Torah and Science, Lecture 7
This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- Thanks, confession, and “these and those”
- The Netziv: three kinds of human beings and the distinction between intellect and cleaving
- What is a “prophet”: refined intellect or a separate fifth level
- Schools of thought regarding the Sages and the medieval authorities (Rishonim): Kuzari–Maharal–Rav Kook versus a purely rational test
- Rashba, Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides, and science in the words of the Sages
- Caution in presenting the approach to the public and using the term “mistake”
- Mayim acharonim, Sodomite salt, and the Vilna Gaon as representing a hidden dimension
- “Around the table”: experience, criticism, and the distancing effect of excessive caution
- The authority of the Talmud, public acceptance, and the division regarding medieval and later authorities
- “A judge has only what his eyes see,” the majority of the medieval authorities, and the hypothetical possibility of ruling against all of them
- Acceptance of authority: the Talmud as a codex versus authority based on greatness
- First-order halakhic ruling, who is authorized, and the halakhic dimension of the dispute
- Two schools regarding intellect, prophecy, and universal tools
- A range of views, different dosages, and authority as gradual
- Torah and science: a synthetic approach, description versus essence, and science’s separating tendency
- Anaximander, “prime matter,” conservation laws, and a “law of conservation of being”
- The bearer of properties, “I am the owner of the map,” and Leibniz’s identity of indiscernibles
- Multiple intelligences, political correctness, and the fallacy of identifying a concept with its definition
- Art and poetry: difficulty of definition, “art is what is shown in a museum,” and postmodernism
- Torah thought, conceptual analysis without practical implications, and completing scientific distinctions
- Prohibition and positive commandment: Aharon Shemesh, an academic distinction, and the need for a conceptual layer
- Conclusion: Rav Kook and the Maharal as an opening to a critical angle
Summary
General Overview
The speaker thanks Rabbi Michael Abraham for a lecture series that expands one’s knowledge and clarifies a method that, in his view, remains within the bounds of the traditional Jewish path, even though at first he had concerns stemming from articles and publications, and he went through ups and downs in his ability to take in the ideas. He presents two legitimate schools of thought regarding the understanding of the level of prophecy and the attitude toward the Sages and the medieval authorities: one school emphasizes a divine dimension that does not operate within the tools of human intellect, while the other understands the work of the sages within universal human tools, and from that also follow different approaches to the questions of authority and halakhic ruling. Rabbi Abraham adopts the second school, speaks of sitting “around the table” with the sages of the generations in a spirit of involvement and criticism, limits mandatory authority to the Talmud by virtue of communal acceptance, and attributes to the other medieval and later authorities primarily a recognition of greatness that is not formally binding. Later he presents a synthetic approach to Torah and science that emphasizes the differences between description and essence, and between a separating tendency and a unifying tendency, and he warns against turning science’s narrowing of itself to empirical questions into an all-encompassing philosophical outlook that denies dimensions that cannot be measured.
Thanks, confession, and “these and those”
The speaker says that Alan suggested the topic of the series, and it drew him to come listen and fill himself with knowledge he had never heard before, though he had concerns because of publications and articles. He thanks Rabbi Michael Abraham for the effort of coming once every two weeks and giving lectures out of his broad knowledge, and he describes the evident investment, labor, and brilliance in what is being said. He confesses that he went through ups and downs in his ability to absorb the ideas, but over time they became clearer and he came to understand the method in a way that left a different impression from what he had gotten from articles he had read. He states that, in his feeling, the method is entirely within the boundaries of the traditional Jewish way, but there are nuances that differ from the style of thinking and education on which he was raised in yeshivot, and he wants to convey a message of “these and those.”
The Netziv: three kinds of human beings and the distinction between intellect and cleaving
The speaker cites the Netziv in Ha’amek Davar on Genesis 9:19 and explains that the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, was that the world be conducted by means of three kinds of human beings. He defines simple people who work the land and do not have “subtle sensitivity,” meaning subtle discernment; refined people who feel deeply with human intellect and are people of wisdom, philosophy, and science; and godly people who cleave to God and are a chariot for the Divine Presence according to the value of the person and the place. He explains that Shem, Ham, and Japheth symbolize three thirds of the human types in the world, and he emphasizes the distinction between developed human intellect and cleaving to God as a different dimension.
What is a “prophet”: refined intellect or a separate fifth level
The speaker presents the language of the Kuzari, “inanimate, vegetative, animate, speaking, and prophet,” and frames a dispute about the essence of the “prophet.” He formulates one possibility according to which prophecy is a more advanced development of the intellect, using the same logical tools of philosophy and science, which become refined and lead to divine insights; and against that, another possibility according to which this is a fifth level that does not touch the other four at all. He describes a state of personal refinement that leads to divine messages through the tool of cleaving to God, which is not simply “a great deal of human intellect,” and he defines it as an entirely different tool.
Schools of thought regarding the Sages and the medieval authorities (Rishonim): Kuzari–Maharal–Rav Kook versus a purely rational test
The speaker attributes to the Kuzari, the Maharal, and Rav Kook a line of thought that develops faith and shapes one’s attitude toward the Sages, the medieval authorities, and the great later authorities from within a certain divine-prophetic dimension and a kind of divine inspiration that is not within our tools. He presents this as an outlook that is not merely “an argument using our tools,” but rather a relation to a dimension that is inaccessible to ordinary human intellect. He says that even within this school there is an internal dispute regarding how far to use it.
Rashba, Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides, and science in the words of the Sages
The speaker describes a dispute between Rashba and Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides, and presents Rashba as holding that even in scientific matters there is no departure from divine truth in the words of the Sages, even though contemporary science does not accept things the Sages said in scientific terms. He cites a description according to which there is a geonic ban on using the remedies of the Sages, not because they are untrue, but because we do not know how they work and might therefore come to belittle them. He emphasizes that this is a different method of viewing the whole picture.
Caution in presenting the approach to the public and using the term “mistake”
The speaker says that such a deep subject, one that enters into the depths of Jewish faith, requires attention to how the ideas are received, especially when they are written in an article for the public without the full elaboration of the method as it has been laid out in the lectures. He quotes the warning, “Sages, be careful with your words,” and expresses concern that headlines and superficial presentation can create the wrong impression and lead in the wrong direction. He adds that he was never accustomed to use the term, which is very harsh in his eyes, of “mistake” with regard to the Sages, even within a method that views everything as intellectual, and he worries that a mistaken public understanding could lead to mistaken halakhic rulings out of a feeling that our contemporary intellect is developed enough to ignore generation upon generation.
Mayim acharonim, Sodomite salt, and the Vilna Gaon as representing a hidden dimension
The speaker brings up mayim acharonim as a classic example of a law that seems to be based on a scientific reason—Sodomite salt—that no longer exists today, and he presents the apparent possibility of canceling the practice. He mentions that there are positions such as Tosafot, and that in the Shulchan Arukh as well it is stated in the final paragraph that some say it is optional since there is no Sodomite salt, even though it opens with the words “Mayim acharonim is obligatory.” He presents the Vilna Gaon as representing an approach according to which beneath the surface there is hidden holiness, spirituality, and Divine Presence, and he cites the exposition, “And you shall sanctify yourselves—these are the first waters; and you shall be holy—these are the last waters,” as a sign that this is not only about cleanliness, but also about hidden matters beyond our grasp, and therefore the words of the Sages and of the generations should be accepted in matters of Jewish law.
“Around the table”: experience, criticism, and the distancing effect of excessive caution
Rabbi Abraham cites Rabbi Soloveitchik, who described an experience of study in which his father sits around the table with Maimonides and Tosafot and Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi and a “battle” is taking place, and he says this spoke to him as his own experience. He argues that involvement leads him to argue “with them” and speak at eye level, because this is his home and not a museum, and he fears that excessive caution in the name of honor may create distance, like entering a church on tiptoe. He sets up a tension between a sense of home and the verse “and in the house of God we will walk with reverence,” and argues that genuine involvement includes the possibility of criticism.
The authority of the Talmud, public acceptance, and the division regarding medieval and later authorities
Rabbi Abraham says that the Talmud has authority in the sense that we accepted upon ourselves not to disagree with the Talmud, and he calls this the framework of discussion that binds us, like the Torah in the sense of communal acceptance. He says that within this framework there are “many possibilities” and differences among the methods of medieval and later authorities, but he did not accept upon himself not to disagree with medieval and later authorities, and he distinguishes between respect for greatness and mandatory authority. He argues that each generation is supposed to make decisions for itself, and sometimes decisions different from those of earlier generations, while preserving the framework of the Talmud, and he says that the additional frameworks that accumulated over the years have, in his view, taken on exaggerated dimensions.
“A judge has only what his eyes see,” the majority of the medieval authorities, and the hypothetical possibility of ruling against all of them
Rabbi Abraham says that he studies a topic with the medieval and later authorities and arrives at the conclusion, “what seems right to me, that is what I do,” and he raises the hypothetical possibility that at a very high level of certainty he might even act against all the medieval authorities, while noting that this almost never happens and that in such a case “you’re probably mistaken.” He emphasizes that the very fact that he disagrees does not mean that he claims to be on the level of a Torah scholar like Rabbi Akiva Eiger, but rather that this is an application of “a judge has only what his eyes see,” and that the weight of greatness operates mainly in situations of uncertainty.
