Pt1 Selections from my recently published 'Know What Not to Answer: A Systematic Critique of Rabbi Aaron Lopiansky’s Lecture Series "Da Ma She-Tashiv" '

Excerpts discussing - Who Gave the Talmud Authority?: Tradition vs. History

I’d like to announce the publication of my 271-page, open access monograph: “Know What Not to Answer: A Systematic Critique of Rabbi Aaron Lopiansky’s Lecture Series ‘Da Ma She-Tashiv’ “

Available at my Academia page ([free] registration required):¹

It's also attached here as a freely accessible PDF:

Know What Not To Answer V1

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From my intro there:

This piece offers a structured critique of Rabbi Aaron Lopiansky’s lecture series Da Ma She-Tashiv (‘Know What to Answer’).

The title of the lecture series is drawn from the well-known line in Mishnah tractate Avot:

דע מה שתשיב לאפיקורוס

Da ma she-tashiv le-apikoros

Know what to respond to a heretic (literally: “Apikoros, Epicurean”).

This lecture series is acknowledged as a relatively thorough and structured articulation of 21st-century Ultra-Orthodox ideological defense, offered by a leading figure within that world. That lecture series aims to address challenging questions and fortify the foundations of contemporary Ultra-Orthodox (Yeshivish) Jewish faith against contemporary critiques from science, history, and secular thought.

This critique proceeds lecture by lecture, scrutinizing the claims, methodologies, and conclusions presented in ‘Da Ma She-Tashiv’. It contends that Rabbi Lopiansky’s defense, while articulate, frequently relies on:

• Unexamined Assumptions: Presenting faith-based premises or theological doctrines as objective starting points or self-evident truths.

• Mischaracterizations of Science and History: Offering simplified, inaccurate, or outdated portrayals of scientific theories (like evolution or cosmology) and historical-critical methodologies, often setting them up as straw men.

• Logical Fallacies: Employing arguments that involve circular reasoning, appeals to emotion or authority, arguments from ignorance, or false dichotomies.

• Selective Use of Evidence: Highlighting information that appears to support traditional views while downplaying or misrepresenting evidence that challenges them.

• Appeals to Subjectivity and Tradition: Prioritizing personal feelings of comfort ("misyashev al libo"), mystical interpretations, or the authority of tradition over empirical evidence and rational analysis when addressing difficult questions.

• Redefinition and Reinterpretation: Shifting the meaning of terms or reinterpreting traditional texts and concepts in ways that shield them from modern critique or align them with desired conclusions.

The central argument of this counter-apologetic piece is that while Rabbi Lopiansky’s lectures may provide intellectual and emotional support for those already committed to the Ultra-Orthodox worldview, the apologetic framework fails to withstand rigorous, objective examination.

This critique aims to demonstrate that the "answers" provided in ‘Da Ma She-Tashiv’ prioritize the preservation of dogma over the impartial pursuit of truth based on reason and evidence. It offers alternative perspectives grounded in secular scholarship, scientific understanding, and critical thought, inviting readers to evaluate the foundational claims of traditional belief with an unsparing analytical lens.

Excerpts

The excerpts have been slightly adjusted, for style.

Excerpt from pp. 107-115:

The Authority of the Talmud: A Historical Disconnect

Rabbi Lopiansky correctly identifies a significant issue: the system of the High Court making binding decisions for all Jewish people ended a very long time ago, likely before the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE. He points out that what is primarily considered Torah Sheba'al Peh (the Oral Law) today is the Mishna and, most crucially, the Talmud (specifically the Talmud Bavli, or Babylonian Talmud). The Talmud Bavli was compiled and edited centuries after the High Court, as it existed in Temple times, ceased to function.

The question he raises is fundamental: If the Talmud Bavli was not a direct product of this original High Court system, where does its binding authority come from? This is a genuine historical and legal puzzle if one is looking for an unbroken, formally delegated chain of command.

The "Vicious Cycle" of Talmudic Authority

Rabbi Lopiansky acknowledges a potential "vicious cycle" or a "begging the question" fallacy when it comes to the Talmud's authority. If the Talmud itself is the source that tells us the Talmud is binding, this is circular reasoning. It's like a person claiming to be king because they wrote a document saying they are king. He contrasts this with the High Court, whose authority he believes is "anchored in the Torah" through verses like "Lo Tasur."

