Rabbi 360

When we come to this week’s Torah portion, I always think about the scene from The Godfather, Part II when Michael Corleone tells his button man Al Neri that he doesn’t want anything to happen to Fredo, his brother who betrayed him, while their mother is alive. Once she dies, however, the story takes a different turn.

This scene resonates because in this week’s Torah portion, Jacob dies. This is one of the last episodes of the Joseph narrative that takes us through the end of Genesis. In this story Jacob’s favored son Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers, and he wound up in Egypt where he became a high government official responsible for the collection and distribution of food during a famine. After the brothers travelled from their home in Canaan to Egypt for food, they presented themselves to Joseph, whom they did not recognize but who recognized them. After Joseph tested them to see if they had changed character, and after being satisfied that they had, he revealed himself and they reconciled. Jacob and the rest of his family moved down to Egypt, and he was reunited with Joseph.

The reconciliation of the brothers feels genuine and complete. However, after Jacob dies, we read:

When Joseph’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, “What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrong that we did him!” So they sent this message to Joseph, “Before his death your father left this instruction: So shall you say to Joseph, ‘Forgive, I urge you, the offense and guilt of your brothers who treated you so harshly.’ Therefore, please forgive the offense of the servants of the God of your father.” (Genesis 50:15-17)

Upon hearing this Joseph assured the brothers that he forgives them, that he has made peace with the past, and he will continue to support them in the future.

The problem here is that the Torah records no such instruction from Jacob to the brothers. While it may be an episode that played out behind the scenes, more likely is that the brothers fear that Joseph’s earlier reconciliation was for the sake of their father only, and now that he is dead, Joseph is free to exact revenge, so they make up a story to ensure that Joseph does not do so.

Indeed, it is this understanding that allows this episode to be the prooftext for a startling and thoughtful and pragmatic teaching, that it is OK to deviate from the truth to keep the peace:

And Rabbi Ile’a further said in the name of Rabbi Elazar, son of Rabbi Shimon: It is permitted for a person to depart from the truth in a matter that will bring peace, as it is stated: “Before his death your father left this instruction: So shall you say to Joseph, ‘Forgive, I urge you, the offense and guilt of your brothers who treated you so harshly” (Babylonian Talmud, Yevamot 65b)

So while Jewish ethics puts a high value on the truth—indeed one of the 10 Commandments is “do not bear false witness”—we also know that ethics are not always so clear cut, and oftentimes we have to balance competing values. And sometimes the value of peace is more important than the value of truth.

This is not meant to condone the type of lying we see regularly these days, particularly from our current high government officials, who lie in order to deny issues, grab power, cast blame, hurt people, or avoid problems. (Also found in interpersonal relationships.) Indeed, the type of untruths the Talmud speaks to is to address issues, cede power, take responsibility, uplift people, and solve problems. It is a form of de-escalation, not escalation.

Joseph’s brothers sought to de-escalate a situation rather than potentially open old wounds. And they did so by fabricating a specific instruction of their father which may not have happened, but carried an intention of bringing the family together, not driving it apart. And I’m sure in our own relationships there are times when the truth is modified or left unsaid as a means to de-escalate conflict and preserve connection.

We know too that “truth” can itself be subjective, any given situation can have multiple narratives. Different people can experience the same situation differently, and each person can have their own “truth” about the same thing. Problems arise when those “truths” conflict, and both parties are unwilling to recognize the “truth” of the other.

Prioritizing “peace” over “truth” therefore means having the humility to know that we may not have the whole story, and that we must be willing to see the perspective of the other. And, we may need to relinquish our own truth claim to make peace and move forward. We may need to compromise on our position in order to maintain connection and relationship.

Ultimately, I think the Talmud here is warning against absolutes. A truth claim is a claim to absolutism, to universality, to uniformity, to labels, to privileging self over other—one can not argue against a truth claim. A commitment to peace, however, is a claim to relativity, to compromise, to embracing diversity, to recognizing the humanity of the other—peace is something that is possible, albeit difficult.

Was Joseph really planning on revenge on his brothers after Jacob died? Was he like Michael Corleone? The Torah is silent on that as well. But regardless, the Torah and the Talmud make the argument that peace is paramount, and we might need to deprioritize other values in order to attain it. The Torah and the Talmud make the argument that peace is bigger than any one person, or any one people.