חדש באתר: עוזר בינה מלאכותית המבוסס על כתביו ושיעוריו של הרב מיכאל אברהם

Conditions – Lesson 5

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

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

🔗 Link to the original lecture

🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI

Table of Contents

  • [0:01] Summary of the two mechanisms of stipulation
  • [1:34] A meta-halakhic look at changing reality
  • [3:33] Understanding the concept of legal effect in Jewish law
  • [10:43] Tosafot: penalty and injury to a slave awaiting a bill of emancipation
  • [20:03] Ownership of the body and ownership of the produce in a slave
  • [21:12] Existence of ownership of the body without monetary rights
  • [27:25] The Rogatchover: an owner’s liability for damage done by his property
  • [30:33] The resting of one’s animal on the Sabbath and halakhic implications
  • [32:47] Metaphysical connection and monetary implications
  • [36:08] The woman’s status between divorced and married
  • [40:07] Metaphysical legal effects and their halakhic impact
  • [44:30] Ontological doubt in betrothal
  • [48:20] Moving on to stipulating against what is written in the Torah
  • [52:36] The example of a get conditioned on eating pork
  • [56:07] A stipulation against what is written in the Torah—the stipulation is void

Summary

General Overview

The text presents two conceptions of the mechanism of stipulation in Jewish law: one conception understands a stipulation as applying a legal effect “conditionally,” while the second understands it as applying a full legal effect, after which a separate mechanism uproots it if the condition is fulfilled or not fulfilled. From this, a meta-halakhic conception is argued: legal effects and acquisitions are not merely legal conventions but changes in reality, and the laws reflect a metaphysical reality of connections. The main illustrations are built from the discussions of a slave awaiting a bill of emancipation, an owner’s liability in torts and the resting of one’s animal, and from there the possibility is explained of speaking about “two legal effects” that are seemingly contradictory in the case of a woman undergoing divorce or conditional betrothal. After the introduction to stipulations, the text moves to the next stage in the topic: stipulating against what is written in the Torah, through cases of ona’ah, food, clothing, and conjugal rights, and a condition involving eating pork in a get, and suggests that the problem is not “prohibition” but an attempt to create a partial legal effect that the Torah did not define.

The mechanisms of stipulation and full legal effect versus conditional legal effect

The text summarizes two understandings of stipulation: some understand stipulation as applying a legal effect conditionally, so that if something happens the legal effect takes hold, and if it does not happen it does not take hold, and this is the approach of Rabbenu Tam and the Ritva and others. The text presents another understanding, identified with my teacher, according to which stipulation is the application of a full legal effect, and afterward there is a mechanism whose role is to uproot the legal effect if something happens or does not happen. The text describes this mechanism in the language of “Rabbi Shlomo Fischer’s demons,” which can uproot the legal effect or dissipate, and loads this with the assumption that the legal effect is a real existing state, and only afterward does something act against it.

Legal effect, acquisition, and metaphysical connection in Jewish law

The text argues that Jewish law sees legal actions as changes in reality and not merely as social agreements, and therefore there are “facts” such as “this is yours” or “she is divorced.” The text asks what the meaning is of a “legal effect” such as the status of a married woman, a divorced woman, priestly gift status, or acquisition, and argues that this is not merely an alternative term for a collection of laws but an expression of a meta-halakhic or metaphysical connection. The claim is that this connection is the foundation of ownership and of legal effect, and the monetary rights are generally a result of it, but do not define it.

A slave awaiting a bill of emancipation: ownership of prohibition and ownership of the body without produce

The text brings Gittin 42b on the question whether a slave awaiting a bill of emancipation is subject to the thirty-shekel penalty or not, and explains that in a Canaanite slave there exist both monetary ownership and ownership of prohibition. The text describes a case in which the master renounces ownership of the slave, the monetary rights lapse, but the prohibitory status remains until a bill of emancipation is given, and therefore the slave is called one awaiting a bill of emancipation. The text quotes Tosafot: “Since the penalty goes to his master, injury too goes to his master, for what difference is there whether he killed him entirely or killed half of him,” and brings the Pnei Yehoshua’s question, which distinguishes between a fixed penalty, which is punishment, and injury, which is monetary compensation. It then explains that the focus is on “since the body still belongs to his master,” and the master remains the owner of the body even without produce. The text describes a personal argument over how to understand the Pnei Yehoshua, and brings a claim in the name of a representative maggid shiur, according to which “ownership of prohibition” is called ownership because ownership of the body remains, and only from that does it follow that the master alone can free him by a bill, and even though the monetary benefit was canceled by renunciation, the connection itself remains.

Ownership of the body and ownership of the produce as a framework for understanding ownership

The text explains the halakhic distinction between ownership of the body and ownership of the produce through the example of lending a hammer, and stresses that ownership of the body can exist even without produce. The text states that in the case of one awaiting a bill of emancipation there is ownership of the body without monetary rights, and therefore one may still say “he is his master,” and one who injures him pays his master. The text adds that there is no ownership of produce alone, and mentions the Taz on rental as a lone position, emphasizing that ownership refers to a tangible object and not to “possibilities of use,” and from this concludes that acquisition in Jewish law is first of all metaphysical and not a description of a set of rights.

Practical implications: damages by one’s property and the resting of one’s animal as obligations arising from connection

The text cites the Rogatchover (Tzofnat Pa’aneach, collected notes on Bava Kamma 17) that liability for damage done by an ox may arise from ownership itself and not from negligent guarding, and presents a practical difference regarding the burden of proof between different approaches attributed to later authorities, including the Pnei Yehoshua and the Chazon Ish. The text brings in the name of Rabbi Shlomo Fischer the idea that a person’s body is the person’s “periphery,” and therefore a person who causes damage is liable even under coercion, and parallels this to property as a more distant periphery whose liability can be avoided through proper guarding. The text adds a practical implication that ownership as connection would obligate even if rights were removed, and brings as a possible example an ox that is “mine in its body” even though its rights were renounced. The text brings the resting of one’s animal on the Sabbath as a Torah prohibition when an animal performs labor even apart from the prohibition of driving it, and recounts the story of Pinchas ben Yair’s donkey as a sign that a Jew’s animal “doesn’t work on the Sabbath,” in order to establish that a person’s periphery obligates him by virtue of the connection.

Benefit-prohibitions as a partial challenge to the description of connection

The text raises the point that one cannot prove the conception from the dispute over ownership of things from which benefit is prohibited, because one who says there is no ownership may identify ownership with rights of use, while one who says there is ownership can claim that the object is his and only he is forbidden to use it—“a lion is crouching upon it.” The text emphasizes that the topic of benefit-prohibitions requires separate discussion and is not a simple proof either way.

Rabbi Shimon Shkop: parallel legal effects in stipulations and ontological “doubt”

The text brings Rabbi Shimon Shkop on the question “what is her status during those days” in a divorce conditional on thirty days, and presents his claim that the woman is both betrothed and divorced simultaneously until the matter is decided at the end of the period. The text describes the reaction of students who saw this as a contradiction, and develops a distinction between opposite predicates and an object, in order to say that the contradiction exists at the level of normative implications but not at the level of legal effects as a charge of reality. The text depicts legal effects as “packs” on the woman’s back, and states that when there are two legal effects, opposing implications arise, but on the normative plane results are determined without contradiction through a ruling in which “positive law” prevails, such as the prohibition for a priest to marry a divorced woman on the one hand, versus the absence of such a prohibition for a married woman on the other.

The language of Rabbi Shimon Shkop and the “demon” mechanism in uprooting a legal effect

The text quotes Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s language: “Until the condition is fulfilled, she is doubtfully betrothed and divorced… faint betrothal and divorce… and when the condition is fulfilled, they will be completed entirely, and when it is not fulfilled they will be entirely nullified.” The text states that the word “doubt” in his language is not a doubt of lack of knowledge but a tenuous state of reality, similar to “betrothal not fit for intercourse,” in which there is not “one definite woman who was betrothed” but a parallel state. The text combines this with the conception of stipulation as taking full effect and only afterward being uprooted or finalized, and describes that when the condition is fulfilled, “the demon” dissipates and the legal effect becomes final.

Moving to the next framework: stipulating against what is written in the Torah and the stages of the topic

The text presents a four-stage plan: stipulation, stipulating against what is written in the Torah, stipulating against what is written in the Torah in monetary matters according to Rabbi Yehuda, and finally formulations in which one stipulates “about the person” and not “about the Torah.” The text states that it is finishing the introduction to stipulations and moving to the second stage, stipulating against what is written in the Torah, with examples from ona’ah and from betrothal on condition that there is no obligation of food, clothing, and conjugal rights.

Ona’ah and food, clothing, and conjugal rights: Rav and Shmuel versus Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda

The text brings the sugya: “One who says to his fellow, on condition that you have no claim of ona’ah against me—Rav said he still has a claim of ona’ah against him, and Shmuel said he does not,” and connects this to the baraita in Ketubot 56 on “Behold, you are betrothed to me on condition that you have no claim against me for food, clothing, and conjugal rights.” The text presents that according to Rabbi Meir the stipulation is void and the act stands because it is a stipulation against what is written in the Torah, while according to Rabbi Yehuda, “in a monetary matter his stipulation stands,” with a note that conjugal rights are disputed among the medieval authorities (Rishonim), but food and clothing are monetary. The text shows that the Gemara suggests linking Rav and Shmuel to the dispute between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda and later rejects that, as preparation for the next stages of the sugya.

