The prophet Yehezkel called for the people in his generation to repent with the words, ושובו וחיו – “Repent and live!”
On the basis of this pasuk, the Talmud Yerushalmi makes the following fascinating remark: רשעים אף בחייהם נקראים מתים – evil people are considered “dead” even when they are alive.
This means that a person can be breathing, healthy, physically active, doing all kinds of things – but still be considered dead. How are we to understand this?
“Feeling” the Problem
Sometimes people have what is called a piece of “dead skin.” What’s the difference between “dead” skin and “live” skin? The difference is whether the person feels it. When “live” skin is squeezed or pierced, the person experiences pain. But when anything is done to a piece of “dead” skin, even though it is still attached to the body, the person feels nothing.
This is what it means that sinners are “dead.” It means that they are not feeling.
In other words, the Talmud Yerushalmi is not referring to people who occasionally make mistakes. We all make mistakes sometimes. But it is referring to people who make mistakes without even feeling it, without thinking twice about it, without even recognizing that there’s a problem.
Many people do things wrong without even thinking that what they’re doing is wrong.
For many people, it’s foul language – they allow themselves to use inappropriate words without thinking twice about it.
For others it’s immodest dress – they wear whatever they like, without considering that there might be something wrong.
For some it’s dishonesty – they routinely mislead customers, figuring that this is how business is supposed to run.
For many of us it’s wasting time – instinctively pulling out our phones when we have free time, instead of studying Torah or doing something else constructive.
But there is one sin which, I believe, is like “dead skin” for virtually all of us, and that is lashon ha’ra – negative speech about other people. We speak about other people’s faults without thinking twice about it, without feeling that there’s anything wrong with it.
This isn’t my observation. It was made already by the Gemara, in Masechet Yevamot, which comments: מיעוטן בעריות, רובם בגזל, וכולם באבק לשון הרע – very few observant Jews are guilty of having illicit relationships; the majority of observant Jews are guilty of some sort of theft; and everyone is guilty of some form of lashon ha’ra.
Parashat Tazria introduces us to the laws of tzara’at – a special type of skin infection which would befall those who indulged in gossip and improper speech about other people. The most famous instance of tzara’at is the story of Miriam, Moshe Rabbenu’s sister, who made one brief, disparaging remark about him, for which she was punished with tzara’at. The Torah in the Book of Devarim commands us to always remember this incident, so that we are always mindful of the gravity of lashon ha’ra and of the need to avoid it as best we can.
Let us, then, reflect on the special severity of this sin, try to understand what makes it so unique, and gain some perspective on how we can break this habit.
The Worst Sin?!
The Gemara makes an astounding statement about lashon ha’ra, teaching that its severity is equal to that of the three most grievous sins in the Torah: murder, adultery, and idol worship. These are the only three sins which one must be prepared to surrender his life to avoid. All other commands are suspended for the sake of saving a human life, but these three may not be violated even if a person’s life is at stake. And lashon ha’ra is as bad as all three!!!
How can this be? A person makes a nasty crack about a fellow community member at the dinner table. This is as bad as murder?! As being unfaithful to his wife?! As praying in a church?! Really?!
Rabbenu Yonah, one of the greatest Spanish luminaries, discusses the Gemara’s remark in his famous book Sha’areh Teshuvah, and he gives five different explanations for why lashon ha’ra is, in some sense, as severe as these three transgressions.
1) Multiply by a million
Let’s imagine a person who once lied to a customer or associate, and cheated him out of $5,000. I think we would all agree that this is a terrible thing to do. And we would all probably consider him a bad fellow.
However, if this happened just once, as awful a crime as it is, we would not consider this fellow a despicable person. He did something terrible, which reflects extremely poorly on his character, but he is not quite worthy of being dubbed one of the worst people on earth.
We would not compare such a person to, let’s say, someone like Bernie Madoff, who cheated thousands upon thousands of people out of billions upon billions of dollars. His crime is a completely different order of magnitude.
The first fellow and Bernie Madoff both did the same thing – they cheated people out of money. But when a crime is multiplied millions of times over, it becomes especially severe.
And this is Rabbenu Yonah’s first explanation for the unique gravity of lashon ha’ra.
