but ninety-nine percent of the time we’re sitting here there’s a weight—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, so what’s the problem?

[Speaker F] What’s the problem? There’s so much meat here—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That you need to understand what this law means. And without interpretation you don’t know what it means.

[Speaker F] Wait, most of those who understand what it means—were we given some authority to change what they said?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t understand. But the question is, what does it mean? What are they telling me? Not why they told me this—what are they saying. Most clarifications are about what they are saying, not why they said it. Now, if I don’t know what they’re saying, how will I implement what they’re saying? Most of what is done in yeshiva—one second—most of what is done in yeshiva when people try to clarify things and work things out and understand the reasons, is to understand what is written there, not to disagree with them. True, there are cases where I will reach the conclusion that I think there is a mistake there—I don’t agree with it. It’s not absurd, not far-fetched. It’s known that the Tosafot Yom Tov in tractate Nazir interprets a Mishnah against the Talmud. He adds the proper words of courtesy beforehand; he says, I’m speaking cautiously. Fine. And in practice he won’t rule that way, because it goes against the Talmud. But true—he still thought, I assume, that what he said was correct. So there is a difference between the question whether to engage with these things and try to understand what they are saying, and the question whether it binds me. Now understand—I want, I simply want to finish, so let me just—

[Speaker E] Who said that it binds me?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Let’s see. We—we—who said it binds me is the same acceptance that says Sinai binds me. If the Jewish people accepted this upon themselves, then the Jewish people also accepted this upon themselves. That’s all. And whoever doesn’t accept the acceptance of the Jewish people—

[Speaker E] Which says that one cannot disagree with tannaim—then it’s not law. So who determined it? Who accepted it? All the sages of Israel who agree that one does not disagree with tannaim and amoraim. The sages of Israel—but I disagree with them.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, so then you can disagree with them; you don’t accept it. And what does someone who disagrees with the revelation at Sinai do?

[Speaker E] Why isn’t it simple? Because if I have—if I think differently, yes—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then if I think differently about Sinai, I don’t have to observe what is written there, what was said there.

[Speaker E] Where is it written that this is one of the principles?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know what “where is it written” means. And if it were written that it’s one of the principles, then I would disagree with that too. What difference does it make? Writing doesn’t help here at all. If you accept the principle that what the Jewish people accept upon themselves is binding, then you’ve accepted it. And you ask me: and what about someone who doesn’t accept it? Someone who doesn’t accept it is out in the street without a kippah doing whatever he wants. What do you want me to tell you? Fine, obviously one can always not accept. No, I’m not justifying him. Someone who doesn’t accept—what can I do? He doesn’t accept. Fine. But I’m saying the framework is not the framework of relating to Hazal as angels. That’s not the framework that determines whether you’re outside or inside. The framework is whether you are bound by what they said.

[Speaker E] Within—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That, whether you think they’re angels or not angels—that can be debated.

[Speaker E] But that enters into something very problematic, because then what happens is that truth is not what is revealed.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Certainly not. Certainly not that the truth is what is revealed. What kind of question is that?

[Speaker E] So are we living in falsehood?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We are not living in falsehood. The Holy One, blessed be He, said, “It is not in heaven,” the commandments—the commandments—

[Speaker E] Are not as you—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no. The Holy One, blessed be He, said, “It is not in heaven,” and the Holy One, blessed be He, said that what we interpret is what He expects us to do. And by that He told us that such a thing is not called living in falsehood. When a heavenly voice comes out and says that the oven is impure, and they rule that the oven is pure, then what is the truth? The truth is that the oven is impure, because that is what the Holy One, blessed be He, said. And what should be done? It is pure. Why? Because the Holy One, blessed be He, says, “My children have defeated Me.” But not because that is the truth, rather because that is the halakhic authority.

