A politician was sitting at his campaign headquarters when the phone rang. He listened intently, and after a moment his face brightened. When he hung up, he immediately phoned his mother to tell her the good news. "Ma," he shouted, "the results are in. I won the election!"
"Honestly?"
The politician's smiled faded. "Aw ma, why bring that up at a time like this?"
A government official was arrested for accepting a bribe from a contractor. A friend who went to visit him in the lock-up asked, "How are you going to get out of this mess?"
The official replied calmly, "I got into trouble for accepting a bribe; I will get out of it by giving it."
It is a puzzling story—the tale of the five daughters of Tzelafchad, recorded in the portion of Pinchas. They asked a simple question. Why should our father's name be eliminated from his family because he had no son? Give us a portion in the land of Israel along with our father's brothers..
The answer seemed obvious. Yet Moses immediately refused to give his view of the law. Instead, “Moses brought their case before G-d.” Why? Ask the commentators. The details of Torah law is based on logic deduced from the laws articulated in the Torah. Why did Moses not even give it thought, but went running to G-d?
Rabbanu Bachaye, offers a most daring insight.
To appreciate his answer, we must examine this question: Is there such a thing as objectivity? Are humans capable of objectivity? Is objectivity real, or just another idealistic principle like justice or truth, nice in principle but imperfectly operated in human hands?
Is it possible to disconnect yourself totally from your opinions, prejudices, and anything that might influence your choice or response to some stimulus, and deliver a completely logical and impartial judgment?
If in days of yore, people still thought that they can be objective, in modern and post-modern philosophy it is seen not only as an attainable dream, but as an essential paradox. What is more, we define reality based on our senses and interpretations, hence we are forever subjective, or what is known today as “cognitive bias.”
It is fascinating that literally thousands of years ago, the Torah and the Talmud understood this truth about humanity. Listen to this fascinating law in the Talmud.
The Talmud states that “the king or – the high priest -- may not sit in on the court proceedings as to impregnate the year with an extra month.” Why? The king has an invested monetary interest, since the budget is a yearly one, if the year has thirteen-month the treasury gains.
How about the High Priest? He might not want the year to have thirteen months, for then Yom Kippur will be later in the season and it will be colder, he serves in the Temple barefoot, and he does not want the floor to be cold.
This is strange. Are we afraid that the High Priest of Israel will distort the objective truth of whether a leap year is necessary just that on Yom Kippur the floor will be cozier? Really? And when—on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, when the High Priest enters into the Holy of Holies.
Yet Judaism recognized how deep human bias runs. I may be a High Priest, a very holy Jew, it may be Yom Kippur the holiest day of the year, I may be dealing with a national issue—adding a month to the year for the entire Jewish world, with all of the great consequences, yet deep down—consciously or unconsciously—what is determining my decision? The need for a warm floor!
We ought never to deny or repress this truth, we must acknowledge it, and that is the first step in us not getting entangled by it.
I will present another fascinating illustration from the Talmud.
You know the anecdote:
A man who faced a staggering loss if the judge ruled against him, was in great distress. During the litigation, he conferred with his counsel. “If I lose this case, I am lost!”
“It is in the judge's hands”, his lawyer instinctively replied.
“Perhaps I can send him a small gift, maybe a case of whiskey, to help him make up his mind?”
“Oh, no! not with this judge,” the lawyer hastily replied. “He is a very upstanding man and would be very insulted by the implication that he could be bought with a bribe. In fact, it could easily cost us the case if you tried any shenanigans.”
The defendant did not respond.
A few days later the judge rendered his decision in the defendant's favor. On the way out of the courthouse, the delighted defendant thanked his lawyer heartily: “We won! Thanks so much for your advice on the whiskey; it was just like you said!”
“I am certain we would have lost if you had tried that,” the lawyer responded smoothly.
“What do you mean? I did it and it worked.”
The lawyer stopped short and stared at his client in disbelief. “What? You sent him a case of whiskey?!”
“Yes. And I added a check for $10,000. And that’s the reason we won.
“It can’t be. This judge never takes bribes. If someone bribes him, they lost the case immediately. How did you pull it off?”
“It is very simple. I sent the judge a case of expensive whiskey with a nice check. But instead of using my own name and address, I put in my opponents business card.”
There is no question that a case of whiskey and $10,000 constitute bribery. But how about far more subtle forms of bribery? How about verbal bribery? How about a gesture toward the judge?
So the Talmud relates six episodes—I will share two of them—to illustrate how the Talmudic sages viewed the challenge of human bias.
The Babylonian sage Shmuel was crossing a bridge when and a fellow stretched out his hand to help him come across. Shmuel asked him what brought him here? He answered: I have a pending court case by you. Shmuel said: I am disqualified to adjudicate for you because you did me a favor.
The sharecropper of Rabbi Yishmael the son of Rabbi Yosi used to bring him a basket of fruits every Friday from the harvest of his own orchard. This was part of the business arrangement they had made. One week he brought in on Thursday. Rabbi Yishmael asked: “Why did you come early?” He answered: I have a pending court case by you [with another person], so I figured that on my way I will bring to my master the basket of fruits. Rabbi Yishmael did not accept the basket and disqualified himself from judging this person.