Gittin 84: a condition of eating pork, not within one’s power to fulfill, and stipulating against the Torah

The text brings Gittin 84: “This is your get on condition that you eat pork.” Abaye says, “This is exactly the same” as something not within one’s power to fulfill, and Rava says, “It is possible that she will eat and be lashed.” The text notes that the Gemara challenges this from a baraita in which the condition takes effect both for terumah given to a non-priestly woman and wine for a nazirite woman, and resolves that Abaye interprets it in accordance with the Rabbis. The text emphasizes the Gemara’s question, “Let it be excluded because it is a stipulation against what is written in the Torah,” and brings that Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman learned from here that “stipulating against what is written in the Torah” is not identical with “not within one’s power to fulfill.”

Rav Adda son of Rav Ika and Ravina: what counts as uprooting the Torah

The text brings Rav Adda son of Rav Ika’s answer, which distinguishes between the case of “food, clothing, and conjugal rights, where he is uprooting” and “here, she is uprooting,” and explains that stipulating against the Torah is when the stipulator himself uproots the Torah’s obligation within the framework of the act, and not when the other side chooses to commit a transgression. The text brings Ravina’s attack: “Does she uproot anything other than to fulfill his condition?” and presents that the connection between the condition and the transgression prevents a full separation between the act and the uprooting of Torah law. The text brings Ravina’s answer, which distinguishes between definite uprooting, such as food, clothing, and conjugal rights, and a condition that does not compel—“it is not unavoidable that she eat,” but rather “let her not eat and not be divorced.”

Partial legal effect: stipulating against what is written in the Torah as inventing a legal effect the Torah did not define

The text suggests an understanding according to which “stipulating against what is written in the Torah” means an attempt to create a partial legal effect that the Torah did not define, such as “betrothal without food, clothing, and conjugal rights,” and not punishment for a transgression. The text compares this to Nazir 11: “I am hereby a nazirite only from wine,” which is not naziriteship because there is no such concept as half a naziriteship. It adds that when the condition concerns a side transgression, such as eating pork, the divorce itself is a complete divorce, and the prohibition is a separate matter that the woman herself will decide about. The text suggests that even Rav Adda son of Rav Ika can be interpreted this way, because the focus is whether the condition damages the definition of the legal effect itself or only attaches an external act.

Connection to the sugya of whether a prohibited act is effective and to the case of betrothal not fit for intercourse

The text points ahead to the question whether stipulating against what is written in the Torah is connected to the dispute of “if one acts, is it effective or not effective” at the beginning of Temurah—whether a forbidden act takes effect or does not take effect. The text strengthens the idea of an “undefined legal effect” through Tosafot regarding betrothal not fit for intercourse, which distinguishes between a priest who betroths a divorced woman, where the betrothal is complete and was done through a prohibition, and a case where the very act of betrothal itself creates a prohibition, and therefore according to Rava this is not an act of betrothal. The text compares this to “this is not severance” in a get with a perpetual condition or a get tied with a string, where an act that is supposed to sever cannot create an ongoing connection and still count as divorce.

Conclusion of the conceptual picture and the road ahead

The text concludes by defining the picture of “stipulating against what is written in the Torah” as a case where one seeks to apply a partial legal effect or a legal effect the Torah does not recognize, and not as a case where the mere prohibition of an external act nullifies the stipulation. The text returns the analysis to the understanding of stipulation as the application of a full legal effect from which the condition then uproots or finalizes, and notes that the continuation of the discussion will clarify why “when one stipulates against what is written in the Torah, his stipulation is void” and what the halakhic basis for that is.

Full Transcript

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In the previous lecture I more or less summed up the two mechanisms we saw regarding stipulations, and we saw that there are those who understand stipulation as basically applying a legal effect conditionally. Meaning, if something happens, I apply the legal effect; if something doesn’t happen, then I don’t apply the legal effect. And that’s Rabbenu Tam and the Ritva and others. There are those who learn, like my teacher, that stipulation means applying a full legal effect—not conditionally—and there is a mechanism whose purpose is to uproot the legal effect if something happens or doesn’t happen. And the claim, basically, was that what is created here is that the legal effect really has come into existence, and afterward something else has to uproot it. Obviously, the assumption at the base of this conception—and I said that in my opinion this is the simpler conception; the second conception is problematic, and I also explained why—according to this conception, what comes out is that the legal effect I apply is some kind of reality. And in that reality the woman is divorced or betrothed, or an acquisition has taken place, or whatever it may be, and alongside that I create Rabbi Shlomo Fischer’s demons, which can uproot the legal effect if something happened, and not uproot it if it didn’t happen. On this point I want to sharpen the picture a bit more by going a little deeper into the meaning of this picture. And I want to explain the meta-halakhic perspective that underlies this conception, and my claim is that Jewish law basically sees legal actions as some kind of changes in reality. That’s unlike other ordinary legal systems, which basically see legal actions and legal status as determinations, social conventions. We agree that you’re the owner, you’re not the owner—whatever we decide, that’s what will be. From the standpoint of Jewish law, that’s not so. From the standpoint of Jewish law, there are facts, and the facts are that this is yours, or she is divorced, or she is not divorced, and in order to change those facts you have to change reality. It’s not enough to make some agreement or other that here there is acquisition and there there isn’t acquisition. There’s something here that you could call metaphysical or meta-legal, some kind of reality that the legal laws merely reflect, basically, that reality. I want to illustrate some of these things a bit; they’ll also have implications for what follows. I’ll start perhaps with a claim—with a few—I want to talk a little about the concept of legal effect. It was one of the first articles I wrote. I want to talk a little about the concept of legal effect. When you hear that a woman has the legal status of a married woman, or the legal status of a divorced woman, or produce has the legal status of terumah, or a field or an object has a legal status of acquisition on it, what does that actually mean? On the face of it, it just sounds like a statement or a synonym for saying that this object is mine, this woman is divorced, betrothed, this grain is terumah, and so on. Meaning, there’s a collection of laws that apply to these objects, and we call that saying that these objects have such-and-such a legal effect on them. But I want to claim that in Jewish law at least, that isn’t the case. So I’ll begin perhaps with a Gemara in Gittin. The Gemara says on page 42b, the question is whether the law of the penalty applies to a slave awaiting a bill of emancipation. We have a Canaanite slave. A Canaanite slave basically—Gittin 42—