However, claiming the High Court's authority is "anchored in the Torah" is also circular if the divine authority of the Torah itself is an unproven assumption. More directly to the point, the Torah does not explicitly mention the later Talmud Bavli, nor does it grant it the sweeping authority it came to possess in Jewish tradition. So, the problem of circularity or unproven foundational claims applies to both.

"Working Out" an Understanding: Justifying a Foregone Conclusion?

Rabbi Lopiansky states that the goal is to "work out an understanding of why it [=the Talmud] is binding on us." He suggests this process isn't about finding a specific verse in the Torah or a ruling from the ancient High Court that explicitly delegates authority to the much later sages of the Talmud.

This approach sounds less like an objective investigation and more like a search for justifications for a belief already held. If the binding authority of the Talmud is a pre-determined conclusion, then "working out an understanding" becomes an exercise in finding reasons to support that conclusion, rather than critically examining the basis of the claim itself. From an evidence-based perspective, one would first examine the historical development and claims of the Talmud before deciding on its authority.

The "Honest Look" and "Anchoring" the Talmud

The lecture suggests that an "honest, open look" is needed to "anchor" the Talmud's authority. However, what constitutes an "honest, open look" can differ vastly. From a historical-critical viewpoint, such a look would involve examining the Talmud as a complex human document compiled over many centuries by different people in different places. It would analyze the diverse opinions, debates, historical influences, and editorial processes involved in its creation.

The term "anchoring" seems to imply finding a way to secure its authority within a theological framework, rather than assessing its claims based on external historical evidence. The concern that without such an "anchor," the Oral Law would be in "shambles" points to a desire for stability rather than an objective assessment of origins.

Divine Providence as Proof of Talmudic Authority

A core argument presented is theological: if one believes God gave the Torah and wants people to keep it, then it is unthinkable that God would allow the system for understanding and applying the Torah to fall apart. Therefore, a valid system (mahalach) for the Oral Law must continue to exist even after the High Court ceased to function. This leads to the conclusion that the Talmud Bavli must be that divinely willed system.

This is an argument from desired consequences, not from evidence. It begins with assumptions about God's existence, God's specific intentions for the Torah, and God's ongoing intervention in human affairs. From these theological premises, it deduces the necessity of the Talmud's authority. This is a statement of faith, not a historical or logical proof. It does not address how one would objectively verify that the Talmud, rather than some other text or tradition, is the specific system God intended.

The "Chaos" Argument: Fear vs. Fact

Rabbi Lopiansky warns that rejecting Talmudic authority would lead to chaos, with no firm understanding of the mitzvos (commandments), and everyone interpreting Jewish law as they see fit (Ish Hayashar Be'einav Ya'aseh – "each man will do what is right in his own eyes"). He gives examples like reinterpreting "do not steal" or "do not hate" in arbitrary ways.

This is an appeal to fear or an argument from adverse consequences. Whether or not a society without the Talmud's authority would descend into chaos is a sociological prediction, and it is irrelevant to the historical and logical soundness of the Talmud's claims to authority. The potential social utility of a belief system does not make that belief system true. Many societies function with different legal and moral codes without collapsing.

The Talmud as the "Only Firm Anchor": A Limited View

The lecture asserts that the Talmud Bavli is the "only really firm anchor" for the Oral Law today. This statement operates from within a specific traditional framework. If one assumes that a continuous, divinely sanctioned Oral Law must exist and have a single, "firm anchor," and the Talmud is the most prominent candidate within that tradition, then the conclusion seems to follow.

However, this is a form of false dilemma or an argument from a lack of alternatives within that specific framework. It doesn't consider that, from an external, historical perspective, there might be other ways to understand the development of Jewish law and thought, or that the concept of a single "firm anchor" might itself be a theological construct rather than a historical reality. Just because it's perceived as the only option to maintain a particular understanding of tradition doesn't make its claims to unique, divinely ordained authority objectively true.

