Sanhedrin 61
Our Gemara on amud beis discusses the halacha regarding one who incites others to sin through idolatry. There appears to be a contradiction between two teachings. One teaching suggests that getting others to verbally accept the proposition to engage in idolatry – verbal agreement alone – is already considered a sinful act of incitement. Another teaching, however, implies that liability for incitement only occurs once the sin of idol worship has actually been carried out.
The Gemara resolves this contradiction by distinguishing between someone who incites a group versus an individual. Here is where it gets interesting, as there is a dispute among the commentaries regarding the correct reading of the text. One interpretation holds that when inciting a group, mere verbal agreement is enough to incur liability, whereas inciting an individual requires follow-through with action. The other interpretation suggests the opposite: When a group is being incited, liability is only incurred when they actually act, while when an individual is incited, liability is incurred the moment he verbally agrees to worship.
Each interpretation reflects a different perspective on group dynamics and individual psychology. According to the first interpretation, the concern is mob psychology, where the energy of the group coalesces into a single collective will, making it difficult for individuals to object. The logic follows that once a group agrees to do something, dissenters within it will likely lack the courage to speak up.
The second interpretation presents an opposing view. Since individuals learn social norms from their peers and groups, the group dynamic serves to reflect and challenge ideas among its members. Thus, even if a group verbally commits to idol worship, some within it may resist and prevent the act from being carried out. In contrast, when an individual is incited and personally convinced, he is less likely to change course. Once committed, confirmation bias takes over, and he will seek justifications for his choice rather than reconsidering it.
This highlights a fascinating aspect of social psychology. Groups wield immense power in dictating norms and enforcing compliance through social pressure, often shaming individuals into conforming to written and unwritten rules. Those who stray too far may face ostracization, isolation, and even existential threats by losing the support of their community. This influence can be constructive – encouraging moral development and virtuous thinking through peer feedback – or it can be destructive, leading to mass hysteria that absolves individuals of personal responsibility.
This balance between individual conscience and societal norms is a powerful lesson. At times, one must have the courage to go against the tide, to dissent and stand firm. At other times, one must be humble enough to listen, absorb moral lessons, and recognize the wisdom of the collective.
Reflecting on the early months of Covid-19, we saw how these dynamics played out in real time. Hysteria led to the ostracization of those who questioned the prevailing medical consensus, including those skeptical of masking, social distancing, and the safety or efficacy of the vaccines. Many rabbonim and frum doctors, fearing for public health, produced videos harshly castigating those who did not strictly adhere to distancing measures or who hesitated to vaccinate, branding them “grandma killers.” More modern communities viewed the yeshivish or chassidishe groups – who prioritized children’s well-being by maintaining schooling and religious life – as reckless and ignorant.
When fear and panic spiral out of control, even well-intentioned caution can lead to the unjust suppression of legitimate questions and concerns. We are now witnessing the long-term consequences of prolonged school closures, particularly in economically disadvantaged communities. While the upper class had access to private schooling and other educational resources, many public-school children – especially those from lower-income families – fell behind academically and socially. This educational gap remains unresolved, a tragic outcome of excessive caution overriding common sense. Similarly, many shuls remained closed for far too long, and even after reopening, children were often barred from attending for extended periods –disrupting an entire generation’s connection to tefillah b’tzibbur.
This is but one example. The real question is: When the next crisis arises, how will we discern whether it is a time to comply and subjugate our will for the greater good, or a time to dissent and speak out? May Hashem grant us the wisdom to choose rightly.
The Accidental Heretic
Sanhedrin 62
Our Gemara on amud beis discusses the degree of liability when a person commits idolatry but is unaware that the Torah forbids it. The Gemara’s primary focus is on whether a sacrifice must be brought, and if so, of which kind. However, we will set aside that aspect and explore a different dimension of this topic: How does the Torah relate to accidental heresy? What if a yerei shamayim – a G-d-fearing and sincere seeker of truth – misinterprets a Torah principle or an ethical concept and, as a result, holds beliefs or doubts that technically constitute heresy?