[Speaker B] page b. The Gemara

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] says as follows: They asked on page 42: A slave awaiting a bill of emancipation—they asked, does a slave awaiting a bill of emancipation have the penalty, or does he not have the penalty? What does that mean? We know that when there is a Canaanite slave—we’re talking only about a Canaanite slave, not a Hebrew slave—then his relationship to his master is made up of two parts, which in the language of the medieval and later authorities are called ownership of prohibition and monetary ownership. What does that mean? First of all, this slave is his master’s property; the master can make him do labor, whatever a slave acquires is acquired by his master, and so on. And second, this slave has a prohibitory status. He is obligated in commandments like a woman, he can marry a Canaanite maidservant, all kinds of things like that. No, a Canaanite maidservant applies also to a Hebrew slave. In any case, he has a prohibitory status. He is obligated in commandments like a woman, for our purposes here. Which is also a result of his being a slave. He’s basically half-Jewish, and there’s a discussion whether he is a diminished Jew or an upgraded non-Jew. Right? Obligated in commandments like a woman and exempt from commandments from which a woman is exempt. Those are two possibilities. Because for example, “You shall not round off the corners of your heads”—a woman is not exempt from that; it simply doesn’t apply to her. But with a slave it does apply. So if he is obligated in all commandments a woman is obligated in, since a woman is not obligated in that prohibition, then he also would not be obligated. But if he is exempt from commandments from which a woman is exempt, then there is no exemption for a woman from that prohibition, so he would no longer be exempt—he would be obligated. So that’s the practical difference. Rabbi Akiva Eiger says it’s a dispute between the Babylonian Talmud and the Jerusalem Talmud, and so on. In any event, a slave is in this kind of intermediate status, and that is a prohibitory status. Now there is a case where I renounce ownership of the slave. If I renounce ownership of the slave, then my monetary rights in the slave are gone. Okay? Now his prohibitory status remains. Because that does not lapse until I give him a bill of emancipation. When I give him a bill of emancipation, he basically becomes Jewish. But as long as I have not given him a bill of emancipation, his status—his prohibitory status—is that of a slave. But there are no monetary rights in him. Now this is called a slave awaiting a bill of emancipation. A slave whose master has renounced ownership of him is called one awaiting a bill of emancipation. So now the Gemara asks: Does he have the penalty or not? Right? What happens if my ox comes and kills this slave awaiting a bill of emancipation, this slave? Usually, if it kills a regular slave, then he gives thirty shekels to his master. That’s a penalty. Okay? But if this slave is one awaiting a bill of emancipation, then the Gemara asks: Does he have the penalty or not? Because after all, his master is not really his master anymore; he renounced ownership of him. So to whom do you pay the penalty? To the slave? The slave is dead. He has no heirs, because he is a slave. So there’s no one to pay. That’s what “does he have the penalty or not” means. “The Merciful One said: he shall give thirty shekels to his master, and this one is not a master.” Or perhaps since he still lacks a bill of emancipation, we do call him a master. He is still called a master. Why? Because he still hasn’t given a bill of emancipation. Now in what sense is he called a master if he has no rights at all in the slave? He has no proprietary rights whatsoever; it’s only the slave’s prohibitory status. In what sense am I still called his master? So look here at Tosafot. Maybe let’s read one more piece. “Come and hear”—later in the Gemara, the Gemara tries to resolve the issue. If he knocked out his tooth and blinded his eye—we’re talking about one awaiting a bill of emancipation—if he knocked out his tooth and blinded his eye, after all, a slave goes free through the twenty-four extremities. So he injured his extremities. And it says: He goes free through his tooth, and he gives him the value of his eye. And if you say he has the penalty and the penalty goes to his master—now, if someone else injures him, he gives it to the master; if the master himself injures him, should he give it to the slave himself? After all, he pays him for the value of his eye. Now if when others injure him the penalty goes to his master, right, then when the master himself injures him, does he have to pay the slave? Then obviously it should remain with him, right? That’s what the Gemara says. But it assumes that if others injure one awaiting a bill of emancipation, it goes to the master. So Tosafot say: Even though his earnings belong to himself—after all, the slave’s earnings are his own, he doesn’t belong monetarily to the master—so if you injure the slave, why in the world would you pay the master? Why does the Gemara assume you pay the master? The whole discussion of the Gemara is about the penalty, but injury certainly goes to the master. Why? He’s not really his master. So Tosafot say: Since the penalty goes to his master, injury too goes to his master, for what difference is there whether he killed him entirely or killed half of him? Meaning, since the penalty goes to his master, then injury also goes to his master. Because what difference does it make? The penalty is when he kills him, and injury is when he injures him. What’s the difference between killing him entirely and killing half of him? Injury is like killing half of him. Therefore it goes to his master. The Pnei Yehoshua asks on this—it was an argument I had with my maggid shiur in yeshiva many years ago. What? What? I think it resolves the Pnei Yehoshua. Why? What? Here, this Tosafot. Tosafot beginning with the words “if others injured him.” “And it is still difficult to me: Are these really comparable? What is this reasoning of ‘what difference is there whether he killed him entirely or half of him’? Granted, if he killed him entirely, the liability of thirty for a slave is a penalty, for even if he is worth only a shekel he gives thirty sela, and this is only by scriptural decree. If so, one may doubt that the Torah granted this penalty to the master, even though he no longer has any monetary right in this slave. Nevertheless, since he is still called a master with respect to the body, automatically he acquires the penalty by scriptural decree. But if he killed half of him, such as by injuring and blinding his eye, where the liability is the five forms of compensation, and all of them are actual monetary compensation according to all decisors except Maimonides, of blessed memory, who holds that damage and pain are a penalty—but still, damage is certainly monetary. If so, from where would the master acquire it, since he no longer has any monetary right? And even in the case of a full slave, strict law would dictate that one who injured him should give him the five forms of compensation, even humiliation, for after all he is your brother in commandments…” and he goes on—loss of work and so on. Do you understand the difficulty? He says like this: Tosafot compare injury inflicted on a slave awaiting emancipation to the penalty, because the penalty is when he is killed and injury is like killing half of him. He says, that’s not similar. When he is killed, the payment of thirty for a slave is a penalty. How do I know that? Because it’s a fixed sum; it doesn’t depend on how much the slave is worth. And the rule is that whenever the liability is a fixed sum, that is a penalty, not compensation. Now a penalty is punitive payment. Punitive payment is not compensation; it’s punishment. Now if it’s punishment, you want to punish the person whose ox killed the slave, right? The slave is dead. You can’t give the money to the slave. But you do want to punish him; he’s not paying the slave to compensate the slave, he’s paying because he must be punished, and the punishment is monetary punishment. So it makes a lot of sense: give the thirty for the slave to the master, because in any event he has to pay—not because you’re compensating the master for what happened to him. But injury payments are damage compensation. In damage compensation you have to compensate the one who was harmed. Who was harmed here? The master? He has no rights at all; he can’t make the slave work, he can’t do anything. Why should the master care if the slave lost an arm or an eye? It’s none of his business, and he suffered no loss from it. The one harmed is the slave, so you should pay the slave. How can you say, ‘What difference is there whether he killed him entirely or half of him’? “And it appears that in truth the Talmud here is not asking about loss of work, medical costs, humiliation, and pain, but only about damage, because since the body still belongs to the master, it seems to the Talmud that since Scripture revealed in the thirty shekels that it is his master’s, whenever he is called a master, the same applies to damage, and what difference is there whether he killed him entirely or half of him.” What is this thing? What is he saying here? Seemingly he just goes back to the very law he challenged and changes nothing. What, did you turn the question mark into an exclamation mark? Yes, if you stretch a question mark you turn it into an exclamation mark. What did you answer? After all, you explained to me that a penalty is not compensation and therefore it can be paid to the master, but injury is compensation. Who was harmed here? The slave was harmed, not the master. He no longer belongs to the master monetarily. So my claim is, I think what the Pnei Yehoshua means is this. He says, “In truth the Talmud here is not asking about loss of work, medical costs, humiliation, and pain, but only about damage, because since the body still belongs to the master.” What does he mean? The slave belongs to his master. Ah, he has no rights in the slave? That has no implications for the fact that he belongs to his master? Correct, it has no implications, but he is the master. He has ownership of the body without any produce whatsoever—meaning, he has no use, no benefit, he can derive nothing from the slave, but the slave’s body belongs to the master. What? It belongs. There is still a connection between them—that’s where I’m heading. Right, and then the claim is that this can exist even without my having any rights through which I can derive any benefit from the slave, any monetary benefit of any kind. And then what? Of course another assumption is needed here; that alone isn’t enough. You need another assumption, that injury payments are not compensation to the one who suffered, but compensation to the owner of the damaged object. And the owner of the damaged object, even in the case of one awaiting a bill of emancipation, is the master. The valuation—how much one pays—is based on the damage; you assess the slave, how much this damage is worth. But to whom do you pay—the recipient of the payment—is not necessarily the one who suffered, but the owner of the damaged object. Usually that’s the same person; the owner of the damaged object is the one who suffered. But in the case of one awaiting a bill of emancipation, it isn’t. The owner of the damaged object is the master, even though the one who suffered is the slave. The Pnei Yehoshua says that’s why the payment goes to his master. If you say the penalty goes to his master, then the injury also goes to his master. And why? Because the fact that the penalty goes to his master—after all, it says ‘he shall pay thirty shekels to his master’—and if you tell me that in this waiting case the penalty goes to his master, what does that prove? That his master is still his master even though he no longer has any rights. If that’s so, then injury too—what difference is there whether he killed him entirely or half of him? That’s the claim. So when I had this argument with my maggid shiur over how to understand this Pnei Yehoshua, we went to a kind of judicial hearing before another maggid shiur, and he represented me. Right? He claimed something else—or he didn’t understand, but he wouldn’t accept what I just said. So he represented me as my defense attorney before the other maggid shiur. He said to him, he asked him: Why is it that in the language of the medieval and later authorities, in the case of one awaiting a bill of emancipation, it is said that the master has in him ownership of prohibition? Or in any slave, I have monetary ownership and ownership of prohibition. Why are both called ownership? There is monetary ownership and there is prohibitory status. Why call it ownership of prohibition? And his claim was—he represented me—his claim was that it’s called ownership of prohibition because basically the point is that once I renounced ownership of the slave, I renounced all the rights I have in the slave, but the slave’s body remained mine just as before, and therefore I still have ownership of the body. It’s just that this ownership of the body has no monetary implications whatsoever. But I’m still the master. It has prohibitory implications. So the point is not the prohibitory implications; the point is what generates the prohibitory implications. I have ownership of his body, and therefore he is still a slave. And the proof is: Who can release him from the prohibitory status of a slave? Only I can. If I give him a bill, then he goes free and becomes a free Jewish man. If I do not give him a bill—it depends on me. If I give him the bill, he goes free; if not, then not. If

