A long and painful saga is resolved harmoniously in the Torah reading this week, as Joseph receives the message sent by his brothers: their father, Jacob, had commanded, prior to his passing, that he forgive them for selling him into slavery. All's well that ends well, apparently… or is it?

There is much ambiguity surrounding the events that close out the book of Genesis, and the saga of Joseph and his brothers, extending even to this one detail. Did Jacob actually issue such a command? It seems not, as the Talmud (Yevamot 65b) derives a legal principle from this verse: "it is permitted to change the facts (l'shanot) for the sake of harmony."

As a rule, the phrasing prompted more questions than answers, both in practice and in understanding the narrative. Was the Talmud carefully avoiding the language of "lying" (l'shaker) for the sake of harmony: are blatant falsehoods off-limits, or can they also be utilized when necessary? If not, what is the difference? What is the biblical model: did Jacob issue any kind of a message? And how can any deviation from the truth be allowed, considering the Torah's unusually strong language (Exodus 23:7): "stay far away from falsehood"?

Two Competing Values

All of these questions are given extensive treatment in the literature of Jewish Law, which is deeply concerned with both the ethic of integrity and the imperative of societal harmony. To some, the two values may at times conflict, and we are forced to choose between them; apparently harmony and peace-making is so crucial a priority that it overwhelms the prohibition against falsehood.

The Rama, in his responsa (number 11), discusses these ideas as merely reflective of instances in which we are permitted to compromise religious values for the sake of peace. The prohibition of "keep far away from falsehood," formidable as it indeed is, must bow to the cause of harmony. The first Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady (Tanya, Iggeret HaKodesh 22), writes, basing himself on the Midrash, "Since peace is greater than all the commandments... it was permitted to alter the truth for the sake of peace." The verse in Zechariah identifies two of the pillars of God's world: "And truth and peace are beloved." It appears that these two values are equivalent, sharing jointly the role of ultimate ideals. In the event of an irreconcilable conflict, one must be sacrificed in favor of the other.

A Nuanced Understanding

To others, however, it is less about one value dominating the other and more about a nuanced understanding of the principles involved. In particular, the prohibition against falsehood is complex to interpret. While the unique language of "stay far away" suggests a more extreme quality, some suggest it reflects an inherent challenge in identifying actual, consequential truth with factually accurate words. Put another way, it is possible to speak in a technically correct fashion and convey utter falsehood; it is equally possible to say words that are not literally accurate but more effectively bring about realities that are true in important senses of the word.

As such, some authorities understood that the Torah does not specifically prohibit words in this directive, but rather falseness of character, instructing one to stay away from actions and attributes that harm others through deception. This correlates, roughly, to the dispute among philosophers as to how moral behavior should be determined: formalistically, through defined, proscribed behaviors, or consequentially, in striving to bring about the best possible results for the benefit of society.

Truth-telling, specifically, was one focus of this debate, with Immanuel Kant taking the view that lying is always morally wrong, regardless of the result. Jewish law differed from this attitude, but the scope and the nature of the difference was open to an illuminating range of perspectives.

It may be that the prohibition of engaging in falsehood is defined to a certain extent by the intent of the speaker. Lying, as forbidden in the Torah, would thus refer to that falsehood that is perpetrated for the purposes of achieving some personal gain at the expense of honesty. If, alternatively, one's aim is the venerable search for peace, this falsehood may never have fallen within the realm of the Torah's injunction. In fact, Rabbi Eliezar of Metz (Sefer Yereim 235) was of the opinion that the only type of falsehood prohibited by the biblical verse is that which results in harm to another.

The Ritva states as much, commenting on the well-known position of Beit Hillel that one should compliment the beauty of a bride regardless of empirical evidence to the contrary (Ketubot 17a). He explains that "whatever is done for the methods of peace, the prohibition 'keep far away from falsehood' does not apply to this." This is, indeed, a quite tenable reading of the Talmud's intent. The implication is that the prohibition of falsehood has been deemed irrelevant in this instance.

Permission or Obligation?

This understanding affects a fundamental question: Is the alteration of truth in the service of peace an option, or an actual obligation? The Talmud itself presents different formulations. Rabbi Ilai says (Yevamot 65b) it is "permitted," while Rabbi Natan says it is "a mitzvah" (based on the story of the prophet Samuel in I Samuel 16). The rishonim apparently took sides on this question.

If truth and peace are to be taken as equals, as the verse in Zechariah indicates, and when they clash irreconcilably one must bow to the other, then by necessity one or the other must give precedence. "It is permitted to alter the truth for the sake of peace," and thus choose harmony as the prevalent ideal, but it is also permissible not to, ascribing priority instead to truth.