Acceptance of authority: the Talmud as a codex versus authority based on greatness
Rabbi Abraham explains that the authority of the Talmud stems from public acceptance, and therefore it is “the codex” and the field within which we operate, not because it is necessarily always right. He says that the authority of the post-Talmudic generations is based on recognition of greatness, and therefore usually “they are simply usually right,” but this is not mandatory authority. He says that he thinks the Sages “did make mistakes” in some places, and he lays out the considerations on both sides regarding these two kinds of authority.
First-order halakhic ruling, who is authorized, and the halakhic dimension of the dispute
Rabbi Abraham says that this has implications in Jewish law, and he refuses to “be rescued” from the claim that it affects halakhic ruling. He describes “first-order halakhic ruling” as a method that begins with mandatory authority, and then, with regard to non-mandatory authorities, one discusses whether it applies today and reaches the conclusion of “what seems right to me.” He qualifies that not everyone can do this, but also rejects the solution of “an assembly of the great Torah leaders of the generation that is authorized” as something that is not going to happen, and argues that whoever, one way or another, is “called and able to do this” will act that way. He stresses that most of his work in life is in Jewish law, and philosophy is something he writes “in his spare time.”
Two schools regarding intellect, prophecy, and universal tools
Rabbi Abraham agrees that there are two schools and declares that he belongs to the second school, arguing that there is nothing beyond intellect, and he does not accept a distinction between “types of wisdom,” only between the importance of different fields of activity. He removes prophets from the discussion and says he has no way of knowing what prophecy is, but with regard to the sages of the Oral Torah he says that he sees a mode of reasoning that one can follow and that even non-Jews can follow. He describes his work in exposing tools of “human logic” in the Talmud through “books of Talmudic logic” together with logicians, and he cites “Occam’s razor” as a method for avoiding unnecessary assumptions, even if it is not certain.
A range of views, different dosages, and authority as gradual
Rabbi Abraham says that he does not feel obligated to present every opinion, and that he speaks from his own position. He describes the dispute over halakhic ruling and authority as a dispute over dosage rather than a yes-or-no issue. He claims that almost all later authorities operate this way to some degree, and that even figures identified with a certain line are not fully consistent. He describes a revolution around the end of the period of the medieval authorities and the start of the later authorities surrounding the Shulchan Arukh, and argues that the dominance of intensifying authority has been steadily declining, “and in my opinion, not justifiably.”
Torah and science: a synthetic approach, description versus essence, and science’s separating tendency
Rabbi Abraham returns to a synthetic approach that sees positive potential in the encounter between Torah and science, and sets out two differences: science deals with description and not essence, and science tends to separate and distinguish whereas Torah thinking tends to unify. He argues that science advances thanks to narrowing itself to empirical questions, but a problem arises when this is turned into a philosophical worldview according to which there is nothing beyond what can be measured. He claims that precisely by accepting the partiality of science and seeing the need for completion, one can gain benefit from the integration.
Anaximander, “prime matter,” conservation laws, and a “law of conservation of being”
Rabbi Abraham cites Anaximander, who argued that the world was created out of “prime matter” by means of the separation of opposites, and presents this as a modern solution to the problem of something from nothing in relation to conservation laws, through the creation of opposites such as a particle and an antiparticle. He argues that modern science speaks of creation from the vacuum, whereas Anaximander added the concept of prime matter, and he suggests that this addition stems from a philosophical need not solved by conservation laws. He formulates the problem of a “law of conservation of being,” according to which before there was nothing and now there is something, and he argues that physics has no such law because it deals with properties and not with being itself.
The bearer of properties, “I am the owner of the map,” and Leibniz’s identity of indiscernibles
Rabbi Abraham says that science tends to identify things with the set of their characteristics, and therefore misses the question of who bears those characteristics. He gives the example that “the self is not on the map; the self is the owner of the map,” and presents Leibniz’s principle of the “identity of indiscernibles,” according to which two objects with the same set of properties are the same thing. He cites bosons in modern physics as an example of identical particles that cannot be distinguished by any parameters, including place, and yet we still count how many there are, in order to show that Leibniz’s necessity is not unavoidable.
Multiple intelligences, political correctness, and the fallacy of identifying a concept with its definition
Rabbi Abraham attacks the concept of “multiple intelligences” and says it is a handmaiden of political correctness that turns everyone into a genius. He describes a method that begins by conceptualizing intelligence through a list of characteristics and then applies them so that “even Maradona has intelligence,” and therefore everyone comes out equal in the weighted sum. He argues that when a definition leads to a conclusion that contradicts the original intuition, that indicates that the process of refinement has failed. He says one can change the name of the concept and there is no problem, but the use of the term “intelligence” is meant to confer status and not merely describe talent, and he attributes the failure to identifying the thing with the definition rather than with the concept itself.
Art and poetry: difficulty of definition, “art is what is shown in a museum,” and postmodernism
Rabbi Abraham says that the Hebrew Encyclopedia has no entry for “poetry,” and he attributes this to the difficulty of defining amorphous concepts that appear in many forms. He cites Gideon Ofrat in the book What Is Art, who presents different definitions, rejects them, and ends with the conclusion, “Art is what is displayed in a museum,” and he says the book is wonderful, but he would erase the last chapter. He argues that the fact that there is no sharp definition does not mean there is no concept, but rather that one must approach it “by way of negative attributes,” and he connects this to a feeling that leads to postmodernism as an incorrect product of a correct intuition.
Torah thought, conceptual analysis without practical implications, and completing scientific distinctions
Rabbi Abraham says that scientific thinking stops at distinctions and definitions and practical implications, whereas in conceptual Torah analysis the value of understanding remains even when there is no practical implication. He describes disappointment with the Brisker method in a generation in which one discovers that practical implications can be reconciled on both sides, but he argues that this is not worthless, because eliminating the practical implications sharpens understanding and makes it possible to see how the two sides together create the thing itself. He argues that science prepares “a broad field” through important distinctions, but it is not the end of the road, and enslavement to definition is problematic.
Prohibition and positive commandment: Aharon Shemesh, an academic distinction, and the need for a conceptual layer
Rabbi Abraham cites an article by Aharon Shemesh on the difference between a prohibition and a positive commandment, and presents a finding according to which early discussions saw the difference as lying on the practical plane of action versus omission, whereas later discussions relate to it as the language of the verses. He shows that if one stops at language alone, the distinction does not explain why the Torah uses different formulations and what stands behind them, and he argues that this is a step that academia does not take because it is not “justiciable” within empirical tools. He emphasizes that he is not criticizing academia for narrowing itself, but rather the turning of that narrowing into the whole picture, and he presents this as part of the synthetic approach to Torah and science.
