A Rabbi and Cantor stood under the Huppah, facing the congregation, as the members of the wedding party began to appear through a door in the rear of the sanctuary. They studied each member of the wedding party as they walked down the aisle. " Ugh," remarked the Rabbi, as the mother of the groom walked down the aisle. "That hairdo is larger than her gown!" " Yes," replied the Hazzan. " But did you see the mother of the bride? She's going to sink under the weight of that dress." And so their conversation went, until the bridal party ascended the steps of the bima, and the ceremony was ready to take place. It was a beautiful wedding. Two weeks later, the mother of the bride cajoled the Rabbi into coming over to the house, in order to view the video: "After all, Rabbi, the wedding was the event of the season-- how can you miss the videotape?" In the living room, they all sat back to enjoy the replay and, you guessed it, the beautifully filmed wedding procession was accompanied by the clergy's not very witty narrative, picked up with embarrassing clarity by the videographer's microphone!
The moral of the story? Always speak as if the videotape is running-- because it may be. And even if it isn't, Ha Kadosh Baruch Hu, the Holy One, Blessed be He, is always present.
A few years ago, "Sex, Lies, and Videotape" was the title of a popular movie. At the time, the title sounded racy, even scandalous. Today, however, it could be mistaken for a rather tame description of topics to be covered in a high school current events class. "Now, class, summarize the front page of yesterday's Globe": "Sex, Lies, and Videotape."
Well, having dispensed with my video story, and sex still being too racy a subject for a Rosh Hashannah sermon, I will focus instead this morning on lies, and other sins of the tongue....
In recent months, an epidemic of stories in the press have focused on deception. They've been coming at us fast and furious. Consider the following:
-- The New Republic magazine fired a writer after learning that he had concocted sources and anecdotes to dress up at least 27 articles about various subjects.
--Closer to home, The Boston Globe fired two popular columnists, Patricia Smith and Mike Barnicle, also for pretending people and conversations were real, when they weren't.
-- And now, the President of the United States has admitted lying to the American people about an extra-marital affair, and is accused of having committed perjury.
We must ask ourselves: Is our social contract, built upon mutual trust, weakening? Are all lies equally wrong, or are some easier to forgive? Can lying sometimes be justifiable? Sometimes even required? What do we say to our families about all this? And how does our tradition put these questions in a framework that will help us to make sense of them?
Judaism recognizes that words have tremendous power. The Hebrew word for speech, "devarim" also means "things," as if to impress upon us that the words we utter have a concrete reality to them, and that words have real and lasting consequences. In the opening chapter of the Torah, the very act of creation is effected through speech: God spoke, and brought the world into being. And, like God, we too create worlds of meaning through words. Through speech, we can communicate our thoughts, we can bring comfort to others, we can build trust. Or, through words, we can mislead, insult, or defame.
The most basic misuse of the power of speech is to tell a lie. Every toddler who has heard the story of George Washington and the cherry tree knows that people shouldn't lie. But let me share one more recent news item with you which will underscore just how corrosive and undermining of trust the effects of a lie can be.
A few months ago, the New York Times ran a story about an on-line support group for parents who had lost children to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. SIDS is a terrible tragedy, and through an Internet chat room, these parents were able to share their experiences of loss, and offer each other comfort and understanding. One woman, Carol, told her on-line friends the harrowing story of her infant's death, and of her subsequent battle with depression.
For many months, they comforted her, and helped her to heal. Until one member of the group began to voice suspicions over inconsistencies in Carol's story. There were details that just didn't hang together. Eventually, the bizarre truth was revealed. The woman who called herself Carol was lying. She never lost a child to SIDS. She had never had a child at all. Her story was a fabrication, woven and embellished at the expense of parents who had experienced real loss, who had shared their stories and reached out to her, and who now, understandably, felt terribly betrayed.
"There was a real chilling effect, an erosion of trust," said one long-time member of the support group. "How do we know that another faker won't come on line, or that "Carol" won't return under a new screen name? None of us are quite as candid as we used to be." Lying breeds cynicism and distrust. And that's the corrosive effect of a lie.
It's ironic: quantum leaps in technology have made it possible for people to make connections and to talk, though they live on opposite ends of the earth. Millions of words can be instantaneously shared on the information super highway with millions of people. And yet, what good are all those words, if we can not trust the veracity of those who speak them? In the end, the integrity of every human interaction still rests on one simple thing -- trust. Can I take this person at his word, or not?
