חדש באתר: NotebookLM עם כל תכני הרב מיכאל אברהם

The Halakhic Authority Within His Community

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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

  • The modern Tenth of Tevet and the General Kaddish Day
  • Responsa From the Depths and Rabbi Ephraim Oshry
  • The Dvar Avraham and the Kovno Ghetto
  • A ransom ruling to save the Jews of Yanova
  • Two who are walking in the desert, the Chazon Ish, and the meaning of “your life takes precedence”
  • Legumes on Passover in the ghetto and the logic of “heavenly assistance”
  • The kitchen question on the Sabbath in Responsa From the Depths and the deliberate absurdity
  • Labor not needed for its own sake under threat and life-threatening danger
  • Ideological subtext: you do not close the Shulchan Arukh
  • Rabbi Gibraltar: “there are no monetary laws in the ghetto” and the response to him
  • The decisor as witness, and the gap between inside and outside
  • Rabbi Shimon Shkop, legal theory, and situmta
  • Stealing from a gentile, legal prohibition and religious prohibition
  • “Discrimination” in Jewish law: civil rights and human rights
  • What the religious court declares ownerless is ownerless, “the rabbis uprooted the betrothal,” and personal status
  • No enforcement, no system: the justification for “there are no monetary laws in the ghetto”
  • The radical possibility: pathological situations in which the framework is irrelevant
  • A transgression for its own sake, Jael wife of Heber the Kenite, and the daughters of Lot
  • Returning to Rabbi Oshry: halakhic clarification as survival and as meaning
  • Rulings in a foreign reality: the army, different communities, and the local halakhic authority
  • “Mary’s room,” the color red, and knowledge that cannot be inferred
  • Women’s singing as an example of rulings without direct acquaintance
  • Secular courts and courts in a modern state
  • Conceptual summary: feedback from the rules and decision through direct contact

Summary

General Overview

The text presents the modern Tenth of Tevet and the General Kaddish Day as an opening for examining the role of Jewish law in extreme situations such as the ghettos of the Holocaust, especially the Kovno Ghetto, through personalities and halakhic rulings that emerged there. It describes a tension between an approach that seeks to “close the Shulchan Arukh” when life has become pathological and the systems of rules are no longer applicable, and an approach that insists on continuing to clarify Jewish law down to the smallest details even when the practical result is already determined in advance by life-threatening danger. From this, a broader claim is made about halakhic ruling in general: someone who is inside the situation possesses immediate knowledge that a distant decisor cannot reconstruct merely through models and rules, and therefore issuing rulings from afar in a foreign reality may be mistaken even on the halakhic level.

The modern Tenth of Tevet and the General Kaddish Day

The speaker wants to discuss the “modern” Tenth of Tevet as connected to the General Kaddish Day, but from an angle that ultimately brings us back to Jewish law. He presents the Kovno Ghetto as a test case that sheds light on the relationship between Jewish law and extreme reality, and on the way decisors within the inferno shaped a halakhic and ideological response.

Responsa From the Depths and Rabbi Ephraim Oshry

The speaker introduces Rabbi Ephraim Oshry and Responsa From the Depths as rulings that arose from questions that came up in the Kovno Ghetto and were written after Rabbi Oshry survived. He describes the responsa as the classic work on Holocaust-era questions, containing many volumes, and places it as a framework from which one can draw not only decisions but also ideological “subtext” regarding the continuing validity of the language of Jewish law within an extreme situation.

The Dvar Avraham and the Kovno Ghetto

The speaker describes the author of Dvar Avraham, Rabbi Avraham Sander Kahana Shapira, as the rabbi of Kovno and of the Kovno Ghetto, and as a unique figure who returned from the United States to his community when the war broke out and died in the ghetto. He singles him out as someone who took an uncompromising line of even on something as minor as a shoelace, and did not shave his beard, placing this against the halakhic tension between life-threatening danger and a time of religious persecution, and the limits of halakhic compromise during the Holocaust.

A ransom ruling to save the Jews of Yanova

The speaker cites stories from a series of articles in the Yated Ne’eman supplement by a son of the Gibraltar family, about a ruling of the Dvar Avraham concerning the Jews of Yanova, who were saved by partisans in exchange for a large ransom. In Kovno, a dilemma arose because of scarce resources and the fear that rescuing them would burden the ghetto. The Dvar Avraham rules that they must pay, and the speaker describes a communal fundraising effort that included surrendering private property gathered “with blood, sweat, and tears,” while noting that the rabbi sent with the letter was killed and the community was transferred to Kovno, with some of them surviving.

Two who are walking in the desert, the Chazon Ish, and the meaning of “your life takes precedence”

The speaker compares the ransom dilemma to the dispute between Ben Petura and Rabbi Akiva in Bava Metzia about a flask of water, and presents the Chazon Ish’s interpretation that taking the water is defined not as theft but as taking life, even though it is not “murder with one’s own hands” in the sense relevant for punishment. He describes how, in ordinary halakhic terms, there would be reason to prefer “your life takes precedence,” but the Dvar Avraham argues that in the ghetto “everyone is living by a miracle” and in any case is expected to die, so handing over the “flask” is also the only chance for heavenly assistance that might save everyone.

Legumes on Passover in the ghetto and the logic of “heavenly assistance”

The speaker cites a ruling attributed to the Dvar Avraham and the yeshiva students in Kovno not to eat legumes on Passover, even though the ghetto’s food was based on black bean soup, and stresses that the ruling was not meant for the whole ghetto but for yeshiva students and the rabbi himself. He presents this as a consistent application of the claim that “we’ll die with the soup or without it,” and therefore halakhic leniency is not actually required, and perhaps strictness will bring heavenly assistance.

The kitchen question on the Sabbath in Responsa From the Depths and the deliberate absurdity

The speaker quotes Rabbi Oshry’s responsum in section 5 about a student named Mr. Yaakov, may God avenge his blood, who wants to enter kitchen work in order to escape forced labor at the airfield and receive food, even though he will have to cook on the Sabbath, and also asks whether he may eat on the Sabbath the soup he cooked because of the law concerning benefit from labor done on the Sabbath. He describes an expectation of a short answer based on life-threatening danger, but Rabbi Oshry devotes a substantial section to a detailed halakhic discussion of tannaitic disputes and Maimonides, the Tur, Tosafot, the rule of “the amount of time needed to do it,” and the implications of the prohibition of benefit from labor done on the Sabbath.

Labor not needed for its own sake under threat and life-threatening danger

The speaker describes how Rabbi Oshry discusses the possibility that labor performed under threat is “labor not needed for its own sake,” because the motivation is not the goal of the labor but rescue from danger, and places this within the dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda, with the law following Rabbi Shimon that the prohibition is rabbinic. He notes that Rabbi Oshry concludes with a broader permission by force of mortal coercion and life-threatening danger, using the formulation “the Merciful One exempts one under coercion,” and ending with language emphasizing that the suffering strength of the miserable people in the ghetto had already been exhausted.

Ideological subtext: you do not close the Shulchan Arukh

The speaker interprets the length of the discussion as a “subtext” that refuses to erase halakhic analysis even when the practical conclusion is clear because of life-threatening danger, and as an ideological stance against abandoning the system of Jewish law in a catastrophe. He describes this as a struggle between two possibilities: a conception that declares Jewish law irrelevant in an abnormal reality and therefore “closes the Shulchan Arukh,” and a conception that continues to work within the halakhic language in order to preserve meaning, identity, and the ability to return after the Holocaust.

Rabbi Gibraltar: “there are no monetary laws in the ghetto” and the response to him

The speaker presents Rabbi Shraga Feivel Gibraltar as a Torah scholar in the Kovno Ghetto who, according to his son’s testimony, held a consistent position that there was no private ownership and monetary law did not apply in the ghetto, to the point of refusing after the Holocaust to accept repayment of loans on the grounds that it had been ownerless property. He describes a critical article in Yated Ne’eman claiming that this does not fit the rules of Choshen Mishpat, and the speaker’s response in his own article, arguing that a rabbi inside a pathological situation is not merely “expressing a position” but “testifying” about a reality that someone outside cannot judge using familiar tools alone.

The decisor as witness, and the gap between inside and outside

The speaker sets out a principle according to which someone who experiences the situation from within holds knowledge that cannot be fully conveyed through reports and rules, and therefore ruling from afar about a foreign reality is presumptuous and may be a halakhic error, not just a moral problem. He allows a limited role for the outside decisor as one who provides sources, considerations, and “feedback,” but says the final decision belongs to the local halakhic authority and to the “commander on the ground.”

Rabbi Shimon Shkop, legal theory, and situmta

The speaker cites Rabbi Shimon Shkop, who argues that the prohibition “do not steal” rides on a prior system of property rights whose source is social legal regulation, and therefore the laws of acquisition are not learned from verses but from a system determined by society and by sages as legislators. He uses the example of situmta as a mechanism by which merchants’ custom creates a legally valid acquisition, and presents this as proof that acquisitions are not “purely halakhic” but a legal system to which Jewish law grants endorsement.

Stealing from a gentile, legal prohibition and religious prohibition

The speaker argues in the name of Rabbi Shimon Shkop that stealing from a gentile is prohibited on a Torah level in the layer of reason and legal prohibition, and the dispute among the medieval authorities concerns whether there is also the religious layer of “do not steal.” He brings the example of an etrog stolen from a gentile, which is not considered “yours” even according to opinions that minimize the religious prohibition, because the legal ownership still belongs to the gentile.

“Discrimination” in Jewish law: civil rights and human rights

The speaker presents a distinction between symmetrical internal obligations within a community and universal obligations, and argues that a large part of the “discrimination” toward a gentile is perceived that way because of confusion between civil rights and human rights. He illustrates this through returning lost property and the discussion of murder as opposed to other prohibitions, and argues that there is a Torah prohibition against killing a gentile even if the specific religious layer changes, emphasizing that basic moral equality is preserved.

What the religious court declares ownerless is ownerless, “the rabbis uprooted the betrothal,” and personal status

The speaker extends Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s model also to the area of family law, and argues that the authority of the sages to confiscate property and to uproot a betrothal reflects a legislative-legal role and not only a decisional one. He criticizes explanations that base such uprooting only on implicit conditions, and argues that the mechanism stems from the fact that Jewish law recognizes social legal regulation as constitutive of status, and when the legislative institution changes the legal recognition, the halakhic recognition changes as well.

No enforcement, no system: the justification for “there are no monetary laws in the ghetto”

The speaker formulates Rabbi Gibraltar’s position as saying that a place with no enforcement capacity and no practical recognition of private ownership does not maintain a legal system, and therefore private property law has no meaning there and the prohibition “do not steal” cannot apply in its usual way. He adds a distinction according to which taking bread or a coat on which life depends is defined as murder and not as theft, and in that way the prohibition against harming life is preserved even when monetary law collapses.

The radical possibility: pathological situations in which the framework is irrelevant

The speaker suggests a broader possibility according to which, in extreme situations, the ordinary halakhic system may not be applied at all—not only Choshen Mishpat but other prohibitions as well—because the Torah spoke to normative life and not to total catastrophe. He brings images of an extreme condition in which the question of theft loses meaning, and presents examples that illustrate the sense that technical halakhic discussions do not belong to a reality in which a person “violates a hundred thousand prohibitions per second.”