[Speaker C] so, then I renounced ownership of him.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I renounced ownership of him. Nothing belongs to me, I can’t make him work, what he acquires is not mine, I have no monetary rights in the slave at all. So then what exactly is he saying here? That when I say I have monetary ownership and ownership of prohibition in a slave—in a regular slave, not one awaiting emancipation—that basically means, you know, in Jewish law we distinguish between ownership of the body and ownership of the produce. Ownership of the body means that the thing itself belongs to me. Ownership of the produce means the rights, or what I can derive from the thing. For example, if I lend someone a hammer, then simply speaking the hammer—the body of the hammer itself—still belongs to me, but the usage rights belong to the borrower. The hammer is his to use, at least for the period for which I gave it to him. In principle I can also sell him the ownership of the produce and keep the body for myself. Meaning that the produce I have in a thing, in a field or in an object, are a result of the fact that I have ownership of the body. But ownership of the body is not contingent on my having produce. There can be a situation where I have ownership of the body without rights, without produce in the thing, and still ownership of the body is mine. And that’s the situation in one awaiting a bill of emancipation. When I renounce ownership of the slave, I no longer have monetary rights in him, but that does not mean ownership of the body has lapsed. Ownership of the body remains intact. And why? This is what I said before, and that’s what’s written here. What’s written here is that when I say I am the owner of the slave, that is not merely shorthand for saying that I have a collection of monetary rights in him. That’s how people usually understand it. What does it mean to be an owner? That I can use him, others may not use him, what he acquires belongs to me—in other words, all the monetary rights that exist regarding the slave belong to me. That is the meaning of saying I am the owner of the slave. The conception of Jewish law is not like that. “I am the owner of the slave” means there is a meta-halakhic or metaphysical connection between me and the slave. As a result of that connection, I usually also have monetary rights in the slave. But even if I cancel the monetary rights, even if I renounce ownership of the slave, the connection itself remains. And here is the practical difference: one who injures him must pay me. One who kills him, the penalty goes to me, because I am still the master. Even though this is ownership that gives me no monetary right at all, nothing. So what is the meaning of ownership? If you asked someone today whether I can be the owner of something without having any monetary right regarding it, the answer would be no. In what sense are you the owner? Owner means the one to whom the rights belong. That’s what it means to be an owner. So how can it be that I am an owner without having any rights? The answer is that in the halakhic conception, unlike the common legal conception, when I say that I own something, I am basically claiming that there is a metaphysical connection between me and it. That connection usually has legal implications, and the implication is that I have monetary rights. But sometimes the implications will not be there. When I renounce ownership of the slave, the connection between me and him does not lapse until I give him a bill of emancipation. And then of course the ownership of prohibition also lapses. Is the connection considered a legal action?

[Speaker B] What? Is the connection considered a legal action?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean by legal action? I didn’t understand.

[Speaker B] In giving a bill of emancipation,

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] yes, the bill cancels

[Speaker B] the ownership connection?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In the regular case, not the waiting case, if I give the bill, once I’m not the owner of the body, then the rights are no longer mine either. It severs the connection between me and the slave, and automatically the rights are no longer mine. Meaning, it cannot be that I have rights without having ownership of the body. But it can be that I have ownership of the body without rights. By the way, rights without ownership of the body—ownership of produce alone—really does not exist in Jewish law. What exists is body-for-produce. There has to be something in the body from which the rights, the produce, are derived. There is no such thing as ownership of produce alone. There is a Taz regarding rental who holds that rental is ownership of produce, but that too is an isolated position. Usually when people speak about ownership of produce, they mean ownership of the body for produce. Produce is something with no substance. You can’t be the owner of produce, of uses. What does it mean to own uses? Ownership has to be of something tangible, of an object, not of possibilities of use. There can be a contract in which you transfer to me permission to use, but I can’t be the owner of the uses; there is no ownership of uses. Okay? So what this basically means is that the concept of acquisition in Jewish law is first of all metaphysical. Once I have a metaphysical connection, that gives me rights. The implication is that sometimes I can cancel the rights, renounce ownership of the slave, and still I am called the slave’s master. Now the Rogatchover, in Bava Kamma on page 17, Tzofnat Pa’aneach, collected notes on the tractates, brings there two examples for this conception. What? What? Yes, but where is the implication? You have to understand practical differences. After all, every acquisition is like this; I’m looking for practical differences. Meaning, where will I see this halakhically? So the fact that you have this philosophy or that philosophy—those are two philosophical conceptions. The question is whether there is a fundamental practical difference between them. So he wants to claim two things. First, when my ox damages someone else’s property, I am liable to pay. And there is a well-known conceptual inquiry among the later authorities: Why am I liable to pay? Am I liable because I was negligent in guarding it? Is it liability for negligence in guarding, so I have to pay? Or no: the very fact that this ox is mine—if it caused damage, payment falls on me. A forewarned ox? Any ox. Now once I guarded it properly, then I have an exemption claim. But first of all, in principle, if it caused damage, that itself obligates me. Now we need to discuss if it’s a forewarned ox, this level of guarding; if it’s an innocuous ox, that level of guarding—but those are already exemption claims. Meaning, if I claim I guarded it properly, then maybe I can be exempted. But the liability itself does not arise from my negligence in guarding; it arises from the very fact that I am the owner of the ox. If I was not negligent, I can claim that I’m exempt; that’s a claim to exempt me. All right? A practical difference, for example, if my ox damaged your ox—everyone has witnesses that my ox damaged your ox—but I claim that I guarded it properly, and you claim I didn’t. So the later authorities say this is a dispute between the Pnei Yehoshua and the Chazon Ish. The later authorities claim the dispute depends on this. Meaning, if the very fact that my ox caused damage obligates me, and when I claim that I guarded it properly I am trying to exempt myself, then the burden of proof is on me. Prove that you guarded it properly, because fundamentally you are liable. You want to be exempt? Bring proof that we should exempt you. But if the liability is because you were negligent, then you bring proof that I was negligent—one who seeks to extract money from another bears the burden of proof. If you want me to pay you, then bring proof that I was negligent. That’s one practical difference; you can discuss that practical difference, but just to sharpen the point, that’s enough for our purposes. So the Rogatchover says: What do we see here? Why should the fact that my ox caused damage obligate me regardless of whether I was negligent? Because if there is a connection between me and the ox, then the acts of the ox obligate me. Yes, I once heard from Rabbi Shlomo Fischer—he says it’s written briefly in Beit Yishai. He says that even in the case of a person who causes damage—after all, a person who causes damage is liable even under coercion. Now even a person who causes damage—what is the person? Who is the person? The person is not his body. The person is his soul. And if the person is asleep, the one who caused damage is his body, not his soul. So why is he liable? A person who causes damage is liable even under coercion. Someone who fell asleep and a stone from his lap fell and caused damage—the Gemara in Bava Kamma says he is liable. A person who causes damage is liable even under coercion; a person is always forewarned. Now this is my body—what do you want from me? Because my body is my periphery; it’s not me. I am my soul, my life-force. The body is a kind of periphery for whose actions I am responsible. Okay? Property is also a periphery for whose actions I am responsible. The difference is that my body is a closer periphery, so for that I’m liable even if I was under coercion. Property is a more distant periphery; there I have responsibility, but if I guarded it properly and this happened under coercion, then I’m exempted. But still, the basis of the liability is simply that the property is my periphery. Okay? So what does that basically mean? That it has nothing to do at all with the rights I have in the thing, right? The very fact that it is my property, that I own it, means I am responsible for what it does. If it does something, I have to pay. The Rogatchover says: here we see that the connection of ownership in Jewish law is a metaphysical connection. It is not tied to monetary rights. A practical difference: if there were an ox that is mine in its body, but I renounced all my rights in it, as with one awaiting a bill of emancipation, right, I would still be liable for its damages. I would still be liable for its damages. And similarly, a practical difference for example if I gave the ox—I lent the ox, or gave it to someone for safekeeping, and the ox caused damage. Okay? Then they obligate the guardian, not me. Okay? But the question is why. Some say they don’t obligate me because it’s basically not mine; as far as uses go, it belongs to the guardian. Some say no, you have an exemption because the guardian took it upon himself; fundamentally, you are the one who is liable. Maimonides writes that you really are liable, but there’s a claim that this is a scribal error, there’s some issue there, anyway, in the Kesef Mishneh.

[Speaker C] It’s all the same thing. What difference does it make?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Whether it caused damage, or killed a person—all the liabilities of an ox—it makes no difference. So what? They kill the ox? Yes, why not? The Rogatchover’s claim is that ownership is basically first of all a metaphysical connection, regardless of monetary rights. And the proof is that it also has implications unrelated to monetary rights: my liability to pay when it causes damage. Another implication he brings there is the resting of one’s animal. With the resting of one’s animal on the Sabbath, people aren’t so familiar with this law, but when my animal violates a prohibition on the Sabbath—when it does prohibited labor on the Sabbath—I have violated a Torah prohibition. Not when I plow by means of the animal—that’s something else; that’s called driving an animal, when I do an action by means of the animal. No, here with the resting of one’s animal, the animal goes and carries an object from a private domain to a public domain, independently of me, and I have violated a Torah prohibition. This is called the resting of one’s animal. Okay? Regardless of whether it did my work or not. There are some disputes among the medieval authorities here, some of whom connect these things to driving the animal and some not, but certainly there are medieval authorities—and I think that’s the plain sense of the Gemara—that it is completely detached. Why? Right, it’s Pinchas ben Yair’s donkey, in the famous story where he sold it to a non-Jew, and the donkey refused to work on the Sabbath. So the non-Jew came to Pinchas ben Yair and said: What kind of donkey did you sell me? So he said to the donkey: You’re released, don’t worry, you belong to him, you can work on the Sabbath. So the donkey understood that when it belonged to a Jew it doesn’t work on the Sabbath. Understood—aggadic story, but that’s what it’s coming to say.