Conclusion: Rav Kook and the Maharal as an opening to a critical angle
At the end, another lecture framework is introduced, noting that in the previous lecture the approach of Rav Kook was presented, according to which science is a tool for deepening the understanding of Torah, and now they seek to examine a more critical angle on the synthesis between empirical knowledge and religious faith. The passage opens with the words of the Maharal in Netiv HaTorah, according to which Torah is a separate reality that does not belong to this physical world.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m really just going to steal a few short minutes for a message from two directions. A message that is both thanks and a kind of confession. When Alan first suggested the topic of this lecture series, it really drew me to come listen, to come fill up with knowledge that I personally had never heard before—I don’t know how many others here had heard it. On the other hand, there were a lot of concerns because of various publications, articles, and so on, about the direction and the whole thing. So first and foremost, this is a simple thank-you to Rabbi Michael Abraham, who really invests his time once every two weeks to come here—it’s not simple—and give amazing lectures from the broad knowledge he has. Things I’ve already mentioned several times, that you can very clearly see the investment, the labor, and the brilliance in what he says. So first and foremost, a big yasher koach, simply on behalf of everyone. And regarding the confession, I also have to say that there were stretches of ups and downs in my ability, I’d say, to contain the things that were said or are being said. But as the ideas became clearer over time and took shape, and I personally began to understand the method better, then it definitely was not the same impression I had gotten from those other articles I had read. I understood that there is a method here that is entirely—not that it needs any approval—but from my own personal perspective, my own feeling is that it is entirely within the bounds of the traditional Jewish path in its broad form, its general form. There are some nuances, and that’s what I wanted to speak about—there are some nuances that still differ from my own way of thinking and the kind of education I grew up with in yeshivot, and about that I wanted to convey a slightly different kind of message, and that is: both these and those. In the sense that “these and those are the words of the living God.” The attitude given to the Sages, or to the medieval authorities, or to the great later authorities, when learning and when building faith, and afterward also the details of opinions and actions and Jewish law, in a somewhat different direction from what we heard—just in order to lay out another approach in these matters. I’ll start specifically with a tiny piece from the Netziv, because I think he lays things out in the simplest and most concise way from the two methods that exist, and afterward I’ll give a few emphases on the second method. In Genesis 9:19, “These three were the sons of Noah”—yes, Noah’s sons were Shem, Ham, and Japheth—“and from these the whole earth was spread abroad.” So who are these three? The Netziv says in Ha’amek Davar: the will of the Holy One, blessed be He, was that the world be conducted according to three kinds of human beings. Three kinds of types, three kinds of people in the world. Namely, simple people who work the land and have no subtle discernment. Meaning, these are manual laborers whose intellect is not highly developed. Here the term “feeling” does not mean emotion but discernment. They do not have subtle discernment; they are coarser in that sense—not God forbid in any negative way, but in the sense that the main focus of their lives is around matter, around working the land. And refined people who feel greatly with human intellect—these are the people of wisdom, philosophy, science—whose intellect is developed. And godly people who cleave to God. And they are a chariot for the Divine Presence according to the worth of the person and the place. Therefore the whole earth was divided among these three—Shem, Ham, and Japheth—each symbolizes one third of these types of people in the world. Now there is a distinction here between people of great human intellect and godly people who cleave to God, a chariot for the Divine Presence. Meaning, there is a new concept here, a new dimension to the world, which I think is actually not disputed at all. To put it also in the language of the Kuzari: inanimate, vegetative, animate, speaking, and prophet. There is the inanimate, the vegetative, the animate, the speaking being, and then there is the prophet. Now about this itself, I think—as we’ve heard in the lectures—there is a dispute. What is this prophet? Is it basically a yet more sophisticated and deeper development of the intellect, the same modes of thought, the same ways of thinking and the same logics that one uses throughout philosophy and science—only refined and purified until one reaches divine insights through that human intellect using those same tools—or is it a fifth level that does not touch the other four at all? As the passage here says: people who feel greatly with human intellect, no matter at what level of intellect, the most brilliant and finest it can be—and then godly people who cleave to God. Meaning, this is some other level. Of course, every person lives through intellect, uses his head in order to reach things and think and develop his life. But there is apparently some situation—I don’t think that in this generation, or in many generations, we have experienced this thing; we cannot even sense or understand it because we are not there—but there is a state of personal refinement of a person’s character in which he reaches a point where he already has divine messages through the tool that is cleaving to God. Not cleaving by means of a very subtle intellect, of a great human intellect, but an entirely different tool. A tool of cleaving to God. Now at this point I do think there is a fundamental dispute. If we take a school such as the Kuzari and the Maharal and Rav Kook as a well-known trio—and many rabbis also rely on them—they have a line of thought that develops faith and looks toward the Sages and toward the medieval authorities and the great later authorities in a different way than by a purely rational test, an argument using our own tools. Rather, they take it to a level where there is some divine, prophetic dimension here, a certain divine inspiration, that is not within our tools. Now how far to take that school, how much to use it—that too is an internal dispute. If we take the dispute between Rashba and Rabbi Abraham son of Maimonides, who has been mentioned many, many times, but Rashba has been mentioned less, Rashba says that even in scientific matters—and I personally admit and confess that it is hard to understand this Rashba—but even to that extent we have come, and Rashba is no lightweight—that even in scientific matters there is never any departure from divine truth in the words of the Sages. In all these scientific matters, things will yet be clarified and made clear, even though today’s science does not accept and does not agree with things that the Sages said in scientific terms. But there is such a Rashba who says that everything is pure divine truth, and there is no room at all to question it. To the point of the geonic ban on using the remedies of the Sages, not because they are not true, but because we do not know how they work, we do not know what they meant, and therefore we may belittle them, so it is forbidden to use them. Meaning, exactly the opposite direction. So this is another method in the whole course of these matters and views, and I simply wanted to highlight that there is another way of looking at this whole picture. Again, even within it, and within the nuances, and in the second school that sees things yes, from within the human intellect, and one can also rise from within it to very deep and thoroughly Torah understandings and even see prophecy—these are two legitimate methods. Only one last thing I’ll add and say: sometimes—and this is perhaps my lesson from my initial impression and the understanding that later became clarified for me—sometimes one has to pay attention to how things are received. Meaning, if they are written as an article for the public without the unfolding of the whole method, as we’ve been hearing for many weeks now, delving into it and following it in depth, then sometimes this falls under “Sages, be careful with your words, lest the students drink…” and so on. Meaning, since this is such a deep subject, and one that raises so much interest and controversy, and enters into the depths of Jewish faith, here I only ask myself: what is the right way to convey these ideas to the broader public, who do not hear the full elaboration and all the context, and see only the headlines and the ideas in an article in their superficial form, and may therefore be impressed in the wrong way and take it in the wrong direction? And here too, in a small but real nuance, I was never trained in my life to use the expression—even if it is within the general framework of the traditional Jewish path—but the very harsh expression in my eyes of using the word “mistake,” the word “mistake” regarding the Sages, even if again this is within the method that holds that everything is intellectual and only a different intellectual level—to use that word or words like it, or for example the method that says that we will take our own understandings and leap over many generations that thought differently, and we decide otherwise. Personally, that still jars on me. And regarding the way of ruling in Jewish law, as we heard, this does not affect halakhic ruling, but again, what people understand from it can bring about a situation of incorrect halakhic ruling, because they may think that their intellect is already sufficiently developed, perhaps even more than that of previous generations, and therefore they can ignore everything that has been said throughout the generations, and also reach mistaken rulings in Jewish law—which is certainly not what anyone here wants. And just as one final example, if we take perhaps the simplest example of mayim acharonim, which is considered maybe the classic example of a scientific-rational thing on which the Sages based this commandment, this law—mayim acharonim is obligatory—because of Sodomite salt, and that does not exist nowadays, then apparently the simplest thing in the world would be to cancel the law and not do mayim acharonim today. It’s true that there certainly are such views, like Tosafot who say this in the Talmud, and like the final paragraph in that section where the Shulchan Arukh writes about mayim acharonim—he writes there that some say it is optional since there is no Sodomite salt, even though he opens that same section with three words: “Mayim acharonim is obligatory.” That’s how he opens the section. But in the final paragraph of that same section he brings those who disagree. But if we look at this example through the second method, such as the Vilna Gaon, who is one of the main figures in the second method, who holds that all this is only the surface, but beneath the surface there is a great deal of holiness, spirituality, Divine Presence, godliness, hidden within all these things—then as proof of that, if the Sages expound the verse “And you shall sanctify yourselves and you shall be holy”—“and you shall sanctify yourselves,” these are the first waters; “and you shall be holy,” these are the last waters—if they expound the words “and you shall be holy” about mayim acharonim, that is already a beam-thick hint that this is not only about Sodomite salt. If it were only about cleanliness, only about a concern lest one touch one’s eyes and be blinded, that doesn’t sound so much like holiness, “and you shall be holy” through this act. But if the Sages found such a hint for it, that implies they really meant also hidden, deep, divine matters, things of which we have no grasp or footing to understand them; we personally have no ability here to perceive them. And here you see the dimension in the Sages that one should not challenge, and certainly in matters of Jewish law, one should accept the words of the generations. Yasher koach.
[Speaker C] Yasher koach.