Appealing to Internal Authorities

Rabbi Lopiansky lists several traditional Jewish sources (Rambam, Chazon Ish, etc.) that discuss issues related to the Talmud's authority. While these sources are important within Jewish tradition, citing them to establish the Talmud's ultimate authority is an appeal to authority within the same closed system. These scholars operated with the presupposition of the Talmud's sanctity and authority. Their discussions explore the nature and implications of that authority, but they do not provide external, objective validation for the foundational claim itself.

The comment that a figure like the Chazon Ish often wrote without explicitly citing his sources or disagreements highlights a traditional mode of discourse that is different from modern academic expectations of transparent, evidence-based argumentation.

The Problem of Deriving All Authority from the Talmud

The lecture briefly touches on the authority of local rabbis or personal religious guides, suggesting that their authority also ultimately derives from the Talmud. This makes the foundational authority of the Talmud even more critical. If the Talmud's claim to be the ultimate arbiter of Jewish law is based on internal theological arguments rather than verifiable historical delegation or self-evident proof, then all subsequent authority said to derive from it rests on that same uncertain foundation.

The "two missing pieces" Rabbi Lopiansky identifies – understanding the Talmud's binding force and the development of halachic authority after the Talmud – are indeed central. The lecture aims to address these by reinforcing traditional justifications, rather than by engaging with the types of questions and methodologies that secular historical-critical scholarship would employ, which would involve analyzing texts as historical products of their time, subject to human influences and developments.

The Unverifiable "End of Instruction"

Rabbi Lopiansky begins by discussing the idea that Rav Ashi and Ravina represent the sof hora'ah, or the "end of authoritative legal decision-making." This concept comes from a story in the Talmud where the prophet Eliyahu supposedly makes this statement.

From an objective standpoint, this idea of a definitive "end" to legal instruction with these two figures is problematic. Jewish legal thought and rabbinic authority did not simply stop in the 5th century. The centuries that followed saw the rise of the Geonim, Rishonim, and Acharonim, all of whom engaged in complex legal reasoning, issued new rulings, and wrote influential codes and commentaries.

If Rav Ashi and Ravina were truly the absolute "end," the vast and continued development of Halakha over the next 1500 years would be hard to explain. The notion of a sharp cut-off point seems like an artificial line drawn by later tradition rather than a reflection of historical reality. Legal systems, by their nature, evolve to meet new circumstances.

Eliyahu's Heavenly Endorsement

The claim that Eliyahu HaNavi appeared and declared Rav Ashi and Ravina as the "end of instruction" is central to the traditional understanding.² However, for any analysis based on reason and evidence, stories of prophets appearing to rabbis fall into the category of legend, not historical fact.

Attributing such a significant declaration to a supernatural event or figure like Eliyahu serves to give it immense authority within the tradition. But it sidesteps the need for any verifiable, historical basis for the claim. It's an appeal to a source that is, by its nature, beyond any form of empirical checking. Such claims are common in religious traditions to legitimize foundational texts or figures, but they don't hold up under evidence-based examination.

The Rambam's Idealized Chain of Tradition

Rabbi Lopiansky refers to the Rambam's introduction to his Mishneh Torah, where he traces an unbroken chain of 40 generations from Moshe Rabbeinu to Rav Ashi and Ravina. This neat, linear progression is a common way for traditions to establish their legitimacy and antiquity.

However, historical records and scholarly analysis of the transmission of oral traditions suggest a much more complex, less direct, and sometimes less clear path. The idea of a perfect, 40-generation handover is likely a stylized representation meant to emphasize continuity and authority, rather than a precise historical account. Many ancient cultures created similar genealogies or transmission lists for their sacred knowledge or royal lines.

The Myth of Universal Instantaneous Acceptance

A key argument for the Talmud Bavli's binding authority, as presented through the Rambam, is that “kol Yisrael hiskimu aleihem” – "all of Israel agreed upon it" or accepted it. Rabbi Lopiansky highlights this as a crucial point.

Historically, this claim is very difficult to support. In the 5th and 6th centuries, when the Talmud was being compiled and finalized, Jewish communities were widely dispersed across Babylonia, Palestine, Egypt, North Africa, and Europe. There was no central body or mechanism that could have polled "all of Israel" to get their agreement on such a vast and complex work. How would such universal consent have been sought, given, or recorded?