Let us reflect on this story: This worker of Rabbi Yishmael certainly had no intention of bribing him because he was obligated to bring him the fruits at the end of every week. If he brought the fruits a day earlier on Thursday, the day the court was in session, he did it just to save himself a trip from the orchards into the city a second time. Yet, Rabbi Yishmael did not accept his own basket of fruits and he did not allow himself to adjudicate this case. He felt that he was already “bias” in the case.
The story continues: Rabbi Yishmael disqualified himself to adjudicate. So he found other scholars to adjudicate for him. In the midst of the trial, Rabbi Yishmael found himself mentally engaged in how this person can win his case. Then Rabbi Yishmael said: See the power of bribery! I did not take the basket of fruits. Even if I would take the fruits it would have been allowed as the fruits belonged to me. Still, I found myself favoring this man! Imagine those who actually take a bribe!
The moral sensitivity and integrity of the Talmudic sages displayed here can explain to us the spiritual weight they carry in Jewish history. When we encounter people who are so keenly aware of the pitfalls of human nature, the depth of self-deception, the penetration of bias and personal agendas into a seemingly detached issue, we can trust them. For the greatest obstacle to truth and trust is not that humans have agendas; it is that humans have agendas and deny it.
A teacher was giving a big test. Upon collecting the tests she noticed a note attached with a $100 bill underneath which read, "one dollar per point, please." The teacher returned the test the next day with $40 and a note attached which read, "$40 change!
Based on all of this we will appreciate what occurred with the daughters of Tzelafchad.
If we are to look at how they presented their case they prefaced, “our father died in the desert. He was not among the members of Korach's party who protested against G-d, but he died because of his own sin without leaving any sons’.”
This detail is the key to it all. Korach staged a ferocious rebellion against Moses. He saw Moses as his arch-enemy and attempted to rally up the entire nation against Moses. The moment Moses heard the daughters say that their father was not part of Korach’s mutiny, he felt that his psyche has just become bias toward them and their father. This was a verbal bribe, subtle as it may be, and he might not be fully objective in his decision.
Now let us understand: The episode of Korach challenging Moses’s authority and Aharon rights to the priesthood took place thirty-nine years earlier! Lots of water has flowed under the bridge since then. Korach’s end was ugly as he was swallowed up by the earth and Moses’s authority had been restored. Over the past four decades, no one any longer suspected Moses in being a dictator or challenges his role as a leader. Korach’s story has long abated.
Add to this that Moses did not have anything personal against Korach. Moses actually never wanted to become a leader. It was G-d who “twisted his arm” into taking the position. Moses would have been more than happy to obey Korach and retire from his post. Moses, however, was defending not his honor but the honor of G-d and the Torah.
Consider further that Moses was now reaching 120 years. He has been the greatest prophet and scholar who ever lived, the greatest human being who ever walked our planet, a person who for the last forty years communed with G-d and brought his Torah to the world.
Yet this man felt that the moment a few young women mentioned the fact that their father was on the right team, that their father did not join the mutiny 39 years earlier, he is disqualified of judging their case! He immediately said: I cannot be objective in this case thus I must ask G-d what needs to be done in your case.
Had they not mentioned the saga of Korach, Moses might have contemplated the question and offered his view on the law. But the moment they mentioned that 39 years ago their father was on the right team, Moses said: I cannot be the judge!
This is the level of self-awareness Judaism asks of us. Don’t be perfect, but be accountable. Don’t be flawless, but be honest with yourself. Realize how subjective and bio you may be on any given issue, perhaps beyond realizing it. Thus, always retain your humility, allow yourself to be challenged, listen to another perspective, and be open to the truth that you may really be wrong.
If Moses at the peak of his life felt that that no matter his standing, a small compliment from five sisters can alter his objectivity and distort his sense of truth, if the man whom G-d entrusted with His wisdom, about whom G-d declares, “He is trusted in my entire home,” still felt he can be biased, certainly, you and I must ask ourselves, “Maybe there is another perspective?” “Maybe my wife has a point?” Okay, let’s not push it… but “maybe my husband has a point?” “Maybe I need an outside opinion?”
A couple comes to me and they are having an issue with their marital harmony. Each one has a complaint and 1,000 verifications that they are right and their spouse is absolutely wrong. In each of their minds, the other one is horrible. At such moments we must recall the wise words of the Talmud
“A person is considered related to himself.” Just as we don’t accept testimony from a relative, we don’t accept testimony from man himself about himself…
How do we make decisions in life unmarred by our prejudice and hidden agendas? The Mishnah states it clearly: Every person needs a mentor, a confidant.
The value of that confidant is not that he is smarter than you. We know no one is smarter than you… the value is that he is simply not you. We all need an outside voice before whom we can run by issues, concerns, questions before whom we can share what is going in our lives, someone who can listen to us, and give us the feedback we often dread but which we desperately need.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky
Tom Peacock wrote...