DON’T FALL FOR CONFIRMATION BIAS

There’s an old saying that should make us all stop and think: “We don’t see things as *they* are – we only see things as *we* are.”

It’s a truth that runs through human nature — and we see it revealed in a curious episode in Parshat Vayeitzei.

After twenty long years in the house of Lavan — years of deceit, manipulation, and disappointments — Yaakov finally receives the message he’s been waiting for. The Torah tells us (Gen. 31:3): וַיֹּאמֶר ה’ אֶל יַעֲקֹב: שׁוּב אֶל אֶרֶץ אֲבוֹתֶיךָ וּלְמוֹלַדְתֶּךָ וְאֶהְיֶה עִמָּךְ – “God said to Jacob, ‘Return to the land of your fathers and to your birthplace, and I will be with you.’”

Clear enough, right? God Himself says it — go home. What should Yaakov have done? Simple. He should have packed up and gone home.

And yet, Yaakov doesn’t immediately pack up the camels. Instead, he calls Rachel and Leah and says to them: “An angel of God appeared to me last night and told me it’s time to leave… What do you think? Should we go?” Strange. Why did he need their opinion? Surely he should have just instructed them to start getting everything together for the move. That’s what God wanted!

His wives’ answer is even stranger. Instead of saying, well if that’s what God wants, that’s what we should do – they talk about money and family resentment (Gen 31:14-16): הֲלוֹא נָכְרִיּוֹת נֶחְשַׁבְנוּ לוֹ… כִּי כָּל הָעֹשֶׁר אֲשֶׁר הִצִּיל אֱלֹקים מֵאָבִינוּ לָנוּ הוּא וּלְבָנֵינוּ… עַתָּה כֹּל אֲשֶׁר אָמַר אֱלֹקים אֵלֶיךָ עֲשֵׂה – “Are we not considered by [Lavan] as strangers? For he has sold us, and he has even completely consumed our money. For all the wealth that God has taken from our father belongs to us and to our children. So now, whatever God has said to you — do it.”

Although they do ultimately agree to leave — their reasoning seems purely personal. Their father had mistreated them. He was a thief. Staying in his house makes no sense. That’s why Yaakov should listen to God. And Yaakov, the great patriarch, seems to need their confirmation before obeying Hashem’s direct command. What’s going on here?

The Tolner Rebbe quotes Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz, who says something profoundly human about another episode, which sheds light on this one. Years later, Yaakov tells Yosef, after asking him to take him for burial from Egypt to Israel (Gen. 48:7): וַאֲנִי, בְּבֹאִי מִפַּדָּן, מֵתָה עָלַי רָחֵל, בְּאֶרֶץ כְּנַעַן, בַּדֶּרֶךְ—בְּעוֹד כִּבְרַת־אֶרֶץ לָבוֹא אֶפְרָתָה; וָאֶקְבְּרֶהָ שָׁם, בְּדֶרֶךְ אֶפְרָת—הִוא בֵּית לָחֶם – “And as for me—when I came from Paddan, Rachel died on me in the land of Canaan on the road, while there was still some distance to come to Ephrath; and I buried her there on the road to Ephrath, that is, Bethlehem.”

Rashi explains what’s going on: “Even though I am troubling you to carry me for burial in the land of Canaan, I did not do the same for your mother. She died near Bethlehem, and I could have carried her to the Cave of Machpelah, for it was not far from there. But I buried her there by divine command — so that she would be of help to her children when Nebuzaradan would exile them. For when the Israelites would pass by there, Rachel would come forth upon her grave and weep and seek mercy for them, as it is said: קוֹל בְּרָמָה נִשְׁמָע ‘A voice is heard on high—Rachel weeps for her children…’ And God answers her, ‘There is reward for your deed… and your children shall return to their borders.’”

Clearly Yaakov was conscious of the fact that Yosef might be upset that his mother was buried at the side of the road in Bethlehem instead of being taken to the family plot in Hebron, and Yaakov felt the need to explain why he’d done that – especially as he expected Yosef to go out of his way to bury him.

But, as Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz asks: why does he need to give such a detailed explanation? Why doesn’t Yaakov simply say, “I did what God told me!” — end of story?

The answer, Rav Chaim says, is a window into the human soul: We hear what we want to hear. We see what we want to see. And even when we think that it is what God wants – is it? Can we really be sure? Or are we simply subject to the phenomenon known as ‘confirmation bias’? Even Yaakov was open to the idea that he was not objective, and that maybe his understanding of God’s will was warped!

Yaakov appreciated something profound about human nature: when we have negiyus — bias, personal interest, a vested stake in the outcome — we can twist even a message from God to fit our comfort zone. That’s why, when he explained to Yosef why he had buried Rachel on the roadside, he emphasized that it wasn’t laziness or convenience dressed up as divine license. Yosef needed to know there was no self-serving motive, no “I did what was easiest and called it God’s will.” There was logic and purpose behind it – and God wanting it took it to the next level.

And the same inner honesty had guided him years earlier when God told him to leave Lavan’s house. Yaakov hesitated. He thought, “Wait — is this really prophecy? Or am I just hearing what I want to hear? Maybe this dream isn’t Heaven speaking — maybe it’s my own desperate wish to get out.”

That’s why he doesn’t to his wives “God told me to go” but “an angel of God told me to go.” He’s acknowledging his own doubt. He’s saying, “I need to be sure this isn’t just me hearing what I want to hear.”

And that’s why Rachel and Leah’s response — trivial as it sounds — actually calms him down. They tell him, in effect, “You’re not imagining it. There’s no reason to stay. What you heard is real.”

Yaakov Avinu was so committed to truth that he was willing to question even his own certainty. That’s how honest he was.

Now, fast-forward 4,000 years. If there’s one area of Jewish life today where we desperately need that same courage to ask, “Am I hearing what I want to hear?” — it’s in the ongoing debate about Haredi military service.

The Haredi world has built an entire worldview on the idea that full-time Torah study protects the nation, that yeshiva boys must not be diverted from learning, that army life is spiritually toxic. These are serious claims — and they are sincerely held.

But let’s be honest: are these views rooted in pure conviction, or are they shaped by confirmation bias — driven, at least in part, by self-interest?

It’s easy to say “Torah is our defense” when someone else is defending you and putting their life on the line. It’s easy to believe “God doesn’t want me in uniform” when the alternative means losing your familiar way of life.

Could it be — just maybe — that these vehemently held religious convictions are not entirely pure?

Yaakov Avinu, who genuinely heard God’s voice, still questioned his own motives. Yet today, the Haredi world claims prophetic certainty that “the Torah world must not enlist.” There’s no hesitation and no humility. No “Maybe this is my bias speaking.”

If Yaakov, who was terrified of misreading a dream from Heaven, could say “Perhaps I’m biased”, how can we — mortal, flawed, and politically entangled — not even ask the question?

The challenge of our generation is not whether Torah scholars should learn — of course they should. The Jewish people need Torah learners to ensure our future as Jews. No, the challenge of our generation is whether we have the honesty to admit when religious rhetoric has become a cloak for convenience.

Because truth demands courage. It demands that we strip away our justifications and ask, “What if I’m wrong? What if I’m serving myself and not Heaven?”

The Haredi community has the potential to sanctify God’s name in Israel — through its incredible learning, through its boundless kindness, and yes, through its shared responsibility with the rest of the Jewish people. But first, it must rediscover Yaakov’s humility — the readiness to question one’s own certainty.