[Speaker B] Strength and blessings. Peace be upon you.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, really just two points in response to Rabbi Steinberg’s remarks. First of all, I accept the comments, even if I don’t want to respond to them—but I accept the comments too. Still, I want to make two remarks connected to those comments, and then I’ll return to my topic, which apparently—though I hadn’t planned it—will also be connected to the issue. Rabbi Soloveitchik speaks about his experience when he studies Torah. He says that his experience was that his father sits around the table with Maimonides and Tosafot and Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, and there’s this battle going on, and he is tense over whether his father will save Maimonides or not save Maimonides. Meaning, there is some kind of very emotional, experiential involvement in the process of learning throughout all the generations. And when I read that—you know, I’m terribly unemotional—but when I read that, it really spoke to me. It really spoke to me. I think that is exactly my experience. But this experience of mine leads me to almost the opposite of where it leads many others. Meaning, there are those who feel that precisely because of the affection and the deep connection and so on, they are extremely careful about the honor of those seated around the table—yes, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, yes, those seated around this spiritual Talmudic table. And my feeling—and maybe I’m mistaken in this, I accept the comment—is that if I’m sitting around that table, then I argue with them. I’m there around the table, really, for real, I mean what I say. I sit around this table, and it is a table stretched across all of history—that is the table, yes? So those seated around it speak the way one ought to speak. I am not in a museum; this is my home. Meaning, I speak with these people precisely because of the involvement, precisely because what they say matters so much to me and I want to clarify it, and whether I do or do not accept it. And many times my feeling is that the extremely cautious attitude—which of course has its proper place—either creates distance or can create distance. Because when someone enters a church—you’re not supposed to do that, yes?—someone enters a church, he walks in on tiptoe. It’s not my place. I’m not going to make a mess there. Fine, we’ll give them the honor they deserve and go home. Fine. But if I’m in my own home—you know, it’s like all those stories and jokes about a Christian who walks into a synagogue and sees what goes on there. Meaning, there’s something there, and many times it sounds to us like a negative criticism—what is this, in synagogue everyone is chatting, talking about the stock market, and all these things, or today it’s the weekly Torah sheets that have turned into advertisements for trips abroad. But in a certain sense there is something very authentic here. This is our home. Meaning, we live here. I’m not walking on tiptoe; I’m walking normally. Now it says, “And in the house of God we will walk with reverence.” Okay, there is a certain tension between two things here, and it has two sides. Meaning, and obviously things can be misunderstood from both directions, in my view, and one has to be careful, true. But I do want to say that there is something to the idea that if you are involved, then you argue with them. Meaning, I’m not willing to stay outside, admiring the people and tiptoeing around and not criticizing. If I’m there, then I’m there. This is my family, this is my home, and I talk to them. Now I talk to them at eye level. That doesn’t mean I necessarily think I am exactly like them, but I’m there. I’m not willing to accept that they will give me instructions while I look at things through some closed display case, with the feeling that they must not be used, only looked at. And that is the first remark. Second remark, and in connection with what you said at the end about the relation to Jewish law, I have to say that here I actually go a bit further—I go further than you described. Not really—I mean, maybe you tried to save me from what I am, but I refuse to be saved. Meaning, I do think this has implications in Jewish law and in the manner of halakhic ruling. I do not remove Jewish law from the whole issue, and I do think that in Jewish law too, if we are sitting around the table, then we are around the table. We are not sitting at the children’s table waiting for the adults to throw us crumbs. We are sitting around the table, and when we are sitting around the table, then we are involved in the discussion and we are the ones who need to make the decisions—we, I mean in the broad sense; it doesn’t matter, the decisors—but every generation is supposed to make decisions for itself, and sometimes those will be different decisions from previous generations. Now, I already said that the Talmud has a certain authority—authority in the sense that we accepted upon ourselves that one does not disagree with the Talmud. That is the framework of the discussion. Now within this framework, however, as anyone who has studied Talmud knows, there are many possibilities. Not to mention all the approaches of the medieval and later authorities that lie within that framework. And regarding the medieval and later authorities, I did not accept upon myself not to disagree. With all due respect—and I do have a great deal of respect, again I say, I really feel this as family. Meaning, both my son and I knew by heart all those books of hagiography, for all the jokes about them and despite the fact that not everything in them is necessarily faithful to reality. But that’s what we used to read all the time. I know by heart all the great rabbis of Lithuania and who studied under whom and why and all that. Not because I worship them and they never made mistakes, but because this is my family. That’s where I live, and I am there, I argue with them. I want to know—know your enemy—because you need to know with whom you are arguing. Meaning, in that sense. So yes, this also has a consequence: if I’m involved and I’m part of the matter, then yes, sometimes I express a position that is not like the others, and “a judge has only what his eyes see.” Therefore yes, this does have halakhic implications. Not as a deviation from the Talmud—that is the accepted framework—but the additional frameworks that accumulated over the years have, in my humble opinion, taken on exaggerated dimensions. Meaning, that is not what… because the Talmud is an agreement, a full agreement of all Israel. Simply like the Torah. Just as we accepted upon ourselves at Mount Sinai to accept the Torah, so too we accepted the Talmud. Really. The Jewish people accepted it, and in that sense it is the constitution. Like if our 120 elected representatives agree on something and it binds us—or if all of us together, like in the Greek polis, vote and say we accept this—then of course it binds us. Here there is something very simple. But is it the same with regard to Maimonides? No. With all due respect to Maimonides. Is it the same with regard to the Rosh, the Shulchan Arukh, the Mishnah Berurah? Absolutely not. No. Meaning, one studies the passage, studies it with all the medieval and later authorities of course, with all due respect, tries to clarify what their conception was, why they said this, why they said otherwise. In the end, we need to make the decision ourselves. Without any medieval authorities? Not without any medieval authorities. I mean together with looking at all the medieval and later authorities, in the end I arrive at the conclusion: what seems right to me, that is what I do.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Against all the medieval authorities?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s a big question. If I were very, very, very convinced, then maybe I would even do that. Maybe. But that really is hypothetical, because it almost never happens—such a level of conviction, against all the medieval authorities. That’s something where you’re simply mistaken; it’s not fear of Heaven. Meaning, you’re probably mistaken. Don’t suspect me of fear of Heaven, God forbid. Why do you give this preferred status to the Talmud? I don’t understand. Because it is a fact. It is a fact that the Babylonian Talmud was accepted by all Israel. The Land of Israel did not accept the Babylonian Talmud. There were many battles and so on. True, fine, but I’m speaking about later generations; in the period of the Jerusalem Talmud—and the Talmud itself, after all, only existed as the Talmud…
[Speaker C] According to what you’re saying, if today the Jewish people were to arise and decide to accept the medieval authorities the way they accepted the Talmud, then suddenly that too would become binding.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s like the giving of the Torah—meaning, it’s the same idea: “they fulfilled and accepted.” Yes. Now I don’t think that happened. And there are those who think it did happen. I don’t think it happened.
[Speaker B] But why do I think it happened?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, I don’t think so. People disagree with medieval authorities quite a bit. Meaning, not with the Talmud—nobody says, “I disagree.” You know, you can say maybe someone offers creative interpretations, but nobody says openly, “I disagree with the Talmud and rule against it.” Even someone who proposes an interpretation against the Talmud—which is already some kind of novelty—an interpretation of the Mishnah, say, against the Talmud, like Tosafot Yom Tov in Nazir, and there are a few other examples of this, “three who contributed to the purse,” Saadia Gaon there and others—but nobody says, “I rule against the Talmud.” But he doesn’t rule like Maimonides if he rules like Rashba. “It doesn’t seem convincing to me, like Rabbi Akiva Eiger.” But people say that, they do say that! But people say it—people also disagree with medieval authorities. It’s only in our generation that the Or HaChaim and the Vilna Gaon are treated as special. Why are they special? Because in the 16th century the line was crossed that one cannot disagree, so why are they allowed to disagree? What does it mean, uniquely exceptional people? Is what they say binding or not binding? Are uniquely exceptional people allowed to disagree with the Talmud? What does “uniquely exceptional” mean? If it’s binding, it’s binding.
[Speaker B] There were huge discussions here, that the medieval authorities…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] All the major discussions among those who bear the standard around the Shulchan Arukh accepted the authority of the Shulchan Arukh and disagreed with it. So what is that? That’s also not so precise. So authority—you have to get used to this—accepting authority is an acceptance that has to be taken as it is. Meaning, to the extent that they accepted it, I accept it too. I just think that today people exaggerate this. That’s not what was accepted at such an extreme level. I do think it has significance, obviously, and I already spoke about this: closeness to the source gives some advantage to earlier generations. But an advantage does not mean mandatory authority. I already mentioned the Rosh in Sanhedrin, in the chapter there. Anyone can be disagreed with. Now, when the Rosh says this regarding the Geonim, I say by analogy: why shouldn’t I say it regarding the Rosh? Same thing. After the sealing of the Talmud, nobody has mandatory authority. Now here the question is what the difference is between authority—and this is the last point—what is the difference between mandatory authority and my attitude toward the medieval authorities (Rishonim), the attitude that I think one should have toward the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and the great later authorities (Acharonim). The medieval authorities (Rishonim) and the great later authorities (Acharonim) are simply usually right, and therefore Jewish law follows them. In the Talmud, Jewish law follows it not because it is right but because that is the authority, meaning that is the codex, that is the playing field within which we work. But that has an advantage and a disadvantage. The disadvantage of substantive authority—not formal authority—is that I can examine it; maybe they are not right. If I become very convinced that they are not right, then a judge has only what his eyes see. That doesn’t mean I think I’m like Rabbi Akiva Eiger. A Torah scholar like Rabbi Akiva Eiger—anyone who opens one of his discussions sees that he’s not on that level. For that, all you have to do is open it. But on the other hand, a judge has only what his eyes see. In order to disagree with him, I do not need to be like him. I need to read his arguments, see what conclusion I come to, and decide whether I agree or not. Now where I’m uncertain, of course it will carry weight that Rabbi Akiva Eiger says otherwise, no problem. But that is exactly the difference between mandatory authority and recognizing greatness. Ironically, the authority of the generations after the Talmud is based on recognition of greatness. The authority of the Talmud—even if in the background there is also recognition of greatness—that is not the basis of its authority. The basis of its authority is acceptance, and therefore there really there is nothing to do; that is, it is what it is. And again, that does not mean they were not mistaken. I think they were, we spoke about this earlier. I do think in quite a few places that they were mistaken, and therefore there are pros and cons to these two kinds of authority. And this definitely has significance for halakhic ruling, because some of those articles presumably are among the later authorities over there in Makor Rishon, so I said there that I think we need to return to first-order halakhic ruling. What is called first-order halakhic ruling means what I’m describing now. Meaning: where there is mandatory authority, I begin with it. Where there are authorities that are not mandatory, then I deliberate, I wonder whether yes or no, whether this is relevant today or not relevant today, and I reach the conclusion that seems right to me. Again, “to me”—you can argue about who this “me” is; can everyone do this? I don’t think so. That would also be irresponsible. So who can? Only an authorized assembly of the leading sages of the generation? Well, that means it will never happen. So that means apparently whoever is qualified in one way or another is called upon and can do it. That is the claim in broad terms. And I think it has many halakhic implications. Meaning, I am not taking Jewish law out of the picture; on the contrary, most of what I deal with in my life is Jewish law, not philosophy. Philosophy is the books I write in my spare time. No, really—the things that truly interest me are Jewish law and its meaning, and that’s what I’m talking about. And in philosophy, to disagree with the medieval authorities (Rishonim), I don’t feel I need to explain that at all. Sorry for—okay. Maimonides writes that there is no—the divine point
