A difficult case came before the elders. A young man was suspected of illegitimate birth, and the Rabbis disagreed about his status. Rabbi Yehoshua ruled that he was a ben niddah, the son of a union during ritual impurity. Rabbi Akiva, boldest of the disciples, pushed further and declared him both a mamzer and a ben niddah.
The elders were scandalized. How dare you dispute your masters? they demanded. Akiva said calmly, Because I can prove what I say.
He went to the market and found the boy's mother selling peas at her stall. Daughter, he said, if you answer every question I ask, I guarantee you a portion in the World to Come. She replied, Swear it and I will answer. Akiva took the oath with his lips, but in his heart he nullified it. Then he asked her the truth, and she told him: when she entered the bridal chamber she was a niddah, yet her husband had not kept away. The child was therefore both. The sages rose and blessed him, saying, Great is Akiva, for he has overcome his masters. Blessed is the Lord God of Israel, who has revealed His secret to Akiva the son of Yosef.
But here is where Harris, in his 1901 anthology of Hebraic Literature, lets the tradition criticize itself. The text refuses to leave the story alone. It points out that the Rabbi had sworn falsely, and his colleagues had praised him for the success of his perjury. And yet the Torah commands, Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain (Exodus 20:7), and Keep thou far from a falsehood (Exodus 23:7). The Talmud itself, preserving the story, will not let the victory stand unchallenged. Even a true ruling, won by a false oath, leaves a bruise on the one who spoke it.