Like eating a potato chip, speaking lashon ha’ra is not something we do once. We talk and talk. Even if one isolated insulting remark in itself does not inflict too much harm, when we multiply that harm by millions, it becomes catastrophic.
2) The way we interact
Secondly, Rabbenu Yonah writes, an improper manner of speech is so difficult to change, because for so many of us, it has become the way we talk, the way we communicate. Many of our relationships are built around lashon ha’ra – sitting around and criticizing and poking fun at other people. Many of us probably would find it difficult to speak if we truly tried to avoid lashon ha’ra. It’s just too much a part of our ordinary mode of communication.
This is not true of grave sins such as murder and illicit relationships. No conscientious person would make such conduct part of his day-to-day lifestyle. But lashon ha’ra is something that naturally embeds itself within the regular mode of speech of even otherwise fine, upstanding individuals.
It is so much a part of our beings, that it is so very difficult to change.
3) It seems like “no big deal”
Except in the movies, a murderer is shaken up after committing his crime. He sees the dead body on the ground, and he is traumatized. He will likely never forget his crime for the rest of his life.
But after we’ve made jokes about another person at our Shabbat table in front of our family and guests, we get up and go have a peaceful nap. It just doesn’t feel as though we’ve done anything wrong.
Rabbenu Yonah writes that speaking lashon ha’ra is especially severe because of our nonchalant attitude towards this mitzvah. We disrespect the prohibition of lashon ha’ra by treating it so lightly, by not even being bothered or disturbed by what we said. This attitude in itself makes lashon ha’ra such a grievous sin.
4) Where do we go for forgiveness?
When a person commits an offense against G-d, and wishes to repent, he turns to G-d and asks for forgiveness. But when he commits an offense against his fellow, he cannot be forgiven unless the victim forgives him.
And this is another reason, Rabbenu Yonah writes, why lashon ha’ra is so severe – because it is all but impossible to receive forgiveness from all our “victims.”
In just one typical Friday night meal, an average person likely speaks inappropriately about several friends and family members. And, as we said earlier, he just gets up and leaves, without feeling the least bit bad about what he said. In all likelihood, by the next day he has already forgotten what he said.
But the words we spoke continue to have an impact. The people who heard what we said are left with a negative impression about the people we spoke about. And this continues to have a ripple effect, as their negative attitude spreads to other people. We forget about what we said, but it inflicts real harm.
And because we speak about so many different people, there is virtually no chance of tracking down all the people we’ve hurt to ask forgiveness. Where do we go? How do we start? Most of the time, we don’t even remember what we said about whom, and we certainly don’t know how or to what extent our words caused harm. So we cannot ask forgiveness.
5) The impact of lashon ha’ra
One of the schools in Brooklyn once put on a play about a girl who was well into her 30s and still not married. After 15 years of unsuccessfully trying to find a husband, she figured out why it was so hard for her to find a date.
In 12th grade, a close friend of hers was jealous of her, and so she made an off-the-cuff, derogatory remark about her that was heard by a bunch of girls. The news spread, and ruined this girl’s reputation. It defined how people viewed her, so much so that over 15 years later, she could not find a marriage partner.
This is the hard reality of lashon ha’ra – it really does make an impact, and that impact can have very far-reaching repercussions. When we sit around the table and badmouth somebody, however slightly, it affects the way our kids view that person. And we are fooling ourselves if we think our kids are not going to share the information with others, or cause other people to dislike or disrespect that person. This is not a wild exaggeration. The impact is subtle, but it is real – and much more far-reaching than we might think.
Forgiving Half the Sin
Now that we understand the great challenge of lashon ha’ra, and its unique severity, what should be our approach in tackling this problem?
The Maharal of Prague makes a remarkable comment about the process of teshuvah and atonement. To illustrate his point, let us imagine a person who is the worst possible neighbor, who has absolutely no regard or respect for other people’s property. He routinely causes damage in every which way. He drives his car into the neighbor’s fence and onto the neighbor’s lawn. He plays ball in his yard every Sunday, and every week breaks a window. He parks in front of the neighbor’s driveway. He does these things all the time.