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] that you mentioned—where is that? So—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] On that I may speak a little as part of what I’m saying. I really think you described it correctly. Yes, right, I think you described it correctly. Yes, right. You described correctly that there are two schools, and I definitely belong to the second school. I think—I do not think there is anything that is beyond reason; there is no such creature. As for prophets, I don’t know. Meaning again, prophets I take out of the discussion. I was never a prophet, I never knew a prophet, I truly have no idea. There you can say anything. I do not join Maimonides in the way he describes prophecy simply because I don’t know. Meaning, I have no way of knowing what prophecy is, how one attains it, whether there is something there that is beyond. Precisely there I have no problem accepting conceptions that say there is something beyond, because that is the meaning of prophecy: prophecy means that a person receives something from above and does not arrive at it only by his own powers. Therefore it seems to me that even as plain reasoning, like the first school—that is, not like the school that I—and that is true regarding prophets; I remove them from the discussion altogether. I’m talking about the sages of the Oral Torah, about the sages of Jewish law and the Talmud. It seems to me that there I more or less understand how this whole business works. Even Rabbi Akiva Eiger, whose little finger is thicker than my waist—still, I can see the mode of thinking, I understand it, I can follow it. In my humble opinion, even non-Jews can follow it; I don’t see an essential difference here. It would be hard for them to follow because they’re not involved in it and it doesn’t interest them all that much. But I don’t see here some other kind of intellect. I see great sharpness, I see great wisdom, but it’s the same kind of wisdom. I do not accept this distinction between kinds of wisdom. I do accept the distinction in terms of importance; meaning, the importance of engaging in Torah is different than the importance of— But the tools we use, in my humble opinion, are similar tools; meaning, they are the same tools. A large part of my work is to try to expose these tools and show how universal they are. We’re doing a series of books on Talmudic logic—about ten books have already come out—with two logicians, and we’re trying to uncover such structures in the Talmud, and we constantly discover that this is basically human logic—sometimes, by the way, astonishing intuitions—but overall it is the form of thinking that people use in every context; that’s also how we work when we study Talmud. I don’t think I discern there someone who functions in a different way. I don’t know—again, maybe I don’t discern it because I don’t know it, I don’t live it. Fine. But I see the give-and-take, the discussion, and I manage to notice what, in my opinion, seems not right or could be explained better. You can say, okay, here my mind is too small, and say that since there is divine inspiration here—that is the first approach. And I don’t know; my inclination—and it’s hard to justify here—but my inclination is… what?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not evident? Not to say it? No, but if it’s not evident—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] then who told you it’s there? Okay, so that’s why I’m saying—fine, maybe you’re right, I don’t know.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A person in his generation who wrote that way—or in the generation of the Saboraic editors—where we have an actual exchange of letters, a Torah correspondence. Mordechai Kalina, yes. A person who is no less of a genius than what you see there in that exchange of letters.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, and nevertheless—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] one is known and recognized and studied throughout the world, and the other is completely anonymous. I’m not saying anything about him; I’m only saying that it may be that beyond the tremendous intellectual grasp he had, the very divine assistance in having these words come from his mouth, and the orientation aimed at truth, and the divine tone that would thus be spoken in the world, took hold more strongly in him.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m saying anything is possible. It certainly could be, I’m saying. But a judge has only what his eyes see here too. Occam’s razor—which again is of course a general intellectual tool—says that I need not posit assumptions beyond what I must. And if I can explain everything without an additional assumption, then I tend to adopt that. Now maybe I’m wrong; Occam’s razor is not a certain tool, not a tool that is guaranteed to be right. But as a method, in my view, it is at least a sound one, and it is definitely possible that it leads to error—what can I do? But that is the conception. That is also how I understand Maimonides to have understood it—in both directions, by the way. In Maimonides even prophecy is like this, as you mentioned, which I can’t manage to understand how he explains, but he certainly followed this all the way through, and so did Rabbi Abraham ben HaRambam. And one point, just regarding this matter of the Rashba: there really was a remark here that I heard, because I had also heard it earlier, that I did not mention views that do not fit what I said. So I already issued a broad disclaimer that what I am saying is my own position. I am not claiming this is the whole range; there are of course different opinions. I do not feel obligated to present all the opinions. I say what I think, and let whoever chooses, choose. Fine. So since I knew today I’d only have partial time, we won’t start the next topic. Yes?
[Speaker B] Did you want to ask something? When you speak about the authority of the Talmud, do you include the rules of halakhic decision-making in the Talmud?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, you’re talking—
[Speaker B] about the Talmud’s ruling.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The rules of decision-making that appear in the Talmud—I don’t have energy for this. The rules that appear in the Talmud, “the law follows Rabbi Akiva against his colleague,” meaning yes, that too.
[Speaker C] “The law follows Rabbi Akiva…” also…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The rules that appear in the Talmud are part of the Talmud—what difference is there? But the rules that the medieval authorities (Rishonim) established about the Talmud are roughly like the rules that later authorities (Acharonim) established about the Shulchan Arukh—
[Speaker E] I don’t know
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] where those rules came from.
[Speaker E] But there’s a claim that appears in the Mishnah: why is the minority view brought in the Mishnah? So that if they ever want to reverse the Jewish law there will be a basis. Doesn’t that raise some doubt about the authority of the Talmud—that the Talmud too says maybe the matter will be reversed? No, the opposite.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You need a precedent. They’ll understand why it is, where it came from, and that’s not correct.
[Speaker B] Yes,
[Speaker E] but that’s not the Talmud’s Jewish law. Meaning, you say that the authority is basically the Jewish law the Talmud rules. Right, now here there is a minority opinion that was not ruled in accordance with, but in the future maybe they will rule according to the minority opinion?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, pay attention—Rabbi Steinsaltz answered you. That is not what is written in the Mishnah in Eduyot. The Mishnah—
[Speaker B] in Eduyot says the opposite: that if someday the majority think like the minority view, they will be told, “You were the minority.” Meaning—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] so that you should know where that view came from, but it was already not ruled that way. No, but beyond that, this is also in Maimonides at the beginning of the Laws of Rebels, and the Kesef Mishneh too, essentially at the beginning of the Laws of Rebels—they discuss this. Maimonides says that every religious court in every generation can disagree with a previous religious court in Torah-level matters, even if it is not greater in wisdom and number; we talked about this. And the Kesef Mishneh asks: then why do Amoraim not disagree with Tannaim? And why do the medieval authorities (Rishonim) not disagree with the Amoraim? And you see that in principle, truly, truly, one can disagree. Except what? After these texts were sealed, let’s say… regarding the Tannaim and the sages after the sealing of the Talmud—they accepted upon themselves not to disagree with the Amoraim. But “accepted upon themselves” does not mean that this is the law in principle. On the contrary, it means that originally one could have disagreed. They simply accepted not to do so. And I mentioned, I think, that this was for very good reasons. It seems to me that this is a very, very wise decision, as the test of generations shows.
[Speaker E] Not to disagree with the Talmud as a ruling—but to disagree always, sometimes there are disputes among Amoraim that are exactly the same dispute as among the Tannaim; that happens often.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. When there is such a thing, the Talmud says, “Shall we say this is like a Tannaitic dispute?” And on the contrary, usually the Talmud does not accept an Amoraic dispute that is like a Tannaitic dispute. But right—the question is whether “Shall we say this is like a Tannaitic dispute?” is a verbal question or a substantive one. You could say that it is only a linguistic question. Meaning: why are you telling me that you think this way and he thinks that way? Just say: I rule like Rabbi Shimon and I rule like Rabbi Yehuda. Then maybe you’re right. But if “Shall we say this is like a Tannaitic dispute?” is a substantive question, then that’s something else. Fine. In any event, it comes out that in principle, as Maimonides says, every religious court in every generation, even if it is not greater in wisdom and number, can disagree—which are exactly the things I said earlier. Disagreement does not mean that I am as wise as they are or wiser than they are. Disagreement means that I am the one living today, and I need to make the decisions for today, even though I myself know that they are greater than I am. Greatness is not related to the question of whether I disagree or not. And therefore one must distinguish between these two statements: whether I sit around the table and whether I sit at the head of the table. I do not sit at the head of the table. I sit at the tail end of the table; there are all the generations before me. But I too am around the table. And if I am around the table, then the one who makes decisions for my generation is me—except for those things that were agreed otherwise: the Talmud vis-à-vis the Mishnah, and us vis-à-vis the Talmud.
[Speaker C] Yes, and it seems that over the years I get the impression that many laws developed not initially because some leading sage of the generation or a Sanhedrin imposed them from above. Okay—custom. “If they are not prophets, they are sons of prophets.” Huge numbers of people, very small communities in Germany and France. What? So there were customs, and our rabbis, the Tosafists and the medieval authorities (Rishonim), tried as much as they could to turn the Talmud upside down just to justify the custom. Meaning, the custom kind of developed.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And custom is not the discretion of a sage; on the contrary. Custom is some sort of—if they are not prophets, they are sons of prophets—some assumption that if the public begins to practice something, apparently there is something true in it, and then I look for an interpretation. But I am speaking about conscious disagreement. I’m not speaking about a custom that develops and is justified after the fact.
