חדש באתר: NotebookLM עם כל תכני הרב מיכאל אברהם

A Third Perspective – Conservatism and Innovation – Rabbi Michael Avraham – The Third Path

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

This transcript 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

  • Opposition to labels and an issue-focused approach
  • The fear of reform and the price of closed conservatism
  • The Enlightenment, “righteous and foolish,” and contemporary dropout
  • Hasidism as a response to distress rather than to the question
  • Defining conservatism and reform as labels that are not tools of halakhic ruling
  • The swimsuit parable: simplistic conservatism and midrashic conservatism
  • “Reform” as the absence of a halakhic argument, and the distinction between arguments and people
  • The example of women’s testimony and the inquiry into “intrinsic disqualification” versus “concern about lying”
  • Meiri, changes in Jewish law, and the claim about “reasoning” and burden of proof
  • Conservatism is not “playing it safe,” and the costs of freezing things in place
  • Examples of historical changes and dependence on changing reality
  • Formal authority and substantive authority after the sealing of the Talmud
  • Communal authority from below and its implications for community leadership
  • Practical limits: the second festival day of Rosh Hashanah and the example of Rabbenu Ephraim

Summary

General Overview

The speaker presents the evening as a substantive clarification of the concepts of conservatism, innovation, and “reform,” against the background of local opposition to publicizing the event because of a reform identity. He argues that labels replace argument and lead to mistakes and slander. He says the reluctance to address questions of change stems from fear of deterioration like what happened over the last two hundred years, but that avoiding the discussion actually increases dropout and secularization because people feel the system does not answer their questions. He distinguishes between change that comes from lack of commitment to Jewish law and change that arises from internal halakhic interpretation, and argues that the distinction between “reform” and “conservative” is determined by the reasoning, not by the act itself. He adds that since the sealing of the Talmud there is no broad formal authority to establish new Jewish law, but there is substantive authority of expertise and interpretive ability, and therefore there are legitimate changes made within the halakhic framework alongside limits such as “a matter established by formal count requires another formal count to permit it.”

Opposition to labels and an issue-focused approach

The speaker objects to setting slogans on the basis of general impressions and demands a substantive examination of what “reform” is, whether it is bad, and whether it applies to certain groups. He sees labeling as a substitute for argument, and says that people who do not examine matters on their merits fall into mistakes and slander even if they are God-fearing. He presents this methodological approach as a central principle of “the Third Path” and asks that everyone decide for themselves only after a precise definition of the terms.

The fear of reform and the price of closed conservatism

The speaker explains that people recoil from dealing with change versus conservatism because they feel the Reform movement harmed observance of the commandments, and so there is an instinctive rejection of any discussion of change. He argues that saying “no” to everything creates a situation in which, once people discover that some of the prohibitions do not hold up, they reject even what really is unreasonable. He illustrates this with the midrash Rashi brings about the serpent and Eve, and the extra fence of “do not touch.” He says conservatism carries heavy costs and sometimes actually harms preservation, because questions that are never discussed simmer inside and eventually erupt as total abandonment.

The Enlightenment, “righteous and foolish,” and contemporary dropout

The speaker argues that during the Enlightenment, young people were presented with an impossible choice between being “smart and wicked” and “righteous and foolish,” and that the lack of responses to halakhic and faith-related questions pushed many to choose wisdom outside the framework, thus contributing to broad secularization. He describes dropout phenomena in the Haredi world as well, including “anusim” who remain in the external shell but have dropped out internally, and says the same mistake is being repeated today when questions are labeled heresy. He rejects the explanation that those who leave are driven only by urges, and presents moral questions, the status of women, evolution, the Big Bang, the age of the universe, and biblical criticism as examples of real questions.

Hasidism as a response to distress rather than to the question

The speaker responds to a question about Hasidism and argues that it provided an answer to emotional and social distress, but not to the real questions troubling the skeptics, and at times even categorically forbade dealing with them, as in the case of Rabbi Nachman. He presents “simple faith” as an approach that carries a heavy price when a person has already lost that innocence and receives no answer.

Defining conservatism and reform as labels that are not tools of halakhic ruling

The speaker proposes that conservatism in the literal sense is preserving the existing state, and reform is change, but he argues that using these terms as labels instead of arguments is problematic. He says a halakhic decisor is not supposed to decide based on a desire to appear “conservative” or “liberal,” but according to the truth of the topic, and the label is a scholarly result after the fact, not a cause. He emphasizes that his aim is not to decide in advance that reform is bad and conservatism is good, but to define categories of arguments that will allow substantive judgment.

The swimsuit parable: simplistic conservatism and midrashic conservatism

The speaker gives a parable about a people who spent generations in the desert wearing swimsuits and then arrived in a cold region. He presents three responses: someone who puts on a coat because he is cold with no commitment to tradition, someone who continues wearing a swimsuit in the name of ancestral tradition, and someone who puts on a coat specifically in the name of ancestral tradition because he interprets the tradition as dressing according to the weather. He concludes that there is no one-to-one link between the act and the definition, and that the same act can be done out of reformism or out of conservatism, depending on the reasoning. He calls the first kind of conservatism “simplistic conservatism” and the third “midrashic conservatism,” in which one preserves the abstract principle rather than the external form.

“Reform” as the absence of a halakhic argument, and the distinction between arguments and people

The speaker argues that the distinction between reform and midrashic conservatism is determined by the reasoning and not by the actions, and he prefers to classify arguments rather than people, because the same person can make different kinds of arguments in different places. He presents reformism as a position that promotes change purely by force of external values, such as “women’s equality” as a direct justification for validating women as witnesses, without halakhic grounding. He says that an argument that tries to align with the Talmud and Jewish law by analyzing the reasons and the context is a midrashically conservative argument even if its result is change.

The example of women’s testimony and the inquiry into “intrinsic disqualification” versus “concern about lying”

The speaker presents the disqualification of women as witnesses from the exposition “men and not women,” and suggests the possibility that the disqualification stemmed from a social context in which women were not involved in commerce and education, and therefore perhaps does not apply to women in our time. He demonstrates that Jewish law contains a similar inquiry regarding a wicked person who is disqualified from testimony: is this because of “concern about lying” or because of an “intrinsic disqualification”? He brings examples such as “secular courts would not damage their own credibility” in tractate Gittin as a basis for focusing on reliability rather than identity. He clarifies that such an argument may be mistaken, but it is legitimate as a field of halakhic discussion, whereas deciding by saying “that’s reform” is an evasion of the discussion.

Meiri, changes in Jewish law, and the claim about “reasoning” and burden of proof

The speaker presents Meiri as a model of midrashic conservatism that distinguishes between the gentiles of the Sages and those in his own day who were “bound by the norms of the nations,” and presents this as a practical cancellation of many distinctions, including even violating the Sabbath to save a non-Jew. He explains that Meiri does not bring explicit proofs but relies on reasoning and on the logic of the purpose of the laws, and argues that when there are two interpretive possibilities and one of them explains the law in a sensible way, the burden of proof shifts to the one claiming that this is simply a decree of Scripture without reason. He gives examples of the Sages’ use of reasoning, such as “why do I need a verse? It is logical,” and the blessing over enjoyment, and emphasizes that psychological motivations are not what matters, only the halakhic argument itself.

Conservatism is not “playing it safe,” and the costs of freezing things in place

The speaker argues that there is no clear “stricter side” when both possibilities entail different stringencies, and he illustrates how disqualifying women’s testimony can leave stolen goods in a thief’s hands or allow crimes to go unproven for lack of witnesses. He returns to the basic point that freezing things out of fear of reform can undermine overall commitment, and he describes the myth that “nothing has changed since Moses our teacher” as a cultural illusion.

Examples of historical changes and dependence on changing reality

The speaker argues that the tradition is full of changes and presents the example of “do not form factions,” alongside the reality of multiple synagogues and customs in the same city, arguing that the very concept of “place” changed in a dynamic world and therefore the laws of local custom changed in practice as well. He mentions that Rema permitted “new grain” outside the Land of Israel and emphasizes that the history of Jewish law is full of adaptations; therefore defining reform as mere change is empty, because everyone changes things.

Formal authority and substantive authority after the sealing of the Talmud

The speaker divides authority into two categories: formal institutional authority and substantive authority of expertise, and argues that the verses of “do not veer” refer to formal authority. He says that since the sealing of the Talmud there is no longer broad formal authority to establish new Jewish law, and cites the responsum of the Rosh brought in Choshen Mishpat, siman 25, as a basis for this, while a Torah scholar possesses only substantive authority, similar to a doctor. He clarifies that “a matter established by formal count requires another formal count to permit it” limits the repeal of institutional enactments, but interpretation of the words of the Talmud and Jewish law does not require institutional authority and has always been part of the work of halakhic decisors.

Communal authority from below and its implications for community leadership

The speaker distinguishes between institutional authority “from above,” such as continuous ordination, and the authority of a community rabbi, which derives from acceptance “from below” by the public and can therefore be limited by the community. He argues that the Chief Rabbinate is not a source of formal halakhic authority but a state role, and that even the Shulchan Arukh does not possess binding formal authority because its commentators disagree with it. He suggests that where there is no formal authority, a person either chooses for himself a rabbi or checks on his own whether he is qualified, and he warns against “rabbis who popped up” without proper competence.

Practical limits: the second festival day of Rosh Hashanah and the example of Rabbenu Ephraim

The speaker agrees that the second festival day of Rosh Hashanah seems unnecessary today, but presents it as an example of a limit of authority because it was established by formal count and therefore cannot be revoked without equivalent authority. He mentions that Rabbenu Ephraim, a student of Rif, said that one should keep only one day of Rosh Hashanah in the Land of Israel, and notes that this remained a lone opinion. He concludes that the discussion of authority requires a separate lecture, but it is essential for understanding the difference between legitimate change through interpretation and the repeal of institutional determinations.

Full Transcript

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Good evening, everyone. I’m happy to visit here in the local stronghold. The truth is, the topic we set was conservatism and innovation, and I understood from Avraham that there were some voices in town here that objected to publicizing this evening, or this event, because we’re reform. Neo-reform, I don’t know, whatever. So actually the topic fits very well in that context. Because contrary to the bad habit some people have of setting slogans on the basis of some general impression, one of the principles we at least try to strengthen in the Third Path is substantive engagement. And when I want to know whether someone is reform or not reform—and also whether reform is bad, which is another question—I want to examine it substantively and not through some general impression one way or another. And what I want to do with you this evening is simply to make that examination together. I’ll try to define the concepts people use, and then we’ll be able—each person will be able to decide for himself—what reform is, whether we are reform, whether reform is bad; all those questions can then be thought about afterward. But I emphasize this because in my view the method, or the basic approach, is no less important than the content. This basic approach says that I don’t label people because that’s how it seems to me; rather, I try to examine. I want to see—let’s see what reform is, let’s define it, and then I can see who is reform, who is not reform, what I’m for, what I’m against. And people who don’t make that examination very often fall into slander, fall into lots of other things, and just make mistakes. It’s simply not correct. So first of all—even before slander and everything else. That is, there are lots of people who are very God-fearing but a little less careful when it comes to slander. In any case, truly, maybe one more remark before I begin: part of the reluctance to deal with these issues is because of the Reform movement. Meaning because over the last 200 years or so, the feeling is that the Reform movement did very serious damage to commandment observance among the Jewish people. And so people are afraid to touch this question of change versus conservatism, or reform, or what reform means, because who knows—in the end we’ll get confused and become reform, and then everything will be destroyed. There’s a kind of instinctive rejection of touching this subject. But paradoxically, in my view the correct way to prevent the slide in those undesirable directions is precisely to touch this subject and try to examine what yes and what no. Because the moment I say no to everything, and people realize that with regard to some things that isn’t true, they say, “Okay, so none of it is true.” You know the midrash that Rashi brings about the serpent and our mother Eve, where Eve told the serpent that the Holy One, blessed be He, had said not to touch the tree—when really the Holy One, blessed be He, had said not to eat, not not to touch. But she told the serpent that because she made a fence. She told the serpent that the Holy One, blessed be He, had also said not to touch the tree. Then he pushed her against the tree, she touched it, and he said, “Well, you see? Nothing happened to you.” And what happened after that? She ate. What does that mean? What lawyers call broadening the front. Sometimes when we become too frum, yes, too much about preserving the commandments in an overly strict way, in the end we actually lose real observance of the commandments. Because once people understand that some of the things don’t really hold water, that they’re not true, they say, “Fine, then this whole story isn’t true,” and then they leave everything. Whereas if you say, “Okay, let’s get into the substance of the matter, let’s try to analyze and examine what is reform and what is not reform, what changes are possible and what changes are not possible, what is desirable and what is not desirable, let’s define the concepts, let’s define the principles,” then you can say, “Okay, this doesn’t seem right to me, this doesn’t seem reasonable to me, but this does.” The moment you say that everything is unreasonable, and people suddenly say, “Wait a second, but this actually sounds very logical to me—why are you saying it isn’t reasonable?” then they won’t accept anything you say. And in the end they also won’t accept the things that really are unreasonable. And I think this is something that happens every day. Part of the heavy price of the conservative approaches against which the Third Path was founded is that this conservatism, which comes to preserve, very often harms. Very often it harms. You’re trying to preserve, you don’t touch anything. At a certain stage people say: wait, you don’t touch anything, and a large part of this whole story doesn’t sound reasonable to us. We do think some adjustments need to be made here. The word sounds a little intimidating when talking about words of Torah. What?