It is much more likely that the Talmud Bavli's authority was not established by a single, universal act of acceptance at a specific moment. Instead, its preeminence grew over many centuries. This happened through the influence of the Babylonian Geonim, the intellectual power of its arguments, its adoption by leading rabbinic figures in different communities, and complex social and political factors. The idea of an initial, universal "agreement" seems to be a later explanation to justify its already established authority, rather than a description of an actual historical event.

The "Majority of Sages" – An Unprovable Claim

Similar to the "universal acceptance" argument, the idea that the Talmud's contents were agreed upon by “kol chachmei Yisrael o rubam” (“all the Sages of Israel or their majority”) lacks a clear historical basis.

Several questions arise: Who exactly counted as one of these "Sages of Israel" for the purpose of this agreement? How was a "majority" determined? Was there a vote, a council, or some other process? The historical record does not provide evidence for such a formal, representative body making these decisions for all Jews everywhere during the Talmudic period. This, too, appears to be an idealized picture of rabbinic consensus, projecting a level of unity and formal procedure that is unlikely to have existed in that era.

"Acceptance" as a Retroactive Justification

Rabbi Lopiansky discusses the idea, particularly from the Kesef Mishneh, that the Mishna and Talmud became binding because later generations kimu ve'kiblu – they formally "established and accepted" not to argue with them. This shifts the source of authority from the original compilers to the later communities.

If the authority comes from this later acceptance, then the texts weren't inherently and immediately the "final word" from the moment they were "sealed." Their binding status became a social and historical construct over time. While this might explain how their authority became entrenched, it also means that the concept of sof hora'ah (“end of instruction”) at the time of Rav Ashi and Ravina is weakened if its full binding power depended on future generations' choices. Again, there's no historical evidence of a specific, universal, formal act of "acceptance" at the supposed sealing of either the Mishna or the Talmud. This is an argument made much later to explain an existing reality.

The Chazon Ish and the Argument from Diminished Stature

Rabbi Lopiansky presents the Chazon Ish's view: later generations accepted the Talmud's authority because they recognized their own diminished intellectual and spiritual stature compared to earlier sages. They felt the "truth" was undeniably with those closer to the original divine revelation.

This is an appeal to humility and a belief in a decline of wisdom over generations. From an objective, evidence-based perspective, this is a theological assumption, not a verifiable fact. There's no objective measure to prove that later generations are inherently less capable of understanding or reasoning than earlier ones. In many fields, knowledge and understanding accumulate and advance over time.

The idea that "Rav was an exception" because he was "great enough" to argue with Tannaim is also a circular argument. His greatness is asserted to justify his exceptional status, and his exceptional status reinforces his perceived greatness. This kind of reasoning doesn't provide an objective criterion for authority. The Chazon Ish's explanation relies on subjective feelings and a pre-existing belief in a hierarchy of sacred knowledge tied to historical proximity to a divine event.

The Circularity of Traditional Arguments for Authority

The entire discussion about why the Talmud is binding, when conducted from within the framework of a tradition that already presumes its binding nature, often involves circular reasoning. The reasons offered for its authority—such as universal acceptance, the consensus of sages, or the recognized greatness of its authors—are themselves claims and interpretations made by later authorities. These later authorities, in turn, derive much of their own legitimacy from the very Talmudic system whose authority they are trying to explain.

The arguments essentially presuppose the conclusion: the Talmud is authoritative because authoritative figures (whose authority is linked to the Talmud) say it was accepted or created in an authoritative way.

The "Sealing" of the Talmud: A Process, Not an Event

The term "sealing of the Talmud" can give the impression of a definitive, final event, like the publication of a book's last edition. However, historical and textual scholarship indicates that the "sealing" was a prolonged process.

The text of the Talmud continued to be edited, and some material was added by the Savoraim, who came after Rav Ashi and Ravina. Different versions and readings of Talmudic texts existed in various communities. The idea of a single, universally recognized, and absolutely finalized text emerging at one specific moment with Rav Ashi and Ravina is an oversimplification of a more gradual and complex textual history. The Talmud as we have it today is the result of centuries of transmission, copying, and minor emendations.

Excerpt from pp. 117-123:³

The "Haskalah Challenge": A Fair Description of Academic Study?