[Speaker C] It may be that it developed that way more than from custom.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Every question of more or less, I don’t know. Every question—maybe. But it isn’t important. I’m talking about this aspect where a sage comes and consciously—not as an after-the-fact justification for a custom that developed, but consciously—says: look, the reasoning of the Rashba does not seem right to me; the reasoning of Maimonides does seem right to me, so I rule like Maimonides against the Rashba. Or the reverse. Not because most of the medieval authorities (Rishonim) said so, not because the Shulchan Arukh brought Maimonides, not because of who knows what, but because I think like Maimonides. So maybe one of the next times we’ll talk about this. I also want to devote a few sessions to things that are a bit more hard-core Torah so that you don’t leave here with a distorted picture. So maybe we’ll also talk about this matter of rabbinic-level doubt and doubt in legal judgment, and what the difference is between them, if there is any difference, and maybe there I’ll touch on the topic.
[Speaker B] Rabbi, do you have proof from one of the later authorities (Acharonim) who learns in this style?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I have proof from… Look, this style is a matter of dosage. Meaning, obviously almost all the later authorities (Acharonim) learned this way to some degree. There are later authorities (Acharonim) where the dosage is very low, so they hardly allowed themselves to disagree with the medieval authorities (Rishonim), and if there is a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim) they will usually go stringent, though not always even then. You know, even Rabbi Ovadia did not always go with the Shulchan Arukh, although that was even his banner, not just some hidden assumption. Simply sometimes he did not go with the Shulchan Arukh. And the same is true everywhere; it is a matter of dosage. Therefore to present this dispute as a dispute of yes or no is a distortion of the truth. Meaning, obviously this is only a question of dosage. Everyone gives a respectful attitude to the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and the great later authorities (Acharonim); the question is to what extent that respect is binding, or to what extent you allow yourself to deviate from it. I once wrote an article—I’ll talk about it. Maybe when I speak about halakhic ruling I’ll devote a session to it too, maybe even more. We’ll talk about this matter among the medieval authorities (Rishonim); in my opinion it is very widespread. It is a kind of revolution—not entirely a revolution, it existed earlier too—but its dominance began at the end of the period of the medieval authorities (Rishonim), the beginning of the period of the later authorities (Acharonim), around the Shulchan Arukh, not for nothing. But yes, it is true that this view diminishes over the generations, and in my opinion not justly.
[Speaker B] I personally, in my opinion, mentioned all the—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] the medieval authorities (Rishonim) for whom this approach appears. Sometimes, sometimes one can find the differences. I can do that too. Fine.
[Speaker B] At what point can a person manage? Another ten minutes. Fine. Good. So I’ll get to that when I speak about halakhic ruling, okay?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because that’s what people talk about today—Torah and science. So yes, let me really finish this matter, and next time we’ll start something new. Look, I spoke at the end of last time about the synthetic approach, as I called it. Meaning, the approach that sees specifically positive potential in this contact between Torah and science—that science can give us tools to complete Torah, and perhaps vice versa as well. There are two distinctions that I just want to dwell on briefly in today’s session, which will sharpen the difference and thereby also the potential for complementarity or benefit in using these two sides. You can speak of this in terms of sefirot, yes—one distinction is kindnesses versus severities, and one is wisdom versus understanding. But translated into the language of mere mortals, the first distinction is that science deals with a description of things and not with their essence, and in some external sense, let’s call it that—I’ll define it a bit more in a moment. And the second distinction is that science generally has a certain separating tendency. Meaning, it has a tendency to distinguish between things, to say this is not like that, to distinguish between schools, between types, between sources, things of that sort. And Torah thinking, again as a generalization, is thinking that is more unifying, that gathers these poles together. I’ll bring a few examples, and from the examples I think it will also become clear what the mutual benefit can be. I’ll start with an example from the natural sciences, and specifically Greek natural science. The first passage—the earliest written passage we have in our possession—is a passage from Anaximander, a Greek philosopher. And there Anaximander speaks about the creation of the world, and he writes that the world was created—at first there was some prime matter—and it was created by the separation of opposites. Meaning, two opposites emerged from the prime matter, and thus our world was created, which is diverse; of course it has all sorts of forms and oppositions between forms: heat and cold, light and darkness, and so on.
[Speaker B] Can we use a word so I’m not the only one who doesn’t understand it?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Prime matter? What do you mean? Prime matter is something without form. Prime matter is without form. It’s a term from Greek philosophy, from Plato—actually it predates Plato. And the claim is that at the beginning there was something abstract like this. Again, one can slip here into Kabbalistic language, which is completely parallel—sometimes they call it the Infinite Light—and this thing separated into opposites. That is his claim, and that is how the world was created. Now on the face of it, when you look at this—well, at first glance it just looks like some ancient cosmology, so why is it interesting? But when you look at it from a contemporary perspective, you see that he was remarkably ahead of his time. Meaning, when we talk today—after all, what bothers us about creation ex nihilo? Creation ex nihilo contradicts the conservation laws. There are conservation laws: conservation of charge, energy, mass, momentum, whatever you want. And creation ex nihilo means that after creation suddenly there is charge, whereas before there was no charge; afterward there is mass and energy, whereas before there was none. There is something here that contradicts the conservation laws. So Anaximander finds a solution here that is basically ultra-modern. What people speak about today is that there can arise from the vacuum a particle and an antiparticle—where the particle has charge e and the antiparticle has charge minus e, or the reverse, depending on which particle we are talking about. And overall, once they are created together, the total charge in the world is conserved. Now this solution manages to explain the emergence of something from nothing without violating any conservation law. Except entropy. What? Entropy? No, not entropy either. One can define negative entropy and positive entropy in parallel. Mass and antimass? What? Mass and antimass is straightforward.
[Speaker B] That’s positive and anti—mass is charge.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, one of the charges of gravitation is mass. So mass, positive mass and negative mass—a particle and an antiparticle—that’s by definition. Negative entropy is a bit more subtle. In any case, the claim that the world was created from opposites solves a problem that I think greatly troubled people through the generations: how can something come from nothing? Nachmanides writes that creation ex nihilo is impossible. You don’t need modern physics for that. Anyone understands that there is something problematic here. And suddenly we find some solution that is already hinted at in Anaximander, because that is what he says. He says that from prime matter, which is devoid of forms, there emerged charge and anti-charge, or heat and cold, or light and darkness. Overall, the relevant quantity is conserved even though it was created from nothing. But that is not what interests me. What interests me is an addition found in Anaximander that we do not find in modern science. And that means Anaximander was a philosopher and apparently not a physicist—or that today’s physicists are not philosophers but physicists. Because Anaximander speaks about prime matter, while contemporary science speaks about vacuum. Meaning, creation of opposites out of the vacuum—that is the picture we have today. But he did not speak about that. He said there was prime matter. He added another concept. We spoke before about Occam’s razor. If you add something extra, apparently there is a need for it. Why did he introduce it? Opposites just emerged from the vacuum—why do we need prime matter at the beginning? And it seems to me that the answer is that Anaximander is really right. Meaning, modern science is missing something here, and not for nothing. Because when I talk about the conservation laws—let’s say I solved the whole problem of the conservation laws: the total charge remains zero after creation, and the total mass also remains zero, and the energy, whatever you want, everything is conserved. But one thing still happened—as you maybe meant with entropy. One thing still happened. Now there is something here, and before there was nothing. Meaning, leave aside all the conservation laws—I solved all the conservation laws. But so what? Does that solve the philosophical problem? There is a very difficult philosophical problem here: how can it be that there was nothing here, absolute vacuum, there was nothing, and suddenly out of the vacuum popped a whole world and everything we see—or not suddenly, never mind, maybe it took fifteen billion years. But it still came out of the vacuum. So what problem does that solve? It solves no problem. You solved technical problems of the conservation laws of physics. Fine, I solved that. But what about the essential problem? There is an extremely difficult philosophical problem here. I’ll perhaps call it in another language: the conservation law of being. Before there was nothing and now there is something. Now there is no law in physics of conservation of being. Why not? Because physics deals only with the properties of things—mass, charge, various properties. But that is not the whole picture. Meaning, behind the properties sit the things themselves. I once saw an article by a psychologist in Mada Six, I think, or maybe four or six, I don’t remember anymore. He spoke there about what the self is. They tried to locate the self in the psychoanalytic map of the person, according to the author of Tanya and Nefesh HaChaim and various Jewish teachings. And all along I had the feeling that there was some mistake in the very formulation of the question, because the self is not in the map; the self is the owner of the map. You are looking for the self as some component in the psychoanalytic map of the person. The self is the one the map describes; it is not an element within the map. Meaning, it is the thing whose map this is. But why does he go that way? Because in scientific thought there is nothing beyond properties, characteristics. You are not used to thinking that behind the characteristics there is something that has those characteristics, as we saw earlier in Anaximander. And therefore sometimes you lose many obvious conclusions because you don’t even feel that there is a difficulty in what you’re saying. It’s not the type of difficulty you even ask yourself about. Now by the way, this is not a deficiency, because one of the great strengths of modern science is that it knows how to limit itself to questions of this type. Only thus did it progress. Meaning, if Aristotle had—if we had remained stuck in Aristotelian thinking until today, where Aristotle did not distinguish between these two types of questions, then we would also have remained stuck with Aristotle’s scientific achievements until today. Science’s ability to progress stems from its willingness to limit itself to questions that can be tested in the laboratory, that can be examined empirically. And this type of question I’m speaking about here—I don’t know how one empirically tests being. I know how one empirically tests mass, charge—entropy too, though I don’t think that’s right here—but being is not something accessible