[Speaker B] I don’t remember. We’d have to look it up. It appears somewhere in the Gemara.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So if we understand the requirement that one’s animal rest in this way, then what does that actually mean? It means that when my animal does labor on the Sabbath, I have violated a Torah-level prohibition. Why? Because basically, just as my own body does labor on the Sabbath, that is my periphery; this is a more distant periphery, but it is still my periphery. Therefore, the requirement that one’s animal rest is not a prohibition punishable by stoning; it is a Torah prohibition, but not one punishable by stoning—like a Torah-level rabbinic-rest-type prohibition for those who claim such a category exists, or kiddush, havdalah, whatever; there are Torah laws beyond the prohibition of labor on the Sabbath. Okay? So the requirement that one’s animal rest is also part of the issue. It is a Torah prohibition, not a liability to stoning. So what does that mean? That when my periphery desecrates the Sabbath, it is as though I desecrated the Sabbath.

And if I come back to our topic, then this is really the claim. The claim is that when I own something, first of all that means there is a metaphysical bond between me and it. That bond has various implications. Usually it also has monetary implications. If I renounced the monetary implications, the bond still remains, until I sever that too—whether through a bill of divorce, or by renouncing ownership of the object itself, or whatever it may be—and then there will be implications in the realm of prohibition and so on.

Now, maybe I’ll sharpen this a bit more. Why can’t I prove this from items from which benefit is prohibited? There is a dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim) over whether, when I have something of mine from which I am forbidden to derive benefit—say, orlah, fruit from the first three years, fruit that grew in my field, in my orchard—those orlah fruits are forbidden for me to benefit from. The question is whether they belong to me. So there is a dispute among the medieval authorities (Rishonim): is there ownership over things from which benefit is prohibited?

On the face of it, that also reflects what I’m saying here, because according to what I’m saying, the moment you have no possible use of something, you can no longer be its owner. But there the situation is actually the opposite. Because the one who says that there is ownership over things from which benefit is prohibited—wait, the one who says there is no ownership over things from which benefit is prohibited—what is he really saying? That if you do not have usage rights, then there is no ownership. He identifies ownership with usage rights, unlike what I said before. And the one who says there is ownership over things from which benefit is prohibited—exactly, no, and that does not contradict, but it also does not necessarily support what I said before. Because it could be that the rights are still yours; you’re just forbidden to make use of them. Pork is also forbidden for me to eat—so does that mean it is not mine? The Torah forbids it; “a lion crouches upon it,” yes, a lion is crouching on it—the Torah does not let me approach the thing. It is mine, but it is mine from the perspective of monetary law. From the standpoint of ownership, it is mine; there is just a prohibition against making use of it. So the discussion of ownership over things from which benefit is prohibited actually somewhat challenges the conception I’m speaking about here. Fine, for that we’d have to get deeper into the topic of prohibited benefit; I won’t go into that here. What?

[Speaker C] A full Talmudic discussion on one side.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] On the other hand, that certainly isn’t right. And we do not multiply disputes unnecessarily. You don’t create disputes beyond what you have to. So if according to one position it is clearly not correct, and according to the second position it is open-ended, it is reasonable to say that even according to the second position it is not correct, because why create a dispute between them on a point we don’t have to. Okay? Fine, that’s a different issue.

In any case, I want to bring an interesting different implication of this. Rabbi Shimon Shkop asks: what is the status of a woman when I divorce a woman conditionally, say to take effect in 30 days? What is the woman’s status during the interim period? This already starts in the Mishnah: “what is she during those days?” It doesn’t matter right now. Rabbi Shimon Shkop claims that in that situation the woman is married and divorced simultaneously. She is both a married woman and a divorcee. Until at the end of the 30 days there is some collapse of the wave function, yes? There is some decision whether she is divorced or a married woman.

Once I taught this topic in Yeruham, this issue of “what is she during those days,” and I told them this Rabbi Shimon. So they said to me: what do you mean she is both a married woman and a divorcee? If she is a married woman then she is not divorced; if she is divorced then she is not a married woman. What, is she both triangular and circular? These are two contradictory things. How can you say such a thing?

For me, that comment was really illuminating, because it had not even occurred to me that there was any problem here. I said it as though it were obvious and intended to move on in the lecture. And then they stop me: wait, something here doesn’t make sense. You’re saying she is both a married woman and a divorcee at the same time? What does that mean, both a married woman and a divorcee? If she is a married woman, she isn’t divorced; if she is divorced, she isn’t a married woman. “Divorcee” means someone who is not a married woman. So what, she is both a married woman and not a married woman simultaneously? How can you say such a thing? And what was more troubling was: how could it be that I myself didn’t notice this? You get too used to saying things, and you don’t think that what you’re saying is actually very problematic.

Then I thought about it there for a bit, and the penny dropped, following which I wrote that article on legal/metaphysical statuses. I told them: I have a good friend whom I once came to with a question. I asked him: is there anything that has no opposite? I couldn’t find one; I looked for something that has no opposite. I found nothing. He looks at me and says: what do you mean? A dove has no opposite. What is the opposite of a dove? Or a chair, I don’t know, a floor. What’s the opposite of… are there not plenty of things that have no opposite?

And again I asked myself: wait, there are so many things, and I couldn’t find even one example—how can that be? Then I realized that I was looking for a property that has no opposite. Objects do not have opposites. Opposition is a relation between properties, not between objects. That is to say, salty is the opposite of sweet. Sugar is not the opposite of salt. Sugar and salt are just two things; they are not opposites. They have opposite properties. So a relation of opposition is a relation between properties, not between entities. Okay?

Suppose I say that a dish is both completely salty and completely sweet. It could have both saltiness and sweetness in it, but a dish that is both completely salty and completely sweet—that is an internal contradiction. It cannot be. But a dish that contains both salt and sugar—there is no problem with that, right? So in fact opposition is a relation between properties, not between entities.

So if that is the case, let’s return to Rabbi Shimon Shkop. When Rabbi Shimon Shkop says that a woman is both a married woman and a divorcee, clearly you cannot say that she is both a married woman and a divorcee. But you can say that the legal/metaphysical status of a married woman and the legal/metaphysical status of a divorcee both apply to her simultaneously. Because to say that the status of a married woman and the status of a divorcee both apply to her—that is a statement about a fact; it is not a legal norm. There is a metaphysical bond of divorcee and a metaphysical bond of married woman. So yes, think of these legal statuses as a kind of backpack that the woman carries on her back. There are two kinds of backpacks: a divorcee backpack and a married-woman backpack. Two backpacks.

Now if each such backpack appears on its own, we know what the implications are. Right? If she is a married woman, all the rules apply—whom she is permitted to, whom she is forbidden to, what must be done, and so on. If she is a divorcee, again we know: forbidden to a priest, permitted otherwise, and so on. We know everything. What happens when she has both backpacks on her? When she has both backpacks on her, there are implications that point in opposite directions. Then you have to decide what the law will be on the normative level—what law will apply to this woman.

Rabbi Shimon Shkop defines that situation as a doubt: she is in doubt a married woman, in doubt a divorcee. But clearly it is not a doubt, and he also does not mean doubt. It is both this and that. Rather, not “in doubt a married woman, in doubt a divorcee”; she is both this and that. From the side of the divorcee within her, she is forbidden to a priest; from the side of the married woman within her, after the husband dies she would be permitted to a priest. Okay? So in terms of implications she will be forbidden to a priest. Why? Because a divorcee is forbidden to a priest; a married woman is not “required” for a priest—there is simply no prohibition. Wherever there is a positive rule and a negative rule, the positive rule always prevails. That is to say, if she is forbidden to a priest from one side and permitted to a priest from the other side, in the bottom line she is forbidden to him. Forbidden for certain, not out of doubt. She is certainly forbidden. If there were a doubt about this, it would not be a double doubt; it would be one doubt. Yes? Or if this were, for example, a rabbinic law—if this combination were in a rabbinic law—it would still be prohibited, even though in a rabbinic doubt we generally rule leniently. Because this is not a doubt; it is both this and that. Okay?

But there is no problem at all on the normative legal level in determining the consequence. The consequence will always be the positive one. The negative consequence is canceled in the face of the positive consequence. Therefore, on the normative level, when you ask me whether she is permitted to a priest or forbidden to a priest, the answer is: she is forbidden to a priest, from the side of the divorcee within her. All right? You ask me whether she is forbidden to a High Priest as a widow? The answer is: she is also forbidden to a High Priest. Because as a widow she is forbidden to a High Priest, and as a divorcee she is also forbidden to him; that is obvious. Okay?

So therefore, if you ask whether she is permitted to the world, after all maybe she is a divorcee and maybe a married woman—the answer is no, she is forbidden to the world from the side of the married woman within her. As a divorcee she would be permitted, but from the side of the married woman within her she is forbidden to the world. So there is no problem at all on the normative legal plane in determining what her status is.