Lies, however, are only the tip of the iceberg when we consider the many ways in which words can be misused. Consider the Al Het that we shall recite together next week on Yom Kippur. The Al Het lists 44 transgressions, 2 for each letter of the alphabet. And over a third of them have to do with speech! Listen to some of them: al het shechatanu l'fanecha:
--For the sin that we have committed before You by gossip
--For the sin that we have committed before You by slander
--For the sin that we have committed before You by talebearing
--For the sin that we have committed before You by boasting
--For the sin that we have committed before You by denying
--For the sin that we have committed before You by scoffing
--For the sin that we have committed before You by lying
--For the sin that we have committed before You by vain oaths
--For the sin that we have committed before You by impure speech
Most of these sins are one form or another of what we call Lashon Hara- Evil Speech. Lashon HaRa, broadly, is all speech about another person, whether it be truth or lies, that in any way invades the privacy, or undermines the reputation of another human being. The great Rabbi Israel Salanter, spent a lifetime writing and teaching about this subject. He tells us that the prohibition against Lashon Hara extends to the listener, as well as the speaker, because our thoughts and opinions are so easily poisoned by what we hear, even when we know that it is gossip.
Rabbi Salanter captures the devastating power of words with the following aphorism: "If you say of a Rabbi that he does not have a good voice and of a Cantor that he is not a scholar, you are a gossip. But if you say of a Rabbi that he is not a scholar, and of a Cantor that he has no voice- you are a murderer."
Let there be no mistake about it: Words Have The Power to Utterly Destroy Someone. Regardless of whether they are true. In his book, Words that Hurt, Words That Heal, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin recounts the story of a man named Oliver Sipple. He was the ex marine who, at a rally in San Francisco in 1975, spotted a woman pointing a pistol at President Gerald Ford, and courageously risked his own life to save the President's. Overnight, he became a national hero. The only thing he asked of the press was to please, not print anything about his personal life. Of course, that only piqued their curiosity. They soon discovered, and printed, that Sipple was active in Gay causes. As a result, Sipple's parents, who lived in another city, and had not known that their son was gay, disowned him. Sipple began to drink. He became depressed and withdrawn. A few years later, he was found dead in his apartment, at the age of 47. The reporter who first reported Sipple's homosexuality later lamented, 'If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't.'
Words carelessly chosen. Words hurriedly rushed to press to meet a deadline. Words spoken to create a sensation. Privacy, and a life, destroyed.
I often joke that in many ways, my life is an open book. I am such a bad liar, I can't even make up a phony screen name. (If you want to find me, I'm at DanLiben@AOL.COM)! And yet, like all of you, there are thoughts, fantasies, and deeds that I own, which I would not readily choose to share with anyone.
All of us constantly edit what we say as we communicate with others. Our inner lives, as the Rabbis put it, are in a tug of war between our Yetser hatov, and our Yetzer Ha Ra-- our higher impulses and our baser impulses. And that inner drama is best played out internally, far from the public eye.
Imagine if we lost the ability to screen and censor our thoughts, and every thought, no matter how embarrassing or hurtful, went directly from our brain to our tongue. I shudder to think! We cherish our privacy. And we must take care to protect the privacy of others.
Rabbi Salanter teaches that it is best just not to speak about others when not in their presence, even to praise them. But surely, you are wondering, isn't it a good thing to say something nice about another person? Well, not necessarily. Imagine this exchange between two people, taking their 15 minute, mid-morning coffee break at the office. Says the first, "I really think that our new Director is top notch. She's smart and has a great personality. She works hard, and treats everyone fairly. She's doing a great job turning this department around." "You are so right," responds the second, "there's really only one thing about Elizabeth that rubs me the wrong way..."
Now, what do you think that the rest of their conversation will focus on? Which part of the conversation will be remembered the next day? And wouldn't it have been better never to have provided the opportunity for the inevitable negative comment?
Yes, inevitable. Because, unfortunately, it is an all too human tendency to focus on faults, and to elaborate on them. "A gossip," Telushkin quotes from the Orot Zadikim," ...is like the flies who rest on the dirty spot. If a man has boils, the flies will ignore the rest of the body and sit on the boil. And thus it is with a gossip. He overlooks all the good in the man, and speaks only of the evil."
Why do we do it? And when we hear gossip, why is it so difficult to follow Rabbinic advice, and walk away from it? Perhaps, because, in our insecurity, we enjoy building ourselves up at another's expense. Or perhaps because we would rather stay, and listen, than walk away, and risk becoming the topic of conversation. Or perhaps because it is easier to be witty at someone else's expense, than to say something truly interesting about ourselves. For all these reasons, Judaism urges us to learn that there are limits on what we have a right to say, and even to hear.
Why are we so drawn to gossip? Why do we all find it so difficult to follow the Rabbis' advice? Let me give you an example: How many of you came late to Shul this morning because you waited to catch some of the Videotape on CNN? I saw that hand go up! Shame on you.. another Al Het for next week! Or, here's a lighter example: We have been sitting here together for about three hours. How many of you have not yet turned to your neighbor and had a conversation about...the Rabbi's new beard? I know what you've all been saying...!