A transgression for its own sake, Jael wife of Heber the Kenite, and the daughters of Lot

The speaker uses the Talmudic idea that “a transgression for its own sake is great,” and the examples of Jael and the daughters of Lot, to show that the sages praise acts that seemingly violate severe prohibitions when reality is perceived as exceptional to the point of threatening the continuation of humanity itself or requiring national rescue. He presents this as proof that there are situations in which it is impossible to find an “internal permission” according to the rules of the system, and yet the act is justified because the catastrophe is understood as a condition the Torah did not mean to frame in the normal way.

Returning to Rabbi Oshry: halakhic clarification as survival and as meaning

The speaker returns to Rabbi Oshry and argues that precisely the insistence on analyzing Maimonides and the Tur and disputes about labor done on the Sabbath within the ghetto conveys that you do not close the Shulchan Arukh, because survival without values loses its meaning. He presents Jewish law as a flower alongside bread: a means of preserving sanity, motivation to hold on, and the ability to return to religious life after the catastrophe without being left with a permanently “closed Shulchan Arukh.”

Rulings in a foreign reality: the army, different communities, and the local halakhic authority

The speaker describes a pattern in which a community rabbi asks someone greater than he is, and that decisor responds with considerations and sources but leaves the final decision to the local rabbi who is inside the reality. He presents this as the proper model of combining an internal and external perspective, where the halakhic analysis supplies a framework but the immediate understanding of living conditions is what decides.

“Mary’s room,” the color red, and knowledge that cannot be inferred

The speaker brings the thought experiment “Mary’s room” to argue that there is experiential knowledge that cannot be acquired through models even if they are perfect, so an outside decisor may “know the optics” but still not know what “red” is. He offers this as a metaphor for Jewish law: mastery of the rules does not replace experiential familiarity with a certain reality, and someone who does not know the reality may err in applying the rules.

Women’s singing as an example of rulings without direct acquaintance

The speaker argues that many decisors discuss women’s singing without actually knowing the experience, and therefore necessarily interpret it through a single category of sexual temptation. He raises the possibility that in many cases the experience is aesthetic enjoyment that is not identical to a sexual context, and argues that in areas with interpretive space, the choice between interpretations depends on understanding the reality itself.

Secular courts and courts in a modern state

The speaker presents the prohibition against going to secular courts as a case in which twelfth-century rules are not applicable in a modern state that has no general halakhic authority and where it is impossible to conduct life without a legal system. He argues that attempts to permit it by claiming that this is “not really secular courts” are not credible, and that one must recognize that reality sometimes requires “freezing” a rule that cannot be implemented, while demanding that a decisor who understands the reality formulate alternative rules rather than hide behind formal classifications.

Conceptual summary: feedback from the rules and decision through direct contact

The speaker concludes with a distinction between arbitrary decision-making “from inside” and technical ruling “from outside,” and argues that one needs the feedback of the rule-system but also recognition of the weight of the immediate understanding possessed by the person who lives the situation. He says that in situations far removed from the world of the decisor, clinging to technical rules without understanding the reality does not work, and the one on the ground is the one who must bear responsibility for the decision.

Full Transcript

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Today I wanted to talk a bit about matters connected to the Tenth of Tevet—but the modern Tenth of Tevet, meaning the General Kaddish Day. But I want to approach it from an angle that in the end actually brings us back to Jewish law. There’s something I came across in one of the responsa of Rabbi Oshry, Ephraim Oshry, in Responsa From the Depths. He was a rabbi in the Kovno Ghetto, and he gave answers there to questions that arose—naturally, questions connected to the insane situation that prevailed there. And he wrote the responsa after he had already been saved, meaning after the Holocaust, and it came out in—I think—about five volumes or something like that. It’s called Responsa From the Depths, and it’s considered the classic responsa collection of questions from the Holocaust.

[Speaker B] Five volumes? That many questions and answers?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Apparently, yes. At least around five volumes.

[Speaker C] What was his status there? What was he?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know exactly. I think he was some kind of yeshiva head in America, it seems to me, but I didn’t check exactly. He was there, he was a rabbi there—I just don’t know in exactly what capacity. The one who was the rabbi of Kovno, or of the Kovno Ghetto—or first of Kovno and then of the Kovno Ghetto—was the author of Dvar Avraham, Rabbi Avraham Sander Kahana Shapira. And he too was a very unique figure. This whole ghetto—I’ve kind of encountered it from various directions, and that’s what I want to talk about a bit today. He was the head of the… he was the local rabbi. He was actually in the United States when the war broke out, and he returned there to be with his community. They told him to stay, well, all those classic stories—so in his case it really was exactly like that. He died in the ghetto, not murdered, but naturally, yes, the situation around him probably didn’t help. And apparently he really behaved in very, very impressive ways. First of all, he was the only one there who didn’t shave his beard. Even over something as minor as a shoelace, right? The approach that—you know, usually this is a big question: during the Holocaust, after all, people basically did compromise in the halakhic context, because of life-threatening danger and so on. But we know that in a time of religious persecution, even over the color of your shoes or your shoelaces you’re not supposed to compromise; you’re supposed to die even over the color of your shoes. The Talmud says even over a shoelace. And the question of how exactly to define the Holocaust—whether one could compromise or not—is not simple. People also didn’t address it all that much because it’s very sensitive. But he, for example, on this issue went all the way. Meaning, he conducted himself normally; apparently he gave up on nothing. The only one there—that’s at least what people testified. And he had a collection of fairly astonishing rulings. I was exposed to this in a series of articles in the supplement of Yated Ne’eman, I don’t know, ten years ago or something like that, written by someone named Gibraltar, whose father was Rabbi Shraga Feivel Gibraltar. He too was there, also a rabbi in the ghetto—not a rabbi, but a Torah scholar who was very much recognized as such there, even though he apparently didn’t hold an official rabbinic post. Someone told me today that he knew the family, and said he had some kind of shoe store there in Kovno. And the son wrote a series of articles about his father, basically, and about the Kovno Ghetto in general. And he told there about some rulings of the Dvar Avraham; Rabbi Gibraltar was apparently some kind of disciple of his. Really remarkable things. He begins with some story about the Jews of Yanova. There was some ghetto there that was apparently liquidated, and the partisans somehow managed to save a large part of the Jewish community of Yanova. Then they sent the rabbi of the community—who was also a known figure, he has some well-known works, I don’t remember his name—they sent him to Kovno, to the Kovno Ghetto. And the partisans told them they would hand over the Jews in exchange for a very large monetary ransom, apparently by the standards of that period. And in Kovno the dilemma was twofold. The dilemma was twofold: first, it wasn’t just the remainder of their money—it was more than the remainder of their money. They didn’t have it. And second, if they succeeded—if they succeeded in raising the money and paying it, then all those people would come and join the ghetto, relying on the limited resources they already had. Meaning, it was shooting yourself in both legs, not just one. And the Dvar Avraham ruled that they were obligated to give the money. They raised money from everyone; he says that his father, Rabbi Gibraltar, had fifteen thousand rubles, I don’t know what, that he had gathered really with blood, sweat, and tears, and he handed over everything, left completely stripped of his assets, simply gave all the money. And that’s it—and that’s how the Jews of Yanova were saved, except for the rabbi. The rabbi whom they sent with the letter to bring the ransom—the partisans killed him. And the Jews of Yanova were sent to Kovno; some of them, by the way, survived and also reached the Land of Israel. So in the end it probably even helped. In any case, there was a halakhic dilemma there. He compared it to the case of two who are walking in the desert, the Talmud in Bava Metzia: two people walking in the desert and one of them has a flask of water.

[Speaker E] So—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The dispute between Ben Petura and Rabbi Akiva. Ben Petura says: let them both drink and let not one see the death of his fellow. And Rabbi Akiva says: your life takes precedence over the life of your fellow; he should drink, and there’s nothing to be done—your life takes precedence over the life of your fellow. And the question is—the Chazon Ish, I think, talks about this; there are others too, I think Rabbi Kook has some responsum about it—the Chazon Ish asks why I can’t simply steal the water from the other person. I’m violating “do not steal,” but this is life-threatening danger. So the Chazon Ish says that in such a case this is not “do not steal”; it’s “do not murder.” Meaning, this is really called murder, not theft. Now, in the ordinary halakhic definition, that’s not exactly so. It’s indirect causation. I’m just taking his water. Meaning, the fact that he later dies of thirst because he has nothing to drink—I only caused that. It’s not direct murder. Let’s say, in terms of punishment, the person who does this would not be liable for the death penalty. But the Chazon Ish says: true, maybe not in terms of punishment—but at the end of the day, you are taking a life here, not taking property, and therefore it is forbidden to do it. Now if we take that back to the Kovno-Yanova case, the money is basically the same thing. The people of Kovno have some limited resources—money, food, whatever they have—and what is being expected of them is basically at least to share it, or maybe even to hand it over to the Jews or to the partisans, in order to save the Jews of Yanova. And in that sense, the Jewish law would follow Rabbi Akiva—that your life takes precedence over the life of your fellow. Which means that you shouldn’t hand over the money, because because of it you will die, or some of the people there will die. It’s not black and white, but it’s a very severe problem. And the author of Dvar Avraham argued that we are in a place where everyone is living by a miracle. Meaning, that’s not the situation. In terms of the normal frame of reference, we are all going to die. At most, we can hope for some special heavenly assistance. So if we do things like this, maybe that’s what will save us. In that sense, handing over the flask of water is the only chance also for us to be saved—not only that it doesn’t endanger us, because in any case we are going to die anyway, with the flask or without it. And therefore he ruled that they had to collect the money, and as I said, they collected it and redeemed them. There are also several other things there. For example, he ruled for the yeshiva students and also—

[Speaker F] He himself too? You brought this once?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Possibly. I wrote about this once in some article; maybe that’s where you know it from. He ruled for the yeshiva students there in Kovno, and he himself too, that they would not eat legumes on Passover. Now right here in this responsum he says that all they had there was black bean soup—that’s what was cooked in the ghetto kitchen, regardless of Passover. He just mentions it here in passing, I think. What there was on Passover besides that bean soup, I don’t know. So he says there—Rabbi Gibraltar quotes him in the name of the author of Dvar Avraham—that he said once again the same argument. He says: true, life-threatening danger, all of that is correct, but after all, we’re going to die with the soup or without it, with the legumes or without the legumes. So maybe if we don’t eat legumes, that’s what will save us—meaning through heavenly assistance, right? Now, he did not rule this for the entire ghetto, obviously. The whole ghetto ate whatever they could. But he said: you yeshiva students, and the rabbi himself—we are supposed to do more. And that’s what he said. Now, there was really a series of things there that were absolutely chilling, and that was the atmosphere. Now, I’m encountering this from various directions. Honestly, it would be worth at some point doing some comprehensive research and writing a book about it, because if I’m identifying this correctly, I think there was even some sort of dispute there about how to relate to the situation. It’s not stated anywhere explicitly, from what I’ve seen so far, but in hints I think you can see it. And that’s what I want to talk about a bit today. Okay, so I’ll start דווקא with Rabbi Oshry’s responsa, Responsa From the Depths, where he writes there in section 5. I didn’t photocopy it because the details of the responsum are not the point—we’re not going to learn it in detail. I just want to speak about it generally. There’s a very interesting subtext here, I think, and the question is as follows. A question: “These things I remember, and I pour out my soul within me, for in the days of the accursed sinners we had no standing. And every single day they would take out of the ghetto more than a thousand people in order to destroy them with hard labor at the airfield.” All the work there—it appears in many responsa—the forced labor in the ghetto was apparently at some airfield near Kovno, “and to afflict them in their suffering. And behold, my student Mr. Yaakov, may God avenge his blood, came before me with his troubled question.” After all, this was written after the Holocaust, so this Yaakov apparently was eventually killed. “Since he has the possibility of entering work in the kitchen, where they cook the black soup made of beans that the Germans distributed to the Jews together with one hundred grams of bread a day. However, the problem is that there he will be compelled and forced to work at the labor of cooking even on the Sabbath.” Meaning, if he manages to get into the kitchen, the price is that he will have to cook on the Sabbath.