Now let us imagine this person approaching his neighbor one day to apologize for playing loud music the night before. He says nothing about all the damage he had caused to the neighbor’s property, or for all the times the neighbor couldn’t drive somewhere because his driveway was blocked. He apologizes only for the loud music the night before, promising that this would never happen again.
Not too many of us would expect the neighbor to forgive this man.
Yet, the Maharal says, Hashem forgives us in these kinds of situations – all the time!!
We do many things wrong. We make many mistakes. Our daily routine includes several, or perhaps many, forbidden actions, and we often fail to meet our obligations. But we come before Hashem – usually around the time of the Yamim Noraim (High Holidays) – to ask forgiveness for one, two, or several things that we’ve done wrong. We do so many other things wrong, too, but we ask forgiveness only for these. And He accepts our repentance. He forgives us when we repent, even when we are still doing many other things wrong.
Rav Yisrael Salanter extended this teaching of the Maharal one step further. He said that Hashem is willing to forgive even “half a sin.” Meaning, even if a person does not fully repent, but commits himself to avoid “half a sin” – even that repentance is lovingly accepted!
Let us take the example of somebody who has not observed kashrut. His kitchen is not kosher, and he eats out wherever he wants. Realizing that this is not proper, the fellow might decide to start with his own kitchen. He’ll resolve to eat kosher in his own home, even though he is not yet ready to commit to eating at only kosher restaurants.
He has not completely repented for the sin of eating non-kosher, but Rav Yisrael Salanter taught that Hashem still accepts his repentance. He has done something; he has taken one step forward – and this is very precious. Of course, he still has a long way to go. He should not stop there. But he has taken a step – and this step counts as teshuvah.
I believe this should be our approach when considering the subject of lashon ha’ra, as well.
It is not realistic – and thus not productive – to commit ourselves to never speak lashon ha’ra again. That will not happen. An “all or nothing” approach is not going to get us anywhere. We cannot reach the point of “all,” and so we’ll be left with “nothing.”
What we should do instead, then, is to make modest commitments. Perhaps we can choose one or several hours each day when we are particularly mindful and pay extra special attention to the way we speak about other people. A good idea would be to make a specific commitment to avoid gossip at the Shabbat and Yom Tov table – a setting which often lends itself to lashon ha’ra. If we have a good friend with whom we know we often end up sharing gossip, we can approach that friend and suggest that we work together to avoid this kind of talk. Any small step we take is very valuable.
A Seat Next to the Hafetz Haim
One of the star students in the Hafetz Haim’s yeshiva once became a little drunk on Purim, and in his state of inebriation he came over to the Hafetz Haim and shouted, “Rabbi! Promise me that I’ll be able to sit next to you in Gan Eden!!”
The other students tried pushing this fellow away, but he would not relent. He kept coming back.
“Promise me right now that I will sit next to you in Gan Eden!”
He kept approaching the Rabbi and shouting his demand, without giving up.
The Hafetz Haim tried leaving the building, but the students stood by the doorway and would not let him go.
Finally, the Hafetz Haim responded.
“Look,” he told the boy, “I don’t know how big a share in Gan Eden I’m going to get. But if I am going to Gan Eden, it will be because that as long as I remember, since I was a child, I never spoke a single word of lashon ha’ra.
“I will promise you a seat next me – if you promise me that from this day on, for the rest of your life, you will not speak any lashon ha’ra.”
The young man suddenly became more sober. He thought for a few moments, and then told the Rabbi that he could not make such a promise.
“So move him away,” the Hafetz Haim said to the other students. “I just gave him a chance to earn Gan Eden, and to sit next to me, but he refused.”
This boy knew how difficult it is to avoid lashon ha’ra, and so he couldn’t make a commitment. This is how great a challenge it is.
Our goal, at very least, should be that lashon ha’ra does not become like “dead skin,” that we feel it, that we recognize it, that we’re uncomfortable with it. Even if we cannot avoid lashon ha’ra totally, we can do better. And we should do better. We should still try to ensure that our conversations do not revolve around other people’s lives, that we are not constantly looking to criticize what other people do, and that we focus more on our own conduct than on other people’s conduct.
If we remember this, then at least lashon ha’ra will not be “dead skin,” and we will improve, slowly, one day at a time.