to our instruments, to our means of observation, and science does not ask that question. That is why it progresses; this is not a fault. Where does the fault begin? At the point where scientists think that the questions they ask are the whole picture. There is nothing beyond that. And that is very characteristic of these debates between Torah and science: science is right in its domain, but many times alongside it there appears some philosophical conclusion that comes from thinking that the scientific domain covers the entire range of events or phenomena, and that is not true. I think I mentioned Leibniz’s principle of the identity of indiscernibles—did I mention it one of the previous times? Leibniz says that two objects that have the same set of properties—is there someone here who remembers? What? Okay, then next time I can start the whole series from scratch. I didn’t mention it. “Those who hear earn reward,” never mind—study and receive reward. In any case, Leibniz says that two bodies that have the same set of properties are one body, not two. They are the same one. He even has a proof by contradiction; I won’t go into it because it begs the question—it’s an interesting logical trick, but every proof begs the question. But I want to show what stands behind this. What stands behind it is that he basically understands that there is nothing in a body beyond the collection of its properties. So if there are two identical collections of properties, then it is the same body itself; it is not two. Again: scientific thinking. Thinking that speaks about bodies in terms of their properties. But there is something that bears those properties. Why can there not be two different things, each of which has exactly the same collection of properties, and they are still two? Two drops of water completely identical. Why are they not two? Why are they one? What sort of logic is that? It makes no sense. So what will you tell me? Yes, but their location is different—one is here and one is there. No, they can also be located in the same place. There are bodies that can even be located in the same place, if they have no mass or if they are not rigid; they can be located in exactly the same place. So what then? In modern physics they speak of a distinction between two kinds of particles: bosons and fermions. Bosons are completely identical particles that you cannot distinguish by any parameter, including location. And yet we count how many there are. So what does that mean? It means Leibniz was wrong. But the point is that science tends to grasp things through their characteristics, and not to enter the question of who bears these characteristics on his back. Whom do these characteristics characterize? And many times that leads to errors. Let me perhaps give you another example from another field. In the last generation—not just today, but recently—there is something very popular called multiple intelligences. Emotional intelligence and all sorts of things of that type—look at my smile, how much I love these concepts. These are concepts that are tools in the hands of political correctness, to turn everyone into a genius. So everyone comes out a genius. There are no stupid people and smart people; rather, he is a genius in soccer, and he is a genius in physics, and he is a genius in shoemaking, and this one is a genius in interpersonal relations. Everyone is a genius, so no problem—we all dance in the same circle of equality, as Samson Raphael Hirsch says, by the way. We are all at the same distance from the center. In any case, how do you build such an argument? Through a scientific route. Today this is considered a scientific discipline, this whole thing. Don’t get angry with me; I see you’re not with me. How do they build this thesis? They begin by characterizing what intelligence is in terms of thirty, forty, fifty years ago. What did people call intelligence? We extract six, seven, eight characteristics—I don’t know, ten characteristics. Fine? I don’t remember how many. Now you say: these are the characteristics. So now I say: but if these are the characteristics, then Maradona also has intelligence. All the characteristics appear in him, all of them—just translated into soccer instead of philosophy or physics or Torah. Today it’s already Messi, never mind. When they invented this it was roughly Maradona, or even before him, Pelé. In any case, once you find that, then fine—Maradona too is a genius like Einstein, because he has motor or athletic intelligence, and the other one has emotional intelligence, and everyone has his own intelligence. And because this falls on receptive ears, because it makes everyone equally smart, it therefore becomes a scientific discipline, receives huge budgets from the European Union, and thus a new scientific worldview is created. Now what is the problem with this method? Beyond whether you agree or disagree with the conclusion, you must admit that at least the method is problematic. Why is it problematic? Because you take a concept that everyone understands intuitively. What is intelligence? Everyone knows that Einstein has more intelligence than the average person on the street, right? Everyone understood that before anyone defined what intelligence is. Or Rabbi Akiva Eiger, let’s talk about Rabbi Akiva Eiger. So that is clear. Now we come and try to distill from this intuitive concept of intelligence a list of characteristics. A definition. To conceptualize it, okay? And now suddenly we discover that the average person on the street is as intelligent as Einstein. So what does that mean? It only means that we did not distill the set of characteristics correctly. Because after all, we started from an understanding of what intelligence is, which told us that Einstein is intelligent and that the other person is less so. Okay? We distilled a system of characteristics, a system of criteria, and reached a different conclusion from the one with which we started. So what does that mean? It means the distillation process is flawed. It means that this set of characteristics failed to capture the concept of intelligence. That is what it means.
[Speaker E] It’s a matter of weighting. Meaning, I have criteria here, but each comes with a weight. Fine, with the weights.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It doesn’t matter—with the weights. Take all the weights as part of the definition.
[Speaker E] The definition is a weighted sum—to say that this person is at Einstein’s level in logical inference.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, but I’m saying that the definition of intelligence is now a weighted definition. It’s the sum of a_i x_i to the power of i, okay? x is the type of intelligence, a_i is how much of that type of intelligence you have. And you make a weighted sum over all the intelligences. And that is what is called intelligence.
[Speaker E] Then they do not come out the same in the sum.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no—they do come out the same in the sum. Only the vector looks different; the x’s are different. They come out the same in the sum—that’s the whole idea. The sum comes out the same. But that is exactly the problem. Once you take a concept that is intuitively understood, translate it, grope at it, define it precisely, and arrive at a conclusion that contradicts the intuition from which you started—then what does that mean? It means you did not define it correctly.
[Speaker B] But if I change the name—not intelligence—fine—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then I have no problem with that. No problem—you can define it that way. That is perfectly fine. But why don’t they change the name? Because they want the political correctness. Fine, but people knew that before too—that Maradona has athletic talent. They knew that before. The purpose of this process is to show that he is intelligent, not that he is an excellent soccer player, because that people also knew before. Nobody said Maradona and Einstein were competing on the field. I mean, I don’t think anyone could say that. As far as I know, even at the basic level, heading the ball is not simple. Fine. In any event, what I’m saying is: where does this methodological failure come from? It comes from the same point I spoke about earlier. Because you identify the concept with its set of characteristics. You basically say: what is intelligence? It is the series of characteristics I arrived at. So what do you want? He too fits this series of characteristics perfectly, so everyone is intelligent. Again, it is the same conception that identifies the thing with the set of characteristics we managed to arrive at. But that is a mistake. It is a methodological mistake. Now I don’t care—you can agree with the conclusion—but the method as a method is problematic, because in the end it ignores the thing itself and replaces it with the definition we give it. But there is something that we are trying to define. Like yesterday I spoke about how to define poetry. In the Hebrew Encyclopedia there is no entry for poetry. Has anyone ever seen that? There isn’t one. I looked. Why? Because apparently nobody there knows how to define the thing, I assume. Because nobody knows how to define it. Why don’t they know how to define it? Because it really is difficult to give this term a definition in the same sense in which they gave one to intelligence, although in that sense I think you can. But it is hard to define. It is a very amorphous concept, appearing in many forms. Now as a result of that, one can reach the conclusion that if so, then there is no poetry. Hum as much as you want. There is a book by Gideon Ofrat called What Is Art? Interesting, fascinating. Chapter after chapter he goes through definitions of art, rejects each one for various reasons, through examples and modes of analysis. And in the final chapter he reaches the conclusion that art is what is displayed in a museum. Now the book is absolutely illuminating; I would delete the last chapter—it is a wonderful book. It is a wonderful book because it really shows you that this is such a complex and varied concept that you cannot fit it into a sharp definition. But his conclusion is: fine, if there is no definition, then there is no concept. Why? Because again he identifies the thing with its definition, with the set of characteristics we assign it. It is the same mistake. And this is a limitation of analytic thinking, of scientific thinking, and it seems to me that this limitation can be supplemented by using other kinds of thinking that appear more in the Torah context, for example.
[Speaker B] What you’re saying pretty much forces a question. Okay. Leibniz. Leibniz says: I see two things that by no characteristic I know how to measure can I distinguish between them, and therefore they are identical.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not therefore they are identical—therefore they are the same one.
[Speaker B] Now back to art. I take art and I don’t know how to define it, and in all the characteristics I know how to measure, I don’t have it, and therefore I don’t know what it is.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not therefore I don’t know what it is—therefore there is no such thing.
[Speaker B] No, that—the feeling, yes. The feeling is: there are various things I know, even if I have no words to express how I know them. But doesn’t this not apply to many things in physics?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean, does not apply?
[Speaker B] My senses and feelings in relation to bosons do not operate. Obviously. So therefore Leibniz’s distinction remains correct in dimensions where that additional layer—the one that gives me the power of distinction in things where I have no measurable distinction—there it remains correct?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I can’t understand why. If there are bosons, then how can Leibniz still remain correct? There are two particles there, both have the same set of physical properties, and that is what physics says. We count them—they come in quantities: one, two, three, four, five.
[Speaker B] Philosophically, a thing that has no distinction measurable by the senses—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then I do not accept that philosophy. Now, maybe you do accept it and you follow Leibniz’s approach—that’s fine. I did not present an argument against Leibniz. I said why Leibniz is not necessary, not why he is not correct. Why he is not correct is another claim. I also think he is not correct, but that is a different discussion. I’m trying to show why he forces himself into a conceptual straitjacket in which he clings to characteristics and ignores the thing itself. So I’m trying to show that through various examples.
