Disfiguring Speech

Rabbi Joel Fleekop

Saturday, April 12, 2008

In Oscar Wilde’s novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, the title character lives a life dedicated only to physical beauty and the pleasing of the senses. For several decades he abuses opium, is promiscuous, commits several capital crimes and innumerable acts of cruelty. Yet because of an earlier wish that is somehow granted, Dorian’s appearance does not betray his unhealthy life style. His visage does not change, not even to reflect normal aging. Instead, the changes that one would expect, from aging, but more importantly, from the stains that Dorian’s behavior puts on both his body and soul, appear in a portrait of Dorian. Eventually the transformation of the painting becomes so great that Dorian hides it away in a locked room, haunted by the appearance of the portrait.

Though the image in the painting eventually becomes too much for him to bear, Dorian Gray, for as long as he can stand it, is able to journey through life in a perfectly beautiful body that in no way reflects his incredibly ugly existence.

The alternative and unfathomable reality described by Wilde in his classic novel is exactly opposite the world view described by the Rabbis of the Midrash and Talmud. Commenting on this week’s Torah portion, the sages divide the word metzora, Hebrew for leprosy, into two words, “motzi” and “ra” meaning “bringing forth evil.” According to the rabbis, the leprosy like affliction described in the Torah is a direct result of past misdeeds, a bubbling up of sins if you will.

The Talmud lists specific causes for this strange skin disease. In Arakhim 16a we read “Rabbi Yonatan said: seven sins are punished with leprosy: slander, bloodshed, vain oaths, sexual impropriety, arrogance, robbery, and greed.” While the rabbis comment on each of the seven sins, it is the first, slander, also referred to as gossip, which is most popularly associated with the affliction of leprosy.

This association comes from Torah itself. In the book of Numbers, Moses’ sister Miriam, shortly after speaking ill of her brother and his wife, is afflicted with leprosy.

The Rabbis teach that Moses too is punished for slanderous speech.

Early in the book of Exodus, prior to the liberation of the Israelites, Moses questions whether the Israelites will accept his leadership and God’s promise of liberation. God responds to this question with two miracles. The first, turning a rod into a snake and then back into a rod. And the second, turning Moses’ hand from healthy, to encrusted with snowy scales, and then back again.

Rashi, the great French commentator of the eleventh century, explains that the snake hints at the fact that Moses had slandered the Israelites by questioning their faith, just as the snake in the Garden of Eden had used the gift of speech for evil. Thus, as described in the second miracle, he was afflicted with leprosy.

So strong in their minds is the connection between evil speech and leprosy that the rabbis use the effects of gossip to explain the course of treatment dictated by this week’s Torah portion. In a teaching recorded in the Talmud, Joshua Ben Levi teaches, “Why did the Torah prescribe for the metzora the special penalty of isolation outside the camp? Because he separated a husband from his wife and a man from his fellow, let him be separated and dwell alone.” In other words, because gossip and slander are so toxic that they can cause unnatural distance to develop between friends and loved ones, it is appropriate and fitting for the offending party to be distanced from those he or she cares about.

Today many of us find the rabbinic explanation linking leprosy to evil speech to be as unfathomable as the events described in A Picture of Dorian Gray. Life has taught us that illness does not discriminate between those who are kind and caring and those who speak ill of others. Unsatisfied with Talmudic lists and rabbinic explanations of why, we rely on science and doctors to explain the how of disease and ailments. And our course of treatment is much more likely to involve pills and ointments rather than sacrifices and periods of separation.

But as much as science and life experience have disproved the Rabbis’ explanations, they have not rendered their teachings void of meaning. The commentaries continue to be instructive because their true subject is not a skin disease but rather the human condition. Their message, words when misused render us flawed and fouled, is eternally true.

As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, the chief Rabbi of Great Britain writes,

What an astonishing insight it was to see leprosy, that disfiguring disease as a symbol and symptom of evil speech. For we truly are disfigured when we use words to condemn, not communicate; to close rather than open minds; when we use language as a weapon and wield it brutally. The message of metsorah remains. Linguistic violence is no less savage than physical violence, and those who afflict others are themselves afflicted. Words wound. Insults injure. Evil speech destroys communities. Language is God’s greatest gift to humankind and it must be guarded if it is to heal, not harm.

In his 12th century work, the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides, teaches that evil speech harms three people – the one who says it, the one who accepts it, and the one about whom it is said.

Unfortunately we have very little control over what others will say about us. Motivated by jealousy, hatred, low self esteem, or simply lack of anything else to say, our friends and enemies alike may often say things about us, true and untrue, that we would prefer remained unmentioned. But we can control what we chose to say about others, as well as what speech we are willing to honor with our attention.

Avoiding gossip in a world full of tabloid television and frivolous speech will not be easy. And in some cases choosing not to listen may go against our own instincts and sense of curiosity. As the Talmud teaches, “many people are prone to robbery, a few to lewdness, but all are prone to evil speech.” But being prone does not make something inevitable. If we truly consider the destructive forces of gossip and slander, we may find ourselves much more selective in the things we say and the things we listen to.

At the close of his Torah Introduction, Daniel mentioned how glad he is to be living at a time when we have a better understanding of illness and natural body functions. And I completely agree. We are in deed lucky to live at a time when we have more than sacrifices to treat infections and more than morality to explain illness. But we are also lucky to live at a time and in a world where the wisdom and truths of past generations are available for us to learn from. May we have the good judgment to learn from all the knowledge that fills our world, and may the way we lead our lives add to the knowledge inherited by future generations.