[Speaker C] And at the airfield he wouldn’t?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] At the airfield it was apparently a question maybe of boundaries or things that are not actual Torah prohibitions, if I understand correctly, because otherwise what exactly is the question. “However, since by means of this he will be saved from the hard forced labor at the airfield that destroys the soul and breaks the body, perhaps this too involves life-threatening danger”—yes, that’s a rather understated formulation—“for since he will be saved from difficult and exhausting labor, and will be able to eat and satisfy his hungry soul with the black soup as much as his soul desires, and his body will thereby become stronger, he will be able to hold out so that he not perish from the general hunger prevailing in the ghetto. And he also asks whether he may himself eat on the Sabbath day from the black soup that he cooks on the Sabbath.” Meaning, the question is actually twofold: first, may he cook? And second, there is a prohibition of labor done on the Sabbath. Meaning, if someone desecrates the Sabbath—

[Speaker F] Is he allowed to cook? If they put him in the kitchen then obviously he’s allowed to cook, because otherwise they’ll kill him.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, the question is whether he may choose to enter and be there. And that is voluntary on his part. And after he cooked, the question is whether the soup becomes forbidden to him because there is labor done on the Sabbath here. Now when I read this question, I immediately thought to flip onward, to look for some answer that would represent something. I said, this is nonsense—obviously it’s permitted, period. What’s there even to talk about? Some tiny rabbinic prohibition like benefit from labor done on the Sabbath—it’s just a joke. But then I decided anyway to see a bit what he does with this question.

[Speaker F] Why—why is this not labor done on the Sabbath? Is it really not labor done on the Sabbath? Isn’t it forbidden if done intentionally?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The cooking is. But the soup itself, after he cooked it—the soup itself, is it forbidden because of labor done on the Sabbath?

[Speaker F] Labor done on the Sabbath? Yes.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But with life-threatening danger—

[Speaker C] Whether the Sabbath is fully permitted, or not fully permitted, or only pushed aside—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Whether it’s fully permitted or only pushed aside, it doesn’t matter. Either way it’s permitted. What difference does it make?

[Speaker C] Right, but if it’s life-threatening danger and he gets himself into the kitchen, and if they kill him he’ll cook—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Well, the Sabbath is permitted. But that’s exactly what I’m saying. So I don’t understand the question. It’s obvious—what’s the question? It’s obvious that it’s permitted. I was sure there would be some discussion here about some aspect of life-threatening danger, and I didn’t see the length of the answer. I couldn’t understand why it was more than one line. So I thought maybe there would be discussions about life-threatening danger and mountains hanging by a hair—questions like whether a person places himself into a situation of coercion. After all, a person is in effect putting himself into a situation where he’ll be forced to work on the Sabbath. That’s a very interesting issue on the halakhic level: is he called coerced when he puts himself into coercion or not? You can discuss all kinds of things of that sort. Okay—even though halakhically it’s unnecessary—but maybe. Indeed, the responsum is divided into two parts.

[Speaker E] And at the airfield he wouldn’t work on the Sabbath?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He would work, but not in a labor prohibited on a Torah level. Not a Torah-level prohibition, not cooking apparently—again, because otherwise what exactly is the question.

[Speaker D] Listen, he didn’t have the strength to check that right now.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Now, the responsum is divided into two parts. The first part deals with labor done on the Sabbath, with this rabbinic prohibition. It’s unbelievable—he deals with labor done on the Sabbath. He reviews Maimonides and the Tur, and the tannaitic dispute, and which view we rule like, and whether it’s rabbinic or Torah-level, and all kinds of things. That’s the first part, which touches the question—the second question, meaning whether the soup itself that was produced this way is permitted. Did he write it in the ghetto? He answered it in the ghetto; the actual writing he did after the Holocaust. That’s what it says in the introduction to the responsa. The second section of his answer is itself divided into two parts. It deals already with the cooking itself, not with benefit from the soup. And there too there are two parts. In the first part he discusses a line of reasoning that is fascinating in its own right. He brings later authorities who write this—Maharik and Rosh Yosef, the Rosh Yosef of the Pri Megadim, his commentary on tractate Shabbat—and they write that if you do labor because of a threat, then it is labor not needed for its own sake. Because you are cooking, basically, not for the food, but so that they won’t kill you. So the labor is being done not for the usual purpose for which this labor is done, but for another purpose. That is labor not needed for its own sake, and then it is in effect a rabbinic prohibition—the dispute between Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yehuda, but the law, we rule like Rabbi Shimon. Maimonides rules like Rabbi Yehuda. We rule—and the Shulchan Arukh also rules—like Rabbi Shimon, that labor not needed for its own sake is prohibited rabbinically. So that is his first discussion: whether such a thing is really called labor not needed for its own sake or not. That is not a simple question within the parameters of Sabbath labor. The second part, of course, goes straight to what we would have expected immediately: the bottom line is that this is life-threatening danger and therefore everything is permitted. So the whole business looks bizarre. I mean, if you’re already saying that everything is because of life-threatening danger, then you have totally permitted all the previous discussions. So what exactly are you discussing—Torah-level, rabbinic-level, the law follows this view, and… and if it’s Torah-level, then what? After all, desecrating the Sabbath on a Torah level is also permitted because of life-threatening danger. Not to mention this whole discussion of labor done on the Sabbath, which is some tiny rabbinic prohibition for the scrupulous only. It’s just bizarre, this responsum. It’s bizarre. Look: in Chullin 15a we read: “We learned: one who cooks on the Sabbath—if done unintentionally, it may be eaten; if intentionally, it may not be eaten. These are the words of Rabbi Meir. Rabbi Yehuda says: if unintentionally, it may be eaten after the Sabbath; if intentionally, it may never be eaten. Rabbi Yochanan HaSandlar says: if unintentionally, after the Sabbath it may be eaten by others but not by him; if intentionally, it may never be eaten, neither by him nor by others.” And Maimonides in chapter 6 of the Laws of Shabbat, law 23, rules: “A Jew who performed labor on the Sabbath—if he transgressed and did so intentionally, it is forbidden for him to benefit from that labor forever”—that’s the law of labor done on the Sabbath—“but other Jews are permitted. Only to the one who cooked is it forbidden; to others it is permitted immediately after the Sabbath.” As it says, “You shall keep the Sabbath, for it is holy to you”—it is holy, but what is made through it is not holy. How so? And so on—it doesn’t matter. Maimonides ruled like Rabbi Yehuda. And then he starts discussing whether Maimonides really ruled like Rabbi Yehuda or not. And then the Tur disagrees with Maimonides, and the Tur ruled like Rabbi Meir. And Tosafot say such-and-such, and the question is which opinion the law follows, and whether this is rabbinic or Torah-level, and this and that. A whole discussion about whether one must wait “the amount of time needed to do it.” You know what that means? If there is labor—if someone cooked on the Sabbath—then for others it is permitted after the Sabbath. For him himself it is forbidden forever; for others it is permitted after the Sabbath. But even after the Sabbath, at least according to Rashi, the Talmud says regarding cooking by a gentile—but also regarding labor by a Jew, Rashi’s view is that you have to wait the amount of time it would take to cook it after the Sabbath. And why? Because if you don’t wait that amount of time, then you’re benefiting from the fact that it was cooked on the Sabbath. If you wait that amount of time after the Sabbath, then you’re not benefiting from the fact that it was cooked on the Sabbath, because in that time you could have cooked it anyway permissibly. So there is this “the amount of time needed to do it.” So he discusses whether you have to wait that time or not, why the medieval authorities didn’t bring Rashi who says this, and so on. And this whole story is completely bizarre. Now, he says, the cooking is being done for the Jews, so in practice if this was intentional and therefore forbidden forever—that’s one of the opinions here—then it would also be forbidden for everyone else to eat it, not just for the cook himself. So really the discussion is about everyone, not only about this Yaakov himself. Now I’ll read you the end of the responsum, just the… “And according to this, in our case, where the accursed sinners were forcing the Jew to work at all kinds of hard labor on the Sabbath, and if they did not obey them they would kill them with all kinds of deaths and tortures, then certainly this coercion is coercion of death, and certainly one should permit these miserable people to desecrate the Sabbath, because the Merciful One exempts one under coercion.” That’s how the responsum ends. “And all the more so when there is here actual danger to life.” He argues in the… work under threat—this permission of labor not needed for its own sake—could apply even when the threat is not death. Because the basis of the permission is not coercion because you are in mortal danger, but because it is not prohibited. Meaning, you’re doing it for another purpose and not for the ordinary purpose. So for example, even if they threaten, I don’t know, to beat you up or to take something from you, and because of that you cook, that is enough for it still to be labor not needed for its own sake. He says: all the more so here, where this is coercion of death, and therefore complete coercion, and so on. “Returning to the legal conclusion, it seems to me that one should permit the woman to work at the labor of cooking on the Sabbath, for in any event they will force her to work,” and so on. “And it is obvious that the soup too will be permitted, because life-threatening danger is so great that it overrides the Sabbath, for the capacity for suffering of these poor people has already been completely exhausted.” Meaning—so what did you write until now? What is this whole story? If in the bottom line you’re just erasing everything you wrote, then why did you write it? Clearly there is some very clear subtext here. And the subtext says: I am not erasing the whole beginning. I will reach the practical conclusion in the bottom line that it is permitted, but I am not giving up on the clarification, on the halakhic clarification. I will begin with a discussion of Maimonides and the Tur—does the law follow this one, and is this rabbinic or Torah-level, and Maharik writes this and that—and in the end I will erase it all because in any case it’s all life-threatening danger, so what difference does it make. But I’m going to do all of it. And the question is: why? And therefore my feeling is that this is subtext, as I said before. There is here some expression of a kind of ideology. An ideology that he wants to sharpen or promote, let’s say—I’m not sure exactly how to formulate it. And maybe this ideology can be understood against the background of what I brought earlier from Rabbi Gibraltar. So I’ll move there for a moment, and then I’ll come back to him afterwards. Rabbi Gibraltar—yes, in that same ghetto. His approach was that in the ghetto there are no monetary laws. There is no ownership of private property inside the ghetto. And the reason for this is not life-threatening danger, and not that we don’t get fussy about such things because lives have to be saved, and so on. Rather, on the principled level of monetary law, monetary law simply does not apply in such a situation. That is the view. Now he brings all sorts of statements there. It’s not a halakhic article; it’s an article describing a historical story. So it’s a little hard to extract from it what exactly the halakhic conception was. But there were all sorts of halakhic statements there from which, it seems to me, one can make a kind of reconstruction, try to understand from them what his real position actually was. And following those articles—in a moment I’ll come back to that—following those articles there was some critical article. A response by some person who deals with monetary law, some rabbi, doesn’t matter. I won’t mention his name because I think that would be slander. He wrote some critical article there in Yated Ne’eman: what are you talking about? These arguments don’t hold water. Monetary law—what do you mean there’s no theft? Of course there is private property and “do not steal.” And he brought the… no, he wasn’t there. So he wasn’t there. Okay. So he says that these rules and those rules mean it can’t be, and here it doesn’t contradict that, and there it contradicts the Shulchan Arukh, and here it… in short, it doesn’t work out. And immediately, when I read it, it really annoyed me—exactly what Shmuel is saying here. But okay, there’s criticism; we have to see what to do with it. So I wrote an article about it—that’s the article I mentioned earlier that I wrote. I wrote an article on monetary law in the Kovno Ghetto. And the framework within which the article proceeds is, I think, the important point I want to speak about here—not the responsum itself. And the framework was this: from my point of view, because this is a completely pathological situation—meaning, someone who wasn’t there doesn’t understand what we’re talking about—so in a situation of that kind, it seems to me that what the rabbi who is there, inside the situation, says is not the expression of a halakhic opinion. It is testimony. Meaning, he is testifying before us that in such a situation this is permitted. Now I can use my halakhic tools to try and check why. I cannot argue with him and tell him that he is wrong, because I wasn’t there. Since I don’t understand the situation—this is a situation totally foreign to me, I have no idea what goes on there, how people feel there, how people conduct themselves in such a state—so taking tools that are very familiar to us and using them on a situation that is completely foreign is something very problematic. And about that I want to speak a little…