One of the most famous expressions of this conundrum is found in a dispute between the Rambam and the Ra’avad. In Hilchos Teshuvah (3:7), the Rambam lists various beliefs that define a min (heretic), including “one who maintains that G-d has a body or form.” The Ra’avad takes strong exception to this statement, writing:
Why does he call such a person a min? Many greater and better than he followed this opinion based on what they saw in Scripture, and more particularly in the texts of the Midrashim, which misdirected their thinking.
The Ra’avad fully agrees that the correct belief is that G-d has neither body nor form. Yet he cannot accept the Rambam’s classification of such innocent, pious individuals as heretics. His main objection appears to be that since they were following what they understood from Scripture and midrashim, they cannot be blamed for their mistake.
At the core of this dispute lies a fundamental question: While heresy is a sin, is it only a sin, or is it something more? If a person holds a profoundly distorted belief, even with the purest intentions, can their soul still achieve aliyah (elevation)? One might argue that G-d, in His infinite wisdom, “grades on a curve” and considers mitigating factors.
For instance, let’s say someone fully believes in G-d but misunderstands that one must pray only to Him. Instead, he mistakenly believes it is permissible to pray to intermediaries, such as the sun or the moon. (In Hilchos Avodah Zarah (1:1), the Rambam describes this very mistake as the error of the generation of Enosh.) Perhaps one could argue that since this person ultimately believes in G-d, his error is forgivable.
But what if a person’s honest intellectual inquiry leads him to atheism? He is not rebelling against G-d – he simply does not recognize Him. In such a case, should we still view him as a sinner, or is he simply lost?
Yet how can someone be granted reward if they do not meet even the most minimal requirements of belief? Perhaps we can acknowledge their moral behavior for what it is, but if Olam Haba is predicated on a relationship with G-d, how can a person who does not believe in Him maintain such a connection?
The Rambam, in his Peirush HaMishnayos (Perek Chelek), takes this even further. He does not merely assert that reward in the next world comes from attachment to G-d – he defines attachment to G-d as the reward itself. The soul’s eternal existence depends on its connection to G-d’s truth and intellect. If so, how could an innocent, well-meaning atheist – no matter how ethical – experience Olam Haba if he lacks any conscious bond with the Divine?
On the other hand, one could argue that moral behavior, even without explicit belief, still fosters a degree of attachment to G-d. By emulating His ways, even unknowingly, a person may generate the necessary spiritual sustenance for his soul to endure.
According to the Rambam, however, innocence is not enough. If a person constructs a fundamentally flawed concept of G-d, he cannot achieve the necessary deveikus (spiritual conjoinment) to sustain his soul’s immortality. Believing that G-d has a body is not a trivial mistake – it carries profound theological implications. A physical being must have been created. A physical being has boundaries and is therefore finite. A finite being is subject to change and entropy. Such a being cannot be omnipotent or eternal. In this view, the mistaken believer is knocking on the wrong door, unable to attain the connection he needs.
The Ra’avad, by contrast, seems to adopt a less abstract view of reward and punishment. His concept aligns more closely with the classic hashkafah that we are often taught: G-d, in His Beis Din shel Ma’alah, judges and dispenses reward and punishment according to a person’s sincerity and deeds. For the Ra’avad, a moral person – sincere in his beliefs, even if mistaken –receives reward commensurate with his righteousness.
That said, the Ra’avad likely has his own boundaries. He may be willing to tolerate technical heresies as long as the person’s fundamental belief in G-d remains intact. But what about a sincere atheist who, despite living a moral life, does not believe in G-d at all? Would the Ra’avad still consider him worthy of Olam Haba? That remains an open question.
For further discussion on accidental heresy, see Sefer HaIkkarim (Ma’amar 1:1 and 1:2), where the author, Rav Yosef Albo, echoes the Ra’avad’s position that certain mistaken beliefs – when rooted in honest error – are forgivable. As a counterpoint, see the Abravanel in Rosh Amanah 12, where he argues that if a belief undermines fundamental theological doctrines, the person remains fully accountable and is classified as a true heretic.