Alternatively, if the prohibition of sheker is not applicable to one who is bending the boundaries of honesty in the pursuit of peace, then such alterations must be understood as compulsory and not optional. If the injunction against lying is not in effect, then there can be no excuse for being lax in bringing about peace. Only one choice remains: "It is a mitzvah to do so."

The Nimmukei Yosef (on Bava Metzia 23b) questions why the pursuit of peace is absent from the Talmud's list of three areas in which a rabbinical scholar is permitted to fudge the truth without damaging his reputation for honesty. He explains, in the name of the Rif, that the topic of that passage is only those areas in which a scholar has the option to distort the truth if he wishes. Dishonesty for the sake of harmony does not belong there, because that is an obligation and not merely discretionary.

However, this does not appear to be the position of Maimonides. In his Mishneh Torah (Hilkhot Gezeilah Va'Aveidah 14:13) he records the exemptions from the scholar's requirements of honesty related in the Talmud, and with this he lists the pursuit of peace. Concerning all four of them, he writes, "This is permissible." Elsewhere in Mishneh Torah (Hilkhot De'ot 5:7) he writes merely that a scholar "does not alter the truth in his speech, not adding or subtracting, except for matters of peace and the like." Maimonides seems to understand this principle as a mere dispensation and not a compulsory action. It follows, then, that the Rif understands peace to be a principle that transcends the necessity for honesty, not falling within the grasp of its obligations and prohibitions. Maimonides, however, took the prohibition of falsehood to be in effect here too, and thus truth and peace are arranged as opposing equals.

The Question of Blatant Falsehood

Maimonides' language is indicative of another inclination consistent with this reasoning. His choice of words, particularly "adding or subtracting," suggests that outright lying is inadvisable; rather, one is to merely allow a slight compromise to the veracity of statements. The tension between the two titans of the Jewish value system makes difficult the complete rejection of one in service of the other. As Maimonides seems to recognize a binding prohibition of falsehood, to whatever extent honesty can be preserved it is imperative to do so. It is instructive, in this light, that the Talmud uses the word l'shanot, "to alter the truth," rather than l'shaker, "to lie."

This reluctance to sanction blatant dishonesty may be shared by Nachmanides. In his commentary to the Torah, he addresses God's modified report to Abraham of Sarah's comment that her husband was too old to have a child. He stresses that God's version was inherently true, as Sarah's intent was to express concern as to the stage of life they both shared, and the inclusion of Abraham in this consideration was merely omitted in the interest of harmony. The Ohr HaChaim similarly has difficulty ascribing outright falsehood to the Source of all truth, noting that Sarah's main concern had been her own maturity, with her reference to Abraham's age an afterthought.

Rabbi Moshe of Brisk, in his commentary Chelkat M'chokeik (Even HaEzer 65:3), shows unambiguous preference for avoiding blatant dishonesty. In explicating the Shulchan Arukh's ruling in favor of calling every bride beautiful, he notes that this is not to allow explicitly denying an obvious blemish, as this is a complete falsehood. Rather, one should merely state that she is "na'ah," "pleasant," and allow the listener to introduce his own interpretation. However, upon examination, Tosafot in two separate comments on this text appear to be saying just the opposite, with the implication clearly being that Beit Hillel, the prevailing opinion, allow even outright falsehood.

This variance of thought seems to mirror the considerations named earlier. If one understands the prohibition of falsehood to be irrelevant in face of the pursuit of harmony, perhaps no limitations should be put upon the appropriate utilization of dishonesty. Alternatively, if the injunction maintains its force regardless of good intentions, deference to its weight would mandate that outright lying be avoided wherever possible.

The Controversial Position of the Sefer Chasidim

This motivation of minimizing the incidence of falsehood is attributed to Rabbi Yehudah HaChasid, whose words (Sefer Chasidim 426) are cited authoritatively by the Magen Avraham (Orach Chaim 156:2). He deals with a person who is approached with a request for money and, not wishing to relinquish any, yet hoping to avoid subsequent argument, decides to claim he has no money. Upon initial consideration, the pursuit of peace should allow such an inaccurate representation of his financial situation. Nonetheless, the Sefer Chasidim takes a stringent stand, legislating that such license is given only to a person who would lie about events that have taken place in the past. However, realities of the present and plans for the future are still confined within the restraints of total honesty.

This innovative ruling has garnered many challenges. The Chida, Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulai (Birkei Yosef, Orach Chaim 156:4), notes an apparently contrary implication in the Shulchan Arukh, where a false oath intended to represent the past is treated with greater severity than an unfulfilled oath declaring intentions for the future. The suggestion is that falsifying the past is a greater transgression than misrepresenting the future.

One possible logic for the Sefer Chasidim's opinion is that the Rabbis sought to limit the implementation of this principle. If dispensation were granted for falsehoods concerning the future or the present, rampant misuse is easily imaginable. Any lie can be supported with the claim that it will potentially prevent some impending disruption of harmony. Restricting the rule to situations in the past ensures a limited usage that will not compromise the value of honesty in a fundamental manner.