[Speaker B] There’s a statement here that if a rabbi is in a place where there’s a question about some community that has some Jewish-law problem, and the whole way that community functions and the conditions they live in are completely different from the community that rabbi himself lives in, then it’s very hard to see how he can rule on Jewish law.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, so that’s exactly what I want to talk about. That’s the point I want to discuss. So the claim, really, my basic assumption—or at least my basic intuition—was that from my perspective, what Rabbi Gibraltar, or whoever it was who was there, said—assuming he was qualified, that he was capable of issuing halakhic rulings; whether or not he was the leading rabbi of the generation is not important right now, and anyway they said he really was a very outstanding Torah scholar—but that’s not the point. Not because of the stature of his halakhic greatness, but because he was the rabbi on site. And once he’s the rabbi on site, and he experiences something that for an outsider is utterly foreign, something someone from outside simply won’t understand—then what he says is a kind of testimony, not just an expression of an opinion. In other words, it’s like witnesses who come before a religious court and describe a situation the court didn’t see and doesn’t know, so the court needs the information, and the witnesses come and say: this is what happened. Meaning, sometimes when you don’t know… to know the factual situation, you need a witness who is there, who knows that situation, to testify before you. And here the judge is the witness. In other words, the halakhic decisor is actually a kind of witness, because this is the kind of situation that’s simply not familiar to someone who wasn’t there. It’s just completely foreign to you; you don’t understand what’s being talked about. You can’t decide a case that simply isn’t in your conceptual world. It’s presumptuous to make decisions from the outside in contexts like these.

[Speaker E] What does it mean for someone to testify to you? He puts you into the situation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s always how it is. Look, always. So what do witnesses do? That’s exactly the point. If the information is brought to you, then yes, you can try, at least, to understand what’s being discussed. To fit it into halakhic categories, to try to understand, to somehow translate what the person is testifying to into halakhic tools. But only to translate—you can’t argue with him. Meaning, you can try to frame it, try to understand as much as you can from what he says. There’s something here—but understand, this is a nontrivial statement in the halakhic sense. Of course it sounds very popular to say, “You can’t judge a person until you’ve been in his place”; that’s not what I’m talking about at all. I’m saying that halakhically you’re mistaken if you do this. It’s not a moral question. I’m not talking about the moral question—what an immoral thing, how can you judge him, you weren’t there. I’m talking about what is correct on the halakhic level. I think he is simply right and you are wrong if you do that. That’s a different claim. Now the question is: why? There’s some claim here that is not simple.

[Speaker F] Maybe someone from a context like that—a rabbi in the Warsaw Ghetto, let’s say—maybe…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, so it could be more so, yes. I don’t know.

[Speaker C] That’s what he did. I see it as something fantastic, what Rabbi Gibraltar did, because really, what’s the question, as the rabbi said—what exactly is the question inside that inferno? What Rabbi Gibraltar did, from what we’re seeing now at the beginning of the class, is that despite the inferno and despite the blackness of the whole situation, he still keeps his community inside learning.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Wait, in a moment—that’s not Rabbi Gocza, you moved to the second one. Wait, I’ll get to that in a minute.

[Speaker C] He remained in learning despite the terrible thing; he kept them within the…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, no, we’ll get to that at the end too, shortly, but step by step. So Rabbi Gibraltar basically argued that there is no private property. In principle, you can take someone else’s property and you’re not violating “do not steal.” More than that: after the Holocaust people came to him to repay loans, and he said, “It’s ownerless. It’s not mine. No—the property wasn’t mine. You owe me nothing.” Meaning, he followed this with great consistency. He was a Litvak—meaning, if that’s the Jewish law, then that’s the Jewish law. That was the approach. Now I—so I said earlier, when I surveyed the topic, I first tried to figure out why he annoys me. And he annoys me because of this. My feeling was that the one who is inside the situation is the one who decides what is right to do there. You can advise him, you can ask a question, you can—I don’t know—point out something maybe he didn’t notice, maybe he did, but in the end he makes the decision. The commander in the field. Yes, exactly, the commander in the field. That was basically his approach. Now what happens? When I try to think about what the foundation of Rabbi Gibraltar’s approach really is, I think that in the end—and you can also see this from his own statements—I don’t think this is just my reconstruction; it seems to me this really is what he meant, even if not the whole framework, but clearly this was the reasoning. So I’ve already mentioned here, I think more than once, Rabbi Shimon Shkop on the theory of jurisprudence—yes, where Rabbi Shimon Shkop says that the Torah says, “Do not steal.” For theft to be defined as a prohibition, you first need property law. You first have to decide what belongs to whom: this property belongs to so-and-so, that belongs to someone else; how property is transferred; all the laws of ownership have to come first. Once ownership law is defined, then you can apply the prohibition of “do not steal” if you take someone else’s property, right? Now Rabbi Shimon Shkop says: where in the Torah do you find the laws of ownership? There is the prohibition “do not steal,” but the laws of ownership do not appear. Therefore it is clear that when the Torah says “do not steal,” it is implicitly presupposing some system of property law, which it nowhere writes explicitly, but assumes. Where does that system of property law come from? Who determines it? So Rabbi Shimon Shkop argues that this is what is called jurisprudence. In other words, this is the legal ordering of society. Once society decides how to manage property law—how someone becomes the owner of something, how people buy, how they sell, all these things, how partnerships are formed, all the laws of ownership and acquisition—once that is arranged and determined on a legal, meta-halakhic level, then Jewish law comes and places on top of it the prohibition of “do not steal.” In other words, it gives religious sanction to this legal status: that this is your property and this is mine.

[Speaker B] Meaning that property law—how do you transfer property from one person to another? So how?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] By pulling it. And where is that written in the Torah? Where is that written in the Torah? It’s in Jewish law. Fine. Where did it come from? That’s what I’m asking—where from? What are you saying? So I’m saying: the Talmud in Bava Batra deals with property acquisitions, most of the topics in Bava Batra. And it’s well known that Bava Batra is a tractate without verses. There are no verses. Where does it come from? It comes from the Sages’ legal ordering. Aside from a few things—maybe the acquisition of Ephron’s field, there’s something there, or pulling versus money there with Rabbi Yohanan and Reish Lakish—tiny traces maybe can be seen in verses, negligible. Most ownership law does not exist in the Torah. And the claim, basically, is that this is the legal ordering of society, except that in the halakhic Jewish world, the Sages also function as legislators, because that’s their role. So here they act not in their role as decisors but in their role as the legal or legislative authority. Therefore when the Sages established all these laws of pulling and so on, all these things, that has exactly the same status as a non-Jewish legislator; it’s just that our legislators are the Sages, that’s all. But this is not under their halakhic hat; it’s under their legal hat. For example, the Talmud says: a commercial custom effects acquisition—situmta acquires. Yes, the merchants’ custom, what people always say, “good luck and blessing,” that handshake over diamonds. That acquires on a Torah-level basis; according to almost all opinions, situmta is Torah-level. If there is a merchants’ custom regarding some object—say that this kind of thing is acquired by speech—no problem, then it is acquired by speech. What is that? Did the Sages say so? But there’s pulling, there’s lifting, there are rules for how things are acquired. What do you mean? No—the Sages made a legal ordering. And if society functions with some other arrangement, there’s no problem at all. Then that will be the property law, and that’s perfectly fine. It’s not a law in itself; it’s just giving religious sanction to a law that already exists, to a legal system that already exists. And among the Jewish people there is no other legal system, so the Sages established the Jewish people’s legal system. So they, as legislators, established the laws of ownership—but that is a legal determination, not a halakhic one. Halakhically, money does not acquire. What? Money doesn’t acquire, but we do buy with money. In the legal determination, not the halakhic one. The legal one. The dispute between Rabbi Yohanan and Reish Lakish whether by Torah law money acquires or by Torah law pulling acquires—that is, simply speaking, a legal dispute, not a halakhic one. And in fact, if today, for example, money would effect acquisition, then money acquires. No problem. Both Rabbi Yohanan and Reish Lakish would agree. Everything is fine. Right, so there’s no problem at all.

[Speaker F] Even if I didn’t pull it and didn’t touch

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] the object? Fine, no problem. If we regulate it differently, then it exists differently. It’s not that you have to do it like the Sages and only after the fact other arrangements are also recognized—no, from the outset, there is absolutely no problem making other arrangements. What about the verses? What? Why would he need verses? There are no verses.

[Speaker C] It’s…

[Speaker F] Isn’t that making a condition against what is written in the Torah?

[Speaker C] No, it isn’t written. Can we agree that we take interest? Huh? Can we take interest?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Interest is something else. Interest is a prohibition. Making a condition against what is written in the Torah in monetary matters—that’s a dispute between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda, and according to Jewish law there is no rule against stipulating against what is written in the Torah in monetary matters. What are you saying?

[Speaker G] If the whole thing is agreement, then why do you need something transferred from hand to hand?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In truth, you don’t. If there’s another arrangement, then you don’t need it. That was the arrangement because that’s what people did then. But if they do it differently, then differently—no problem. Everything follows local custom. Everything follows local custom—not that after the fact we compromise. No, from the outset it’s permitted to do it that way. Ask about the Mishnah—the Mishnah in Bava Metzia on page 93 says that an unpaid guardian can stipulate to have the status of a paid guardian. Well then, why did the Torah write the laws of an unpaid guardian? Anyone can stipulate from the outset to do something else. All the medieval authorities (Rishonim) say this—it’s not just that after the fact, if you stipulated, it takes effect. There’s absolutely no problem. Do whatever you want. The Torah established the default, that’s all. If you stipulate—about that I could give a separate lecture; I also have a lecture on it—but first of all, that’s the fact. You can argue about why it makes sense and what the logic behind it is, but that is the fact. The fact is that in monetary matters you can stipulate from the outset; there’s no problem with that. Meaning, monetary matters are understood as a kind of legal arrangement, and the Torah provides a default if there is no other arrangement.