Jewish values and secular American values sometimes clash. In this case, the Jewish values of modesty, and respect for a person's privacy and dignity, bump up against the competing value of truth at any cost, the public's perceived right to know everything. This clash of values is reflected in the differing ways the two legal systems treat the spread of true but negative gossip. Under American law, slander, the spreading of lies about someone, is a tort--if you are slandered, you can sue. But the spreading of truths, in contrast, is often protected by law, particularly in the case of public figures who are considered "fair game." Judaism, however, forbids them both equally.
Dennis Prager reflects: "Perhaps my rudest awakening to the secular world after a lifetime in Yeshiva was the amount of lashon hara I encountered. I remember the first time I heard that people could make a living as a gossip columnist. 'A lashon hara columnist!' I thought. I could hardly believe it...At Yeshiva, I learned the power of the tongue to destroy. Think of how long it takes to form a good opinion of a person after hearing just a few seconds of lashon hara about him."
Similarly, my wife has shared with me her abiding resentment of a particular gossip (of course, she didn't tell me who... that would be gossip) who continually regaled her with unsolicited comments about other people. No matter how much she tries to forget those comments, the words are always there, insidious and impossible to forget, coloring her opinion of those people, however unfairly.
We live in a voyeuristic society that imposes very few of Judaism's constraints on gossip. Indeed, documents reprinted in reputable newspapers and accessed easily on the Net, and videotapes being sold today with warning labels, are often little more than salacious loshen hara, negative truths whose only function is to defame, masquerading as useful information. As Jews, we must bring our own moral constraints to bear on the way we interact with such material. In my house, Fran and I have simply decided not to read, watch, or discuss their alleged content. As a halachic matter, I urge you to do the same.
But it's not enough to maintain a perpetual silence, either. Eventually, we all have to open our mouths and say something, and knowing just what to say can be difficult even for the most careful among us.
In the realm of inter-personal relationships, Judaism's attitude toward truths, half truths, and the words we choose to share, is complex. Whereas there are those philosophers who claim that it is categorically wrong ever to lie, the Rabbis approach the question pragmatically. What effect, they ask, will my words have? Will they serve a positive purpose, or might they only hurt, or embarrass? Might a partial truth, or even a lie, be better, if it protect another's dignity, or feelings?
For example, in a well known Talmudic passage, the School of Hillel claims that every bride should be told at her wedding that she is beautiful and gracious. The School of Shammai disagrees. "If she is lame, or blind, are you going to say of her, What a beautiful and gracious bride? Does not the Torah command, 'stay away from falsehood?' "According to your words," respond the followers of Hillel,"if a person has made a bad purchase in the market, should one praise it to him or deprecate it? Surely one should praise it to him. Therefore the Rabbis teach, 'One's disposition should always be pleasant with people." Stark truth, according to our Rabbis, must take a back seat to kindness.
Similarly, in the verses leading up to this morning's Torah portion, concerning the birth of Isaac, we find an example in which God himself plays fast and easy with the truth, in order to spare a person's feeling. In the beginning of Genesis chapter 18, three angels visit Abraham with the amazing news that within a year, Sarah will give birth. Amazing, because at this time, Abraham and Sarah are, respectively, ninety nine and eighty nine years old.
Sarah, who is eavesdropping on this conversation laughs to herself, and remarks, " Now that I am withered, am I to have enjoyment, with my husband so old?" In the next verse, God asks of Abraham, "Why did Sarah laugh, saying, 'Shall I really bear a child, old as I am?'" Now, if you were just paying attention, you may have noticed something that the Rabbis noticed about that verse: God only transmitted part of Sarah's statement to Abraham. He left out Sarah's rather pointed reference to Abraham's age, in order to spare his feelings! And, just as the bride must always be beautiful, the wise spouse knows that his of her beloved is never too old. Thus, the Rabbis conclude: "Great is peace, seeing that for its sake, even God modified the truth."
The philosopher, Abraham Joshua Heschel, once said, "When I was young, I admired intelligent people. Now, I admire kind people." Words spoken with care can be gifts. Words spoken without thought can be arrows. Once spoken, words can never be taken back. Speak only after your words have passed through three gates, goes the advice of a Sufi teaching. At the first gate, ask yourself, "Are these words true?" If so let them pass on. If not, back they go. At the second gate, ask, "Are they necessary?" At the last gate, we ask, "Are they kind?"
As we enter the Gates of Repentance this week, that's good advice. "Elohai, netzor leshoni mirah, usfatai mmidaber mirmah: Guard Our Tongue from evil, and our lips from speaking guile."
Amen