WHAT IS TRUE? - THE OLDEST QUESTION OF ALL (Bereishit)
Have you ever noticed that sometimes, when you are arguing with someone, you are not really arguing about what is true and what is false? Someone you respect says something and you instinctively agree, or someone you cannot stand says exactly the same thing and suddenly you start looking for what is wrong with it. So often, our determination of “truth” is influenced by our feelings, our loyalties, and especially by who is speaking. In our world of social media outrage, political tribalism and constant argument, this feels particularly contemporary. But the Rambam suggests that the roots of this problem go all the way back to Adam and Chava and the very first sin in human history.
The Rambam begins Moreh Nevuchim 1:2 with a fascinating question posed to him by a wise man. If intellect and knowledge are part of human perfection, why does Adam apparently acquire a new form of knowledge only after he sins? Before the sin, Adam and Chava apparently do not possess the “knowledge of good and evil.” The snake promises: “וִהְיִיתֶם כֵּאלֹקים יֹדְעֵי טוֹב וָרָע”, “You will be like Elohim, knowing good and evil.” And after they eat, Hashem Himself seems to confirm it: “הֵן הָאָדָם הָיָה כְּאַחַד מִמֶּנּוּ לָדַעַת טוֹב וָרָע”, “Behold, man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil.”
The question is obvious: Did Adam actually become more complete by sinning? Did his disobedience give him a new intellectual capacity that he did not possess before? It would be as though someone committed a crime and was rewarded instead of punished.
This leads the Rambam to a remarkable indight. The questioner has confused two very different kinds of knowledge. Adam certainly possessed intellect before the sin. But the categories through which Adam originally perceived the world were emet and sheker, truth and falsehood. As the Rambam writes: “ובשכל יבדיל האדם בין האמת והשקר”, “Through the intellect, a person distinguishes between truth and falsehood.”
After the sin, something changes. Human beings enter the world of tov and ra, of what appears good or bad, attractive or unattractive, desirable or undesirable. This is why the Torah describes Chava looking at the tree: “וַתֵּרֶא הָאִשָּׁה כִּי טוֹב הָעֵץ לְמַאֲכָל וְכִי תַאֲוָה הוּא לָעֵינַיִם”. She sees that the tree is tov for eating and ta’avah la’einayim, desirable to the eyes. The question is no longer simply: What is true? What did God say? Now another set of considerations enters the picture: What looks good to me? What do I desire? What do I want to be true?
The tragedy of the Etz HaDa’at is therefore not that Adam suddenly became intelligent. He already possessed intellect. Rather, his intellectual perception became clouded by desire and subjective judgment. Adam acquired yediat tov va’ra, but according to the Rambam, this was not an upgrade, but a downgrade. Something more fundamental had been lost.
This explains the Torah’s words after the sin: “וַתִּפָּקַחְנָה עֵינֵי שְׁנֵיהֶם”, “The eyes of both of them were opened.” The Rambam points out that they could see perfectly well before the sin. Their eyesight did not change. Their lens did. Suddenly nakedness, previously simply a fact of existence, became something shameful.
Perhaps this is why the story feels so relevant today. We have access to more information than any generation in history, particularly with the emergence of AI. But has more information necessarily brought us closer to truth?
There is an obvious political implication here, and it is not a partisan one. If exactly the same statement were made by a politician I strongly disliked, would I still believe it? If someone from “my side” said the opposite, would my understanding of the facts change? But the same question applies in our families, friendships and communities. Are we actually listening to what another person is saying, or have we already decided whether they are right or wrong based on who they are?
Perhaps there is a simple test. The next time we are absolutely convinced that we are right, we can ask: What evidence would cause me to change my mind? If the honest answer is “nothing,” perhaps we are no longer searching for emet. We are simply defending a position and exchanging טוב for אמת.
We will never see the world entirely objectively. We are all influenced by our emotions, experiences and desires. But we can become more aware of those influences. Can I recognize when my own ta’avah, my ego, my interests, or simply my need to be right is influencing what I have convinced myself is true? Am I genuinely searching for what is true, or simply for what I want to be true?
Because the search for emet is not only an intellectual exercise. It is part of our Avodat Hashem and when we pursue truth - אמת, we take one step closer back to Gan Eden.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Ben David

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