[Speaker B] Isn’t it usually the margins of society who say it doesn’t fit us?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I don’t think so. I meet a great many people who, in my opinion, are definitely not marginal.

[Speaker B] No, not marginal—meaning, if I take, say, the Haredi public and say 80 percent, it doesn’t matter, if they’re told head against the wall is forbidden then head against the wall is forbidden, and 20 percent won’t go with their heads against the wall.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Even the people who do bang their heads against the wall, some of them still feel discomfort. And in the end, eventually, it can burst out. I haven’t done statistics on how many people feel what. But in the end it bursts out, and personally I meet masses of people, Haredi and non-Haredi, who come to me with endless questions about the most basic things. Some of them don’t seem difficult to me at all, and others definitely do. And they don’t get an answer because you’re not allowed to raise those questions. And if you’re not allowed to raise them, then you’re left stewing with them inside yourself, and in the end it bursts out and you leave everything. We know that today in Haredi society there are thousands of dropouts every year. This is a question people don’t put on the table because it’s unpleasant to deal with. There are thousands of dropouts every year. People always talk about dropout in the Religious Zionist or national-religious community. They talk less about dropout in the Haredi community. But there is a very large amount of dropout there. And a large part of that dropout, by the way, happens from within. Meaning you remain in a Haredi shell; today they call this phenomenon coerced ones, but inside you’ve dropped out. So is that dropout or not? You can debate it. But I’m saying: conservatism has a heavy price. And therefore it’s not correct to say that automatically conservatism means playing it safe. If you want to make changes, let’s examine it. Maybe yes, maybe no. But the inclination, the starting point, is to say no. That isn’t right. Conservatism has heavy prices no less than innovation does, and sometimes even more. In the past I had arguments with—yes, I spent quite a few years in Bnei Brak—I had lots of arguments with people there. And they told me: look where Religious Zionist education leads, say, that there’s lots of secularization and things like that—which is true. I said: there is quite a bit of secularization. But on the other hand I told them: look, where do you think all secularization came from? Where did the situation come from in which, I don’t know, seventy percent of the Jewish people aren’t committed to Torah and commandments—I don’t know exactly how many, something like that. Where did that come from? It came from a Haredi outlook. From that same Haredi outlook that was unwilling to deal with the questions that arose during the Enlightenment, with the questions raised by all sorts of people—mostly young people, but not only—who genuinely wondered and got no answer. And if they got no answer, then they left everything. And that’s how a situation arose in which most of the Jewish people are secular. And that did not come from Religious Zionism, which was born in the late nineteenth century, early twentieth century—the twentieth century more, I think. It didn’t come from there. It came from a Haredi world—from a Haredi approach, not a Haredi world—an approach unwilling to enter into the problems and try to address them and discuss them on their merits. And what happened in the Enlightenment period was that people basically presented the young people with an impossible choice. They told a person: look, either be smart and wicked, or be righteous and foolish. Now decide. If you want to be smart, to really think, to see what yes and what no and decide—to be smart—then you’re an apikoros. Forbidden. You’re not allowed to think, not allowed to engage with the questions and try to answer them. If you don’t deal with them, you’ll be righteous—but you’ll be foolish. Now this choice that people were presented with—whether to be smart and wicked or righteous and foolish—unfortunately led many people to choose being smart and wicked. Because I’m not willing to be foolish. And so the alternative we at least are trying to offer is the alternative of being righteous and smart.

[Speaker C] There’s no contradiction. Yes. Sorry—what you’re saying, about the Haredi closing itself off and not accepting conceptions—didn’t Hasidism, like the Shem MiShmuel that is definitely studied in the Haredi world, actually make a certain change, a certain reform, compared with Lithuanianism?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It did make a reform, but it didn’t really—it didn’t really provide an answer to the real questions that were hanging in the air. It gave an answer to distress, yes. There were people in distress to whom Hasidism definitely gave an answer, and that was an important thing it did. But it didn’t answer the questions. On the contrary, a large part of Hasidism—say, with Rabbi Nachman of Breslov it’s well known, but there were others too—categorically forbade engaging in these things at all. Simple faith, and that whole conception, carries a heavy price. It carries a heavy price because when people are struggling, you can’t tell them, “You have to believe with simple faith.” I no longer have simple faith. I lost it. So now what? If you don’t help me find an answer, then I’ll draw conclusions. And that’s what happened. And in the end that’s how we got to where we are today. We are today living with the result of that same impossible dilemma, that impossible crossroads people had to choose at that time.

[Speaker D] One stream chose that in the Haredi world, it’s not the entire Haredi world. What do you mean? Not the whole Haredi world believes in simple faith, that this is what they told me and that’s that. There are also people who investigate, there’s the Tanya, there’s plenty.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The Tanya doesn’t investigate, and almost nobody in the Haredi world advocates such an approach. It investigates matters of the soul or something like that; it doesn’t deal with philosophical questions, it doesn’t deal with the questions that were troubling people there. I’m talking about answers to those questions. I’m not talking about using the intellect. Using the intellect exists everywhere. In yeshivot they certainly used the intellect—it’s not that they were stupid or didn’t use their minds—but they didn’t engage in answering the questions that troubled people in that period. That’s the claim.

[Speaker E] Halakhic questions, or questions of faith?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Both. Both. Some of the questions were about the relevance or current applicability of Jewish law, which are already halakhic questions. How do I apply Jewish law in a period that’s different from what existed in the time of the Sages? Am I supposed to change? Not supposed to change? Maybe not? But let’s try to get in there and see what yes and what no, and how you discuss this issue. When you leave a person to think alone—a 15-year-old, 20-year-old, whatever—he doesn’t really have the tools. The smart people aren’t willing to help him and enter into this discussion with him, and this is what comes out. And in the end he draws the conclusions by himself. Now paradoxically, today we’re repeating that same mistake. In many societies or in many places, communities and so on, people present their students with that same crossroads. They tell them: don’t deal with questions, you’re not allowed to deal with these questions. You can’t deal with these questions with your rabbi. You can find some other person to talk to, maybe, but often—not always, but often—you can’t deal with these questions with your rabbi. If you come to your rabbi, you’re a heretic. And then what happens is that once again young people are standing at that same crossroads: whether to be righteous and foolish or wicked and smart. And unfortunately we’re again experiencing this phenomenon of secularization, both in the Haredi world, as I said earlier, and in the Religious Zionist world. And I think part of the issue is really to draw conclusions from what happened there and understand that there are people here who are genuinely troubled by questions. It’s not only urges. It’s an easy life for us when we say, “No, no, they just want to permit sexual immorality for themselves, it’s all just urges.” That’s the easy way out. There are serious questions. I meet these people, I hear the questions. There are serious questions there. A lot of the time these labels, by the way, come from people who have no answers to those questions. And if they have no answers, then what do they do? They say: you’re a heretic. Once you’re a heretic, I’m exempt from answering you, right? I have no answer. I can’t answer you. I’ve encountered many cases like this, and I know because I also spoke with the rabbis, not only with the questioners. They don’t have answers to these questions—not all of them,

[Speaker E] I’m saying there are many who don’t have answers to these questions, and the simple way to answer is: well, you’re a heretic, you’re not allowed to ask that, or you’re not allowed to engage with that. So what do you want the person to do now—be righteous and foolish or wicked and smart? The same crossroads you talked about before. But there is a difference between the Haredi approach and the Zionist approach—even in Religious Zionism, I mean, in many cases it’s pretty much the same approach.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, look, first of all there are differences of degree. There are different levels of closedness both within the Haredi world and within the Religious Zionist world. Second, the question is which part of Religious Zionism you’re talking about. If you mean the national-Haredi world, what’s called today Hardal or something like that, maybe that really is quite similar. Even there I don’t think it’s completely similar. But in other places it’s not like that. What do you mean? People definitely do discuss questions with others. Again, not everyone has the answers. I once said in a conversation with teachers and rabbis, I told them: look, you’re sitting in a classroom, you have 30 students, more or less. What’s the chance that you are the smartest person in the room? Almost certainly not, right? No, why should you be the smartest? You’re facing 30 people. Fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds are already people who read material, roam around the internet, see questions, analyze, understand science better than their rabbi. He can’t deal with him. He can’t deal with him, even if he wants to. And so the only way for him is to say: fine, you’re an apikoros. Or sometimes I sit in yeshivot with rabbis: forget it, their questions are really answers; just give them warmth and love. Lots of warmth and love and everything will be fine. Sometimes it works, but often it doesn’t. We see the results.

[Speaker E] Is there some example of a question that doesn’t receive an answer?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Lots of questions. What do you mean? Questions ranging from moral questions, questions about the status of women, questions about the existence of God generally against evolution, say—there is a God, there isn’t a God, the Big Bang, creation of the world, the age of the universe—are there no questions? Biblical criticism. Tons of questions. The world is full of questions. And you can’t ignore it. Everyone is exposed. So what have you gained? And that’s why I say that a lot of the time people who don’t supply the other side do so because they don’t know how to supply the other side. So the convenient solution for them is labels. I assume all these people doing the labeling that I mentioned at the beginning—if they tried to come to me and explain to me in what way I’m reform, I assume they’d find themselves without an answer very quickly. But they don’t come to ask; they aren’t really willing to engage with the matter.

[Speaker E] But reform can be defined—that’s something you said we’d discuss—but reform is something different from the status quo. If the status quo is not to touch certain subjects, and the moment you do decide to touch them—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If that’s your definition of reform, then it seems to me you won’t get very far. I don’t think there is a single Jew who is not reform. Maimonides was ultra-reform, of course, the father of fathers of reform. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi was a complete heretic. “It is a time to act for the Lord; they have voided Your Torah”—he writes against an outright prohibition: “Matters written you are not permitted to say orally, and matters oral you are not permitted to write down,” a Talmudic text in Gittin 60, and he writes down the Oral Torah—“It is a time to act for the Lord.” What kind of reformism is that?