So notice what we got here. We got that it is possible to say of a woman that she is both a married woman and a divorcee simultaneously. Because when I say that, I am not speaking about the legal implications; I am speaking about the metaphysical state. What legal/metaphysical statuses are on her back? On her back she has the status of a divorcee and the status of a married woman. Both exist. You ask me what the implications are? In the implications there cannot be a contradiction. It cannot be that she is both permitted to a priest and forbidden to a priest; there is no such thing. But in the implications, indeed, no contradiction will arise. There will always be one implication that is dominant, that swallows the recessive implication. Okay? And then she will be forbidden to a priest, forbidden to the world, and so on. No problem at all.

That is really the meaning. Now, you can say this only if I understand that the laws in Jewish law are the result of a metaphysical bond, of a legal status that exists in reality. Because if to say that “the status of a married woman applies to this woman” is merely shorthand for the set of laws that pertain to her, and there is no statement here about reality, then you cannot say that a woman is both a married woman and a divorcee. But if I say that a woman is both a married woman and a divorcee, then I have said that both statuses apply to her. Now in terms of the halakhic implications, you do the accounting for each implication and see what it means. Each implication is a separate discussion. It could be that for some implications we look at her as a married woman; for other implications we look at her as a divorcee.

No, no. Rabbi Shimon Shkop is also aware of that kind of doubt. In other places we see, for example, in the case of betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse. Betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse: I give a perutah to a father and I say to him, “One of your two daughters is betrothed to me,” and I did not specify which one. So there is a doubt, yes, there is a doubt. Now what happens? Yes, exactly, this is an ontological doubt, really. Why? Because in this case there is not one woman who is betrothed to me and I just don’t know who she is while the Holy One, blessed be He, knows. No. Neither of them is the one who is betrothed to me. Each of them is betrothed to me in some fainter sense. But both of them are betrothed to me simultaneously in some quantum-like, faint way. Okay?

And Rabbi Shimon stands on this point, and therefore he argues: this is not a doubt; he calls it a certainty-doubt and not a doubtful-certainty, to use the yeshiva language. But this is what it is. It is not a doubt in the ordinary sense. A doubt in the ordinary sense is when I do not know; I lack information and the Holy One, blessed be He, knows. But here the doubt is in reality itself; even the Holy One, blessed be He, does not “know” what the truth is. Yes, here too: is she divorced or a married woman? Even the Holy One, blessed be He, cannot tell you whether she is divorced or a married woman. It is not that you don’t know whether it is this or that. For the time being, she is both this and that. Okay? That is the meaning.

And that is a very clear implication of the conception I mentioned before: that Jewish law sees halakhic determinations, halakhic norms, as an expression or reflection of a metaphysical state. But it begins on the metaphysical plane.

Let me show you this in Rabbi Shimon’s own words: “Rather, since he wants that if the condition is fulfilled she will be betrothed from now, and conversely she will be as an unmarried woman, he thus wants that from now until the fulfillment of the condition she should be in a state of doubtful betrothal and divorce. And regarding any doubt, whenever one acts from the outset on the side of doubt—whether acquisition or right or creating a prohibition—in such a way that the act is on the side of doubt, accordingly the meaning of the condition that creates betrothal or divorce from now is that until fulfillment there are weak betrothal and divorce, as is the law in a doubt; and when the condition is fulfilled they become complete, and when it is not fulfilled they are nullified entirely.”

You see? He does not speak—he calls it a doubt, but it is not a doubt. It is weak betrothal, because she is both a married woman and a divorcee simultaneously. So there is weak betrothal, which gets determined in the end. If the condition is fulfilled, she becomes fully divorced; if the condition is not fulfilled, then she becomes fully betrothed. But it is not a doubt. It is not a situation where—he calls it a doubt, but he does not really mean doubt.

What this means for our purposes is basically that the concept of condition, at least according to Ri, and Rabbi Shimon certainly follows him—I brought Rabbi Shimon at the beginning of the booklet on conditions, together with all the medieval authorities (Rishonim) he cites there; by the way, they all seem to go in the direction of Ri. In Maimonides there is some contradiction, as we saw, but in principle they all go in the direction of Ri: that the concept of condition is the application of a completely metaphysical status, not just hypothetically. Afterward comes the “demon” of Rabbi Shlomo Fischer and uproots the status if the condition is not fulfilled; and if it is fulfilled, then the demon itself dissipates and disappears and the status becomes finalized—spelled with a tet, yes? Meaning: the status is completed. And that is precisely the reflection of that same metaphysical conception that we see here: that one who conditionally divorces a woman has in fact created a situation in which she is both betrothed and divorced; both statuses are resting on the woman. You created a metaphysical situation here, and the condition basically causes it to collapse either in this direction or in that direction. That is Rabbi Shimon’s formulation of Rabbi Shlomo Fischer’s demon. Okay, that is really the claim.

Up to here, with this I have finished the introduction to matters of conditions. Now I want to move on to stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. I remind you of the framework, the outline. The order of the discussion is: first we learned a bit what a condition is, what the mechanisms of condition are. Now I move to stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah—why one cannot stipulate contrary to what is written in the Torah. In the third stage I will discuss what happens when you stipulate contrary to what is written in the Torah in monetary matters, where according to Rabbi Yehuda the condition stands even though you are stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. And in the fourth stage I will discuss what happens when you stipulate contrary to what is written in the Torah in a formulation that is not against the Torah but against the person, in monetary and non-monetary matters—we’ll have to examine what happens there. So these are four stages. We are now moving to the second stage. Up to now I finished the first stage.

So in the second stage we are discussing stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. And regarding stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah, we saw the Talmudic discussion in Ketubot 56; let me recall it for a moment. Ah, no—before the Talmudic discussion in Ketubot, first there is the Talmudic discussion in our chapter; that is the reason we are dealing with all this. “It was stated: one who says to his fellow, ‘On condition that you have no claim of overreaching against me’—Rav said: he still has a claim of overreaching against him, and Shmuel said: he has no claim of overreaching against him.”

So let me just remind you: here we turn to the Talmudic discussion in Ketubot. The Talmudic discussion in Ketubot basically says as follows: One who betroths a woman on condition that she has no claim against him for food, clothing, and conjugal rights—according to Rabbi Meir, she is betrothed and she does have a claim against him for food, clothing, and conjugal rights; the condition is void and the act stands, because he stipulated contrary to what is written in the Torah. According to Rabbi Yehuda—because if she is betrothed, and she has no claim, and he has no obligation toward her for food, clothing, and conjugal rights—because in a monetary matter, his condition stands. Conjugal rights are a matter disputed among the medieval authorities (Rishonim), but food and clothing, which are monetary obligations—you can do that, and the condition stands. The act stands and the condition stands according to Rabbi Yehuda. What? No, no, he is not violating a prohibition; he is stipulating that way, and she can refuse if she wants.

So that dispute basically assumes that one cannot stipulate contrary to what is written in the Torah. Rabbi Yehuda only argues that since this is a monetary matter, you can; but Rabbi Meir says there is no difference, and therefore you cannot. That is to say, for our purposes at the moment I am setting aside the fact that this is a monetary matter; for our purposes, this is the example of stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. Okay? Someone who stipulates: “on condition that you have no claim against me for food, clothing, and conjugal rights,” like “on condition that you have no claim against me for overreaching,” and so on.

Now the Talmudic discussion here on 51a says: “It was stated: one who says to his fellow, ‘On condition that you have no claim of overreaching against me,’ Rav said: he still has a claim of overreaching against him, and Shmuel said: he has no claim of overreaching against him.” Again, this is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah, right? Why did Rav say he still has a claim of overreaching and Shmuel say he does not? Because he is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah, and in a monetary matter his condition stands, so the transaction stands and there is no claim of overreaching—exactly what he wanted. Rav says he does have a claim of overreaching—why? Because Rav holds that even though this is a monetary matter, one cannot stipulate contrary to what is written in the Torah, and therefore what? The condition is void and the act stands. What does that mean? The sale stands, but the condition that there be no overreaching is void; there is overreaching. Okay?

The Talmudic discussion says: shall we say that Rav speaks like Rabbi Meir and Shmuel like Rabbi Yehuda? For it was taught: One says to a woman, “Behold, you are betrothed to me on condition that you have no claim against me for food, clothing, and conjugal rights”—behold, she is betrothed and his condition is void; these are the words of Rabbi Meir. Rabbi Yehuda says: in a monetary matter his condition stands. On the face of it, they are disputing according to the tannaitic dispute of Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda. Later the Talmudic discussion rejects this, and that takes us into the fourth stage of the topic, which we will yet get to. Okay? But this is the case of stipulating contrary to what is written, another case of stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah.

Before I go on, I want to sharpen the case further—what exactly are we talking about when we talk about stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. The Talmudic discussion in Gittin 84 says as follows: “They raised a question: ‘This is your bill of divorce on condition that you eat pork’—what is the law?” On the face of it, this is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. “This is your bill of divorce on condition that you eat pork.” Abaye said: it is the same thing. Rava said: it is possible that she will eat and be flogged. What does that mean?