[Speaker H] So does studying all of Bava Metzia have that same status of study?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s the lecture I said I have, and maybe I’ll give it another time: what the meaning really is of studying Hoshen Mishpat if it really is just a default. In any case, Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s claim is that the prohibition of “do not steal” rides on top of a system of property law that is a meta-halakhic system. It exists on the social-legal plane before the Torah begins to speak, and the Torah places on it the sanction of “do not steal.” Now usually people understand Rabbi Shimon’s words as though the laws of ownership are basically devoid of normative content—they are neutral. In other words, they just define; we merely define what belongs to whom, and the prohibition and permission all exist on the religious level. Meaning, the first level only defines; from the standpoint of the first level, if I take your property there’s no problem. The Torah now says: this is your property, so if someone takes it from you, he violates “do not steal,” but that is the Torah’s addition. Fine. The Seven Noahide Commandments too—the question is whether they belong to level one or level two; that’s the question. And some say they belong to level two—among non-Jews too there is a level two. Now that’s the standard view. I’ve argued about this with many people. It’s obvious that’s not correct. Rabbi Shimon Shkop, in any case, does not mean that, because it can’t be. There’s no such thing as something belonging to you with no implication whatsoever, where anyone can take it and there’s no problem on level one alone—then in what sense does it belong to you? Those are just words. Rabbi Shimon Shkop means that on level one, not only is there a definition of who the owner is; the prohibition on taking from you also exists on level one. There is a legal prohibition on theft. On top of that there is another religious layer of “do not steal,” but on the meta-halakhic legal level there is also a prohibition, not just definitions of what belongs to whom. And one of the proofs for this—there are several proofs in Rabbi Shimon’s words, although it’s a little compressed there—but there are a few proofs. One of them, for example: Rabbi Shimon Shkop says there is a dispute among the medieval authorities whether stealing from a non-Jew is prohibited on a Torah level or rabbinically. Rabbi Shimon Shkop says that stealing from a non-Jew is prohibited on a Torah level according to all opinions; it’s just a legal prohibition, because after all non-Jews also have ownership. It’s obvious that the Torah recognizes ownership of property among non-Jews too; on the contrary, it obligates them to establish a system called laws—they have to set up a legal system. Fine, so obviously they have laws of ownership. If they have laws of ownership, then someone who takes from them is a thief. Therefore there definitely is a prohibition here, and it has the status of a Torah-level prohibition, because reason has the status of a Torah-level prohibition. Therefore it is obviously prohibited on a Torah level according to all opinions; the question is whether there is also the religious layer of “do not steal” on top of that—that’s the dispute. The question is whether the religious layer of “do not steal” applies there too, or only to theft from Jews. But the legal layer exists. Practical difference? Yes, there are practical differences regarding punishments and other things, but in truth it is a Torah prohibition. That’s what Rabbi Shimon Shkop says. For example, he brings there the Magen Avraham—I don’t remember in whose name—that one who steals from a non-Jew does not have the status of “yours.” Meaning, you can’t take that stolen etrog and fulfill your obligation with it. Why not? According to the opinion that stealing from a non-Jew is not prohibited by Torah law, what’s the problem? Now it’s yours and that’s it. There is a requirement that the etrog be yours—the rule of “for yourselves,” “for yourselves, from your own.” So he says: what do you mean? In the legal sense, theft from a non-Jew is his. The question is only whether an additional religious layer is added on top of that or not—that’s the debate among the medieval authorities, whether yes or no. Parenthetically—and this is a different discussion, but still I think it’s worth noting—many of the elements that create discomfort because of discrimination, where Jewish law discriminates between Jew and non-Jew—and it does discriminate, there’s no denying that—but one should know that many of these discriminations are not real discriminations, because what I owe to… I don’t owe to the non-Jew; and he also does not owe to…

[Speaker F] No, and he doesn’t owe to another non-Jew either, nor to…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, basically, sometimes we distinguish between civil rights and human rights. What’s the difference? Human rights are granted to everyone, to every human being. Civil rights are for citizens, right? Human rights can’t be given only to a citizen—he gets them by virtue of being a human being—but civil rights are not discrimination. The fact that the State of Israel takes care of its citizens more than other people is a very logical thing; every state does that. It’s its role. The fact that a family takes care of its members more than other people is also very logical. That’s how it works; that isn’t discrimination. So when does it begin to be discrimination? When I demand that he care for me in a way that I do not care for him. But if I care for my family differently than for someone else while recognizing that he too should care for his family differently than for me—that’s not discrimination. It just means there are circles of concern, and of course the more inward the circle is from my point of view, the more I am obligated toward him. That’s very logical; everyone works that way. Now many times Maimonides talks about this too, and others. A great many of these types of discrimination toward a non-Jew—say, I don’t return lost property to a non-Jew, and everyone screams about it, or—not I; I mean Jewish law says you don’t have to return lost property to a non-Jew, only to a Jew—why? Because the non-Jew doesn’t have to return lost property to a Jew, and he also doesn’t do it—at least in the Talmudic period that was the situation—so all it means is that I’m not supposed to do for him something I don’t demand from him. So what that means is that returning lost property is like civil law, not human rights. In other words, these are internal laws within my community. They’re not laws directed outward. But I also don’t expect them to do it for me; meaning, it’s symmetrical. The same is true, by the way, with “do not murder,” where there is a huge uproar over the fact that there is no prohibition of “do not murder” regarding a non-Jew. There is a Torah-level prohibition to kill him—“Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed”—but “do not murder,” apparently not; according to most opinions, not. Now, is that discrimination?

[Speaker E] What practical difference does it make?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The practical difference is, for example, liability to death or things like that. So yes—is that discrimination? It isn’t discrimination. It isn’t discrimination because there is a Torah-level prohibition on killing a non-Jew. The additional religious layer that exists when I kill a Jew does not exist in relation to a non-Jew, because that belongs to the citizen, not to the human being. In other words, those are laws within the community, not laws of… But that doesn’t mean his blood is permitted. His blood is forbidden. It is forbidden to kill any person, obviously. On the moral level I am fully obligated to him. There is a moral prohibition against killing a non-Jew exactly as against killing a Jew. The question is whether on top of that moral prohibition there is another religious prohibition. That’s already another question, because that’s an internal matter. In that internal matter I’m saying: know that there’s also a religious aspect here, not only a moral one. Here that’s the question. And by the way, even regarding a non-Jew there is a religious aspect, because “Whoever sheds the blood of man” is also a verse, not…

[Speaker F] just “do not murder.” But that’s not the discussion.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? Whether he has the obligation?

[Speaker F] What do you mean, the obligation? Let’s say, for example, there’s now a Knesset law: there’s a law not to stand idly by your neighbor’s blood. If you see an accident and someone is injured, you have to stop and help him. You’re not allowed just to pass by. Now it’s Sabbath and it’s a non-Jew. The non-Jew is a resident of Israel, certainly; he is obligated to me to the same extent.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So what’s the question? It’s Sabbath and it’s a non-Jew?

[Speaker F] So I’m saying—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The question is whether according to the laws of Sabbath it is permitted or forbidden to save a non-Jew. You’re asking my personal opinion? I’ve already written about it. I think yes—that one should, not merely that it is permitted. But the accepted opinion among halakhic decisors is that this is forbidden as a matter of basic law, and only because of appearance, or the ways of peace, or things of that sort is it allowed; but as a matter of basic law it’s forbidden. But that doesn’t matter at the principled level. According to that opinion there is clear discrimination here. No—but according to what you’re presenting… I didn’t say all of Jewish law is like this. I said Jewish law discriminates between Jews and non-Jews; that can’t be denied. What I’m saying is that a large part of these discriminations—not all of them, but a large part of them, certainly in moral contexts—are not really discrimination. In Sabbath law it’s something else, something a bit different that doesn’t belong to the moral sphere. But in moral contexts it usually isn’t really discrimination. Because what the non-Jew owes me, I owe him too. In other words, the human being as human being is equal. What exists beyond that for a Jew is simply things that go beyond the basic moral obligations toward every human being, and that is only for the family. That’s why I think that in this matter these questions come up a lot—you demand from converts things that you don’t demand from Jews by birth. Jews by birth don’t keep commandments at all, many of them, and from converts you demand all sorts of exactitudes such that without them he cannot convert. And it’s obvious that that’s true. I don’t understand the problem with that at all. Because someone who wants to be accepted into the club has to meet certain standards that someone already in the club… If I have a child, I don’t throw him out even if he stole; I don’t throw him out of the house. But will I invite into my house someone who is a thief? No, usually not. Right? In other words, it’s a very simple thing. Many times things look like discrimination—that’s a mistake. It isn’t discrimination. There’s no… Now, I’m not saying there’s absolutely none. I said there are discriminations. But I’m saying that a large part of these tensions simply comes from reading the map incorrectly, from identifying civil rights as human rights. And that’s wrong. At the level of human rights there is full equality. It is equally forbidden to kill everyone, on the level of universal general morality. The additional layer here—there are disputes whether it applies only to Jews or also to non-Jews—but that doesn’t matter, because the additional layer in any case is only a Jewish matter, so it changes nothing. Fine, but let’s get back to our topic; with that I’m closing the parenthesis. So Rabbi Shimon Shkop basically says there is a legal obligation, or a legal prohibition, against taking another person’s property, and on top of that rides the halakhic prohibition of “do not steal.” And this is the famous Rabbi Shimon Shkop, who asks—and if you ask, if this isn’t written in the Torah then why does one have to keep it, this actual legal obligation?—and like a good Jew he answers a question with a question: why does one have to keep what is written in the Torah? Because reason says that if it’s written in the Torah it must be kept, so reason says this too. Reason is the supreme principle, not what is written in the Torah. Even what is written in the Torah is binding because reason says that’s what should be done. Therefore this is a famous passage of his in Sha’arei… In any case, I return to Rabbi Gibraltar. I think that what stood behind Rabbi Gibraltar’s conception—and this is really already after Rabbi Shimon Shkop, though I’m not sure he relied on him; Rabbi Shimon Shkop died in 1939, if I remember correctly, something like that—he basically says that once I understand that property law is the result of social regulation, then in a place where there is no such regulation, there are no laws of… no laws of ownership. So what now? Then the prohibition of “do not steal” isn’t just floating in the air. It has nothing to apply to. That’s what he says. There is no law of private ownership in captivity. He tells there—just a second—he tells there that in a place where any Ukrainian child can walk in and shoot you in the head and get a medal for it, or take all your property and there’s no problem with that, nobody can do anything to him, that means you have a system which, even if it exists in theory, is totally unenforceable. That is, there is no way to enforce that system. Now there is no such thing as a legal system without the ability to enforce it. If there is no ability to enforce it, it is not a legal system. Therefore he says that in such a place there are no monetary laws. There is no ownership of private property. That’s his claim.