[Speaker E] I know that reform is something people use as a tool when they want to attack. Okay, I’m not using it that way. But in the end, when you define reform, it’s change—it’s changing something that wasn’t there before. Really?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If you define it that way, then everyone comes out reform. Fine. But you understand that this definition is empty of content. Because a definition that makes everyone reform is not a definition that will distinguish between who is reform and who is not reform. We’re looking for distinguishing definitions. You can define—wait, we’re looking for—

[Speaker E] We—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We’re not looking for a dictionary definition. A dictionary definition doesn’t help me in the practical field because it doesn’t make distinctions. If everyone who makes changes is reform, then everyone is reform. There is nobody who doesn’t make changes. So now I really do want to get into the substance of the issue. All this was a general introduction to why I think this also represents a more general outlook than just the question of change and conservatism. But now I want to enter this question itself. Just remember that all this is only an example of a broader approach. But now let’s go with the example, let’s deal with it. I want to begin first with a general conceptual introduction to the concept of conservatism, and I want to argue the following. Seemingly, in the literal sense conservatism really is preserving the existing state. And change, or reform, is change—that’s the literal translation—it’s changing the existing state. Okay, that’s the literal meaning. Fine? Now when I say someone is reform or not reform, what am I actually doing? I’m judging his claim or his argument through a label, right? I say your argument is wrong because you’re reform. Fine? Essentially I’m using a label in place of an argument. Or the opposite: I say your argument is correct because you’re conservative. That too is a label. The label doesn’t have to be negative. But the label expresses—soon we’ll see, I want to know what it expresses. So I’m saying that labeling is basically a substitute for a substantive argument. Instead of arguing with him on the merits, you’re basically labeling him. Okay? But in general I think arguments should never be judged through labels at all. For example, once I was on a panel that dealt with Jewish law in a yeshiva in Gush Etzion. There were several yeshiva heads there, and there was a panel among us, and I no longer remember in what context the issue came up there of a halakhic decisor who rules stringently, one who rules leniently, one who is more open, one more conservative, and so on. And I told them that I don’t evaluate halakhic decisors or rulings in those terms at all. A halakhic decisor is not supposed to make a decision according to the consideration of whether he will come out looking conservative, or innovative, or open, or liberal, however you want to call it. He has to decide what he thinks. Afterward, some scholar of his from academia, I don’t know from where, can come and decide what label to attach to him. Is he conservative, is he open, original—