The context of the discussion there is a matter that is not in her power to fulfill. Remember? We saw the discussion, we talked about it. That is, we didn’t actually see it there, but we did discuss the issue: someone who stipulates “on condition that you ascend to the sky,” okay? “That you dive into the ocean,” I don’t know—things that cannot be done. Okay? So what happens? A matter not in her power to fulfill—the condition is void and the act stands. That is one of the laws of conditions: it has to be something in one’s power to fulfill. That is the context of the discussion.

Now the Talmudic discussion says: what about “this is your bill of divorce on condition that you eat pork”? Abaye said: it is the same; it is the same as a matter not in her power to fulfill. Pork is prohibited, so it is not in her power to fulfill; it is the same thing, and therefore the condition is void and the act stands. Rava said: not so; it is in her power to fulfill—it is possible for her to eat the pork and be flogged. So it is not correct that this is a condition not in her power to fulfill. Okay? That is their dispute.

The Talmudic discussion asks: they raised an objection: “This is your bill of divorce on condition that you eat pork; if she was a non-priestly woman, on condition that you eat terumah; if she was a nazirite, on condition that you drink wine—if the condition was fulfilled, this is a valid bill of divorce, and if not, it is not a bill of divorce.” So what do we see? That such a condition can be made. According to Rava this is fine, why? Because Rava said that such a condition really does stand. For Abaye it is difficult. Abaye would say to you: did you think this is according to everyone? This follows the Rabbis. It is a tannaitic dispute, never mind; it follows the tanna with whom I did not agree. Fine?

The Talmudic discussion asks: but let it be disqualified because it is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah, and anyone who stipulates contrary to what is written in the Torah—his condition is void. What does the Talmudic discussion mean here? After all, this is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah, right? So the condition should be void. Against whom is the objection directed? Against Rava and against Abaye? Therefore also against Abaye. After all, you, Abaye, say it is not a valid condition because it is not in her power to fulfill. Leave that aside—agree with Rava that it is in her power to fulfill. Not to fulfill? Because it is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah, the condition is void—not because it is not in her power to fulfill.

If you remember, in Kovetz Shiurim, Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman brought from this Talmudic discussion a proof that stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah is not due to its being beyond her power to fulfill. Remember Rabbenu Tam and Ritva, who ask why the condition is void and the act stands when one says “on condition that you have no claim against me for food, clothing, and conjugal rights”? He says there that this is like empty talk because it is not in her power to fulfill. Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman challenges them from this Talmudic discussion here. Here we see that “not in her power to fulfill” and “stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah” are two separate categories. Fine, we brought this when I discussed the dispute with Bari and Rabbenu Tam and Ritva.

So what the Talmudic discussion says here is basically that this is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah; therefore the condition should be void here. The Talmudic discussion says: no. And again, no—both according to Abaye and according to Rava. This is not the category of stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. Regarding whether it is in her power to fulfill, that is the dispute between Abaye and Rava, but it is clear that this is not the category of stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. Why? The Talmudic discussion gives two answers.

Rav Ada son of Rav Ika said: when we say that one who stipulates contrary to what is written in the Torah has a void condition, that is in a case such as food, clothing, and conjugal rights, where he is uprooting it. But here, she is uprooting it. When I stipulate contrary to what is written in the Torah and I say to her, “Behold, you are betrothed to me on condition that you have no claim against me for food, clothing, and conjugal rights,” who is uprooting what is written in the Torah? I, the one making the stipulation. I want to create betrothal without food, clothing, and conjugal rights, but the Torah says that betrothal must include food, clothing, and conjugal rights. So who uprooted what is written in the Torah? I did; it has nothing to do with the woman. Such a condition, where I uproot what is written in the Torah, is void; you cannot make such a condition. But here, in the case of “This is your bill of divorce on condition that you eat pork,” she is the one uprooting it. Did I tell her to eat pork? I only said to her: if you eat—if you eat pork, there will not be a divorce; if you do not eat pork, there will be a divorce. Now you decide whether to eat pork or not. So who uprooted what is written in the Torah? The woman. So if the woman uprooted it, how does that uproot my condition? My condition does not uproot what is written in the Torah; my condition is just what I said. If the woman decides to uproot what is written in the Torah, what does that have to do with me? Okay? Therefore Rav Ada son of Rav Ika says that “on condition that you eat pork” is not called stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. What is? “On condition that you have no claim against me for food, clothing, and conjugal rights.” Why? Because here I am uprooting it. And in stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah, when you want to uproot, it can only be where I myself make a condition in a way that uproots something from the Torah. If I make a condition in a way that uproots something from the Torah, you cannot do that, and the condition is void. But if afterward the woman decides to uproot it, what does that have to do with the condition I stipulated? I stipulated a condition, and she will do what she decides. If she decides to uproot what is written in the Torah, does that mean I uprooted something written in the Torah? That my condition uprooted what is written in the Torah? Of course not.

Ravina challenged him: is she uprooting anything except in order to fulfill his condition? It turns out that he is the one uprooting it. After all, why did she eat pork? She ate pork in order to fulfill the condition he imposed, not because she independently decided to eat pork. So what? It is still her decision. Ravina’s statement is very strange. Apparently what he means to say is that the woman did not eat pork here out of her own free choice; there is some connection to the husband’s stipulation. So you cannot say that what he did is totally detached from the later uprooting of Torah law that occurred. And that is enough for this condition to be void, okay, under the rule of stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah.

Therefore—fine, in my opinion this is still forced—but therefore Ravina offers another explanation. And I am not at all sure that Rav Ada son of Rav Ika, in the previous explanation, also meant this. Rather, Ravina said: when we say that one who stipulates contrary to what is written in the Torah has a void condition, that is in a case such as food, clothing, and conjugal rights, where he is certainly uprooting it. But here, did he tell her that she cannot avoid eating? Let her not eat, and let her not be divorced. So he makes it depend on whether this is certainly uprooted or not certainly uprooted.

You understand that this is very, very similar to the formulation of Rav Ada son of Rav Ika. If he uprooted it, then it is certainly uprooted; and if she uprooted it—what if, say, he were to make the betrothal conditional on his own eating pork? Not on her eating pork. That would be a practical difference, right? Because according to Rav Ada son of Rav Ika, then he uprooted it, not her; and according to Ravina, there is no certain uprooting here because afterward he can decide whether to eat or not eat, so this would not be stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. So that would seemingly be a practical difference. But I do not think that is what he means.

In my opinion, what Ravina means is that if a person betroths a woman on condition that she has no claim against him for food, clothing, and conjugal rights, then he is essentially creating betrothal in a way the Torah does not want—partial betrothal. The Torah did not define such betrothal. Betrothal is something that includes food, clothing, and conjugal rights. There is no such betrothal; you cannot create such betrothal. Because it is partial betrothal. Where did we ever find half-betrothal? The Torah defined the concept of betrothal: either you do it or you do not. You cannot do half-betrothal. Therefore this is called stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah.

Notice, according to this—or perhaps even before that—if I say, “Behold, you are divorced on condition that you eat pork,” the divorce is a complete divorce. What does that have to do with her eating pork? It is a prohibition; it is unrelated. Even if I uprooted it, and even if it is certainly uprooted, I do not care; but it does not impair the legal status of divorce as the Torah defines it. She is fully divorced; I just want her to eat pork in order for her to be divorced. That is not stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah.

According to this conception, stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah means that you are trying to do something in a way that the Torah defined as impossible. The Torah did not define such a legal status at all. The legal status of betrothal is when it includes food, clothing, and conjugal rights. This is not a penalty imposed on someone who wants to act against the Torah, whereby the Torah nullifies what he does. It is not a penalty. Rather, if you want to create a legal status that is not the legal status defined by the Torah, there is no such thing; you cannot do it. There is no such betrothal—how will you create betrothal? Yes, the Talmudic discussion in Nazir 11—we’ll get to it later—the Talmudic discussion in Nazir 11 says: “I am hereby a nazirite only with respect to wine; I am permitted to become impure and permitted to cut my hair. Only with respect to wine.” There is no such thing; so that is not naziriteship. Naziriteship involves all three things. You cannot create half-naziriteship. There is no such definition in the Torah. You can vow to forbid wine to yourself—that’s a vow; it has nothing to do with naziriteship. But naziriteship is defined very clearly in the Torah. You cannot do something that the Torah did not define at all and call it naziriteship; it is not naziriteship. The same here. You cannot create betrothal in a way that the Torah did not define, betrothal without food, clothing, and conjugal rights. That is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah.

And again, stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah is not a sanction. It is not that if you did not behave properly, then we will uproot what you did. That is not the point. There is simply no way to do it. The Torah defined betrothal in this way. To do something else is to invent a new halakhah; do whatever you want. In our halakhah, such a thing does not exist. In our halakhah there is betrothal with the whole package. That’s it. Either you do that or you do not do that. Decide. You cannot do half-betrothal. That is the meaning of stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah according to Ravina.

