Parshat Tazria deals with the mysterious ailment of tzaraat. Though often translated into English as something similar to leprosy, it is unclear what this skin-whitening condition actually is. One thing, though, is clear. The cause of tzaraat is spiritual, rather than physical. In fact, Chazal (our sages) generally assume one particular cause – lashon hara (roughly translated as improper speech). Many commentators even note that the word metzora (one who suffers from tzaarat itself) is an acronym of motzei shem ra – one who indulges in lashon hara. This association stems from Bamidbar Chapter 12, in which Miriam is stricken with tzaraat for speaking negatively of her brother Moshe Rabbeinu’s actions. Narratively, this event is seen as important enough to be repeated in the Book of Devarim, when Moshe Rabbeinu implores the people to remember what happened to his sister.
But what is it that makes Lashon Hara a serious enough violation to warrant such an extreme response from on High? Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of Blessed Memory wrote that Judaism is fundamentally “a religion of words and silences, speaking and listening, communicating and attending” (I Believe: A Weekly Reading of the Jewish Bible, Parshat Metzora). A major part of Judaism, after all, is emulating Hashem. Hashem created the entire cosmos in which we find ourselves with only His words. So too, we must use our words carefully and creatively. But our obligations go deeper than that. Rabbi Sacks goes on to note that while all other ancient religions put up physical monuments to their gods in order to feel some level of connection with them, Jews need only use our words to achieve the same sense of connection. As my teacher (himself a student of Rabbi Sacks), Rabbi Dr. Sam Lebens once put it, other religions might believe that divinity needs to be personified in order to enter the world, but Judaism believes that Hashem enters our world through the words of Torah that we study day and night. As the Maggid of Mezritch wrote, “a person is not entirely separate from the letters that he speaks; his physical body is distinct, but not his life-force. So it is with the blessed One, Who is not separate from the letters [of the Torah]” (Magid Devarav L’Yaakov, 126).
If we realize the importance of our words and seek to emulate God through our use of them, then we will naturally come to realize that misusing words can be abominable. As Rabbi Sacks concludes, “we need the laws of lashon hara now more than almost ever before. Social media is awash with hate. The language of politics has become ad hominem and vile. We seem to have forgotten what Tazria and Metzora are here to remind us: that evil speech is a plague. It destroys relationships, rides roughshod over people’s feelings, debases the public square, turns politics into a jousting match between competing egos, and defiles all that is sacred about our common life. It need not be like this” (emphasis in the original).
Our words come with a tremendous amount of power, which requires a great amount of responsibility to properly wield. The way that we speak about ourselves and others, directly impacts how we see the world and interact with it. It is, as a matter of fact, our ability to speak thoughtfully that makes us bearers of the Divine Image in the first place. As Rashi notes, the nefesh chaya (living soul) that was granted to humanity is what gave us the ability to think and to speak (Rashi on Bereishit, 2:7).
Our words could set us up for good or cause us to trip and fall. Let us all try to be more mindful in our speech, and, in turn, our actions as well. As Rabbi Leo Dee so beautifully said in the wake of unimaginable tragedy, we humans are blessed with the ability to differentiate between good and bad. “If we move forward in doing good, more good will get done this week than last week.”
We’re blessed to live in a community that values this so highly and inspires us to constantly think about what we say and how we say it.
Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Gotlib and the JET Team