[Speaker E] Not original, whatever.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] This is not supposed to be a consideration that the halakhic decisor himself makes. The decisor has to enter the topic / passage and decide what he thinks, based on what he thinks. It definitely can be that there are decisors with a tendency in one direction and decisors with a tendency in another direction; that’s perfectly fine. There probably are such people. But that’s the job of the researcher. The decisor—even if he is, say, a conservative decisor—is not supposed to say, “I prohibit this here because I’m conservative.” On the contrary. He’s supposed to prohibit it because he thinks it is prohibited. If he does that enough times, then the researcher will come and say that he is conservative. Meaning: your being conservative is a result; your being conservative is not the reason for the halakhic ruling. After you make many rulings, someone can come and say, okay, this decisor has a certain character, he’s conservative. Or someone else isn’t conservative. Therefore, this whole discussion in halakhic ruling—whether it’s conservative or not conservative, whether it’s liberal, open, closed, whatever—all these discussions are not relevant. I’m interested in one question only: is it correct or not? That’s all. Afterward, decide whether it’s Reform, not Reform. I want to see the arguments, I want to see the sources, I want to see the proofs, and let’s see whether it’s correct or not correct. Or doubtful—I won’t always be able to reach a conclusion. Doubt, too, is a state in Jewish law. Jewish law knows how to deal with states of doubt as well. So the question whether it’s Reform or not Reform—I haven’t gotten there yet, you’re rushing. Slowly, slowly, I’ll get there. That’s our topic. So that’s the first thing. Therefore, I don’t want to classify or relate to arguments through those classifications. And still, as I’ll show you here, it is important to me to define these concepts. Not because I’ll use them afterward to attack someone, but in order to characterize different kinds of arguments, and then it will be possible to formulate a position about them. So for now I’m not even—I’m only describing. I’m not judging. I’m not even assuming at the moment that Reform is bad and conservative is good. First of all I want to understand what Reform is. But the concepts themselves do define themselves. What? The concepts themselves do, yes. The Reform rabbi defines himself as a Reform rabbi, as the Reform rabbi. It’s not detached. Maybe he isn’t supposed to do that, but no, no—he is supposed to do it. But what you said about conservative, that’s not—but a Reform rabbi does define himself as a Reform rabbi, and a Haredi, conservative rabbi also defines himself as such. He is supposed to do that—not that he isn’t supposed to do it—as a result. After his approach is such-and-such, he can say, okay, I find myself in Reform society, or I find myself in Haredi society or whatever. But that is a result. I won’t say: I rule this way because I’m Reform, or I rule this way because I’m not Reform. I rule this way because that’s what I think. A ruling that is, say, Reform is supposed to be maybe a result, but they do it not as a result. Yes, they do it as a result. Now, if it’s obvious that yes. If they don’t do it as a result, then they too are not honest. It’s not important to me, but that’s not correct. Usually it’s a result. He really thinks that this is the correct path of halakhic ruling from his perspective. Now you’ll come from the side and say, what is this path? It’s a Reform path. Fine, so he’s Reform. But he doesn’t say, ah, because I’m Reform therefore I’ll rule this way. That’s not an argument. He says what he thinks in his halakhic ruling. To what extent that is Reform or influences Jewish law—that’s a separate question. There isn’t so much Jewish law there; among the Conservatives there’s more, and I’ll talk about that in a moment. Look. So let’s begin with an example to clarify the concepts. An example I’ve already written about in several places. There is a group of people walking through the desert in swimsuits. Okay? It’s been like that for generations. Their ancestors walked in swimsuits, all of them, their ancestors and their ancestors’ ancestors, for generations they’ve been walking in swimsuits in the desert. A parable, yes? That’s the idea. Now, at a certain stage they reach a colder area. It starts getting cold. One group among these people, a subgroup within the group, says: fine, it’s cold, I’m putting on a coat. A second group says: what do you mean? The tradition of our ancestors is in our hands; we continue with a swimsuit even though it’s cold. We pay prices to preserve the tradition; we’re willing to pay prices. If I were to ask you, between these two groups, which group is the conservative one and which is the Reform one, what would you say? Simple answer, right? The first answer is: those are the Reform people, and the second group is the conservatives. Okay? Now tell me what you think about a third group. It turns out there’s another group. And this group says: we will change, or we will put on a coat. Why? Because we are conservatives. Our ancestors walked with clothing suited to the weather. When we were in a hot place, they wore swimsuits because that’s what suited the weather. Now we are preserving the tradition of our ancestors in our hands, and therefore now that we’ve arrived in a cold region, we must put on a coat. Because that is what the tradition of our ancestors says. And whoever walks around in a swimsuit is a wrongdoer. Whoever keeps walking around in a swimsuit. He’s a suffering wrongdoer; that’s why many times when someone suffers we’re sure he’s righteous. Right? But no. He’s a suffering wrongdoer. He pays a price for his wrongdoing. Okay? So actually the group—the third group—where did it come from? In continuation of the previous generation that was—no, no, there are three groups, they split. This people that walked there in the desert throughout the generations, walking all day, yes, split into three groups. One group says: we put on a coat because it’s cold. We’re not interested in the tradition of our ancestors being in our hands. A second group says: we continue with a swimsuit because the tradition of our ancestors is in our hands, and we pay a price, we’ll be cold, no big deal. Worth it. Okay? The third group says: no, we put on a coat because the tradition of our ancestors is in our hands. We put on a coat because the tradition of our ancestors is in our hands. What do you mean? We claim that the tradition of our ancestors is not to walk around in a swimsuit. The tradition of our ancestors is to walk around in clothing suited to the weather. Our ancestors who were in a hot region walked in swimsuits because that was the clothing suited to the weather. We are in a cold region, so the clothing suited to the weather in such a region is a coat. So we put on a coat not because we’re Reform. We put on a coat because we are conservative. Our conservatism instructs us to put on a coat. There is no connection at all, no connection between the definitions and the actions. I didn’t understand. There’s no connection between the actions and the definitions. The definition—if I’m now in a cold place, so I’m cold, so I dress warmly, that’s the point. But whether that’s conservatism or not conservatism, that doesn’t belong to the place. Why? I’m now telling you that I preserve the principle of my ancestors, that one must walk around in clothing suited to the weather—that’s the principle I preserve. That is preserving; that is maintaining a human reality, or of any living thing as a living organism; it has nothing to do with our ancestors. It belongs to other ancestors, other groups that preserve… Wait, I’ll clarify something that maybe maybe I should clarify first. You’re using the word… No, no, no, I’m using that word precisely. I’ll explain. It’s not necessarily that there is a connection between them. I’ll explain. That’s true and that’s true, but there is no connection between them. I’ll explain. The claim is—I’m speaking here about a parable. It’s a parable. The parable says: the principles that I preserve are not the principles of Jewish law in the parable. The analogue maybe is Jewish law. In the parable, the principle is to do what our ancestors did. That is the religious principle of that group, okay? That’s what they think. That’s their religious principle. A parable—we’re allowed to make whatever parable we want, right? Now in this parable one can define Reform, one can define conservative within the parable, and afterward we’ll come to the analogue. Now within this parable, what I’m claiming is that there are Reform people, but there are two kinds of conservatives, not one. And surprisingly, one type of conservative behaves exactly like a Reform person in terms of what he actually does. He puts on a winter jacket just like the Reform person puts on a winter jacket, and nevertheless I claim they are not the same thing. There are those who put on a winter jacket and they are Reform, and there are those who put on a winter jacket and they are conservative. It depends on their reasoning. If your reasoning for putting on the winter jacket is because it’s cold, then you are Reform. If your reasoning is because you think that the principle that must be preserved is not the principle that requires one to walk around in swimsuits, but the principle that requires one to walk around in clothing suited to the weather, then you can be conserv… not can be—you must be—putting on a coat if you are conservative, since that is what the principle you are preserving instructs you; it tells you that you must walk around in clothing suited to the weather. What is the reasoning of the Reform person in this case? There is no reasoning—they just don’t feel like preserving the tradition of our ancestors; we’re cold. We’re cold. Okay? I’ll get to the analogue in a moment, but this parable is one-to-one. So the claim that this parable wants to clarify is that you can’t determine whether someone is Reform or not Reform by what he does. Notice, this is a novel claim. On that I agree; this whole parable was, this whole introduction—no, because we also have a situation where there was a decree so they enacted an enactment. Now you’re moving to the analogue. Wait, I’m still in the parable, I haven’t moved to the analogue yet. But there is also the same reality twice and they change in behavior… I’ll get to that and then we’ll see whether it’s correct or not, but I’ll get to that much later. I’m currently in the parable, that’s all. So in the parable, afterward we’ll move to the analogue. So in this parable, what I basically want to say is that, first, there are two types of conservatives. Second, there is a difference between the question of what you do and your label, the label appropriate to you—whether you are conservative or not. What you do is not a conclusive indication to determine whether you are conservative or Reform. That’s an important point, because what you basically see here is a person about whom, ostensibly, you would say at first glance, before I gave the example, you would immediately say that whoever puts on a winter jacket is the Reform person, right? Whoever puts on a coat is the Reform person. But suddenly I tell you: no, no, look—he put on a coat, true, like the Reform people, but he isn’t Reform. Why not? Because the reasoning he gives for why he put on the coat is different from the reasoning of the Reform people. The Reform people say: the tradition of our ancestors doesn’t interest us; I’m cold, so I put on a coat. I wore the swimsuit because it was comfortable for me, not because the tradition of my ancestors is in my hands. Now it’s not comfortable, so I put on a coat. I’m not committed to the tradition of my ancestors—that is Reform. But if you say: no, I’m very committed to the tradition of my ancestors, only the tradition of my ancestors doesn’t say to walk around in a swimsuit, but to walk around in clothing suited to the weather, then I’m completely conservative. My conclusions differ from the first conservative, but I’m conservative. Conservative just like him. I’ll tell you more than that: the Reform person won’t see the other two as criminals. Right, they haven’t committed any crime; he isn’t committed to tradition, there is no tradition that obligates him in his view. But the second conservative sees the first conservative as a criminal. If you continue walking around in a swimsuit in a cold region, you are a wrongdoer, you are committing an offense. You are not fulfilling the tradition of our ancestors, because the tradition of our ancestors says to walk around in clothing suited to the weather. Now, why am I saying this? Because many times the initial feeling, if I had asked you beforehand who is conservative and who isn’t, obviously you would have said that whoever walks around in a swimsuit is the conservative. Because he’s willing to pay prices, right? Obviously he’s doing it not because of convenience, but because he is truly committed to the tradition of his ancestors. Right? Their ancestors also walked in the cold and in the summer. No, no, no, there was no winter, there was only summer in our parable. In our parable there is only summer. Yes, that’s interesting. No need to take the parable too far. I’m going with the parable. So the point—you know, Rabbi Meir would say three hundred fox parables. Fox parables. A parable is good, because in a parable there aren’t yet all the loaded associations that there are in reality. So let’s deal with the parable, afterward we’ll transfer it to the ground of reality. So the claim in the end is that what determines whether you are Reform or not is not your behavior but your reasoning. Just as if a woman says Kaddish in a Reform synagogue, she may be Reform. But if a woman in an Orthodox synagogue says Kaddish, it could be that they found a halakhic rationale for why she is permitted to say it. Exactly—not only could it be, but clearly she is permitted to say it. Right. In any case, the claim is that when we want to examine whether someone, or some argument, is Reform or not Reform, we have to examine the reasoning and not the actions. Two people can do the same act; one will be Reform and one will be conservative. And this conservative is seriously conservative. Meaning, he believes that the principle he is preserving is to walk around in clothing suited to the weather. So someone who walks around in a swimsuit, from his perspective, violates a Torah-level prohibition. A prohibition of walking around in clothing suited to the weather. Ah, he pays prices, it isn’t comfortable—right, he’s a wrongdoer, so he has all the disadvantages. He both does something uncomfortable and is also a wrongdoer. So there is no point at all in doing that. But still, a wrongdoer. You know, there is this kind of assumption that says in English: it’s too good to be kosher. Something tasty can’t be kosher. You have to suffer in order to be a good Jew, right? You can’t enjoy yourself or do something pleasant and be considered a proper Jew. So no, I disagree with that. You can. Not always. If suffering is necessary, then yes, one must suffer. But there is no obligation to suffer. Meaning, if it’s possible to do something pleasant and it’s okay, why not? Reish Lakish, before his death, cried over one little bottle that he hadn’t managed to eat from. Right? Why? Because he says, what, I didn’t enjoy that little bottle, and I’m dying from this world and leaving it behind me. What about what is said in Ecclesiastes? He was complaining… Yes, exactly. So the claim, in short, is that this distinction between conservative and Reform is a more complex distinction. It is not the actions that determine it but the reasoning. Okay? Now I want to go one step further. Maybe I’ll call these by names so it will accompany us further on. So we have the Reform person, and we have two types of conservatives. Let’s call them the simplistic conservative and the midrashic conservative. The simplistic conservative means: they walked in swimsuits; I go by the plain meaning, I also walk in a swimsuit. That’s what needs to be done. That’s the simplistic conservative. The midrashic conservative makes a midrash of what our ancestors did. Our ancestors walked in swimsuits; I ask myself, I make a midrash, I ask myself why they walked in swimsuits. Apparently because there was a principle there that one must walk around in clothing suited to the weather. And that midrash is what I preserve. Okay? Therefore I call it a midrashic conservative and not a simplistic conservative. Okay? Now that means, basically, that if I want to distinguish between a Reform person and a midrashic conservative, many times it will be difficult to make that distinction. Because they can behave the same way, right? But in practice—or not in practice but conceptually—they do not belong to the same group. Because the arguments at the base of their behavior are different. Okay? Good, I’ll give you an example that jumps a bit toward the end, so that things will be sharper. I’m moving to the analogue. Now you can start arguing. I’m moving to the analogue. So I’ll say this: suppose someone comes and says that today women should be qualified as valid for testimony. Jewish law disqualifies women from testimony. Okay? Talmud in tractate Shevuot: “And the two men who have the dispute shall stand before the Lord”—men and not women. Okay? Now he wants to qualify women as valid for testimony. Why? Because it’s not appropriate, women’s equality… And what about the mortgage? At the bank, when she signs to receive the money—isn’t that testimony? That’s not testimony in the halakhic sense. Okay? Let’s leave that for another class; that’s something else. There is testimony for clarification and testimony for legal validity; that’s something else. Testimony for clarification is something else. In any case, women are disqualified from testimony. Now someone comes and says: look, women should be qualified for testimony. After all, the spirit of the times, women’s equality—what do you mean, making discrimination between men and women, etc. Okay? Someone who says such a thing will usually immediately have attached