Against this, the prophets of ancient Israel were the first people in history to see peace as an ideal. That is why these words of Isaiah, echoed by Micah, have never lost their power: “He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.”
This vision of a world at peace was not centuries – but millennia – ahead of its time.
At the same time, Judaism took a more subtle view of truth than did the philosophers of antiquity. In logic, a sentence is either true or false. There is no third alternative. In Judaism, by contrast, truth is many-faceted and elusive. Of the disputes between the schools of Hillel and Shammai, the Talmud says, “These and those are the words of the living G-d.” Some believe that, though now the law is in accord with the school of Hillel, while in the Messianic Age it will follow the view of Shammai. Ultimate truth forever eludes us. Maimonides held that we can only know what G-d is not; not what He is. “If I could know G-d,” said one sage, “I would be G-d.”
There is such a thing as truth in the eye of the beholder. The school of Hillel held that one should always say at a wedding, “The bride is beautiful and gracious.” But what if she isn’t, asked Shammai? Will you tell a lie? In the eyes of her husband, she is beautiful, answered Hillel.
Truth matters, but peace matters more. That is Judaism’s considered judgment. Many of the greatest crimes in history were committed by those who believed they were in possession of the truth, while their opponents were sunk in error. To make peace between husband and wife (Abraham and Sarah) and between brothers (Joseph and Jacob’s other sons) the Torah sanctions a statement that is less than the whole truth. Dishonesty? No. Tact, sensitivity, and discretion? Yes. That is an idea both eminently sensible and humane.