Rabbi Lopiansky describes the view of the Haskalah (Jewish Enlightenment) as claiming that rabbis "used the 13 middos... [and] feel free to change it kind of" (7:35), and that Torah Sheba'al Peh (the Oral Law) was "made by the rabbis" (7:13), who used the middos to "pad their ideas" (7:29-7:35).

This portrayal is a common simplification used in traditional circles to describe academic scholarship on rabbinic literature. However, serious historical-critical study doesn't usually argue that rabbis were cynically "making things up" or just "padding" their personal opinions in a deceptive manner.

Instead, academic research, based on careful textual analysis and historical context, suggests that Jewish law and tradition evolved over many centuries. This evolution happened through ongoing human interpretation, debate, and adaptation to new social, economic, and political realities.

The 13 middos are seen by scholars as important hermeneutical (interpretive) tools that facilitated this development. This model of legal evolution, driven by human intellect and changing needs, is certainly different from the traditional belief in a direct, unchanged transmission from Sinai.

But it's also a more complex and respectful understanding than the caricature of rabbis just "making it up."

The Malbim's Grand System: Finding Logic After the Fact?

Rabbi Lopiansky discusses the Malbim's impressive claim: that there are 613 klalim (rules) of dikduk (grammar and textual nuance) which are "logical, impeccable ways of darshaning" (interpreting scripture) (8:45-8:51). The Malbim supposedly used these rules to explain all the halachic midrashim (legal interpretations found in classical rabbinic texts like Mechilta, Sifra, Sifrei).

From an evidence-based perspective, this looks like a very ambitious attempt to create a perfectly consistent and logical system and then apply it backwards onto a diverse and historically layered collection of texts.

The Midrash Halacha texts were composed over centuries by different authors in different contexts, likely using a variety of interpretive approaches. The idea that one set of 613 grammatical rules can perfectly and "impeccably" explain every single one of these ancient interpretations is a very strong assertion.

It is more probable that the Malbim, with great ingenuity, developed his rules by studying the existing drashos and then formulated a system that could account for them.

This is a process of harmonization – making diverse things fit a single pattern – rather than discovering pre-existing, universally applied logical rules that the ancient rabbis themselves consciously followed in every instance. Such comprehensive systems often define their rules in ways that ensure they match the data they aim to explain.

Rabbi Yitzchok Isaac HaLevi's "Mnemonic Device" Theory: Solving One Problem by Creating Another?

Rabbi Lopiansky presents Rabbi Yitzchok Isaac Halevi's (author of Doros HaRishonim) view on the 13 middos. According to this view, for the Tannaim and Amoraim (the sages of the Mishnah and Talmud), these interpretive rules were essentially "meaningless" as tools for actual derivation. Instead, "it simply was a way of a mnemonic device to remember stuff. That's all it was. Nothing more, nothing less" (10:35-10:46).

This is a rather radical explanation. If the 13 middos – which the Talmud frequently depicts as the very tools used in legal debate and derivation – were merely memory aids, it begs a crucial question: How, then, were the laws actually derived from the Torah text? If the middos didn't do the work of interpretation, what did?

This theory, while perhaps attempting to sidestep criticisms about the logical consistency or application of the middos, seems to create an even bigger mystery about the true origins and justification of many laws in the Oral Torah. It appears to be an apologetic strategy that, in trying to solve one difficulty, inadvertently undermines the traditional understanding of how halacha was developed and reasoned from scriptural sources. It also seems to contradict the plain sense of countless Talmudic passages where these middos are shown in active, generative use.

The "Positive-Historical School" and Divine Revelation

Rabbi Lopiansky discusses Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch's strong stance against what he terms the "Positive-Historical School," represented by figures like Zecharias Frankel. Lopiansky explains that this school, while valuing Jewish tradition and its long history, questioned the direct divine origin of all its parts, particularly the Oral Law. They suggested that Jewish laws and traditions developed over time through the wisdom of sages, rather than being handed down directly from God at Sinai. Rabbi Hirsch, according to Lopiansky, found this view unacceptable because it denied that the Oral Law was God's word.

From an objective standpoint, the "Positive-Historical School" was an early attempt to apply methods of historical study to Jewish texts and traditions. When scholars examine ancient texts and legal systems, they often find evidence of development, debate, and influence from surrounding cultures and changing social conditions.

