Even after four decades, I can still visualize sitting in Professor Richard Levin’s classroom at the University of California when he introduced us to “The Merchant of Venice.” Clearly, he would have preferred to ignore the editor’s remarks that prefaced our edition.  But some of us might read it; clearly, he couldn’t risk allowing the introduction to poison our outlook, whether toward the play or toward Shakespeare himself.

To his credit, Levin tried valiantly to be judicious. “Perhaps the editor intended to present the foundations upon which one can build an appreciation of the play,” he suggested at first.  But as he continued, he found less room for magnanimity: “The editor seems to be overlooking a rather critical third dimension to all the major characters.” Finally, he gave up all pretense of diplomacy: “There’s nothing else to say,” he concluded in exasperation. “The man’s a fool.”

Tragically, there are too many among us who approach our sacred texts with the same kind of superficiality that infuriated Professor Levin.  Yes, it’s true that the most shallow reading of scripture seems to present King David as an adulterer and a murderer.  But there are countless nuanced clues that prove otherwise.

The most notable of these is David’s confession. When confronted by Nathan the prophet, he immediately replied, “I have sinned against G-d.” Since murder and adultery are sins against both G-d and man, had David actually been guilty of these crimes, his confession would have been woefully inadequate.

Rather, our sages explicate the verses to prove how David’s sins were a violation of the spirit, not the letter of the law, based on his well-intentioned but faulty interpretation of what the Almighty expected from him.  Why then does scripture present his crimes, subtle though they were, as comparable to adultery and murder? So we can appreciate the gravity of such a towering figure as David committing indiscretions which, for us, would be relatively mild.

Another of the most lamentably misunderstood episodes is Jacob’s deception of his father to procure the blessings intended for his brother, Esau.  It is their mother, Rebecca, who prods Jacob to reluctantly implement the ruse.  Rebecca recognized what her husband did not: Had the wicked and manipulative Esau been allowed to receive those blessings, he would have been empowered to thwart the divine mission of Abraham and his children before it even began.

Here again, there are abundant clues.  But the most compelling evidence comes after the fact.  Once Isaac discovers the deception, he declares: “I blessed him—and indeed he will be blessed!”  Why wasn’t Isaac furious with Jacob for deceiving him?  Because, in that moment, he realized that he had profoundly misjudged Esau, and that Providence had protected him from committing a grievous error.  Further proof can be found in the book of Malachi, when G-d proclaims, “I loved Jacob, but Esau I hated.”

The wading through waters of superficiality continues without end.  Those who accuse Moses of having anger issues forget–or never knew–the testimony of Scripture that Moses was “the most humble man who ever lived.”  His repeated sharp rebukes were intended solely to impress upon the people their duty to remain faithful to G-d, and he was severely punished for the single incident when he went too far.

Similarly, condemning Noah for drunkenness shows a profound lack of empathy: Imagine the depth of his sorrow and guilt he must have felt as the sole survivor of history’s greatest holocaust.

Those who desperately project flaws onto our ancestral heroes are like the worshippers of the ancient Greek pantheon.  By elevating human failings such as lust, petulance, and jealousy to the level of godliness, they devalue human virtue and legitimize human vice.

And yet, the cynics and scoffers who labor to tear down the icons of our faith have stumbled across one kernel of truth.  Our leaders were not perfect.  They struggled mightily to overcome the challenges presented by their own human nature.  By doing so, they’ve shown us the way to achieve greatness: Not by projecting our shortcomings onto others, but by recognizing genuine greatness so we can be inspired to discover greatness within ourselves.