Good morning again. Welcome back to Torah Tuesday, less than a week before Shavuot, Erev (eve) Rosh Chodesh (new month), a day to pray for our children's success in Torah. I'm sure you got several emails. If not, you can go online to itorah.com and get a copy to read, whether in Hebrew or English or both. The Sefer Chafetz Chaim, as I always say here, has a daily calendar. Even if you miss a day, it pays to take upon yourself the good habit of learning Sefer Chafetz Chaim every single day. Sunday, Shabbat, Yom Kippur, you learn Sefer Chafetz Chaim. And even on Tisha B'Av, I've learned it before the fast or after the fast. The cycle was created in order to get people to learn it and review it, learn it again, and review and review and review. The intricacies never fail to pop up when you're learning it this time: things you didn't notice last time. The Sefer is broken up into Lashon Hara and Rechilut. Rechilut is basically gossip, and Lashon Hara is negative or harmful speech.
Today is Erev Rosh Chodesh Sivan. On Rosh Hashanah, those who follow the cycle began the Sefer. Four months later—Tishrei, Cheshvan, Kislev, Tevet—when they got to Rosh Chodesh Shevat, they started again: Shevat, Adar, Nisan, Iyar. Today, being the last Erev Rosh Chodesh, we finish the Sefer again. Tomorrow, B'ezrat Hashem (with God's help), we begin the third cycle of reviewing Rechilut, Lashon Hara, and Sefer Chafetz Chaim. If you like, you could also add a daily calendar that corresponds to Sefer Shemirat HaLashon, an auxiliary Sefer written by the Chafetz Chaim, more Mussar (ethical teachings) than Halacha (Jewish law), having to do with proper speech. Maybe when we roll around to Erev Rosh Hashanah, together we could say we're finishing the Sefer: some for the first time, some for the second time, and those who are adherents to the system, for the third time this year.
In closing, the Chafetz Chaim has told us many, many times that there's a vast difference between knowing information firsthand—“I saw it, I heard it, I experienced it”—and hearing it from another party. There is a world of difference in the permissibility of repeating it or even believing it. As we have discussed, if one knows firsthand that someone is involved in a Shidduch, or a partnership, or some type of relationship, and that person has, for example, a flaw that would affect the feasibility of this partnership—a medical problem that one of the two young people has, for example, or even older people if they're engaged—then he's obligated to inform the other party. The same would apply if one party is perhaps not observant enough. I know of a recent case where somebody took a wife who was not from our community, assuming, because of certain things he had heard, that the religious level would meet his standards. It wasn't long after the marriage that the divorce took place. It might even have been an annulment because it was so quick, because the standards were not met.
If somebody knew that beforehand, there's an obligation to say something. There's an obligation to help out the potential victim. Now, I saw it. I know it. I can tell. How I tell is another part of the book. What if one knows information, but not firsthand? I didn't see, I didn't know, I didn't see them violate Shabbat, I didn't see them eat taref (non-kosher food), and I didn't see other flaws that may be personality flaws. For example, Reuven heard from a friend who has since moved out of the area that a certain young man has a medical problem. The young man is about to become engaged to the daughter of Reuven's neighbor. Reuven knows this now. He heard it secondhand, but it's very, very crucial to the success of a marriage, and now he has an obligation to somehow prevent the mismatch from happening. Well, how do you do it? In this case, Reuven knows something medical about someone. He should state the situation exactly as it is. What does that mean? He should plead ignorance of a fact, but awareness of a suspicion: “I don't know this for a fact, but I heard this from someone else that this young man has such and such, and I think you should check it out.” They have not shown that they believe it. They're not showing that they know it. They're not even saying that it is a fact; they're saying, “Be careful.”
I had a case where somebody got a divorce, and the word was that the young man beat his wife. The father of the next girl who might be a prospective wife for this divorced man heard rumors. He asked around, and nobody would say anything. He got the feeling that it might be true, but everybody just didn't want to say. So what did he do? He called the rabbi and said, “Rabbi, you know this guy?” “Yeah.” “You know, he got a divorce?” “Yeah.” “I heard it's because he beats his wife, or he beat his wife. Do you know if it's true?” The rabbi gave him the same response he got from everybody else: “I don't know. It might be, but I don't know.” The man asked, “So what could you find out?” The rabbi said, “I don't know.” The man said, “I know you know people related to this person. You may know the truth about the divorce. Please make a few calls for me. I'll call you back next week.” This time, Friday to Friday, Monday to Monday, whatever. The rabbi didn't know where to go, but fortunately, unfortunately, he ran into this divorced man's mother in the supermarket. She was the next person in line. “Hi, how are you? How are you? How are you? I heard your son got a divorce.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” “I heard that it wasn't such a pretty scene, that perhaps he even raised his hand.” The woman says, “Well, my daughter—that's who this woman is—has a way of riling people up.” It was sort of like saying, “Yes, but it may not be totally due to him. It may have to do with the other party.” The rabbi doesn't call anybody. The rabbi keeps quiet, and then the phone rings. It's a week later, and the man calls to find out exactly what happened. The rabbi tells him what happened. He says, “I couldn't verify anything.” The man says, “Oh, you're just like everybody else. You must know something.” The rabbi says, “I don't know anything. But how old is your daughter?” The man replies, “My daughter? She's 18.” “18? She's very young. First dating?” “Yeah.” “Is she fat and ugly? Is something wrong with her? Her eye? This?” “No, no, no. She's a very pretty girl.” “How'd she do in school?” “Oh, very popular.” The rabbi says, “Listen, you're a high-profile family. You're very well-known and respected. You have a beautiful daughter, 18 years old. Why take a chance? Go for the next guy.” The man says, “Rabbi, you're like all the rest. I didn't get an answer.” The rabbi says, “But be careful. Take care.” The rabbi did exactly what the Chafetz Chaim tells you to do: warn him, but don't verify the fact. They're still married today. They have many children, and they're very happy. The man didn't listen. He let her go out. But the point is, when push came to shove, can you verify? If you can't verify and you heard secondhand, you have no right to pass on the information as true or even to say that it should be true.
So the Chafetz Chaim finishes his Sefer. He went through a few cases of Shidduchim at the end, and he tells us the general rule: a person must carefully check out all that he does, especially what he says. How a person speaks is crucial to his spiritual health. He should not meddle in matters between a man and his fellow unless he is certain the facts are accurate and his intention is constructive. He has no hard feelings. He's not out to hurt anybody. And not because of something the guy wants to do. He should give thought to the results of his statements and think of the consequences, so that nothing contrary to Halacha should come about because of them. If a person studies the laws and is careful about how they speak and behave, Hashem should assist them, the Chafetz Chaim says, and they should not be caught in the wiles and the snare of the Yetzer Hara (evil inclination). May Hashem save us from the sin of Lashon Hara and the negative outcomes it brings, even Churban Beit HaMikdash (destruction of the Holy Temple), Rabotai (my masters).