Many authorities note a basic textual difficulty with the notion of the Sefer Chasidim. The Talmud attributes one source of the mitzvah to lie for the sake of peace to God's instructions to the prophet Samuel concerning the anointing of David. As this was then a future event, how is it possible to deny that such instances are also within the relevant dispensation?

It seems possible to suggest an alternative formulation of the Sefer Chasidim's position, one that can readily accommodate these objections. It could be that Rabbi Yehudah HaChasid was of the view that dishonesty in the service of peace is a concession in the face of two irreconcilable ideals, rather than a blanket suspension of the laws of falsehood. Accordingly, one is only permitted to avail oneself of this option if no other route exists to avoid disharmony. If, however, a third choice exists, allowing the avoidance of both lying and evoking strife, this option must be taken.

This is relevant to the specific case dealt with by the Sefer Chasidim. A person confronting a request for money that he does not wish to honor, in spite of having the funds, faces three choices. He can refuse, instigating conflict; he can misrepresent his financial situation, avoiding tensions; or, he can comply with the request, which is neither dishonest nor disharmonious. As the prohibition against falsehood is still in effect, as long as the third choice exists, one cannot ignore it and claim to have been forced into dishonesty.

If this is true, one can understand the Sefer Chasidim's distinction between misrepresenting the past versus the present and the future. The differentiation addresses the issue of whether the circumstances pitting truth against peace are immutable or not. If the situation is a reality cemented in past events, no longer subject to adapting its elements to avoid conflicting values, then dishonesty is the only route to peace and is permitted. If, however, a level of control over the circumstances still exists, and the conflict can be bypassed, that must be the path taken.

Implications for Education

Even where the license to alter truth for peace applies, concerns arise about its effect on children. Sensitivity to their education is paramount and may even override the motivation of keeping the peace. Rabbi Zeira's dictum (Sukkah 46b) states that it is prohibited to break a promise to a child because by so doing you habituate a child to lie. What must be inferred is that one may never break a promise to a child, for given the child's immaturity, he or she will not appreciate and understand fully the rationale for why the retraction is morally acceptable.

Because the educational duty requires a higher standard of truth telling, the license for peace should generally not apply in an educational setting. Rabbi Nahum Yavrov (Niv S'fatayim 3:32) explicitly takes this position: ordinarily, if an unexpected caller knocks on one's door, one may inform the caller through a member of the household that one is "not home" to avoid friction. Since this response avoids a strain in relationships it constitutes a permissible lie. However, R. Yavrov posits that this instruction should not be made in the presence of a child, and certainly one should not use a child to deliver the untruth to the unexpected stranger. Any involvement of a child here will habituate him or her to lie.

Returning to the Narrative

Accordingly, one possible conclusion is that the mandate of integrity is determined consequentially, while at the same time there is a sharp awareness that genuine truth is precious and elusive, and thus all measures that can honor the formal structure of honesty, such as avoiding outright falsehood, and seeking core realities upon which to build harmony, must be pursued.

Jacob may or may not have explicitly commanded his son to forgive his brothers. Nonetheless, in many ways, the life he led, and especially towards the end, when, as the Shlah notes, he asked them all to "gather together" for a blessing, made it evident where his sympathies were. Rabbi Yaakov Etlinger (Arukh LaNer on Yevamot 65b) assumes the brothers used an emissary so that they did not have to overtly lie, to allow Joseph to come to the conclusion that they had been instructed to pass on a direction to forgive when that had not actually been the case.

According to this interpretation, the brothers sent their message through another, so that Joseph could draw his own conclusions, assuming they meant it was Jacob's spoken instructions. Perhaps they took this path because really it was the implicit message of his life, which they would have been unreliable interpreters to convey in their own name, but could allow that understanding to emerge nonetheless.

To prioritize harmony is not to abandon truth, but to strive to find the space in which they both can be maximized. Today, the tenth day of Tevet, was observed as a fast in commemoration of the destruction of the Temple. However, the Talmud (Rosh HaShanah 18b) cites a verse (Zechariah 8:19) that promises the day will come when this date will not be observed with fasting, but rather with celebration. When will we reach that blessed stage? The end of the verse gives a clue: "and truth and peace are beloved"; when we can live lives of such care and attention to these values that neither need be compromised for the other. (See Oznayim LaTorah to Ex. 23:7).

Often the complexities of a mature religious existence preclude an easy satisfaction of all fundamental tenets simultaneously. The careful balancing of conflicting pillars of the value system remains one of the foremost challenges of the dedicated life. One reality, however, remains undisputed: the role of pursuing and maintaining a peaceful existence as a paramount priority of the Torah's vision, "Its ways are ways of pleasantness, and all of its paths are peace" (Proverbs 3:17).