[Speaker E] But according to your logic, it should really be that as the generations progress, then the opposite—they should have more authority, because they have all the accumulated assets.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s the very next thing I was about to get to. They are supposed to be wiser. I’m getting to that now, because that really is the next point I want to discuss. What is the meaning of decline of the generations? In principle I do accept that conception, contrary to how it may have sounded. But I’ll tell you in what sense—in a very specific sense. Meaning, decline of the generations is, I think I may even have mentioned this once before, a kind of distancing from the source. You spoke about it in a specific context. Oh, yes? In any case, the meaning is that if Moses our teacher learned in havruta with the Holy One, blessed be He, then it would be hard to come and argue with him about what the Holy One, blessed be He, meant when He gave the Torah, right? That’s not plausible. Okay? It’s possible that Moses our teacher erred. Anything is possible. But it’s implausible to think that he erred. Okay? He was there. Meaning, he learned directly from Him. I brought the example of Stradivarius—I no longer remember. Stradivarius, the violin maker, built violins of genius. And people try to reproduce that to this day with all the sophisticated equipment we have, and they don’t really succeed. Stradivarius’s apprentice, who sat in his workshop—I don’t know, two hundred years ago, three hundred years ago, however long it was—did it better than we do. Why? Because he learned from Stradivarius how to do it. Meaning, he learned it in his fingers; he didn’t receive a rulebook that told him how to do it. Because the rules don’t succeed; up to now we’ve been talking about rules—the rules don’t really manage to capture the thing; they are an approximation to the thing. Okay? Now what happens as a result of decline of the generations—the mechanism I understand, at least, in decline of the generations—is distancing from the source. And what happens when you distance yourself from the source? Let’s go back for a moment to Stradivarius. The apprentice of the apprentice will probably make somewhat less good violins, usually—unless he has some special talent of his own, but generally, let’s say, he’ll make less good violins. At a certain stage we’ll already need scientific research into how to make violins. Scientific research, and to see—Stradivarius was an apprentice too, and suddenly a generation jumped, a generation jumped—okay, but I’m saying there comes a stage at which we’ve lost it. Meaning, we can no longer grasp that art. So what do we do?

[Speaker B] How do you make a violin? Truth doesn’t interest us—Jewish law interests us, Jewish law interests us, so we decide.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The truth interests us very much—but not only the truth. Meaning, every halakhic decisor tries to aim at the truth to the best of his ability. But if it is an authorized institution like the Sanhedrin, its ruling is binding even if I know with signs and wonders that it is not the truth. There is no other interpretation. In my personal view, I’m a monist: there is only one halakhic truth, not everyone is right. “These and those are the words of the living God” is not a statement that everyone is right. What I said earlier doesn’t contradict this—that has to do with intentions. The point is that authority does not depend on that. Meaning, we try to hit the truth; whether we succeeded or not, that is still the Jewish law. But certainly we are trying to strive for the truth. So now what is the decline—I’m returning to decline of the generations—decline of the generations means that we distance ourselves from the source and lose that craft of how to understand correctly what is written there, how to interpret correctly—what you perhaps called earlier da’at Torah, that’s part of the matter in my view. And it is very difficult to translate that into formal rules. Formal rules are accessible to everyone: they’re written in a book, follow the rules, reach the conclusion. In principle a robot can make violins and can also rule on Jewish law, but that ruling will be inferior to the ruling of a human being. Because the robot is an approximation, since the rules by which you operate are not the thing itself; they are an attempt to compensate for your intuition’s inability. Where intuition doesn’t work, we have no choice—we need rules. But those rules are an approximation. Now who is wiser—Stradivarius or us? Obviously us. We know computers, mathematics, physics—we know everything. Stradivarius never dreamed of these developments. And who makes better violins? Stradivarius. Right? On the road, don’t be right—be smart. Or: don’t be smart—be right. In the end, what matters is whether the violin is good. Sometimes when you lose the ability—and if I return to the Torah analogy, it’s the same there—when we grew distant from that havruta of the Holy One, blessed be He, with Moses our teacher, we gradually lost, or are gradually losing, the intuitive ability to understand what is being talked about there. Sometimes you need a sensitive ear to understand the language. Whoever is closer to the source understands it better—something completely natural; there is nothing mystical here, it is entirely logical. It’s like this in everything, not only in Torah. In everything there is decline of the generations.

