The Determinacy Divide

Jewish Ethics and the Limits of Legal and Moral Absolutism

One of the topics that have been debated in both moral and legal theory is the concept of determinacy - the idea that every legal and ethical question has a single, correct answer.

This concept has evolved over the centuries. The tension between determinacy and indeterminacy in ethics traces back to ancient philosophy. Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics recognized that ethical principles cannot achieve the precision of mathematics, introducing the concept of practical wisdom (phronesis) to navigate particular circumstances.

However, in medieval times, more thinkers started gravitating towards determinacy. Islamic law codes were written to make the law more deterministic, and this influenced Jewish and Christian theologians to do the same. Thomas Aquinas attempted to systematize moral theology through natural law theory but he still acknowledged that context matters and strict determinacy was not possible.

The secular philosophers of the Enlightenment period, possibly influenced by Newtonian science, attempted to make all moral and legal frameworks deterministic. In moral philosophy, this took the form of utilitarianism, deontology, and contract theory, each offering an elegant, rule-based approach to moral clarity. In legal theory, major thinkers started to insist that justice demands one right answer. Whether grounded in moral intuition or legal positivism, both domains converged on a singular ideal: if the system is just, it must be determinate.

Jewish law and ethics never accepted this idea.

On the surface, it appears that Jewish law is supremely deterministic - as mentioned, there are elaborate legal codes to help define and determine the law - the halachic system was always anti-deterministic. A fascinating section of the Jerusalem Talmud (Sanhedrin 4:2) says that Rabbi Yannai taught that had the Torah been given in a fixed and conclusive form (chatuchah), “it could not have endured.” When Moses asked God for a definitive halachic ruling, God instead invoked the verse “after the majority you shall bend,” indicating that human deliberation - not divine finality - would guide Jewish legal interpretation. (Note that "bend" indicates flexibility.) He said that the Torah could be expounded in “49 faces of impurity and 49 faces of purity,” allowing it to remain relevant and dynamic.

There is always interpretation. Minority opinions are written down. Concepts like lifnim meshurat hadin (beyond the letter of the law), kavod habriyot (human dignity) and hora'at shaah (the rare overriding of the law in exceptional circumstances) shows that even within the halachic system, sometimes the determinate rules must be bent.

I would argue Jewish ethics is the dividing line between halachic determinacy and indeterminacy. When strict halachic determinacy would bring about an undesirable result, then the more flexible ethical concepts can enter, within the halachic system, to shade or bend halacha in a moral direction. Jewish ethics ensures that legal order remains aligned with dignity, compassion, and responsibility.

Modern ethical and legal theorists have started to recognize what Jewish law and ethics has known for two thousand years - the world is not black and white and neither deterministic or indeterministic methodologies can work on their own. Halacha's dual-layer system of deterministic law that incorporates flexible ethics offers what modern secular frameworks still struggle to construct: a method for balancing rule and context, principle and person

There is a joke about a Jewish man who spent his entire life looking for halachic loopholes to do the absolute minimum while adhering to halacha. When he passed away, he was ushered into heaven, where he was shown his new home: a bare room with nothing but a desk, a bed and a lamp. He asked incredulously, "This is heaven?" And the answer was "According to some opinions."

Strict halacha sets the floor of what is allowed, Jewish ethics raises the ceiling of what you should strive to do and who you should be.

What makes this all the more stunning is that Judaism had this flexible-deterministic system in place for millennia, yet it was systematically ignored or dismissed by much of the Western legal and moral canon. Christian thinkers in the medieval period often engaged Jewish philosophy, especially Maimonides, but largely bypassed the halachic system’s practical genius. Where canon law systematized conflict, and Enlightenment ethics pursued determinacy, Jewish law embraced pluralism with discipline.

This omission was not merely an intellectual oversight. Antisemitic tropes, portraying Jewish law as rigid, outdated, or excessively legalistic, likely contributed to the marginalization of halacha as a viable moral or legal framework. Had the West engaged seriously with halachic thinking, it might have developed more nuanced models for handling ambiguity, moral conflict, and principled exception.

In this Jewish ethics project I have been developing, by consciously separating Jewish ethics from halacha, I have unconsciously surfaced the brilliance of both. And this is why I believe that this is the first secular ethical framework that proves that faith is not necessary to be a moral person, a key goal of secular philosophy for centuries.

My AskHillel AI bot allows us to finally recognize this moral architecture on its own terms. It does not seek to undermine halacha’s authority, but to show that alongside its structure lies an ethical system equally ancient, equally rigorous, and deeply humane. When separated, we can fully appreciate the design, the balance, and the wisdom Jewish ethical tradition has carried all along.

If the Enlightenment philosophers had engaged the Jewish halachic and ethical system on its own terms rather than sidelining it, the world might look a lot different today.