[Speaker E] And therefore all the litigation—there’s no private property?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, there are no laws of ownership. Yes, right. So I’m saying—so now, that was his claim. It wasn’t…

[Speaker B] But he has to regulate the matter so there won’t be disorder, so there won’t be chaos. You can’t. The bread you receive—someone will steal it from you—but there’s chaos.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Now as for—no, regarding bread he actually has an explicit statement, and also regarding a coat that a person is wearing. He says explicitly that this is forbidden to take, as the Hazon Ish says about the canteen of water, because that isn’t property—it’s killing. In other words, when you take from him the bread he received or the coat he’s wearing, that’s like shooting him in the head. It’s simply killing, not stealing. Killing is forbidden even in the ghetto. But as for property law, he builds there some sort of construction—again, I’m inferring it from various statements—but that is more or less the picture I think he presents.

[Speaker F] But if any Ukrainian child can go in and rape someone’s wife, then there also won’t be a married woman?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. So wait—first of all, first of all, I’m not ruling that out either. Specifically regarding a married woman, I once talked about that too; people didn’t really agree, but I think it’s true there too. But that doesn’t mean all the Torah’s laws are like that. I said it about monetary law. In monetary law, Rabbi Shimon Shkop said it is built in such a way that first there is a legal ordering, and on top of that sits the prohibition of “do not steal.” But the prohibition of pork isn’t built that way. This is only monetary law. Meaning, this is unique to monetary law. So there, in a place with no legal ordering, there is no law. But all other parts of the Torah are not contingent on social regulation. Now specifically if you ask about personal status—that is, marriage and divorce and forbidden sexual relations and so on—I think it’s true there too. The legal system everywhere in the world, and in Jewish law too, includes within it Hoshen Mishpat and Even HaEzer. Hoshen Mishpat and Even HaEzer are what is called judicial law, as opposed to rabbinics. Rabbinics is Orah Hayyim and Yoreh De’ah; judicial law is Even HaEzer and Hoshen Mishpat. What characterizes those two? They are the legal parts of the Torah: personal status and civil law. Fine? In both those areas you see something very interesting. The Sages have authority to nullify the status. The Sages have authority—“what a religious court declares ownerless is ownerless”—to void ownership, and the Sages have authority to void betrothals: “anyone who betroths, betroths subject to the Sages.” In both these areas we find authority granted to the Sages. Why is that so? I think because of Rabbi Shimon Shkop. And all the other explanations, in my opinion, don’t hold water. And everyone gets tangled up with the other explanations in the case of betrothal, with the Sages’ voiding betrothals; there are many topics and problems there. To see it as a condition is completely far-fetched. Most of the medieval authorities don’t see it as a condition, and they can’t find another mechanism. I think the mechanism is Rabbi Shimon Shkop. In other words, ultimately personal status too begins with legal regulation. That is, if the system recognizes marriage as an institution, and everyone recognizes that if you got married then you are a couple, and there is a way to divorce and marry and regulate personal status, then Jewish law gives that halakhic sanction exactly like “do not steal.” And if the Sages render the property ownerless, why do they have that ability? Can the Sages also permit pork? What does it mean, to render property ownerless? What do you mean—to permit me to steal, basically? Or to void betrothals? No—once they render it ownerless, that means society, because they are the legislators, society basically does not recognize that thing. Once society does not recognize that thing, Jewish law also will not recognize it, because Jewish law recognizes the legal ordering that society establishes. But if society—the Sages here are not acting as decisors, again, but as legislators. If as legislators they do not accept the thing, then automatically it will not have halakhic status either. But that’s a different discussion; we can talk about it another time. For our purposes, I can already see I’m a little short on time.

[Speaker C] And before Rabbi Shimon there wasn’t “they voided them” by expression? What?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Before Rabbi Shimon? No, there was “they voided them” in the Talmud—what do you mean? The question is how to understand it. The medieval authorities explained it by the law of condition: since “anyone who betroths, betroths subject to the Sages,” he makes it conditional on the Sages’ agreement. A condition on something obvious. It’s just that it doesn’t stand up to scrutiny; it can’t be the condition.

[Speaker C] But that was so even before Rabbi Shimon? Right, it was already before him.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Retroactively, right. The Talmud discusses it, right? The question is what the explanation is. As a condition and not… usually most understandings are understandings of condition. Or “what a religious court declares ownerless is ownerless”—that they made the money of the betrothal ownerless, since it is known that a religious court can render property ownerless. But I think they can void the betrothal just as they render property ownerless. That is actually written in the Talmud almost explicitly. In tractate Ketubot page 3 and elsewhere. People just don’t understand it because they don’t connect it to Rabbi Shimon Shkop.

[Speaker E] What do you mean?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The matter of settlement, for example? No—the question is whether there is a religious court that really has central authority. Not every religious court can render property ownerless either. It has to be the leading religious court of the generation, one that is recognized, that has some authority everyone recognizes—a Sanhedrin, or not necessarily a Sanhedrin, but it has to be a religious court accepted by everyone. If there were such a court, a lot of things could be arranged. Well, until we get such a court, I think we’ll need to arrange things before there is such a court. In any case, Rabbi Feinstein—betrothals of Reform Jews? No, because he argues that it isn’t betrothal; he didn’t void them. He can’t void betrothals.

[Speaker C] In any case, a married woman among non-Jews too—a married woman?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There is a married woman in those terms, yes. There is no betrothal among non-Jews at all.

[Speaker C] But from the standpoint of civil law we do have it, so it’s not like…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, but there it’s marriage; there is no betrothal among non-Jews. Betrothal exists only in Israel; there there is only marriage.

[Speaker C] Is there a married woman among us in the case of a non-Jew?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course. Even though there—

[Speaker C] there is no betrothal?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There is no betrothal, but there is marriage among non-Jews; there is marriage. Now Rabbi Gibraltar’s claim, basically, is that once there is no legal ordering, then “do not steal” also has no meaning. That is, there is no infrastructure required in order to apply “do not steal.” Now, that’s an argument specific to monetary law. I want to expand it now. It’s an argument specific to monetary law. In monetary law, if it is indeed true that the legal infrastructure is the basis, and without it there is no monetary law, then fine—there there was no basis, so there isn’t. That’s a conception one can justify on its own. But someone who senses what lies behind these words—there is, in my opinion, a more radical statement there. And I think this is where the dispute is. I’ll return afterward to Rabbi Ashri, or at least one could have arrived at… I don’t know what Rabbi Gibraltar thought about this, because I don’t know; there are no hints from his son, I have no idea. But one could have arrived at a more radical conception. There is a view that could say: look, all Torah law—after all, where do all the reasons come from? Every thing has its own logic. Saving life overrides everything, and there “what a religious court declares ownerless is ownerless,” and you can basically uproot everything. Also here, with that question of this Yaakov who came to Rabbi Ashri—can he… he could say it’s saving life, end of story. What do you want? Close the Shulhan Arukh, go home. It’s all saving life. We don’t work with this framework anymore; for now it’s over. Okay? Now what does that really mean? It has a lot of logic to it. It has a lot of logic because there are extreme situations where, even if we won’t find a specific halakhic rationale, somehow it seems very logical that the Torah wasn’t talking about this. Meaning, the Torah didn’t intend for us to start calculating and quibbling here with these halakhic rules while the town is burning. Think of a situation: two people fall off a roof into some—I don’t know—a burning fireball. In one second they’re going to smash onto the ground and they’re also on fire. The craziest possible situation. Now I’m standing there next to him, I see a pen in his pocket, I take that pen, take it—he doesn’t agree—I take the pen from his pocket. What would you say? That I’m a thief? Now leave Rabbi Shimon Shkop aside, okay? No Rabbi Shimon Shkop. There is some feeling that the Torah speaks to some kind of life that is, at a certain level, normative. Meaning, there are pathological situations where this whole system of rules is not relevant. It’s just not… You can’t now… there’s no source for this in the Torah or in any rabbinic restriction—though in a moment I’ll bring some sort of source—that says these rules don’t apply here. This is some kind of intuition of someone inside the situation. Earlier we talked about being inside the situation and sensing what is right and what is not right. Let me give you another example. There’s a discussion: if a person is walking on the street on the Sabbath, can he step down onto the crosswalk and thereby cause someone driving a car to brake, and then he lights the brake lights, so he causes him to violate a prohibition? I always have to restrain myself from laughing when I talk about this discussion, and everybody discusses it with total seriousness, and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’s violating a hundred thousand prohibitions per second, according to the number of engine revolutions he’s igniting things there, right? And now you say, look, but now—look—if he brakes, then he’ll turn on the brake lights. Meaning, it’ll be a billion and one prohibitions, not a billion. Now I have no source in Jewish law saying that one may dismiss the billion-and-one prohibition. A billion and one is one more than a billion. But the very clear intuition is that it’s not right to apply this system of rules here. It simply isn’t the reality they were talking about. A reality in which a person is simply living in prohibition—so what, you’re now going to start discussing whether maybe I am causing him to violate some…

[Speaker F] You’re saving him. What? When he drives he ignites more; when he stops he ignites less. Okay. So it’s not worth it. Yes, okay. Exactly. The discussion of the direct beam—not really.

[Speaker C] I haven’t really gone into it, but also regarding the water bottle of two people in the desert, and also that money in the ghetto, and all of that—if I think for a moment: a baby falling from a tower and someone shoots him with an arrow, he killed an entire life even though maybe he would have lived only another two seconds. All our life, from the moment we’re born, is an hourglass that starts running out.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] From the first moment—that’s what we have.

[Speaker C] It’s simply a grain of sand falling in an hourglass, and that’s a whole life. Okay. Therefore someone who shoots an arrow at a baby falling from a tower is liable to death. He killed him, even though in another second he would have smashed onto the sidewalk. That Jew in the ghetto who had enough to buy something for tomorrow morning—that’s a whole life. That same case of two people walking in the desert—I don’t know, maybe yes, maybe someone spoke about it. Every day they live together on that one bottle is a whole life for both of them. Maybe the discussion could be about the last drop. Who will live one grain more than the first one?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s not how the discussion works. All the halakhic decisors say not that way.

[Speaker C] They can both sip a drop every day. The question could be only at the last drop—who will live one grain more than the first?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s not correct. According to Jewish law I drink it all and give him nothing.

[Speaker C] No, but on condition that he’ll survive. That they’ll both survive.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not about the last drop. What do you mean? No, obviously not. He drinks all the water. What do you mean?

[Speaker C] No, he drinks and survives.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s the discussion. That’s how all the halakhic decisors say it.