By contrast, one who says, “Behold, you are divorced on condition that you eat pork”—the divorce I created is divorce exactly as the Torah defined it. There is nothing here of partial divorce. I attach it to a prohibition. What Ravina basically wants to tell us is that the focus is not the prohibition involved. It is not that there is a prohibition against not giving a woman food, clothing, and conjugal rights. No. The problem is not the prohibition; the problem is that there is no such betrothal. But if she eats pork, there is such a divorce—it is divorce. She is forbidden to eat pork; she can decide whether to eat pork or not. That is unrelated.

Now understand that if this is really so, it could be that Rav Ada son of Rav Ika also meant the same thing. Yes, look again: “When we say that one who stipulates contrary to what is written in the Torah has a void condition, that is in a case such as food, clothing, and conjugal rights, where he uproots it. But here, she uproots it.” What does “he uproots it” mean? It means that when he tries to create the betrothal, he uproots the Torah because he creates partial betrothal. And when he tells her that she should uproot something, that has nothing to do with the betrothal. Uproot whatever you want, but I did not make partial betrothal here; I did not do something that the Torah never defined at all.

So it could very well be that Rav Ada son of Rav Ika also agrees with Amemar and Ravina. In the plain meaning of the Talmudic discussion, it seems not. In the plain meaning of the Talmudic discussion, it seems there is a dispute. I am not one hundred percent sure there really is a dispute. If one sees it as a dispute, then there are indeed two different conceptions here of the notion of stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. What would happen if I stipulate contrary to what is written in the Torah in a way where it is certainly uprooted, but she is the one uprooting it, not me? One would have to think of a situation—I don’t know—but in a way where she is the one uprooting it. That would be a practical difference. Because if indeed the legal status is a partial status, then I do not care that she is the one doing the problematic part; bottom line, there is no such legal status. Why should I care who is to blame for its being only partial? You cannot create such a legal status; it is not a punishment on you. But if you understand Rav Ada son of Rav Ika as saying, “You are trying to go against the Torah, and we won’t allow you,” fine—that applies if you are going against the Torah. But if she is doing something against the Torah, why should that uproot my condition? What does that have to do with it?

And we will see both of these things later, when we discuss the connection to the issue of whether if one acts improperly, the act is effective or ineffective. The Talmudic discussion at the beginning of tractate Temurah asks what happens if I try to do something that involves a prohibition. Can such a thing be done, and the Torah merely forbids it? Or does the very fact that it is forbidden mean that you simply will not succeed, that it is impossible—that the Torah does not allow that thing to happen at all if it is prohibited? This seems very closely related to the conception of stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. We will see later whether this is related or not; it could depend on how one understands Ravina and Rav Ada son of Rav Ika.

I just want to make one closing comment that sharpens what I mean when I speak about Ravina in terms of a partial legal status. Earlier I mentioned this law of betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse. Yes, when I betroth—I go to the father and give him a perutah and say, “One of your two daughters is betrothed to me,” without specifying which one. The Talmudic discussion says this is betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse. Why? Suppose they are Rachel and Leah. I am forbidden to have relations with Rachel, because maybe Leah is my wife and then Rachel is my wife’s sister, and I am forbidden to her. I am also forbidden to have relations with Leah, because maybe Rachel is my wife and Leah is my wife’s sister. So in practice I am forbidden to both of them out of doubt. And since that is so, this is betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse. There is a dispute between Abaye and Rava whether such betrothal can take effect or not.

Of course one cannot have relations with them, and therefore one must divorce both of them, but the question is whether one needs to divorce them at all, or whether they are not married and therefore no divorce is needed. But clearly a divorce is needed, even if—Abaye says that this is betrothal and therefore one must give both of them a bill of divorce, out of doubt to both. Rava says this is not betrothal at all; betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse is not betrothal. Here, by the way, this is the qof in ya’al kagam—the law follows Abaye regarding betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse. What did Rava say? Yes, this is the qof of ya’al kagam, this is betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse, so the law follows Abaye that the betrothal does take effect.

Now I want to ask you a question. It is well known what happens if a priest betroths a divorcee. The betrothal takes effect; he violated a prohibition. What happens if someone betroths his sister? The betrothal does not take effect. Betrothal takes effect in cases of ordinary prohibitions but not in incestuous relations. In incestuous relations, betrothal does not take effect because the prohibition is too severe. Fine? But in cases of ordinary prohibitions there is a dispute between Rabbi Akiva and the Rabbis; in practice we rule like the Rabbis. In cases of ordinary prohibitions the betrothal takes effect. Why is that not called betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse? Yes, betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse. He is forbidden to have relations with her. I can also have relations with my wife’s sister—there is a prohibition. So why is that betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse?

Tosafot says there a very interesting thing. I’m not going into the whole topic because this is just an example here. Tosafot says as follows: when a priest betroths a divorcee, the betrothal is complete betrothal, only it was done in violation of a prohibition. The prohibition was not created by the act of betrothal; a divorcee is forbidden to a priest. When I performed the betrothal, the betrothal is ordinary betrothal, and the prohibition remains as it was—before and after.

In betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse, the act of betrothal itself created the prohibition. After all, those two women were permitted to me beforehand. Only because I betrothed one of them did the other become forbidden to me as my wife’s sister. The prohibition was created by the act of betrothal. Betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse is not betrothal where afterward there happens to be some prohibition against the woman; rather, it is betrothal where the prohibition was created by the act of betrothal. Betrothal that creates a prohibition concerning the woman is not betrothal, because the point of betrothal is to permit the woman to me. If the betrothal creates a prohibition, if the betrothal itself created the prohibition—not that I betrothed a woman who was independently forbidden to me, but if the betrothal itself created the prohibition—then according to Rava that is not an act of betrothal. An act of betrothal is supposed to permit the woman to me, so the act of betrothal itself cannot be what forbids my wife to me. That is not betrothal according to Rava.

I brought as an example for this that case from Keritot. One who divorces his wife on an eternal condition: “on condition that you never go to your father’s house,” or one who gives a bill of divorce tied to a string while he holds the string in his hand. It says there that she is not divorced because “this is not severance.” The severance has to happen completely. That is to say, if you divorce a woman, the divorce must cut the bond between the two of you, sever the connection between you entirely. And if you make a condition for a week, a month, a year, okay, then after a year it turns out that it has been severed. But if you create a bond that forever obligates her in something, and as long as there is some possibility that she could return to you, then that bond never fully matures—or the severance, sorry, never fully matures. The Talmudic discussion says: this is not severance. He did not sever between himself and her.

An act of divorce is an act that must sever the bond between husband and wife. If the act does not sever the bond between husband and wife, then in a certain sense it even creates the bond, because conditional divorce means that by means of the divorce I am constantly preserving some connection between myself and the woman. But the role of divorce is to disconnect me from the woman. If the divorce created a connection between me and the woman, then it is not performing an act of divorce. The same applies to betrothal that cannot lead to intercourse, according to Rava. Betrothal is an act that is supposed to permit this woman to me. If the act itself created the prohibition of that woman to me, then it is not an act of betrothal. It is an act whose result is the opposite of what an act of betrothal is supposed to do.

Something like that is what I want to say in our case. When I betroth a woman, and this betrothal is supposed to exempt me from food, clothing, and conjugal rights, that is not betrothal. Betrothal is supposed to obligate me in food, clothing, and conjugal rights. If I wanted some side exemption from food, clothing, and conjugal rights, maybe I could betroth her and then we would have to discuss what happens with that side exemption. But betrothal that I want to exempt me from food, clothing, and conjugal rights—that is not betrothal. The Torah never defined such a thing as betrothal at all. And therefore that is why this is stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah.

Now the question is: why is the condition void and the act stands? We already discussed that. That is Ri and Rabbenu Tam. On the face of it I would say: fine, then there is no such betrothal, period. And we already saw this. Because Ri says that you have to apply it in any event, and only if the condition is not fulfilled do you uproot it. Right? You apply it in any event. So in that situation, what comes out is that the betrothal takes effect in any event, and the condition is uprooted. What? But in a condition, what are you doing? You are basically creating betrothal in any event. You only want that if the condition is not fulfilled, then the betrothal should be uprooted, right? So if so, I first apply the betrothal. Now let’s see whether the condition is not fulfilled. It will not be fulfilled because you obligated yourself in food, clothing, and conjugal rights. Right—but such a condition cannot be fulfilled. Therefore the betrothal remains. Exactly what Ri said in Tosafot in Ketubot. Okay? That brings us back to the question we discussed there.

Okay? So for our purposes, this is basically what it means. According to Ravina at least, when you betroth a woman through partial betrothal, that is called stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. You are creating half-betrothal. Not because of the prohibition you are committing. There is no prohibition here at all. Betrothal means giving food, clothing, and conjugal rights. And that is not the prohibition. If you tie it to a prohibition, that is not stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah. The betrothal is full betrothal. The prohibition is a separate prohibition. The woman can decide whether to violate it or not. Even if she cannot decide, even if certainly she will violate it—it does not matter. Bottom line, if the betrothal is complete, then it can take effect. And the condition is a separate condition. Okay, so up to here we have only defined what stipulating contrary to what is written in the Torah is at all, what exact case is under discussion. Now we will have to see why indeed one who stipulates contrary to what is written in the Torah has a void condition, and then we will continue.

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