In 1948 Brandeis University opened its doors with the goal of becoming an ivy league quality institution of higher learning that reflected Jewish values and had no quota for Jewish students. The mission of the school is reflected in its seal, which has a shield at its center, a verse from the 51st psalm encircling the shield - the verse is “truth unto its innermost parts” - and then at the center of the shield 3 Hebrew letters - aleph, mem, and taf - what does that spell? Emet. And what does that mean? Truth. And the sense of the symbol seems to be that the academic process, at the end of the day, is about uncovering the truth. Said another way, when we send our children off to college our hope and expectation is that they will return to us with a deeper sense of what the truth about the world is.
Of course we begin inculcating the value of truth into our children from the time they begin to speak, and probably even before that. Of all the values we want our children to subscribe to, the ideal of truth certainly is toward the top of the list. We want our children to be truthful - to us, to others, and to themselves, and when they are not it is something that we find deeply unsettling.
But as we grow older we begin to realize that the idea of truth, the ultimate value of truth, is a bit more ambiguous than our parents might have led us to believe. And the truth is, the truth is complicated. I always remember hearing Terri Gross, on her NPR radio program, interviewing Daniel Handler, the author who wrote under the pen name Lemony Snicket the Series of Unfortunate Events books. She challenged him in the interview, saying that some parents didn’t like their children reading his books because some of the books imply it is OK to lie. Then she asked him, “do you think it is OK to lie?” And he said - “yes, sometimes.” And she said, “could you give me an example?” There was a pause, which on the radio sounded very long, although it was probably just a few seconds. Finally, he said “that is a nice sweater.”
And we all know that in the course of our day to day lives the truth is sometimes rather muddy, and other times it is inconvenient, and other times we might feel it is best ignored. Overall we try to be truthful, and in fact society couldn’t function if we weren’t truthful to one another most of the time - but truth is not the absolute value that we might have thought it was when we were young.
The value of truth and how it plays out in public life is a central theme of a brand new movie version of one of Shakespeare’s lesser known tragedies, Coriolanus. The film stars and is directed by the actor Ralph Fiennes, better known these days for playing Lord Voldemort in the Harry Potter movies.
As they do when they make a movie from a Shakespeare play, they dress it up in the skins that a larger Hollywood audience would recognize - there are tense war scenes, set in modern times, with body armor and machine guns and explosives, all done with cutting edge special effects - but what makes Shakespeare great - we might say what makes Shakespeare Shakespeare - is the story that he tells, and Coriolanus has a compelling story to draw you in. The play is probably Shakespeare’s most politically oriented work, and that gives it a timeless quality, because in politics, the more things change, the more they stay the same. The title character is a revered Army general, known for his prowess in battle and his skill in directing soldiers, who returns after a military triumph to civilian life. His friends urge him to get into the political arena, assuring him that his military success will translate to civilian life and the power and privilege of high office.
But of course I’ve told you this is a tragedy, so by definition we know that the story can not end well for the title character. There must be a fall from grace, and it comes to Coriolanus because he is not able to navigate the political world with the same success that he navigated the battlefield. In the battlefield he was in charge, no one questioned that, people did what he told them to - but in the senate, he has to play with others, he has to court public opinion, he has to do things and support things he might not agree with, and most difficult of all for Coriolanus, he has to say things he doesn’t believe. Coriolanus, at the end of the day, is a man who is unable to say something that he doesn’t think is true - when he opens his mouth, what he REALLY believes, what he thinks is true, is what comes out. He can’t help himself. And, Shakespeare seems to be saying, a person like that can never be successful in politics. And ultimately, because he is unwilling to compromise, because he can’t hold his tongue, he is rejected by the people, and again, since this is a tragedy, he is killed. All because of his adherence to the truth.
This week we are reading from the Torah the portion that completes the Exodus narrative, describing the last few plagues, the moment of leaving Egypt, and the final confrontation between Moses and Pharaoh. At the center of this story is the great figure of Moses, the prophet, the lawgiver, the man who God has singled out as the leader of ancient Israel. One of the details the Torah gives us about Moses that has always fascinated me is the text’s description of him as a person who has trouble talking. Moses even describes himself that way. When God first tells him to go to Pharaoh, he says lo ish d’varim anochi - literally, “I am not a man of words.” Then a bit later on, Moses goes back to that idea, and he tells God he is simply not fit for being a messenger to Pharaoh, because Ani aral sefataim - which is translated in our Humash as “I am of impeded speech.” And the sense I’ve always had of that, in fact the sense the tradition seems to have of that, is that Moses has some kind of speech impediment, so it is difficult to understand what he says.
The problem with that interpretation is that it doesn’t seem to fit when Moses actually speaks. Right from the get go he seems very capable, in fact more capable than most, of delivering God’s message, and delivering it eloquently. After all, it is Moses who delivers an elegant, poetic discourse to the Israelites just before he dies. So given that Moses speaks well, beautifully in fact, what might his problem with speech be?
And I wonder if Moses has a little bit of Coriolanus in him - in other words, he knows something about himself: he can’t help but tell the truth. He knows that diplomacy, politics, being in court, dealing with Pharaoh - all of that requires a person of subtle speech, a person who is willing to let certain things slide, to bite his tongue now and then, to make promises he might not keep and to sometimes say things he might not believe. And Moses knows he can’t do that! So he says to God, I am the wrong man for the job - the way I speak, the way I use language, what comes out of my lips - is only going to get me in trouble, and the Israelites with me - because I will always and only say what I truly believe.
Of course we live in an age when politicians have long ago learned the lessons of Coriolanus - if you are too determined to stick to your vision, if you actually say what you believe all of the time, you will never get elected, and if you somehow do, you will have a short political career. So politicians say what they think others want to hear, or what they are told will bring up their poll numbers. And often, when they actually say something they believe, they regret it and retract it. It is sad that that is the way the game of politics has to be played today. Most of what we hear from either side of the aisle is simply the party line. I always wonder how much the politicians actually believe it. It seems to me a little clarity, dare I say it, a little unambiguous truth, would be rather refreshing, and maybe could raise the level of today’s political dialogue and enable Washington to get something done to benefit all of us. I am not saying that every senator and congressman should be a Coriolanus - but you know what? If they could look inside of themselves and find a little Moses, it wouldn’t hurt!
Rabbi Steven Schwartz
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