to him the honorable label of “Reform,” right? Now if someone comes and says: look, I claim that women were disqualified from testimony in the time of the sages because they were not educated, they were not involved in commercial life, in the marketplace. They were in the home, “the honor of the king’s daughter is inward.” Today that isn’t the case. You can like it or not like it, but it isn’t the case. In most groups at least that isn’t the case. I think almost all of them. Okay? If so, it could be that what the sages disqualified women from testimony for—it’s a midrashic derivation, maybe it’s Torah-level, but it’s a derivation of the sages. Essentially it’s not relevant to the women of today, because the women of today have different characteristics from the women back then. That’s the claim. Nice, women today are important, in the past they weren’t. There is such a Jewish law. Reclining? Yes, important women, yes. Yes, with reclining it’s a little different, but fine, true, one could say that too—reclining. In any case, the second claim is not a Reform claim. It is a claim of midrashic conservatism. I’m basically saying: think about the swimsuits. I’m basically saying: I am faithful to what the sages disqualified. Whom did the sages disqualify? The sages disqualified that group which is closed up in the home, not involved in commercial life, lacks the relevant education, so it doesn’t really understand the things happening, doesn’t understand the nuances of how things are conducted in business or things like that, and therefore it is disqualified from testimony. Okay? Then I would say that if the sages wanted to disqualify them only for that reason, then they would also disqualify men who are not… Wait, that’s already an objection—just a second, I’ll get to that in a moment. Okay? So that—that is the claim. This claim in itself is a conservative claim. It is not a Reform claim, because I am not claiming that the words of the sages don’t interest me because today there is women’s equality. That is not what I’m saying. If I were saying that, it would be like saying “I put on a coat because I’m cold.” That is Reform. Why? Because you put on a coat without giving a rationale, without making a midrash for what our ancestors did; you’re simply not committed to what our ancestors did. Someone who claims “I need to qualify women for testimony” without bringing a midrash that grounds it or adapts it to what is written in the Talmud—that person is Reform. But someone who says that very same thing, who qualifies women for testimony with the claim I said earlier, is not Reform. Why is he not Reform? Because he offers a rationale that explains that what he is doing is consistent with the Talmud, with Jewish law. Now that doesn’t mean he is right, and it doesn’t mean one can’t argue with him that this is the only possible view. All I’m saying is that this is not Reform. It is an argument. Now if someone else disagrees? Perfectly fine. There are many disputes in Jewish law. So on this issue too one can argue. All I’m claiming is not that this claim is correct, but that there is a legitimate claim here. It is a claim that lies within the halakhic field and it needs to be discussed. But that goes far, because when you make a claim, even a Reform person can make a claim that is… If he says it, then he won’t be Reform. Any claim that won’t be Reform. Right. I’ll say more than that: look, maybe I’ll add one more addition to the discussion. When I make distinctions here between Reform and midrashic conservative and simplistic conservative, this is not a distinction between people. It’s a distinction between arguments. And you can be a person who in one place raises a Reform argument, elsewhere raises an argument of midrashic conservatism, elsewhere an argument of simplistic conservatism. And there are such things; I’ll bring you examples of all the types. Therefore, determining who the person is is much harder, and I have no interest in doing that. I want to determine what the argument is, not who the person is. Someone raises an argument before me; I want to examine which category to assign it to. Leave the person aside. Now if he raises an argument that has a midrash behind it—that is, a halakhic explanation—then he is conservative. That is not a Reform argument. Even if the person is a Reform rabbi, that doesn’t interest me. The argument he is raising is not a Reform argument. And that argument needs to be discussed on its own merits. Maybe I’ll agree, maybe I won’t agree, but I won’t say against that argument, “That’s a Reform argument; he’s a Reform rabbi.” So what if he’s a Reform rabbi? A Reform rabbi may raise a correct argument. You have to examine it. I won’t accept it because he said it, and I also won’t reject it because he said it. I’ll examine the argument and decide whether I agree with it or not. So basically you’re saying that maybe one needs to open everything up, even the Reform claims, open them up to discussion? Exactly. Correct. Raise them all. Exactly. That’s what I’m claiming. Where there is an argument. Those who say: look, I’m putting on a coat because I feel like it—there is no argument there. There’s nothing to open up for discussion. But the Reform people surely do have some kind of grounding in their thought, otherwise what, what is the difference between a secular person and a Reform person? After all, a secular person says: I don’t think from the standpoint of Jewish law, Jewish law doesn’t interest me, believe, don’t believe, I do what I do. So here again—another example of what I said at the beginning: when we judge a phenomenon or a group or people, it’s worthwhile to know the facts. Now if you know the arguments of Reform people—and I wrote about this very systematically when I developed this whole map that I’m presenting to you—I showed that many arguments, not all by the way, some of their arguments really are not Reform arguments, even though the rabbi is Reform. But some of the arguments, a large part of the arguments, are of the type of “I’m putting on a coat.” Just check and see. So what is the difference between a secular person and a Reform person? The difference is only atmosphere, culture; there is no deep difference. But the question is, excuse me, is it basically possible to say that he goes down to the roots on the basis of which the sages ruled that a woman should not testify? Did the sages really, when they set these things out, did they actually set out their rationale, their conceptual line? No, there is no rationale there. Good—if they didn’t say it, then he is basically trying to apply his own thinking, his own perspective, and so on, onto them, onto… So I’ll get to that claim; it’s a good claim. I want to say because there were things like that, by analogy, but there were similar things with legal interpretation and so on, where they imposed a conceptual framework as though the legislator intended A, B, C, D when he legislated the Basic Law: Human Dignity and Liberty and so on. Well, in legal interpretation it’s a complicated story altogether because we don’t discuss the intention of the legislator at all. In legal interpretation we interpret the law; the intention of the legislator doesn’t interest us. Yes, but the point is that… since they can’t defend themselves, they can’t say otherwise because so many years have already passed, so how can one actually say here… Fine, it may be that you have an inquiry, anyone can say anything, but you have to discuss the argument. If you don’t agree with the argument, say that you don’t agree. But if someone raises an argument, you can’t say to him: that’s Reform. He raises an argument. Say whether you agree or disagree. One may also disagree. There is a difference between saying “I don’t agree” and saying “That’s Reform, I don’t relate to it.” If someone raises an argument, you need to address it. If someone doesn’t raise an argument, just says “I’m not committed,” then I have nothing to address. He can claim that what he is trying to do is basically justify his behavior by means of subjective… Fine, what do I care what he is trying to justify? I’m asking whether the argument is correct. I’m not judging him. If he is right, then what do I care that his motivations are problematic? If he is right, then his conclusion is correct. The fact that he acts from problematic motivations—that’s his problem; I’m not judging him. After all, when the Torah said “men,” and then we understood “men and not women,” there was some additional argument there, because she is weak, she is pregnant, she gives birth, this and that, right? If there was one argument, fine—now that you haven’t supplied me, after all there are no arguments, no explanations, “men and not women”… Fine, you joined what he said earlier, I’ll get to that in a moment. Good, I wanted maybe to sharpen the question regarding secular and Reform. A secular person is a person who doesn’t know the halakhic topic; he hasn’t delved into this subject at all, hasn’t asked himself questions of faith / belief. Now a Reform person… A Reform person usually doesn’t know more either. What? A Reform person usually doesn’t know more. I have trouble with the statement that a Reform person and a secular person are almost the same thing. It’s the same thing. Essentially it’s the same thing. In the Reform world there is no Jewish law; there is folklore. Folklore. There are no sins and commandments and binding things; it’s folklore. But I think that when a secular person goes to synagogue he’ll go to his father’s tradition, his grandfather’s synagogue or something like that; he still connects to the tradition… That’s all psychology. In terms of arguments there is no essential difference between them. The psychology certainly exists, but I’m looking at the essential question, not the psychology. But just a question: if now a person, say, comes and says okay, I’m coming before you presenting an argument, and for the sake of discussion there is also something that he can supposedly tell you “I’m definitely right” about. So what is the difference between him and Shabbetai Tzvi? Shabbetai Tzvi could also have come and said blah blah blah blah blah and prove that he was right. If he raised an argument, then indeed there is no difference; one has to examine the argument. But he misled a lot of Jews—is that something good? I didn’t understand. Who said that was something good? I didn’t say it was good. I’m not discussing the question of what is good and what is not good; as I said earlier, I’m not even discussing the question of what is correct and what is not correct. I’m discussing only the question of what is legitimate and what is not legitimate. Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel argued with each other; one of them was right and the other mistaken, but both were legitimate. Right? In contrast, in the Reform context, say, you usually don’t relate to the Reform argument as a legitimate argument. You don’t see it as a dispute within Jewish law in which we rule differently. No. You say: no, he isn’t raising halakhic arguments at all. Therefore I’m not dealing with the question of what is correct and what is not correct and what helps and what doesn’t help; I am… dealing with the question of what is legitimate, what lies within the halakhic field and what does not. Okay, what is inside the halakhic field. Within the halakhic field one can argue who is right and who is not; there are different views. Wait. Now what I want to say is the following claim. As long as a person raises an argument in favor of his claim, he is in the legitimate field. I don’t care what argument. From my perspective, some wild argument, an argument from here, an argument from there. At most I’ll say, at most I’ll say—why don’t you just do things for no reason? Wait, wait. Fine, no, but those who put on a winter jacket aren’t raising a halakhic argument. They say, “I’m cold.” Their argument is “I don’t care.” Exactly, so that’s not an argument. You can call it an argument; it doesn’t matter, semantics. I’m talking about whether you are committed to Jewish law. Now someone who raises a midrash—that is a halakhic argument. Why is it not relevant that it’s a halakhic argument? No. Why? Because it’s not relevant. You don’t accept Jewish law—what do you mean a halakhic argument? If I’m a shoemaker, am I a mathematician? No, I deal in shoemaking, not mathematics. But that defines a halakhic argument. If only one halakhic principle came and established everything on one. No problem. Right. So in the name of Jewish law I will cancel all of Jewish law? That’s a halakhic argument. Correct, correct. And now one needs to deal with it, whether it’s correct or incorrect. I didn’t say it was correct, but it’s an argument that needs to be dealt with. By the way, Amos established everything on one. Yes, and he says that argument in the name of God. Amos was not Reform. Yes, yes. Exactly. So I’m going with your example. Habakkuk established everything on one, Habakkuk, doesn’t matter, Habakkuk established everything on one. They all there reduced a lot until they got to Habakkuk. King David… Yes, in any case, never mind, but in the end yes, that is what they did. Or they explained that it’s not really that they established everything on one, yes? No, they reduced there; there are things that you can’t explain otherwise. They removed “the great, mighty, and awesome God” from the prayer. No, but he didn’t really establish on one, on the one commandment. No, doesn’t matter, I’m saying interpretations can go in many directions, but it’s completely clear that people change things. Everyone changes things. There are people who live with some feeling that they don’t change, they preserve the tradition of their ancestors. My uncle, who is more or less a Belz Hasid, says: Abaye and Rava surely studied in Yiddish. Why? Did Abaye and Rava know how to study? Right? They studied in Yiddish; whoever knows how to study studies in Yiddish. Meaning, whoever doesn’t study in Yiddish doesn’t know how to study. Right, Abaye and Rava studied in Yiddish. Now he himself doesn’t believe that in fourth- or fifth-century Babylonia they studied in Yiddish, but the ethos is true. In the ethos he does believe, not in the fact. Rather, he thinks that he is basically doing exactly what Moses our teacher did. No difference happened at all, no change happened from then until today. An illusion, of course. Okay, in any case I’m returning to them. So what this basically means is as follows: whoever raises an argument, one needs to examine it, the argument. If that argument holds water, I agree; if that argument doesn’t hold water, I disagree. A Reform person is someone who does not raise a halakhic argument. He may raise an argument, but not a halakhic argument. Say, if they make an argument like Korah’s—“a house full of Torah scrolls…” Korah’s argument is a halakhic argument, and one can argue with it and one can not argue with it, certainly. Right? One can agree or disagree; those are two different things—the question whether he is right and the question whether it is a halakhic argument, those are two different things. My claim is that a Reform argument is an argument that does not even raise a halakhic argument in favor of your position. You say, “I qualify women for testimony because it can’t be that we discriminate against women.” That is not a halakhic argument. You take some external value or something else, and you say, “I’m changing Jewish law because I’m cold,” yes? In the parable of work clothes. That is not a halakhic argument. But if someone says, “Look, when the sages disqualified women from testimony they disqualified a certain type of women, but the women of today look different, so that disqualification does not apply to them”—that is a halakhic argument. You can agree, you can disagree; there are arguments in both directions, but it is a halakhic argument. I’ll bring you an example: the Meiri, right? The Meiri on gentiles is exactly an excellent example of this. The Meiri on gentiles, systematically, in dozens and many places throughout his writings, wherever Jewish law makes a distinction between Jews and gentiles, the Meiri adds: as for the gentiles of our time, there is no difference at all—they are exactly like Jews. Including Torah-level prohibitions of desecrating the Sabbath: to save the life of a gentile, says the Meiri, one must desecrate the Sabbath in order to save the life of a gentile. Yes, certainly. Against the law of the Talmud and the law of the Mishnah and the law of everything. Why? The argument is simple. Because the gentiles of our time are “bound by the norms of the nations,” says the Meiri. What does that mean? The gentiles about whom the sages said one does not save them, and all the sanctions imposed on gentiles and all the discriminations made between gentiles and Jews, like returning their lost objects and so on—that all applies to the gentiles of old, who did not behave morally, behaved like beasts. But the gentiles of our time are bound by the norms of nations; they are normal human beings, they behave more or less reasonably. There are less so, there are more so; we see that some of them are not normal. I don’t see that; I see that you probably have sharper eyes than mine. This is an example of not normal. Look at the Burgers, see how Jews behave. Why are you giving me an example—what does Nazi Germany have to do with it? You’re giving me extreme cases. You have extreme cases among Jews too, so are Jews the Burgers? What kind of way of thinking is that? Look at ordinary gentiles in an American suburb, somewhere—they are normal people. Some better, some less so, like everywhere. I can tell you, look at ordinary gentiles in Kenya. Fine, so maybe in Kenya the Meiri wouldn’t have told you what he said. That’s not important. The principal claim is this claim. He looked around him at the gentiles in Provence in the 14th century and he saw around him gentiles who behaved like normal human beings. Again, there were also murderers and thieves there among the gentiles, no doubt; among the Jews too there were. Okay? So fine, there were such and such; the behavior was reasonable behavior, so the Meiri says: all the laws—notice—he changed dozens and many Torah-level and rabbinic laws, simply nullified them. Nullified