[Speaker B] Now when that becomes very small compared to the later authorities—what do you mean?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right—Ketzot HaChoshen and Netivot. Exactly. And from this derives the fact that Torah scholars allow themselves to disagree with later authorities (Acharonim), less so with medieval authorities (Rishonim), and with the Talmud not at all. Right. And the point is that I develop a system of formal rules that comes to help me because of abilities I have lost. It’s like someone who is blind and therefore has hearing at a much higher resolution, because he needs it to compensate for sight. So who hears better? The blind person. But who is right? The person who sees, because I see reality; he is only trying as best he can to approximate it, but he doesn’t see. Same thing here. When I ask myself who is more likely to be right, the answer is: as a rule, the one closer to the source is more likely to be right. That is the meaning of decline of the generations. But that doesn’t mean he never errs—absolutely not. And it doesn’t mean that I am less intelligent than he is—absolutely not. And this aggadah about Moses our teacher entering Rabbi Akiva’s study hall and not understanding anything—that is perfectly simple. It’s not aggadah in the historical sense, but it is completely obvious that it’s true. If Moses our teacher were sitting in Rabbi Akiva’s study hall, he wouldn’t understand. Not a word. And if he were sitting in our study hall, he wouldn’t understand even half a word. And that doesn’t mean he isn’t right—he is right. Afterwards they said, “a law to Moses from Sinai,” and then he relaxed. What does that mean? In the end he understood that they were merely trying to clarify what he had said. Now they do it with super-sophisticated tools. They were more intelligent than he was. Rabbi Akiva was more intelligent than he was. The midrash says that the Torah was worthy of being given through Rabbi Akiva, so Moses our teacher says: who is holding You back? Why don’t You give the Torah through Rabbi Akiva? Because the Holy One, blessed be He, decided to give the Torah through Moses our teacher; His reasons are His own. That doesn’t mean Moses our teacher was more intelligent. Absolutely not. And it doesn’t mean Rabbi Akiva was more intelligent than Rabbi Akiva Eiger. If Rabbi Akiva were sitting in Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s study hall, he wouldn’t understand a word. I have no doubt about that. But then they would say, this is Rabbi Akiva’s position—there is an explicit Rabbi Akiva like this—and then Rabbi Akiva would relax. Truly. Not because of ego, but because he understands: it’s the same Torah, they didn’t replace the Torah. It’s the same Torah. And Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s ability—which of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) could argue with him, compete with him? No chance. None of them could do what Rabbi Akiva Eiger did. There is no doubt about that. They also didn’t do it. So is he wiser? Wait, wait—but they also didn’t need to do it. They didn’t need to do it, because they had some kind of intuition, as we said: this is right, this is wrong, this is forbidden, this is permitted. The level of detail in the answer—you’ll notice—keeps increasing over the generations. The responsa get longer and longer. The responsa of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) are very short. The responsa of the Geonim are very—right, not right; they bring some Talmudic source or something like that, and that’s it. Slowly it gets longer. People think it’s because we accumulated more and more literature and so we have to cite more. That’s not why. It’s because we need more discussion in order to reach the conclusion that they reached intuitively. The meaning is: if it’s forbidden, then it’s forbidden—that’s all. What else is there to argue about? But Rabbi Akiva Eiger is already in a different situation: he no longer has the sense of what is right or not right; he has lost that sensitivity that Rabbi Akiva had. So there is no choice—he has to activate his brilliant intellect and arrive at that conclusion by computational means. But that is the hearing of a blind person. So decline of the generations exists in the sense of distancing from the truth. And therefore I think there is a great deal of logic in giving honor to the earlier generations and hesitating greatly before disagreeing with them. Notice, I use very minimal language: hesitating greatly before disagreeing with them. I do not think this stems from the fact that they are always right. I do agree that I think they are more often right, but they are not always right; they can err. And we need to use our tools to compensate for that inability. There are situations in which, with our tools, we will reach answers that the medieval authorities (Rishonim) did not manage to reach. There are places where we can plainly see that the medieval authorities (Rishonim) struggle: they raise a question and wrestle with the answer—this answer or that answer—and any yeshiva student today would answer it. Five answers, not one. There are situations where the analytical ability that keeps developing through the generations—and in that sense there is an ascent of the generations—that ability can produce results. And perhaps that is the purpose of the historical process, if one may try to enter into the considerations of the Holy One, blessed be He: that we should develop more and more the analytical capacity that did not exist in earlier generations, or existed less and less in earlier generations, because in the end, with analytical ability we can penetrate deeper than with intuition. With intuition, you get only as high as the level where you stand. The Maharal writes this in the introduction to Gevurot Hashem. He asks: why is wisdom superior to prophecy?