The idea that a complex legal and interpretative system like the Oral Law was given in its entirety at a single point in history, and then perfectly transmitted without change, is a claim that requires substantial evidence. Historical research typically shows that traditions evolve. Frankel and others were observing that the Oral Law, as recorded in the Talmud and later works, shows signs of this kind of historical development.

To insist, as Rabbi Hirsch reportedly did, that one must believe in a static, divinely revealed Oral Law is to prioritize a faith-based assertion over the patterns typically observed in historical and textual analysis. The disagreement wasn't just about valuing tradition, but about how tradition comes to be and whether it can be studied like other historical phenomena.

The Nature of the Oral Law: Frankel's Introduction to the Mishnah

Rabbi Lopiansky highlights Rabbi Hirsch's intense criticism of Zecharias Frankel's introduction to the Mishnah. He portrays Frankel as using "flowery language" to praise the wisdom of the Sages but ultimately undermining the belief that the Oral Law came directly from God. Lopiansky states that Rabbi Hirsch demanded Frankel affirm belief in "Torah from Sinai" for the Oral Law.

The core issue here is the nature of the Oral Law. When texts like the Mishnah and Talmud are studied historically, they reveal a process of legal reasoning, debate among sages, and development of laws over centuries. Different schools of thought existed, and legal opinions evolved. For instance, the Mishnah itself often records differing opinions (e.g., Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel) without always stating one is divinely ordained over the other. Later, the Talmud elaborates on these, sometimes deriving new applications or reconciling apparent contradictions.

This process looks very much like human legal development, albeit within a religious framework. To claim that this entire corpus, with all its debates and developments, was supernaturally revealed at Sinai and then merely "unpacked" requires one to ignore the clear signs of historical growth and human intellectual activity evident in the texts themselves.

Frankel's approach, which acknowledged the human element and historical development, is consistent with how scholars generally understand the history of legal and religious traditions. The insistence on a purely divine, static origin is a theological position, not a conclusion drawn from a neutral examination of the texts' historical layers.

The Role of the Thirteen Hermeneutical Rules (Yud Gimmel Middos)

Rabbi Lopiansky presents an interpretation, attributed to Rabbi Hirsch, that the Thirteen Hermeneutical Rules (Yud Gimmel Middos) were not tools for creating new laws but served as a "double-check" on laws already received through tradition (Mesorah). He suggests that every Oral Law has a hint (remez) or root (shoresh) in the Written Torah, and these rules help confirm the authenticity of these traditional laws. Exceptions, like Halacha L'Moshe MiSinai, are those with no such textual root.

This view of the Middos as primarily a confirmatory tool is a specific interpretation. When one reads the Talmud, the Sages appear to use these rules actively in their discussions to derive, explain, and justify laws. The debates often revolve around how a pasuk should be interpreted using these very rules, leading to different legal conclusions.

This suggests a more dynamic and generative role for the Middos than simply "double-checking" an already fixed body of law. The idea that every single Oral Law (apart from Halacha L'Moshe MiSinai) has a clear and unambiguous "hint" in the Written Torah is also a strong claim. Many of the derivations found in the Talmud seem, to an outside reader, to be quite creative or even strained, suggesting that the Oral Law often developed independently and was later linked to the Written Torah through these hermeneutical exercises.

This process of finding textual support for existing or developing traditions is common in many legal and religious systems; it doesn't necessarily mean the tradition originated directly from that textual "hint." The claim that the Tannaim and Amoraim did not use the Middos to learn new Halachos, but only to ascertain the veracity of old ones, seems to downplay the vibrant legal reasoning and debate evident throughout the Talmud, where these rules are clearly part of the toolkit for argumentation and legal derivation.

The Ohr HaChaim and Maharal on Connecting Oral and Written Torah

Rabbi Lopiansky mentions the Ohr HaChaim's view that the completeness of Torah requires the Oral Law to be inextricably bound to, and seen as rooted in, the Written Torah. He also brings up the Maharal's idea that the Torah contains "Torah correct" concepts that were not initially mandated, but which the Rabbis later enacted because they had a "feel" for what the Torah "wants." An example given is mayim rishonim / achronim (ritual handwashing before/after meals), which the Maharal suggests was a "Torah concept" that the Rabbis mandated.