them completely. What did he nullify? The laws that concern gentiles. He permitted desecrating the Sabbath, a stoning prohibition, in order to save the life of a gentile, on the basis of his argument. It’s not his—it’s Jewish law’s. What do you mean it’s not his? He understood Jewish law that way. Here we’re reaching the Reform point, notice. No, he made this claim as a halakhic claim. And now I’ll say more than that; I’m already beginning to approach the end, so I’ll shorten the range a little. We’re not in a rush this morning. Okay. There is—when I look for a halakhic argument, for example let’s go back for a moment to qualifying women for testimony. Someone will come and say: anyone can say that women in the past were like this and today they are like that and Jewish law isn’t relevant today. Do you have some basis from which you can prove this claim? Otherwise what kind of claim is that? Just pure speculation. Is there a halakhic basis? Not entirely, it isn’t simple. Maybe something, but it’s rather weak. There is—I’ll tell you only the plausibility of this claim. We know—whoever studied in yeshiva knows—when we discuss disqualifications for testimony, for example in Sanhedrin there are sugyot about disqualifications for testimony. A wicked person is disqualified from testimony. So all the medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim)—some say this already begins in the Talmud—say that this is perhaps the dispute of Abaye and Rava, who discuss the question whether the disqualification of a wicked person is a concern for falsehood or whether it is an intrinsic personal disqualification. Is the disqualification of a wicked person because I suspect him of lying and therefore I do not accept him for testimony, or no—it is an intrinsic personal disqualification without any concern for lying; the very fact that he is wicked disqualifies him from testimony. There are disputes, disputes about this. What is the practical difference? What happens if I have a wicked person whom I know is not lying, for some reason—I have certain indications that he is not lying. For example, the Talmud in Gittin 10 says: “Non-Jewish courts do not undermine their own credibility.” Gentile judges, even though they are gentiles, are believed. Why are they believed? Because they won’t want their credibility harmed. Judges have a role that demands honor. Meaning, if they are found to have lied, they will no longer be honored; they cannot continue as judges. In such a case we accept them, they are believed even though they are gentiles. So here, for example, is a proof one might perhaps bring—it can be discussed—but one might perhaps bring it as proof that the disqualification of a gentile, or in another context the disqualification of a wicked person, is not an intrinsic personal disqualification but rather a concern for falsehood. For example, that is the kind of proof people bring in that context. Meaning, there can be a situation in which I can bring proofs from the Talmud to this question: is it an intrinsic personal disqualification or a concern for falsehood? Now the same question I can ask regarding a woman. The fact that Jewish law disqualified a woman—is that because I am concerned not about lying but about lack of understanding, that her testimony simply isn’t worth much because she doesn’t understand how a market operates, she doesn’t interpret correctly what is happening before her eyes, or is it an intrinsic personal disqualification—that by virtue of being a woman she is disqualified? Regardless of whether she would deliver the testimony correctly or incorrectly. These analytical investigations arise in many contexts. So regarding a woman too one can make this investigation. Now you understand that one side of this investigation is that a woman is disqualified because of the concern that her testimony is unreliable. If so, when I reach the conclusion that today’s women, in general at least, are reliable, then there is no reason not to qualify them for testimony. In contrast, if I say that this is an intrinsic personal disqualification—a woman is an intrinsic personal disqualification—then no. Exactly. When we say something like this regarding a woman, we will be Reform. When we say something like this regarding a wicked person, fine—the decisors discuss this, they discuss it all the time. They even discuss, by the way, the wicked people of today; even regarding marriage there are decisors who want to claim that secular witnesses can be valid for kiddushin, even though a witness who publicly desecrates the Sabbath is disqualified from testimony. And in kiddushin this is testimony that creates the legal reality; it’s not only for clarifying the reliability of the matter. And even there there are decisors who perhaps want to claim that today there is a difference, because they claim that the disqualification of a wicked person is only a concern for falsehood. A real disqualification, not an intrinsic personal disqualification. And if so, then in a place where there is no concern that he is lying… The verse says this: “Do not join your hand with a wicked person to be a malicious witness.” Right, but what kind of explanation is that? Not like with women. “Men and not women”? “To be a malicious witness.” Malicious—a wicked person of violence is one kind of wicked person. But there is no explanation there as to why he is disqualified. It doesn’t say it is because he lies. It says don’t go with him. With a wicked person to be a malicious witness. To be a malicious witness. To be a false witness? No, a malicious witness is not a false witness. A malicious witness is a witness who acts violently. Abaye and Rava dispute there whether it is a wicked person of violence or any wicked person, and because of this. No, no, no. “Malicious witness” means a wicked witness. “Do not make a wicked witness,” “do not place a wicked person as witness.” The sages expound it that way. “Do not join your hand with a wicked person to be a malicious witness”—do not make a wicked person a witness. They distort the verse and expound it. And what about “women are light-minded”? That is not brought in this context of women being disqualified for testimony. It is brought in other contexts. And if from there it would come, would it lead to stringency or leniency? I didn’t understand. If now we were to give them all the positive commandments dependent on time, maybe they wouldn’t be so light-minded. Maybe, I don’t know. One needs to examine it. Now understand what I want to say. Suppose I didn’t find proof. A real proof, okay? I have no proofs whether a woman is an intrinsic personal disqualification or a concern regarding the reliability of her testimony, a concern for the reliability of the testimony. What do I do in such a situation? So in such a situation our simple inclination says: if you have no proof, then we leave the situation as it is. Right? You say a woman is disqualified. You need to bring proof that the disqualification of a woman is not essential, and then maybe one can change it. If you have no proof, then no. I remind you of the Meiri. The Meiri brought no proof for his words, nowhere. I went through all the places. He brought no proof for his words, and in dozens and many places he repeats this. Why not? I’ll explain why not. Suppose I now have the disqualification of a woman for testimony. I have two possibilities for interpreting it, right? Either she is disqualified because there really was concern for the reliability of women’s testimony, or it is an intrinsic personal disqualification. Two possibilities. The first possibility offers a reasonable explanation. Right? That there is concern for the reliability of the testimony. The second possibility says that it is an intrinsic personal disqualification. Maybe it’s true, but there is no reasonable explanation here. Yes, but maybe your reasonable explanation is not correct? Okay, that’s basically what you’re saying. If so, in my opinion the burden of proof is on the one who says that. Because if I offer you a reasonable explanation and you say, “Yes, but maybe your reasonable explanation is not correct,” bring proofs that it is not correct. Why shouldn’t I go with my reasoning? If you bring me proofs, no problem, I accept that what I say is not certainly correct. But if you don’t bring me proofs, why shouldn’t I adopt the reasonable option? The reasonable option is some sort of personal intuition? Yes, my intuition, sevara, what is called reasoning. “Why do I need a verse? It is reasoning”—the sages say in the Talmud. Right? Sevara is as good as a verse. The Talmud says: “Why do I need a verse? It is reasoning.” Rabbi, intuition and reasonable—reasonable means that it’s somehow more comfortable for me… No, more reasonable, not more comfortable for me. Not at all connected… a psychological urge? A person builds an argument. Yes, an argument. Not comfort. It’s not comfort. No, really comfort, meaning today if we take the issue of gentiles, it is hard for him to desecrate the Sabbath for a gentile. Meaning, something in his conscience doesn’t allow him… No, no, that’s comfort. If you say, “I think one must desecrate the Sabbath for a gentile for some reason of reasoning,” that’s reasoning. If you say, “It’s hard for you”—take a pill. What does “it’s hard for you” mean? That’s difficulty, that’s comfort. I’m talking about a halakhic argument. That’s an important point. No, but also not… There are two things. Meaning, my motivation starts with the fact that… motivations don’t interest me. Let them be whatever you want. Give me the argument. If you have an argument, everything is fine. So that’s obvious. Everything is fine meaning it is legitimate. Now one needs to discuss whether you are right or not. No, but what the rabbi says, that you need to bring me a proof—that’s because it is… more comfortable for me… not more comfortable for me! Because my reasoning says this. Can I say that the Torah said things whose logic I do not understand? Of course. There are many things I don’t understand. No, so if you tell me: I understand the rationale of the verse that disqualifies women, from logic… Not a verse, it’s a derivation… From your derivation, that from logic women in their time etc. etc. And I say: listen, I think that the sages’ derivation is simply a decree of Scripture, and that’s that. And we have found no proof in either direction. I ask: which is preferable? I don’t know which is preferable. I bring you… when I’m in yeshiva with you, okay? And I sit with you in study partnership over a sugya, and I offer you a reasonable explanation for a law we are learning. And you say… wait. And you say to me: maybe you aren’t right? Doubt does not override certainty. But if we are arguing about something that I can have an explanation for… if I’m learning a sugya… everything might be something that has no explanation. There are decrees of Scripture in the world. No, it depends what we’re arguing about. If I’m arguing about order… doesn’t matter about what. If I have a reasonable explanation… if I’m arguing about some biblical command, the sages’ derivation indeed sometimes has no explanation. Why? Who said it has no explanation? Why did the sages derive it? What do you mean there is no explanation? Every derivation has an explanation. On the contrary, that’s why I emphasized to you: in a derivation it is much stronger, because the sages made the derivation. So what, did they make it as a decree of Scripture? Where did that decree of Scripture come to them from, by prophecy? They understood that this is how it should be done. In a derivation this is much stronger than what I’m saying. The point about logic isn’t clear, the point about logic isn’t clear. What’s the example? The Talmud in Berakhot 35 discusses from where we learn the blessing over benefit. Where do we learn to bless over food before eating it. And the Talmud brings several possibilities and in the end rejects them and says that it is sevara. What is sevara? A person is forbidden to derive benefit from this world without a blessing, and whoever derives benefit from this world without a blessing is as though he committed sacrilege. Right? That is sevara. There, sevara, example. How is that sevara? You are forbidden to derive benefit from this world without blessing the Holy One, blessed be He. Why? Why? Is there a verse about that? No. I understand that this is what is fitting. That is sevara. And there too it’s sevara? What, yes? The reasoning says that if someone is disqualified from testimony, why disqualify him just like that from testimony? Apparently there is some reason. Now, I see that there is a reason: a woman really was not involved in economic life. A reasonable explanation. It is not necessary; maybe I’m mistaken. He says: if you don’t bring me proofs that I’m mistaken, then what I’m saying is more reasonable. Nobody can ever say to me, “Look, maybe what you said is reasonable, yes, but maybe you’re not right.” That is not an argument. That’s what reason says; a judge has only what his eyes see. That is my reasoning. If there are proofs, I will back off from it. Or if there is an intrinsic disqualification, no problem, bring me a proof of that and I’ll accept it. No, what kind of proof? Where does the reasoning come from? If he has reasoning in it, that’s fine. But if he just says there is some kind of disqualification, that’s just words. What do you understand as to why? The Torah says she is not obligated in many things. Not connected. So what? She is not obligated in many things; there too I can derive reasons. Even Abudarham offered reasons why she is not obligated in positive commandments dependent on time. There too I can find reasons. That’s not the sages. Not the sages. Wait, let’s go back a second. That’s reasoning—like, master, why don’t I say “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof,” I don’t need any reasoning at all. It belongs to the Holy One, blessed be He; you don’t just take. But “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof” is a verse in Psalms. Right, and there is another verse afterward, “The heavens are the heavens of the Lord, but the earth He gave to mankind.” Fine, you understand that this pilpul probably wasn’t strong enough for them. And how can it be, sorry, that’s another sugya, just say the matter of wine handled by gentiles. Say if a gentile touched the wine and it all becomes prohibited and so on. Also if we see the roots by which this law was established, say according to logic, one can say that in the past they feared idolatry or that they were idol worshippers, and today there are no idol worshippers who believe in the end in one God. Who in practice can change this? I hope I’ll get to that in a moment. I’ll still try to get to that too before I finish, I just want to finish this point. When he said sevara, he means that he understands that this is what the verse intended? Yes, yes, of course. Here and not gentile women. Why call it reasoning? As the Talmud says in several places, “the mouth that forbade is the mouth that permitted.” Where does that come from? Reasoning. Right? But in the case of women’s testimony, the Meiri says that he understands that this is what the verse intended to say—that women are not valid. That when the sages derived it, they understood—perhaps connected it to the verse. The verse itself does not say that; the plain meaning of the verse says something else. What they understand from the verse itself? In the derivation, not in the verse, because in the derivation, it’s not written in the verse. That they understand that “two men” means males and not females. Those are litigants altogether, not witnesses. When they derived the verse that way. Yes, yes. Now look, I want to tell you something. The Meiri brought no proof whatsoever. And what I said earlier is that I understand why he brought no proof. Because if he had a reasonable explanation—now, it may be that he was mistaken. But if someone claims that the reasonable explanation is not correct, that there is some mystical something else, I don’t know, standing at the base of this matter, then the burden of proof is on the second person. I don’t need to bring proofs. I have a reasonable explanation. Doubt does not override certainty. That’s a rule in Jewish law, by the way. Doubt does not override certainty. If I have something that I think is correct, and you tell me maybe it isn’t correct—so what? It’s like Rabbi Kook in Ein Aya, he says there, there is that famous explanation in the Talmud in Sabbath 30, the Talmud says there: someone comes to Rabbi and says to him, “Your mother is my wife and you are my son.” In short, you’re a mamzer. I had relations with your mother and you are a mamzer. So Rabbi says to him, “Would you like to drink a cup of wine?” He drank and burst. He drank a cup of wine and he waved him off, smote him, however one interprets it there. And the same thing afterward with Rabbi Hiyya, the same story. So Rabbi Kook explains: what do you mean? I know I am the son of my parents. Now there are mamzerim in the world. That is not something that never happens, right? Here and there it happens. Certainly in an era before contraceptives and so on. So now, how can he dismiss it out of hand? He tells you: listen, you are my son, you are a mamzer. I say: doubt does not override certainty. I am presumed to be the son of my parents. You say, but maybe not, maybe not—so what am I supposed to do with this maybe not? It’s like one of the medieval authorities brings a proof against why we do not desecrate the Sabbath for gentiles? No, it’s written in the Talmud. We rule Jewish law like the Meiri. Depends who rules. You know, these are medieval authorities. So who are you, who do you want to rule? Rabbi Kook said that the law follows the Meiri, for example. Rabbi Kook said that the law follows the Meiri. In this case. But that doesn’t prove anything, just as I say the law follows the Meiri. I’m asking whether there is any harm if you do not save him, a bigger transgression. Now look, I really want to note, before I get to the question of authority, one important comment. People think that to be a simplistic conservative—to leave women disqualified, to leave the attitude toward gentiles as it was—is to play it safe. And the burden of proof is