[Speaker C] In the ghetto, the one holding the money can buy another day of bread.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Another day is a whole life. Fine. So I’m saying again: in truth, taking from someone something on which his life depends—that too he forbids. But he forbids it not because of ownership; it’s not because of “do not steal.” It’s because of “do not murder.” That’s exactly the point. He doesn’t recognize “do not steal.” So that’s the point. Fine—but let me move forward, because we’re running out of time. Look, from this kind of perspective—maybe I’ll give one more example. The Talmud says in Nazir, it talks about a transgression for the sake of Heaven: “A transgression for the sake of Heaven is greater than a commandment not for its own sake.” And there they talk about Yael, the wife of Heber the Kenite. Yael, wife of what? And Lot’s daughters—that’s the example that comes afterward, which doesn’t appear formally in that context. But I think it’s not by accident that it appears there. As for Yael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, the good guys had basically already won. In other words, it’s not clear how necessary it really was that she had to give him milk to drink there and seduce him and so on in order to kill him. Okay, he was already defeated, he was already on the run, done. And still the Sages say that this is a transgression for the sake of Heaven. That it’s okay. “A transgression for the sake of Heaven is great”; they praise her greatly. “Most blessed of women is Yael, the wife of Heber the Kenite,” right? That’s what they sing in… Now immediately afterward the Talmud brings the story of Lot’s daughters. Even though formally it doesn’t appear in the context of a transgression for the sake of Heaven, I think it’s pretty clear that that’s the context. And Lot’s daughters—the Sages praise them greatly for having sexual relations with their father. Great praise. Why? This isn’t interpretation; it’s written explicitly in the Torah: “There is not a man in the land to come to us in the way of all the earth.” Meaning, they thought the world had been destroyed. If they thought the world had been destroyed, then the only ones left in the world were two daughters and their father. That’s all. Now we have two options: either violate a very severe prohibition—one that one must die rather than transgress—forbidden sexual relations, but thereby continue humanity; or let humanity become extinct. Now one might have said: why should you involve yourself in the hidden ways of the Merciful? Let Him decide. You do what you were commanded. Right? If you were commanded regarding the prohibition, there is no category in Jewish law that permits such a thing. Nowhere will you find permission for forbidden sexual relations in any way. It’s one of those things one must die rather than transgress; there is nothing in Jewish law that permits sexual prohibitions. And they transgressed, and the Sages praise them for it. Great praise, in several midrashim and also there in Nazir. What does that say? It says there is a pathological situation there, one that is not the situation the Torah was talking about. Now there is no way to find a halakhic rule that permits those forbidden relations. It’s not that afterward they brought some analysis and showed why what they did was actually permitted. And certainly they themselves didn’t know that either, even if there had been such an analysis.

[Speaker F] Oh, that’s by Cain.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean?

[Speaker F] And how did Cain have—and how…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ah, okay, that’s already another question. So that’s…

[Speaker F] Fine.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In any case, the claim underlying a sin committed for its own sake is that in extreme situations, in pathological situations, sometimes you can say: listen, the ordinary rules don’t apply here. Not that I’m going to interpret things the way Rabbi Shimon Shkop does and explain that monetary law is essentially void here. That’s interpretation within the legal system. I’m talking now about stepping outside. Let’s say the legal system is over. I’m not discussing this within its framework at all. I think that system doesn’t speak about lives that are this insane. It speaks about more or less normal life, with more or less suffering, but some kind of reasonable life, ordinary normative human life. In a place that is not a normal human system, the Torah is not speaking about it at all. So I’m not looking for qualifications from within the framework. I’m saying the framework is not relevant here. The laws are not relevant here.

[Speaker C] Not only the legal system, the religious one too.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m talking about the religious one. The religious one? Yes. I’m talking even about the religious one. Of course.

[Speaker C] The religious one sits on top of the legal one.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s in “do not steal,” but I’m saying even more than that, even pork. I’m saying the point is, for example, when they permit things to someone going out to war, there are opinions that say you’re allowed to do whatever you want, even where it isn’t directly necessary for the war. Eat pork, do whatever you want.

[Speaker C] So what about King David in war—he took Uriah’s wife?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, that’s a discussion. No, he didn’t take his wife during the war; he sent him to war and stayed with her at home. I’m talking about what that means there. The point is that the world of war is a crazy world; it’s not ordinary normal human life. Okay? So there would be room to say that there the rules don’t work. People don’t always try to explain this in terms of saving a life. It’s like when they permit things for saving a life and say, look, if you start thinking about every little thing, you won’t be able to fight. So forget it—don’t think about it at all, so you can be free for battle. I think there’s something more than that here. In the world of war, it’s a crazy world. It’s a crazy world. It’s not a world in which you can function with the normal rule-system that a person uses in ordinary life. And therefore, that’s where it stops. Now, in the ghetto there was at least room to understand that we are living inside a situation that is entirely like that. Lot’s daughters are one aspect, and war is another aspect. Everything—but somehow here we entered a catastrophic situation in which it’s not just that monetary law is void. We close the Shulchan Arukh, that’s it. It’s not relevant here at all. We’re not thinking in that language. Now, this is very sensible when we look at it—I’m returning to Rabbi Ashri. When we look at this responsum of Rabbi Ashri, the simple assumption is that I wouldn’t even open the Shulchan Arukh. I mean, what is there even to discuss? Obviously it’s permitted. What’s the problem? Now what happens is that this basically means we can very quickly—and I believe there were such people who probably came, to one degree or another, close to this conception—that says that for the time being the Shulchan Arukh is suspended. This is not normal life. Not because I have some permission of this kind in the laws of the Sabbath or some other permission. That’s not relevant. So this whole thing is completely suspended. You can’t work with the ordinary rules. That’s on the one hand. And you see this in Rabbi Gibraltar again—that there, yes, there is justification because it’s “do not steal,” but I think beyond that you can see some broader conception there. I think Rabbi Ashri’s responsum comes out against that. And Rabbi Ashri says: true, in the end I’ll reach the same answer—saving a life makes it permitted, and so on—but I’m not willing to close the Shulchan Arukh. I don’t think we should close the Shulchan Arukh. And I think that’s an incredibly strong message that comes out of this responsum, absurd as it may look when you first see it—exactly that is the point. The more absurd it is, the clearer the message is, the clearer the subtext is. He is saying: I am not willing to close the Shulchan Arukh. And I think that there’s something there—you can also see it in the article there about Rabbi Gibraltar—there are some arguments around this issue, and my feeling is that the arguments are here, not in the question whether Rabbi Shimon Shkop is correct about monetary law. The question is whether we are continuing to work with the system meant for normal people, when we are in a completely abnormal situation. In other words, do we continue working with that system, or have we in fact closed the Shulchan Arukh for the time being and we’ll return to it in a few years? And in that sense I think this responsum—that’s its purpose. It wants to say: we are not closing the Shulchan Arukh. Not closing it. Even though in the end the answer won’t depend on any of this. Still, I’m going to go through the analysis, and here and Maimonides and Tur and all that. Now, how do we understand such a thing? You can understand it in several ways. You can understand that there is here—many times, a person who is inside the situation sees things that from outside are hard to understand. Say someone looks, as I said before, at Rabbi Gibraltar: Rabbi Gibraltar lived inside the situation; he understood that the town was burning—you can’t work with the ordinary rules. And then someone over there in Yated Ne’eman writes all kinds of things about him, sitting in an armchair in Bnei Brak and writing various rules about whether this fits the rules or not. He doesn’t understand that a person inside the situation experiences in an immediate way the fact that no, the rules don’t work here. It can’t work here. This is a completely different situation. That’s one side. On the other hand, there’s also another side to the coin, because Rabbi Ashri too was inside the situation; he was inside it. And notice how the roles reverse: we, reading from outside, want to say to him, my friend, Rabbi Gibraltar already said this is a catastrophe, we are not thinking here with the ordinary rules. And I’m now saying that as someone standing outside, not from within. And he, as someone inside, tells me: no, I am working with the rules. How does that happen? First of all, someone inside the situation—this happens gradually, by degrees. We see the Holocaust as some kind of catastrophe, some insane thing that can’t even be thought about in ordinary terms. But that was their life. It’s like someone abroad looking at us here in Israel and imagining that we’re constantly in shootouts with terrorists and wars. Someone who doesn’t live in Lod is sure that in Lod you can’t go out into the street. Someone far away always sees that over there it’s a catastrophic situation. But someone living it maybe doesn’t see it that way. And it really is a catastrophic situation, but it’s his life. In other words, he lives it. Now if a person is inside the ghetto—which I think is a catastrophic situation by any standard—but when he lives it from within, as far as he is concerned, that’s his life. It’s not a catastrophe—it is a catastrophe, they suffer, all that is true—but that’s life. He doesn’t understand that he is in something completely insane. So he keeps functioning the way he was used to functioning; he works halakhically. More than that, this happens gradually. So when exactly do I decide that now is the time to close the Shulchan Arukh? I don’t know—in 1940? 41? 42? In January? In February? In other words, it’s something that happens gradually, and we today, after everything, know what the Holocaust is. The Holocaust is insane. But for him it was only just beginning to take shape then—so when exactly does he decide?

[Speaker E] So first of all, the amazing paradox.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, so when can he decide such a thing? So in the meantime he thinks that for now it still hasn’t reached that point, or at least he has no indication that it has. We today, after everything, can easily be Rabbi Gibraltar.

[Speaker F] By the way, it’s part of his survival.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s the second rationale. That’s the second rationale. Now I want to say something more… to preserve sanity. Exactly, exactly. But there’s something here beyond preserving sanity. Exactly. There’s that story—I always tell the story about the poor Chinese man, right, who had two small coins, and instead of buying two slices of bread he bought one slice of bread and a flower. A slice of bread in order to live, and a flower so there would be something to live for. Okay? And here too it’s the same. He’s basically saying: look, we are going to close the Shulchan Arukh in order to survive, and that’s true halakhically, that’s perfectly fine, in order to survive we have to close the Shulchan Arukh. But survive for what? In the end, what are we surviving for? We survive in order to realize the values we believe in. If in order to survive we give that up, then what have we done? There’s the Meiri. The Meiri asks: why is Torah study set aside in favor of every passing commandment? After all, Torah study is equal to all of them. So how can it be that any commandment that comes to hand—if there’s no one else to do it—I cancel Torah study in order to do that commandment? So he says: because what I’m learning is in order to fulfill. So if because of the learning I won’t fulfill, then what am I learning for? Even though learning is the primary value. Here too, survival is the primary value, but in the end you survive in order to fulfill the values you believe in. If in order to survive you give up those values, then what did you accomplish? So in that sense it’s the opposite—it’s a need of survival itself. In other words, without this, first of all it preserves sanity, second it helps survival because it gives people motivation, but third it gives meaning to survival, to the struggle for survival. Without it, what are we fighting for? I think there’s something very powerful here. He says: in the end I arrive at the same bottom line as Rabbi Gibraltar, but I will go through the entire halakhic campaign and only then say it. I won’t give up that point. I did not close the Shulchan Arukh, even though I know that the Jewish law is that saving a life and all that—none of that is really the point. In other words, the claim is that we survive for this. Think about a person who lived five or six years with a closed Shulchan Arukh. After the Holocaust ends, will he go back to opening it? He won’t go back to opening it. So what were we fighting for?