These are theological explanations for the relationship between the Written and Oral Torah, and for rabbinic enactments. The Ohr HaChaim's point about the "completeness" requiring this connection is a statement of faith about the nature of Torah. From a historical perspective, one might observe that as the Oral Law grew, there was an increasing need to demonstrate its legitimacy by linking it to the foundational Written Text. This doesn't mean the links were always original or that the Oral Law simply flowed directly from those textual points.

The Maharal's idea of Rabbis having a "feel" for what the Torah "wants" and then enacting unmandated "Torah concepts" is also a theological framework. A historical analysis of rabbinic enactments (takanos and gezeiros) would typically look for the social, economic, ethical, or practical problems these enactments were trying to solve in specific historical contexts.

For example, many enactments were made to "make a fence around the Torah" (prevent transgression of biblical laws), to regulate commerce, to ensure social welfare, or to adapt Jewish life to new circumstances (like after the destruction of the Temple). These appear to be human responses to real-world situations, rather than the activation of latent "Torah concepts" through a special rabbinic intuition. The idea that the Torah "describes" a concept (like tumah of avodah zarah) but doesn't mandate it, and then the Rabbis create the obligation, sounds like a way to give rabbinic legislation a higher, almost scriptural, authority by associating it closely with divine "concepts."

Excerpt from pp. 131-132:

Literal vs. Metaphorical: A Convenient Escape Hatch?

Rabbi Lopiansky points out that many traditional commentators (like the Ramchal, Rambam, and Maharal) said that Aggadic statements from Chazal need to be analyzed to see if they were meant literally or as metaphors. He presents this as a key method for understanding Aggadah correctly.

This distinction between literal and metaphorical interpretation is a common way religious traditions deal with texts that seem unbelievable or contradict modern knowledge. However, the big question from an evidence-based perspective is: who decides which interpretation to use, and based on what clear, objective rules? Often, it seems this choice is made after the fact. If a statement sounds reasonable or fits current beliefs, it's taken literally. If it sounds far-fetched, or contradicts science or history, it's then labeled a metaphor.

This approach can look like a way to make sure Chazal are never wrong, rather than a consistent method of understanding what the texts originally meant. Without clear, upfront criteria for when a text is literal and when it's metaphorical, the interpretation can become a way to protect the text from criticism, rather than a genuine effort to find its original meaning or assess its truth. It allows for a flexible approach where the meaning can be shifted to fit later understandings or to avoid uncomfortable conclusions.

Excerpt from pp. 134-136:

Extraordinary Stories: Visions, Dreams, or Just Stories?

Rabbi Lopiansky mentions that some Geonim (early medieval rabbinic authorities) explained extraordinary stories in the Aggadah, like the "Arba Nichnisu L'Pardes" (Four Who Entered the Orchard), as being visions or dreams experienced by the rabbis involved. He also notes that Rav Shmuel ben Chofni Gaon, who was apparently influenced by "Goyishe" (non-Jewish) books, was skeptical of such stories if they weren't explicitly from a prophet.

Interpreting unbelievable or supernatural-sounding stories as dreams or visions is a common strategy in many traditions to make them more acceptable or to deal with their fantastical elements. From an evidence-based perspective, there's usually no way to prove that an ancient story was a dream or a vision unless the text itself says so very clearly. It often becomes a convenient way to explain away events that don't fit a rational worldview.

Why assume it was a dream or vision, rather than a legend, a symbolic tale, a myth, or simply a story not intended to be taken as a factual account of an external event? The choice to interpret it as a "vision" is itself an interpretive decision, often made to preserve the authority or special status of the figures in the story, or to align the story with later theological ideas. It's a way of managing problematic texts without directly questioning their origin or inherent truthfulness.

Concessions on Science: Why Stop at Medicine?

Rabbi Lopiansky briefly mentions the view of Rav Hai Gaon that the medical advice found in the Talmud was based on the contemporary science of their time and should not be followed today without consulting modern doctors. He says this is not "Divrei Mitzvah" (matters of religious obligation).