on the one who wants to change, right? Like a presumption of prior ownership or an original status quo presumption. Okay, it’s not so simple, because think: when we, for example, disqualify women from testimony—do you know, there is the person who wants to murder a woman, say. He has no problem. He can go into the mikveh in front of all Israel and murder her, and all the women—there’s only a mikveh, only women in the mikveh, right? Nobody can testify about anything. He can walk outside, whistle a cheerful tune, and return home. A person borrowed money and doesn’t return it. The only ones who know about it are two women. Now we disqualify women from testimony. We will leave the stolen money in the hand of the robber. Do you understand that conservatism has heavy prices no less than innovation does. But that price was also known in the past. That isn’t something new. Obviously. But in a place where women really are disqualified from testimony, what do the prices have to do with it? They really are disqualified. And I’m telling you that today they may not be disqualified. Fine, so what do we do now? Maybe they are disqualified, maybe they are not. What do we do? We’ll go with the stringent side. There is no side that is stringent. Both sides are stringent or lenient, however you want to call it. The same claim, the same starting point of “that’s how the Torah determined it.” Who said it determined this or not? The same claim you can make also in the past. That same woman who was murdered in the mikveh and her friend saw her—she was then disqualified. But she really was disqualified. But she really was disqualified—that’s the whole claim. No, again, no. If I had made that claim then, I would be Reform. Why? Because that claim is not a halakhic claim. The Torah itself tells you that although you will leave the money with the robber, still do not accept a woman’s testimony. That is what the Torah says. So I can’t go against the Torah. I’m not Reform. Let people know that they need to… I’m not Reform. But if I say no, women then really were disqualified, I agree completely. For what reason can you say they were disqualified? I said—because they were not educated, didn’t understand the relevant knowledge. She saw him murder… Again, one second. I’m speaking about the general statement. Of course there are situations—as you asked, or someone asked earlier—what about foolish men or men who stay at home? Fine, we—as Maimonides says—Jewish law speaks in general principles; there are always exceptions. Maimonides says a general principle. When you say the general principle is that men are valid and women are disqualified—why? Because generally women then were like this and men then were like that. So obviously there are exceptions. Exceptions are that same claim. The question is always whether the principle as a rule is a correct principle. And what I am claiming here is not the price. My halakhic argument here is not the price that I will leave money with the robber. My claim is that the Torah, when it disqualified women, disqualified the women of then and not the women of today. And now I’m saying—one second—now I have two possibilities. Either it disqualified the women of today or it did not disqualify the women of today. That is, whether it is an intrinsic disqualification or not an intrinsic disqualification, right? Two possibilities. I don’t know what to do. Fine, let’s go with stringency. Now I ask: what is stringency? Stringency is to leave the money with the robber? Is that called stringency? That’s called leniency. Or is stringency to qualify a woman? Maybe she may be disqualified, maybe that’s leniency? You can’t know. Therefore it is not at all clear that there is a side here that is the stringent side. So my halakhic argument is not that argument of prices. My claim is that the women of today are different from the women of then, like the Meiri who said that the gentiles of his time are different from the gentiles of the sages. But what is the basis for making this claim? The basis for the Meiri’s claim is the same basis. The same thing. When the Torah said it, did it leave room to think there are different laws? When the Torah said that one may rob a gentile, that one does not desecrate the Sabbath to save his life—did it leave some opening? No. And nevertheless the Meiri says, by reasoning, that with the gentiles of his time this does not apply. The Talmud, the Talmud says, the Mishnah, they do it too, they also change things from the Torah, they do this too. Obviously, but the Meiri is a very stark example. Yes, right, that there are changes all the time. Just take a change and then I’ll get to the question of authority. Take a change. Take a change, for example. In the Talmud there is a dispute of Abaye and Rava in Avodah Zarah regarding “do not form factions,” that one should not have two study halls in one city, synagogues in one city. Okay? Do you know a city that doesn’t have two synagogues? Maimonides rules like Abaye, by the way. A dispute of Abaye and Rava, and Maimonides rules like Abaye even though it’s not usually the law like Rava. The question is what the definition of a city was in the past and what the definition of a city is today. A city in the past—you saw this camel, you saw that camel too, it wasn’t so far, this. When you have two synagogues one next to the other, that’s not connected to the same neighborhood. Maimonides lived in Egypt, in Alexandria. Why? Why did this happen? Do you know why this happened? I’ll tell you why it happened. Because the territory that once—the geography that once was meaningful, today is not meaningful. Today people move from place to place. In the past, custom was the custom of the place. Today custom is ancestral custom. Why? The place determines, not the ancestors. What do I care that my ancestors came from Hungary or Casablanca? The question is where I live. Like Rabbi Ovadia always said, this is the local authority, right? Here the local custom is to follow the Mechaber, the Shulchan Arukh. What do I care that you came from Ashkenaz? But no, everyone follows ancestral custom, not local custom. Why? That’s against the Talmud. The Talmud says that custom is local custom, “in a place where they are accustomed,” in Pesachim. The answer is because our world has become dynamic. Reality has changed. The world is dynamic. Today a place is a website; that’s a place. Okay? I claim that you can’t even make a prayer quorum on a website, on Zoom, a Zoom meeting. But I’m saying that the concept of place has changed completely in meaning. And therefore today custom doesn’t follow the place at all; today you are here, tomorrow you are there. Within ten hours you’re in Australia altogether, by plane. In the past who would even reach Australia? You would travel for months, if at all. Therefore the entire concept of place underwent change. Therefore in customs it underwent change too, and in “do not form factions” it underwent change too. And today it no longer works at all. So really two synagogues, say Ashkenazic ones, in the same place, there could be a halakhic problem there. But synagogues with different customs in the same place—so what happened? We follow ancestral custom, not local custom. So that is not called the same city. It is the same city geographically, but it is not the same city. This is a synagogue for Yemenites and this is a synagogue for Ashkenazim or Moroccans. The Yemenites have ten prayer quorums in the same neighborhood. The Ashkenazim do too. True, the Yemenites have more. So I’m saying this is an example, for instance, of a changing reality, and all the greatest conservatives on earth simply act against a Talmudic law—this is Talmudic law. Nobody even bats an eye about it. Was that ruled as Jewish law? Of course, in Maimonides—what do you mean? All the decisors. And it’s a Torah-level law, “do not form factions.” The early study halls came from Jerusalem; they tried to fight this. The ultra-conservatives do hold by this specifically. Hold by what? That they preserve their custom, but not “do not form factions.” They also have two synagogues. The question is whether one can infer from that to this. I think one can, but one can argue about it. I’m only bringing it as an example; it’s less important. But I’m showing you—our history is full of changes. Some of them dramatic changes. The Rema permitted new grain outside the Land of Israel against a law given to Moses at Sinai. And many decisors followed him in that. Produce from the new grain. The Rema permitted that? Isn’t there one of the medieval authorities who permits new grain? I don’t remember who was the first, but I don’t think it was much before him. In general the halakhic tradition, the history of Jewish law, is full of changes. This myth in which we grow up, as if conservatism means that anyone who changes something is Reform, simply does not stand up to the test of the facts. So how do you define conservatism today? If on the one hand you say it’s only a question of dosage. A question of how many changes you are willing to make. There is no categorical difference, no sharp line. But in any case there is no real conservatism. So that means it’s only a matter of time until we also change this. Maybe. In general it is mainly a matter of dosage. And therefore I say: what is your suggestion on the issue of dosage? I have no rule; from my perspective every question on its own merits. I don’t count how many changes I’ve made. Every question on its own merits—if it seems right to me, it seems right; if not, not. And what is the problem with who is authorized to make changes? Now I’m getting to that question. I can’t make do only with who is authorized, because changes really are made. There are also changes that are not made, but here I come—briefly—to the question of authority, because it really is in the background here, and it needs a separate class, but I’ll do it very, very briefly. So first I’ll say it this way. Concepts of authority—I’m doing this very briefly, but notice—I’ll make a short conceptual analysis. Concepts of authority are divided into two. There is substantive authority and formal authority. Formal authority is authority, say, like that of the Knesset or a court or a religious court or the Sanhedrin or something like that. What does that mean? It is authority that stems from their very being. It is institutional authority. It isn’t because they are wise necessarily. Torah scholars too, but that’s not because of their wisdom. The authority of the Sanhedrin or of the Talmud or of a court, by analogy, or of the Knesset, is because that is the Knesset, not because they are greater sages. It is institutional authority. Because that is our system, that the Knesset is the legislature. There is authority that is substantive authority. Substantive authority means someone who is wiser, understands more than I do—if he says something, he is probably right. A doctor, for example. He has no formal authority. If the doctor tells me, “Take this medicine,” I am not obligated to take it. Does someone compel me to take it? But obviously it makes sense to take it. I don’t understand medicine, he does. If he prescribes me a medicine, I assume that it is probably right to take it. That is what I call substantive authority. Formal authority—the verses of “do not turn aside,” which are the source for concepts of halakhic authority, deal with formal authority. There are no verses for substantive authority. Someone who is an expert in Jewish law has substantive authority because he is an expert in Jewish law, but he has no formal authority. Formal authority exists only for institutions. That is, the Sanhedrin. And also for the Talmud, for reasons I won’t go into here. But that’s it. There is no more formal authority. You asked about a judge—does he not have authority, even if he’s not sitting on a court right now? No, the judge has no authority in anything. When he sits on a religious court, certainly—they have authority over the litigants before them, who are obligated to fulfill the ruling. I am speaking now about halakhic authority in the sense of changing laws or determining laws, not in the sense of adjudicating a case between two litigants. But if now, say, for the sake of discussion, a couple gets divorced, and the woman says that she knows these matters and was exposed to these matters, and now the woman says with certainty to the judge of the religious court, “I was unfaithful to my husband,” for example, and she shouldn’t receive anything, and now she leaves there—no matter what the religious court ruled—she goes now to civil court, and the civil court tells her, “I don’t care what the religion says; you have to receive half and half.” So does that mean, since you said that regarding the religious court, if now she speaks… I didn’t say that the civil court has formal authority in Jewish law. I’m only bringing examples. Formal authority in Jewish law belongs only to a religious court or the Sanhedrin. A civil court has no formal authority in Jewish law. A civil court has formal authority in law. I’m only bringing examples of formal authority. So in law it’s the court or the Knesset. In Jewish law it’s the Sanhedrin or the Talmud or a religious court. Now what I basically want to say is this. Since the Talmud was sealed—as is written, by the way, in a responsum of the Rosh that appears as Jewish law in Choshen Mishpat 25—there are no more formal authorities. None. No one can determine a new law. No one can give an interpretation that obligates me merely because he interpreted. There are no such authorities anymore. There is yes substantive authority. Whoever is a great Torah scholar—if he says something, he is probably right, so it’s worthwhile to do what he says, like a doctor. But it’s not that there is some prohibition on me to disagree with him. There is no “do not turn aside.” Therefore the question who has authority to change depends on what exactly you are coming to change. If you are coming to change something that was determined by the Sanhedrin or by the Talmud, there is no one today who can do that. Broadly speaking. The question whether it underwent interpretation among the medieval authorities, that already starts getting more complicated. Legumes on Passover eve. Legumes are an excellent example. You can’t prohibit that. Legumes were a concern in general, but that’s a discussion in itself. The point I want to make is that it depends what you are coming to change. If you are coming to change something determined by the Sanhedrin or the Talmud, the Talmud says, “A matter decided by count requires another count to permit it.” A matter determined by the Sanhedrin requires a Sanhedrin to permit it. If there is no Sanhedrin, you can’t permit it. But to interpret it, for example, you can. Therefore when you make an interpretation, like with the swimsuits, you are not changing. You are interpreting. You are not contradicting what the earlier court determined. You say that what the earlier court determined does not contradict what I am doing; it fits. I have an interpretation. So I didn’t come to disagree with them. For that you do not need authority. Like when a court says about laws: the legislator wrote X, I interpret what the legislator determined as Y. Fine—no, no problem. It’s similar, but this is in the field of Jewish law and that is in the field of law. Therefore I say that the question of authority here depends very much on what it is directed toward. If it is a matter determined by an authoritative institution, you need an authoritative institution in order to change it. But you do not need an authoritative institution in order to interpret. Because all of us interpret. What, don’t medieval and later authorities interpret the words of the Talmud? Sometimes they take them away from their plain meaning. Or don’t they interpret enactments determined by the Sanhedrin? Interpretations of things determined by the Sanhedrin—certainly yes. Medieval and later authorities do this all the time. Because interpretation does not require authority. Authority is needed to determine law, not to interpret. To interpret—all of us interpret. That is what we do all the time. Can anyone interpret? Anyone can interpret; he just has to be responsible enough that people will follow him. So what, you have to be responsible. Anyone can also solve problems in physics, only it’ll come out nonsense. If he doesn’t understand it, it’ll come out nonsense. Whoever wants to be irresponsible can be irresponsible, what. There is no canon. Apparently in the end according to the number of people who flock after him. There is no canon, there isn’t. If they flock, let them flock; I’ll flock somewhere else. There is no authority; after the Sanhedrin and the Talmud there are no more authorities. So basically the rabbi is saying: I’m not looking for broad consensus. I’m saying, many times when I want to make a change, on my own initiative I will want broad consensus, because I also think that there should still be some additional eyes to look at it, additional views. Many times decisors say: if thus-and-such rabbis join me, I’ll be willing to permit something. That’s perfectly fine. In a place where you feel you are taking a very significant step, it certainly may be that someone will want—I want the agreement of additional people. But that’s voluntary. And you want the agreement of additional people—fine, because you are not sufficiently confident. But you can also not do that. There is no halakhic requirement to attach further agreements. If you want to, that’s perfectly fine; this happens every day that rabbis do this, and that’s fine. Then in the end there will be many, many splits. That already happens today too, many splits. You won’t succeed in preventing splits in any case. They always threaten with this sword of Damocles, that if you do this there will be many splits and you will have given Torah into every person’s hand. Even today Torah is in every person’s hand. Not really, not exactly. It will be completely different; meaning, once you permit this. It won’t be completely different, because in the end people who do not want to keep Jewish law will not keep it. Whoever wants to keep Jewish law—if you don’t understand it, you won’t rule for yourself. Today there are many rabbis who