[Speaker F] It could be that here too he rules that there is no more monetary law, but in the bottom line it needn’t be that way for him.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. So in the end what he said was that saving a life overrides everything, but he had to go through the whole process until he got there. And there’s something very powerful here precisely because of how absurd this whole thing is. There’s a lot one could expand on here. There’s the question whether it is right to issue a halakhic ruling here… we see it in both directions. Sometimes the person on the inside is actually more in favor of the Shulchan Arukh, while the person outside says to close it—and sometimes not. The one inside understands that it has to be closed, and the one outside says, wait, this doesn’t fit the Shulchan Arukh. That doesn’t mean there’s one answer; it only means that the point of view when you are inside and when you are outside is not the same point of view. And now we can bring this into our own world. In our world too there are the same dilemmas—obviously not with the same intensity, but the same dilemmas. The question is: who should issue halakhic rulings? Someone who needs to be inside the situation? Or on the contrary, precisely someone from outside, who is not involved, not inclined one way or another, has no feelings or things that will bias his way of thinking, and so will think coolly from a distance? Many times a community rabbi sends a question to a famous halakhic decisor and asks him for an answer to a halakhic question, and then the decisor tells him: the responsibility is yours. I can only give you advice, or tell you pay attention to this point, or to that source. But in the end the responsibility is yours—you have to decide. When does that happen? It happens where the more distant rabbi, even though naturally he is greater in Torah scholarship, since they asked him, feels that he doesn’t understand the situation, he doesn’t live it. This is a different kind of community. Okay? In the army, for example. Or a liberal community sending a question, I don’t know, to a Haredi halakhic decisor—if he is willing sometimes to address that kind of question. Because the reverse never happens, but this direction does happen. So when it happens—say they asked Rabbi Shlomo Zalman—Rabbi Shlomo Zalman was Haredi, but he understood that there are communities, there are worlds, that are different, and he doesn’t know them. So he can say: look, there are considerations like this; pay attention to this consideration and that one and this and that. But in the end you will have to decide. You are there. You are the local authority. You decide. Because in the end, the one who experiences the situation from within is the one who really has to decide. Now, the proper model is not to decide alone—yes, ask him, it’s worth asking him, because you need to receive some kind of feedback from the rules, to see how your immediate intuitions fit with the rules. In the end it’s worth getting feedback; otherwise you’re just doing whatever you want. But in the end you are the one who needs to decide, after you’ve received the advice and the guidance and everything—you have to decide. You’re inside the situation; you experience it immediately; you have to decide. Maybe one last example that sharpens the point a little: you can see on Wikipedia what’s called Mary’s room.

[Speaker I] The room—you’re talking about the decisor who lives inside the…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. Mary’s room is an example. Mary was a brilliant physicist. She knew optics backward and forward—the physics of optics backward and forward. This is fictional, no—it’s just a story meant to illustrate something. She lived in a black-and-white room, with books and notebooks and pen and computer and whatever she needed; she knew everything. Then she went outside and suddenly started seeing light and colors and things of that kind. Did she learn something new? Something she didn’t know before? Or in other words, when she was inside, did she understand what the color red is? Obviously not, right? She knew all the physics—how red is produced, and what the wavelength is, and what happens when it refracts, and dispersion and all sorts of things—she knew everything. But what is red? I once told a story about Hermann Cohen, the neo-Kantian philosopher. He grew closer to Judaism in the second half of his life, and once he met some simple Jew and gave him a whole lecture on his philosophical doctrine about the Holy One, blessed be He—how God is such and such, all these wonderful ideas. He was tremendously enthusiastic. And then at the end the Jew said to him: okay, Rabbi Hermann, all very nice—but where is the Holy One, blessed be He, in all of this? And Hermann Cohen tells this story, and you can really see that it touched his heart deeply. Because there’s something here: you talk in grand theories, but do you grasp the thing itself?

[Speaker E] There is knowledge, and there is—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] action.

[Speaker E] —that you grasp through the senses. Right. So from the standpoint of sense, obviously there’s a difference.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The difference is obvious.

[Speaker E] But from the standpoint of the…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The difference is obvious. I’m just asking whether this physicist could explain why a bull gets angry at the color red. When they show it red, it gets angry. She doesn’t know what red is. She knew all the optics that create red colors, but what is red? She doesn’t know. Why? Because there is some way of encountering red directly, not through calculations of electromagnetic fields. In Jewish law it’s the same. There are situations that we encounter directly; we simply live them. Now someone who hasn’t lived them is living in the black-and-white room with all the models: I have all the Shulchan Arukh, I’m a tremendous Torah scholar, I command all the halakhic models backward and forward, I can analyze anything—except that I simply don’t understand what the situation is, because I’ve never lived it. So how can I issue a ruling about a situation I have no idea what it is? One final example and then I’ll end: there’s the example of women singing, which I’ve brought up more than once. Women singing—the halakhic decisors who discuss it, most of them, I assume and hope, have never in their lives heard women singing. Now I, to my sins, have heard quite a bit and still do, and my feeling is that these decisors are talking about something they have no idea what it is. No idea what it is. Again, if there were some formal prohibition here, then fine, it’s prohibited—like pork is prohibited. What difference does it make if I don’t know the taste of pork? You’re forbidden to eat pork. But in a place where there is room for different interpretations—there is room for different interpretations, okay? So how do you choose between the interpretations? I think that here it has tremendous weight to understand the situation, to understand that when a person enters such a place, it may just be for aesthetic enjoyment. They don’t know that phenomenon. Someone who lives out of the Talmud is sure that anyone who goes to hear a woman sing does so only because of sexual desire—that’s the only thing. Now there are performances where that is more present, there are women where it’s more so, and women where it’s less so. But there are places where basically you’re there for aesthetic enjoyment. It’s something very beautiful. And you don’t get it in other contexts. From men you won’t hear certain kinds of musical experiences like that. So that’s all you’re going there for. Again, it could be that it’s prohibited—maybe, I don’t know. But there are different ways to interpret. You can’t decide between those possibilities if you don’t understand what it is. You simply don’t know what it is. You’re sure everyone there is only there because of sexual desire. That’s how people think. And that is detached from reality. They simply don’t understand. So you can’t issue a ruling on such a thing. People don’t understand that you can’t issue a ruling on such a thing. And I think the lesson here, beyond understanding the Kovno ghetto—of course that’s an extremely radical laboratory—but it demonstrates something that is true in softer situations too, in less extreme situations. There are situations that are far from your world. You don’t really know what red is. You know how to talk about it. You know all the models for handling colors and electromagnetism, but you don’t know what red is. So don’t issue me a ruling on whether it annoys a cow or not.

[Speaker F] At most you can issue that ruling for people who live in your situation.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, not issue it for others. Right. Or at most you can talk to them, hear what they say. Some kind of symbiosis between the inside perspective and the outside perspective is important. I do think it’s important to get some kind of feedback. It’s also not right that the person living it from inside should just decide to do whatever he wants and that’s it. You have to work against the rules in some way, get some kind of feedback. But there is something terribly missing—and people don’t understand that it is missing—in direct acquaintance with the situation. I’ve spoken several times already about that room full of furniture, right? With the two people. It’s the same thing. I bring you a crushing logical proof that the room is empty of furniture, but I see that it’s full. Don’t tell me stories. I’m there. I see with my own eyes that it’s full. And the other person sitting outside has a decisive logical proof that the room is empty. Okay, wonderful logical proof—but I see that it’s full. In other words, there are sometimes situations where you are inside the situation and you understand for yourself what is right and what is not, what is relevant and what is not relevant. And someone outside with all the rules will not succeed in understanding it, because he hasn’t experienced the thing itself. I once talked about the prohibition of going to non-Jewish courts. This comes up in a hundred thousand things. The prohibition of secular courts too—there are debates. Some say there is a prohibition of secular courts with regard to the Israeli legal system—yes, this is a debate between judges and rabbis. All the rabbis prohibit it and the judges permit it. What? No, so I’m saying, it depends. As I said, in situations you don’t know, in extreme situations.

[Speaker J] No, and also every person is built differently. Right, and also when I come to ask for a ruling about something—what my capacities are, whether I can or can’t.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, right. So really, I think—we’ve spoken about this too before—I really think the role of the decisor is to tell you what principles govern this question or this area, and leave the decision to you. Right. That’s what I think a decisor should do in every question. But on the principled level, certainly in situations that you don’t understand, situations that are far from your world, at the very least you have to understand that you can’t work with these external technical rules. It doesn’t work. It’s not… Now, it’s also not right to work only from the inside, because then you’ll just do whatever you want. I’m saying: there needs to be some feedback. You need an outside opinion. But in the end, the one who is inside has to make the decision. There is something in that immediate contact that tells you there are things that are right and things that are not right. With secular courts too: if someone had asked a sage in the 12th century whether it’s permissible to go to court today, the answer would have been no. Absolutely no. Or all the rabbis today say the same thing, because they cling to the people of the 12th century as if they themselves don’t live here. What are you proposing—that there should be no legal system in the State of Israel? Can anyone live without a legal system? Jewish law cannot function here. That’s a given. People do not accept its authority; most people do not accept its authority. You can’t live without a legal system. So when they defend themselves and say it’s permitted, they try to explain why this is not “courts.” That’s nonsense. Of course it’s “courts.” But the fact that it’s “courts” does not mean you should not do it, because when someone lives the situation—you’re here, and this is a situation they did not know in the 12th century. A modern, liberal, secular state, full of Jews, governed by Jews. No, that wasn’t even a phenomenon they understood. So how can you draw nourishment from there and decide whether one may go to court or not? You don’t understand the implications of such a thing, what is possible and what is not possible, what you can talk to people about and what you can’t. Someone who lives the situation from inside—everyone says this, they’re just not daring to say it explicitly. After all, no one says to shut down the courts.

[Speaker B] They preach one thing and don’t say it. And they also go when they need to.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And rightly so, rightly so. But what happens is, you always feel compelled to force it into a halakhic pattern. So if you permit it, then you have to show that it’s not “courts.” But you can’t show that it’s not “courts.” Instead, say: there are situations in which the rule-system cannot operate; it’s not applicable in this situation. Someone living inside this situation understands that you can’t work with the ordinary rules. It’s not correct. It is “courts”; you’ll never succeed in explaining to me that it isn’t “courts.” But what can you do—fine—but in this sense the town is burning. Not in the extreme sense of the Holocaust, but in the sense that this is not applicable. It’s a rule you cannot apply here. Now people are not aware of this kind of ability—to freeze Jewish law—because it really is somewhat far-reaching. To say: I have no permission from within Jewish law, but it is not applicable here. What can I do? It’s obvious. Someone living inside the situation understands: you can’t live like this. It can’t be here. It can’t be right here. Now of course, this is the role of rabbis. I don’t think everyone can just do whatever he wants. A person who is capable, who is a Torah scholar, who can do it and lives inside the situation—he is the one who has to make the decision. But he has to live inside the situation. And I think many, many rabbis don’t understand this. Many rabbis don’t understand this option, this privilege that someone living inside the situation has, to say: friends, I’m not finding a solution within the rules, but you cannot work with the rules in this situation. So this is your task: you have to say what to do here without the rules. Give me alternative rules. And this attempt to cling to the rules—

[Speaker E] But that goes against Torah.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, then go to a religious court, but don’t shut down the legal system. No, I’m saying even more than that: to be a judge and to be a lawyer is permissible.

[Speaker C] What comes out is that basically, because of this generation’s rabbis, we can’t do without the courts. Because if all the rabbis knew that they needed to be in the situation the way they were—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] They would permit going to court. What? They would permit going to court.

[Speaker C] What about the law?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I didn’t understand.

[Speaker C] If the rabbis knew that they have to rule according to the situation and not according to the 12th century,

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] then—

[Speaker C] it could be that the religious courts themselves would be such that there wouldn’t be enough need for civil courts.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Ah, you’re saying that the religious courts also don’t know that we’re not in the 12th century. That’s another question.

[Speaker C] The rabbis caused it to be impossible to do without the courts.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, that’s a different function.

[Speaker C] But that also has implications, say, for the reform and all sorts of things.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, I’m not saying it isn’t dangerous. What can you do? It’s dangerous. Life is not “Hobbesia,” as our rabbis used to say. Fine, it’s dangerous—but what can you do, that’s life. You have to deal with it. There’s no wisdom in hiding from it.

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