This is a very reasonable and common-sense approach when it comes to outdated medical practices. It acknowledges that scientific understanding changes and improves. However, this raises a larger question: if the rabbis' understanding of medicine was limited by the science of their day and is no longer considered binding or accurate, why should their understanding of other empirical matters – like history, cosmology (the nature of the universe), or natural phenomena described in Aggadah – be treated differently?

If one part of their worldly knowledge is acknowledged as time-bound and fallible, it logically follows that other empirical claims made in Aggadic texts should also be open to evaluation based on current knowledge. The decision to accept that medical advice is outdated, while insisting on the "Emes" of other, equally empirical-sounding claims in Aggadah, seems selective. It suggests that concessions are made where the conflict with modern knowledge is undeniable (like medicine), but not necessarily applied consistently across all areas.

The "Apikorsus" Label: A Tool for Conformity

Throughout the lecture, particularly when citing the Ran, the term "Apikores" (heretic) is mentioned as the status of one who rejects the teachings of Chazal in Aggadah. Rabbi Lopiansky also notes that the Ran would consider it "Apikorsus" to treat Aggadah as "soft Torah" where "anything goes" and people feel they can create their own interpretations freely, similar to how Chazal created theirs.

The label "Apikores" and the associated consequence of losing one's share in the Olam Haba (World to Come) are powerful tools for maintaining doctrinal conformity within a religious community. From an objective, academic standpoint, however, such labels are not arguments based on reason or evidence. They are internal religious condemnations used to discourage dissent and critical inquiry.

When a system of thought relies on the threat of being labeled a heretic for questioning or rejecting its tenets, it moves away from open intellectual exploration and towards an insistence on adherence to authority. While this may be effective for preserving tradition within a faith community, it does not contribute to an evidence-based assessment of the truth or historical reliability of the claims being made. It's a way to shut down debate rather than engage with it on purely rational grounds.

Excerpt from p. 137:

The Unsubstantiated Nature of the "Oral Torah"

Rabbi Lopiansky mentions his intention to address the truth of both the Written Torah (Torah Shebiksav) and the Oral Torah (Torah Sheba'al Peh).

The concept of an Oral Torah, perfectly transmitted from Moses at Sinai alongside the Written Torah, is a cornerstone of traditional Rabbinic Judaism. However, from an objective historical standpoint, this claim lacks substantial evidence. Historical and textual analysis indicates that what is known as the Oral Law (later codified in the Mishnah, Talmud, etc.) developed over many centuries. It shows clear signs of historical evolution, debate, and response to changing circumstances, rather than being a static body of information passed down unchanged from a single revelatory moment.

There are no contemporary external sources from the supposed time of Sinai that corroborate the existence of such a vast and detailed oral tradition being given alongside a written one. The claim for its divine and unbroken transmission relies on internal assertions within Rabbinic literature itself, which is not independent evidence.

1. In the section there “Counter-Apologetics”.

See also my previous, far shorter notes here:

“Ultra-Orthodox Apologetics: Some Notes on R’ Ahron Lopianski’s Lecture Series “Da Ma Shetashiv”

There, I provide bibliographical notes, unlike in this new piece.

And see my other previous pieces on this general topic, listed here, section “Religious Philosophy and Apologetics”, for posts that discuss or critique religious arguments, beliefs, or practices:

• The Kuzari Argument: A central claim in Ultra-Orthodox Apologetics

• Is There Pesak for Belief in Orthodox Judaism?

• Ultra-Orthodox Tensions: The Sefaria Controversy and the Struggle Between Tradition and Modernity

2. See Wikipedia, “Ravina II“:

The Talmud says that "Ravina" and Rav Ashi were "the end of instruction", which is traditionally interpreted to mean that the two were responsible for redacting the Babylonian Talmud.

3. For further discussion of Talmudic hermeneutics and interpretive methods, see also my earlier pieces:

• Ancient Interpretations: Talmudic Hermeneutics and Drashot Revisited

• Using A Linguistic Lens on Midrash: Does a Deep Technical Understanding of Modern Linguistics Provide Significant Help in Understanding Drashot in the Talmud and Midrash?

See also my “Was Abraham a ‘Lamdan’ ? “, at my Academia page.

I plan to give a systematic account of the Talmud’s methodology in my work-in-progress “Introduction to the Talmud“, see there for now section “Hermeneutical Principles“.