popped up two and a half days ago who are rabbis and already give classes. Don’t listen to them. But how will I know whom to listen to and how I… Now here, you know what, I’m changing the whole class. Okay? No, there is absolute authority, no one may do anything. Has anything changed? Have the rabbis now recoiled because I said otherwise? They invented some law here—so what does it change? It won’t open anything up. Nobody needs me for this. Whoever does this does it anyway. Whoever decides to permit taking an additional wife while his current wife is still alive. That is a matter of the ban of Rabbenu Gershom; that’s something else. Fine, I’m saying—and even if it does burst open, it doesn’t depend on me, that’s the truth. If you fear breaches, then make enactments to stop it, but the truth is that there is no authority, there are no concepts of authority in these contexts. Only regarding something that itself was determined by an authoritative institution. These are the halakhic rules; these are the halakhic facts. Meaning that today, when a rabbi says one should act this way or that way or that way, you’re basically saying he has no authority to say that. Correct—he offers an opinion. And if he is a great Torah scholar, right, he offers an opinion and I respect it because he probably understands, but it is not authority. Meaning if I think otherwise I’ll do otherwise. But isn’t the Shulchan Arukh authority? Now the Shulchan Arukh is written here for you as a ruling. In my opinion even the Shulchan Arukh has no formal authority. What do you mean it has no authority? Would you do something against the Shulchan Arukh? The commentaries on the Shulchan Arukh disagree with it. So I’m saying—“Do not murder,” so murder, you understand, I’ll say no, he meant no. If you really think that, then murder. What do you want from me? What do you want me to tell you, that it’s forbidden? But that’s how you read it. Authority means something binding. Obviously authority means something binding, but the question is who has authority. If the things are correct—is the Shulchan Arukh binding? No. The commentaries on the Shulchan Arukh disagree with it. So what is binding? His commentaries disagree with it. No, let’s say that the Shulchan Arukh also includes the Rema for the sake of discussion. The commentaries disagree with it—what do you mean? Say the Chief Rabbi of Israel like Rabbi Ovadia Yosef—beyond his substantive authority as a decisor and so on, he is also a religious authority. No authority whatsoever. The Chief Rabbinate of Israel—the Chief Rabbinate of Israel are pathetic state officials, nothing more than that. But someone in the end enthroned them, gave them that title, that label. Politicians enthroned them, so what does that mean? Anyone can be one unless he’s too wise. Someone too wise won’t succeed in being Chief Rabbi. Meaning he’s overqualified. Quite apart from my opinion that the Chief Rabbinate should have been closed yesterday, but I’m saying on the conceptual level it’s obvious that it has no authority at the halakhic level. From what authority would it have? By virtue of what? Could they establish a Sanhedrin and then say from now on we are the Sanhedrin? If—you mean, Maimonides for example claims that one can renew ordination with the agreement of all the sages of the Land of Israel. Fine, so Maimonides thinks that; other medieval authorities disagree with him. It’s not a simple question; it’s hypothetical. Say now Rabbi Ovadia Yosef said something, for the sake of discussion, and now he rules a law. Say he says now that something is forbidden. Can I tell him I don’t care what you say? If you have a counter-argument, if you have another argument and you are qualified, perfectly fine—do otherwise. Did everyone accept Rabbi Ovadia? Did everyone who wasn’t in his own camp accept what he said? Of course not. No, that’s all. If you think otherwise, and you are qualified—not just someone speaking nonsense—and if you are qualified and think otherwise, do otherwise. What, there is no formal authority. Qualified means someone who studied the sugya in depth and reaches—what are the criteria for this qualified person, I need—that’s a class about authority. That’s another class. Here I only noted the matter of authority because it bothers us in this context of changes and conservatism. Fine, but there are laws that were accepted even though they are not formal at all, like the later authorities usually do not disagree with medieval authorities in the overwhelming majority of cases. Overwhelming majority except for the cases where they do disagree. Yes, but those are cases… So you yourself see that this is not some inviolable rule. Whoever does it looks for some explicit Talmudic source, some medieval authority who disagreed… he searches here and searches there and in the end disagrees—so I too will search. The question is whether you can disagree. The fact is that it is not an inviolable rule. Every rule has an exception, yes it… No, on the Talmud no one disagrees. There is no exception. On the Talmud no one disagrees. There are isolated places where one sees that the Talmud… on the Talmud itself, no. There are Savoraim who remove pieces and say this… No, that’s something else. You can say that he interprets differently or that he claims this is a Savoraic addition or something like that. The Savoraim too disagreed with the Talmud because it had not yet been sealed in their time; and retroactively, when you look, say once it was already clear that the Talmud was sealed, no one disagreed with the Talmud. There are those who stammer over Talmudic passages and all the parallels, twist them or maybe he held this way or he held that way. The fact is they always twist. Why do they twist? You think that’s twisting? Doesn’t matter, because they are committed to the Talmud. No one disagrees with the Talmud. You have to somehow manage with it no matter what. On the Talmud no one disagrees. And didn’t the Karaites disagree with it? What? Didn’t the Karaites disagree with it? No, the Karaites are not in our halakhic game. They don’t belong. Secular people also disagree with it. We’re talking about those who are in the game, yes? Not those outside it. You say this is the only authority that is formal, because it was sealed. Correct, the last formal authority. The Rosh says this, and it also appears in the Shulchan Arukh, by the way. If the Shulchan Arukh has formal authority, he himself writes this; he brings this Rosh. Good. You say, but excuse me, when you say that the authority is basically given… to me. I decide on whom I rely in practice. That’s always true. “Make for yourself a rabbi.” What do you mean? Ah, so there, you solved everything. So now it doesn’t matter, according to what you say, the arguments don’t matter, as it were… No, but if you rely on someone, then fine. I’m saying you can also decide for yourself, not only rely on someone—if you are a Torah scholar and you are qualified, then yes. But even when I rely on a rabbi, I am not necessarily a Torah scholar; as part of a community I also don’t always know the reasons. If you are part of a community, then in the conduct of the community the rabbi has authority. In how the community behaves, not what I do at home, yes? Yes, but the external changes, say, that he introduces when he interprets, he goes to the root and says I bring A B C D, yes? I as a community member don’t actually know what his change stems from; I accept him as an authority and I rely on him. Right, a community rabbi has authority over his community. I do not tie this to formal authority because this is authority from below and not from above. Formal authority, after all, is from above. Moses was ordained by the Holy One, blessed be He, and ordained Joshua, and afterward ordained one by one continually; the ordained one is ordained from above. It is not acceptance by the public. It is not that the people accepted him; he came to us from above. Authority of a rabbi in his community is authority from below; the community determined with him that he would have authority to manage the community, and therefore he has authority. It is not authority that he arrives with and imposes on the community. The community gives him that authority. Therefore, for example, the community can also limit his authority. Jewish law does not determine over what he has authority and over what not. The community determines over what he has authority, because regarding what we accepted you for, there you have authority; what we didn’t accept, there you have no authority, because the authority is from us. But if now, for the sake of discussion, a community ordained a person—fine. Does that now mean that since I ordained a person, whatever he tells me now—he finds justifications for everything I want and this and that is permitted according to Jewish law as far as is correct? Are you permitted according to Jewish law? If now he tells me he has halakhic reasons for everything, then is it permitted for me? In how the community behaves? Yes, he determines. What does “permitted” mean? Permitted halakhically—now he tells me now what the Jewish law is; now he says like Shabbetai Tzvi, says according to such and such and such, and he tells you such and such and such. Maybe he is Shabbetai Tzvi. What does “like Shabbetai Tzvi” mean? If he is Shabbetai Tzvi then throw him out. A rabbi you accept simply manages the community—that is the rabbi’s role. That doesn’t mean that at home I’ll do what he determines. No, for that he wasn’t appointed. And if there comes a rabbi who is very learned but also very wicked and he uses his learning to tell you… then his community won’t accept him, what is this? If it’s a community matter, then what do I care what he says on YouTube… He has good arguments but he’s a wicked person. How am I supposed to know? He’s such a monster, but his arguments are good, so everything’s fine? What’s the problem? He takes you with those arguments to… If you don’t rely on him, make someone else your rabbi. So if you don’t rely on him, ask someone else, or if you are qualified then examine his arguments yourself. If you’re not qualified, ask someone else. Obviously I wouldn’t rely on him merely because he said it if he is wicked. But if I am qualified to examine his arguments, what do I care that he is wicked? Yes, Acher—Rabbi Meir studied with Acher: he ate the inside and threw away the peel. Peace to you. A philosophical question: let’s say that some of the rabbis, the decisors, go according to what you’re saying. Why then, ostensibly, don’t we see changes, say, in things where we do see technological adaptations of the Sabbath in Jewish law—why doesn’t someone think to change that according to today’s reason? For example, I don’t know, tell him not to play a guitar because maybe he’ll fix it, but I don’t fix it. Reason tells me that I won’t fix it, but because that’s my rule I accept it, so I don’t want to change it. First of all, there are decisors who definitely do take such steps. For example regarding the use of medicine on the Sabbath, where today there is no concern lest one grind medicinal ingredients, because today we do not prepare medicines ourselves. So there many decisors are indeed lenient about using medicines on the Sabbath. Certainly in cases where there is doubt, they combine that consideration. Yes, certainly such considerations are made. So why is it so limited, in my opinion? Limited because they’re afraid; the Reform people are breathing down our necks. But I think that indeed many times the conservatism is excessive, and the Reform people in a certain sense win, because if we recoil from making changes that are indeed called for and indeed possible only because we fear Reform, in the end the whole system will fall apart for us. People leave the whole system because it really ossifies too much. So what did we gain by fighting the Reform people? I say again: if the change is really called for and possible, and people only don’t do it because it looks Reform—again I’m returning to my introduction. But in today’s situation, say that now, for the sake of discussion, I can now—so if, say, I just give arguments, even if I don’t know Jewish law, I give reasonable arguments, people can agree with me. Not with reasonable arguments. You need to know Jewish law. Just reasonable arguments? By force of reasonable arguments I can explain to you that quantum theory is wrong. But I don’t know quantum theory, so what can I explain until tomorrow that it isn’t reasonable? So I’m telling you—none of us, not many people can make arguments if they don’t have deep knowledge of it. Right, you need knowledge of it. I’m speaking about someone qualified, someone who has halakhic knowledge, who has skill, yes, obviously. So I’ll ask a slightly statistical question, in the context of the rabbi’s teaching. What is the chance, assuming the honorable rabbi takes twenty or thirty high-level jurists here in the country and establishes the High Institute for Interpretation of the Law? Okay. What is the chance that this will calm down the High Court and they’ll stop ruling, because every law someone wants to interpret has the big institute? Zero. I’ll try to say peacefully: zero. There is no chance such a thing would happen. Why would… there are so many jurists in the country; I’m not a jurist at all. No, I’m saying I have a personal thought, not that the rabbi will establish it. No, there are many jurists and they give their opinions. I don’t see how one establishes something to which the Supreme Court would feel subordinate. There is the Nation-State Law, which is exactly what we said—what do you mean he’ll interpret a law for me when everyone understands the law? Why do I need interpretation? Because it is the role of the court to interpret the law. So who will interpret the law if not the court? Not interpret—wait, no, to act according to the law. Where—sorry, excuse me—where interpretation is needed, go back to whoever legislated it and he will explain what he meant. You are missing something very basic in the legal world. The role of a court, exactly like the role of sages by the way, is double. Meaning it is both to implement the law and to interpret the law. The sages, for example, were given authority both to determine laws—that is rabbinic law—and to interpret the laws, that is Torah law. Sounds wonderful. But what am I to do, like we see today, the extremism of the High Court overturning things? The High Court overturns things, various courts overturn things. Its interpretation is political, so you have criticism of them. What can one do? But that is their role—their role is to interpret. I can say implement, yes, but interpret? Who determined that it is to interpret? There is no other way anywhere in the world. If you think that on every court ruling where interpretation is needed they will return to the legislator, there won’t be one court ruling in the State of Israel not once in ten years. I actually think the opposite. There will be a law that itself has to be so clear that there are no gaps. But there are! There are gaps, there are deficiencies. You must interpret. There isn’t a single judgment that can take the law and apply it as is. Not one. One case in the whole history of courts in the State of Israel—I think you won’t find one. So apparently the laws need reform. Fine. Any law in the world—if you find a way to legislate laws in such a way that they will not need interpretation but can simply be applied, you’ll get a Nobel Prize in law in Germany. Germany, by the way—why do I say Germany? Because the legal system in Germany really does try to function that way, that the court is only supposed to apply the law; that’s called positivism. But even in Germany they’ve already given up on it. We have no way to formulate laws so precisely and in such detail. There is no choice: the court has to interpret. And with all the criticisms and disputes, there is nothing else to do. Meaning there is no one else who will do it. There is criticism of the legislators too. Could it be that one day a computer will do it? What, people will argue over which AI; the arguments won’t end with AI. What do I do if I think that the second day of Rosh Hashanah is very unnecessary and it’s becoming harder for me to keep it? Do what I do—I think so too. You know what? Keep it for now anyway. Why? Good question, because it was determined by count. There are many examples like that. Right, and it was determined by count; a matter decided by count requires another count to permit it. That’s a question of authority; you are completely right, there is no doubt that today there is no need to keep the second day. But I know, I know that twilight… But midrash. I know that twilight… There is nothing at all. There is no… it’s just authority. Therefore here there enter, beyond—that’s what he asked earlier and therefore I needed this at the end. Beyond the consideration of the matter on its own merits—whether it is fitting to change—here I am completely with you. But beyond that you need to examine another aspect, and that is the aspect of authority. There are certain things that although it would be fitting to change them, not everyone can do that, because they were determined by the Sanhedrin. And something determined by the Sanhedrin only the Sanhedrin can cancel. Why should I fulfill something defective just because someone said so? Maybe the person now needs—leave it, that’s already a completely different issue. I can tell you what Jewish law says. What the Holy One, blessed be He, wants—you need to ask Him. But Jewish law has rules. There is a midrash about this, sages thought so, said it in their time. If you fulfill the midrash it may be… By the way, Rabbenu Ephraim, the student of the Rif, actually said—and this is already the period of the medieval authorities—Rabbenu Ephraim, the student of the Rif, said that one should keep one day of Rosh Hashanah. Who? Who said one day? The student of the Rif, Rabbenu Ephraim. Even though the Talmud says two days. Was he in the Land of Israel or outside the Land of Israel? In the Land of Israel. In this regard no, that’s not, that’s not—no, of course… but yes, that is a lone opinion. Okay, thank you. Thank you very much.

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