[Speaker C] What is the connection? I didn’t understand the context of the Torah way of thinking.
[Speaker B] Wait, wait—now we just started the Torah way of thinking.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] When you arrive, when you arrive at some kind of intuitive thinking—Torah thinking, let’s call it; I don’t really distinguish between them, and that connects somewhat to what we were saying before—then that kind of thinking is always accused of not formulating claims that can be refuted. In other words, it doesn’t meet scientific criteria. Right, this kind of Talmudic-style conceptual analysis—you can reconcile almost all the practical ramifications with either side. So then what is the meaning of the two sides of the analysis? If it has no practical difference, then it has no meaning. At least that’s what is commonly accepted in certain places. Even a practical difference for a woman’s betrothal wouldn’t save it. But that’s not true. A practical difference for a woman’s betrothal says exactly this: when I say, when I analyze between two possibilities, even if it has no practical difference at all, it is still important for me to do it, because I want to understand whether the definition is this one or that one. Now, if there are practical ramifications, that’s good; it helps me sharpen things. By the way, the ability of this generation, following Rabbi Chaim, I think, is to try—back in Rabbi Chaim’s time there were still sharp practical ramifications. There’s a problem, there are two sides, there’s a practical difference, you can immediately place the Rashba here, Maimonides there, everything is fine. In this generation, why is there disappointment with the Brisker method? Because we suddenly discover—we’ve become a bit more sophisticated, a dwarf standing on the shoulders of giants, but still more sophisticated—so what does that mean? It means that we suddenly discover that there really are no practical differences. Every one of the practical differences, I can reconcile according to both Maimonides and the Rashba. I could show you several classic analyses from the yeshivas—you won’t find me a single practical difference that I won’t be able to reconcile. So what? Does that make it worthless? Of course not. It’s not worthless at all. You need to understand that there are two possible ways to understand it, and they have no practical difference whatsoever. But you still have two possible ways to understand it, and by ruling out all the practical differences, they become sharper and sharper for you. In the end you understand how the two together probably really create the thing itself. Now, this is a method that is plainly not scientific. Plainly not scientific, because science stops at the first stage. There are two possibilities. You even see this in Talmud research: you see passages that belong to this camp, passages that belong to that camp, and that’s it. Now, I can agree with that—but why is that all? So let’s now see what that means. These passages grasp the halakhic concept this way, and those passages grasp the halakhic concept that way. Now let’s see how these two things fit together to produce a complete picture of that concept. So science, in this sense, prepares a broad field for me to work in. It makes very important distinctions for me, distinctions that perhaps in pre-scientific thinking we would not have managed to notice, or it would have been harder to notice them—but it is not the end of the road. The distinctions in characteristics, the attempt to define things, are excellent; but enslavement to definition is very problematic. By the way, this feeling is what leads to postmodernism, which in my view is an incorrect product of a correct feeling. In other words, the fact that definitions cannot capture the concept in its fullness does not mean that there is no concept. Rather, it means there is a concept, and we can approach it by way of negative attributes, somehow circling around it until some sort of intuitive understanding is formed in us of what it is. Exactly the difference between art and what is displayed in a museum—one second—the difference between art and what is displayed in a museum, and art as something where I know all twenty-five definitions that I rejected at the outset, and I understand more or less what this thing is, without knowing how to define it positively.
Now, I’ll say one sentence anyway, even though I really should have finished already. There’s an example that I won’t go through in detail. For example, there’s Aharon Shemesh from the Talmud department at Bar-Ilan, and he once published an article on the difference between a prohibition and a positive commandment. And he found that the passages, in terms of the archaeological layering of the passages—so the earlier passages see the difference between a prohibition and a positive commandment on the level of action: a positive commandment is when you need to do an act, and a prohibition is an omission, yes—non-action. Okay? Now the later passages don’t go that way. We know today, certainly in our time, that that’s not how it works, right? There is both a positive commandment and a prohibition concerning labor on the Sabbath. Refraining from labor on the Sabbath is also a positive commandment; it’s not only a prohibition. Or a parapet: “You shall make a parapet for your roof”; “you shall not bring blood upon your house”; or “do not stand idly by your neighbor’s blood.” “Do not stand idly by your neighbor’s blood” is a prohibition. What am I forbidden to do? Not to save. Meaning, I have to do something in order to avoid violating the prohibition. So it’s a prohibition such that in order to fulfill it I need to do an action. But it is still a prohibition. So that means that the later passages—what he called the view we know today—the difference between a prohibition and a positive commandment is not the difference between action and omission. Now, that’s where he stops. So what is the difference? The difference is in the language of the verses, he says. Meaning, if the verse states it in positive language, it is a positive commandment, and if it says “do not stand idly by your neighbor’s blood,” “beware,” “lest,” and “do not,” then it is a prohibition. Okay? And there he stops. Now, he is right. Meaning, on the academic-scientific level he made the distinction, and it is a correct and important distinction. But now I need to ask myself: okay, but why is this called a prohibition and that called a positive commandment? Why did the Torah use positive language here and language of “beware,” “lest,” and “do not” there? And what is the connection between that and our simple intuition that here there is action and there there is non-action? Okay. Now, this kind of thinking is not generally accepted in the academic mode of analysis. Because usually, in academic analysis, they make the distinction, try to define the distinction, ask what the practical ramifications are, and that’s all. The practical ramifications here are very clear. There won’t be prohibitions that command me to act; there won’t be positive commandments that command me to refrain. That’s the practical difference. Fine—you found the practical ramifications, you found the passages, but the work has only begun. Now the question is: then why is this a prohibition and that a positive commandment? Or what, after all, is the difference between them? The language of the verse is not just language. If the verse expresses itself differently, then apparently there is a different idea behind it. Otherwise what?
Now, this is not something I can test with empirical tools. Let’s say I reached a conclusion about what the idea is—how would I test whether that conclusion is correct? I have no way. Because that conclusion, by definition, will fit whatever I want it to fit; that’s how I construct it. So now what can I examine under a microscope to see whether I was right or not? Can I check it against passages to see whether I was right or not? I can’t. And therefore this part of the work can no longer be considered part of the academic enterprise. But it is obvious that academia has done only half the work here. And if you do the second half—I’m not going to do it here now—but if you do the second half, then you understand that not only is there a good definition, or maybe not a good definition but a good distinction, between a prohibition and a positive commandment, but that it is actually very similar to the action-based distinction, even though it is not the same thing. Very similar to the action-based distinction, and therefore the action-based intuition is a correct intuition; it is worth following it. There is such an intuition, and it isn’t there for nothing; we should refine it a little. After refining it, you see that this really is the difference between a prohibition and a positive commandment. So here is an example—I really only sketched it very superficially—of some attempt not to dismiss his distinction, because there are people who immediately break out in a fever when they see earlier passages and later passages. As far as I’m concerned, I like it. A challenge. Again, if he is right, if he did it properly. There are studies that are not done properly, but if he did it properly, then there is no problem—he found a finding here. It is worth thinking about that finding. Thinking about that finding usually means thinking about what stands behind it, not what its characteristics are. That he will not do, and it also won’t be published in an academic journal when I write it. Because that’s not their field. What? Because the answer to that is ideological. I wouldn’t call it ideological; I would call it genuinely halakhic, or something like that. Right. And again, I have no criticism of this, because it’s obvious: this is the proper boundary of scientific tools, which very much narrow themselves so they can make progress. Without that they wouldn’t be able to make progress. We want to go on the safe side, to go with something scientific, something justiciable—yes, the key word in the world of the humanities is that the thing has to be justiciable. What does “justiciable” mean? You’re not allowed to write an article in favor of pluralism—that’s not legal. No, in favor of pluralism is allowed; against pluralism is not. But if you prove that Maimonides was against pluralism, that’s fine. Why? Because it’s justiciable. I can measure that against Maimonides’ statements and see whether you are right or not. But if you say one must not be a pluralist, what exactly am I supposed to do with that? That’s journalism, polemics. It’s not something you can measure against facts. So that’s not the humanities. Humanities. That’s not the scientific part; they don’t deal with it. No, I’m saying this now without irony, even though I usually say it ironically, but right now I mean it without irony. This really is the area to which scientific thought limits itself, and that is perfectly fine. But to see that as the whole picture—that creates the problems of Torah and science. To accept it and to see that it is partial, and therefore requires completion—that is the synthetic side of Torah and science. It means seeing the challenges, or the benefit, that you can derive from this combination of Torah and science. I really have to run, so please forgive me. Goodbye. Bye-bye. More power to you. Thank you very much.
All right, we’ll continue. In the previous lesson we dealt with the question of the relationship between Torah and science, and we saw the approach of Rabbi Kook, who sees science as a tool through which one can deepen our understanding of Torah. Today we want to look at a somewhat different angle, perhaps more critical toward the attempt to create a synthesis between these two worlds. Is it really possible to bridge the gap between empirical knowledge and religious faith? We’ll open with the words of the Maharal of Prague in Netiv HaTorah. The Maharal emphasizes that the Torah is a separate reality; it does not belong to this physical world.