[Speaker E] Because two plus two equals four even in the world of emanation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You don’t need to know what the world of Atzilut is in order to understand what happens there. We talked about the diagonal and the side. These rules are true in any world whatsoever. So when something operates through wisdom, then even though it is weaker than intuition, which immediately gives the right answer—because wisdom can hesitate, it has uncertainty in it—still, there is something in it that is stronger than intuition. Because it is always correct; it does not depend on how far my level of comprehension reaches. Even regarding things that I do not grasp, the sage is preferable to the prophet. The prophet is limited by the height he can see. That is as far as he reaches. That’s how the Maharal writes, and many people write this. But the sage is not limited by any height; the wisdom he has attained is valid all the way upward. So in one sense it is weaker, but in other senses it is stronger. And if I sum up, then I would say: the Sages—I brought quotations here that I’m not going to bring now, that I’m not going to quote now—but the Sages used experiments in order to learn medicine, in order to learn about the physiology of animals. I mentioned Rav, who went to a cattle herder to learn from him about blemishes in firstborn animals. There is Steinberg—his doctoral dissertation, the father of Professor Rabbi Steinberg—his dissertation deals with the experiments the Sages conducted in order to learn scientific principles. So someone who learns from experience did not receive it from Sinai, with all due respect. He learns it from experience. And if he learns it from experience, then I assume he reached results that more or less fit his generation, sometimes more, sometimes less, but more or less. And if there are things that we understand today in the scientific sense and that in the period of the Sages were not known, I see no obstacle at all to saying that in this matter the Sages were mistaken. I’ll say more than that: I do not accept the methodological demand that tells me, prove that they were mistaken, because maybe there is some way to explain it. Even if that’s true, why do we need to explain? From the outset I do not assume at all that they had some kind of knowledge beyond the scientific knowledge of their time, beyond the knowledge of their time. Therefore, even in principle I am not willing to accept attempts that say, wait, maybe they weren’t mistaken because it fits this approach, or look at it this way. Maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t interest me. Since I am not in distress, I’m not looking for excuses. I do not assume that the Sages are always right, at least not in these areas, and therefore, as I said—and that’s what this whole discussion started from last time—when there are contradictions regarding statements of the Sages, or certainly of medieval authorities (Rishonim), and all the more so later ones, I am not in any distress at all. This does not belong to the world of Torah and science in the first place. And in such a place, all we have is what our best knowledge gives us. The Sages were nourished by the knowledge of their time, and we are nourished by the knowledge of our time. None of us takes the medicines of the Talmud, and that is not only because nature has changed, but because those medicines do not always work.

[Speaker E] Okay. In scientific matters, no—that can be accepted; there are also medieval authorities (Rishonim) who hold that way. That’s not where the argument is. Okay.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So as I said, I explain this on two levels. First, what I talked about last time was in the scientific realm. In the scientific realm the Sages were mistaken more than once, they could make mistakes, and I have no problem with that at all; it does not reduce my regard for them in the slightest. Contemporary sages also make mistakes in these areas, even though they consult experts better than the knowledge the Sages consulted, and still they make mistakes, because everyone is human and everyone can err. And if this is not a tradition that came from Sinai—blemishes in animals, how an animal functions, where the rumen fat is located—then that means they were nourished by the information available in their time. And certainly medieval and later authorities, where we know what they did. Where did Maimonides learn medicine from—from gematrias in the Torah? He learned medicine from doctors. Therefore the assumption is that your scientific knowledge is not supposed from the outset to obligate me. I am not looking for excuses; even if they exist, it makes no difference to me, it does not bother me at all. That’s the point. Now regarding Jewish law—about that is what I’ve been talking until now, when I brought Maimonides, Laws of Rebels. Regarding Jewish law, the Sages could make mistakes. That is my personal claim; that’s what I assume. They were human beings, like all human beings. A person can make mistakes. Errors fell into the text of the Torah. One of the best-kept secrets—today again it’s no longer a secret; until a few years ago it was a huge secret—there is a responsum of Rabbi Akiva Eiger about seven places where an error entered the text of the Torah. The Written Torah, not an orally transmitted tradition with reasoning and opinions and all that—the Written Torah. And you want to tell me that in an orally transmitted tradition no mistakes entered? Is there any book without errors when people copy it one from another? It is simply unreasonable. So therefore, in my opinion, it is obvious that mistakes entered there. But what? The authority of the Sages is not conditional on there having been no mistakes among them. That is the point. And those who try to defend the Sages by saying they never made mistakes and they knew everything are shooting themselves in the foot—tactically too, beyond the fact that they are mistaken—because it means that people who reach the conclusion, and I meet them, I meet many of them, reach the conclusion that this doesn’t work, they stop swallowing this line, and then they feel they are not obligated, so they leave. Because if the Sages did not know everything, then why should I be obligated to them? Maybe they made mistakes? And I am constantly trying to explain to them that obligation is not conditional on reliability, on correctness. Even if there is no reliability in the tradition—and certainly there is no reliability in the tradition; there are many mistakes in our tradition—so what? “It is not in heaven.” The Holy One, blessed be He, said that He gives us a Torah, we transmit it from rabbi to student, there are authorized institutions, there is communal acceptance—that is Jewish law. And that Jewish law does not necessarily hit what the Holy One, blessed be He, said. People don’t notice: that is what is written in the story of the Oven of Akhnai, not anything else. People get terribly excited by that story. What is written in that story is exactly this: that Jewish law is not truth, or not necessarily truth. The goal in issuing a halakhic ruling—when I issue a halakhic ruling, I strive for truth, I seek to reach the truth—but there is no guarantee that I reached it. I may be mistaken, but “it is not in heaven,” even if I was mistaken.

[Speaker B] Maimonides in Laws of Rebels claims that in the tradition there were no disputes—laws given to Moses at Sinai.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And how many laws given to Moses at Sinai are there?