Rabbi Harold M. Schulweis Sermons

President Clinton, in the wake of Oklahoma City bombings, focused on the purveyors of hatred whose angry verbal hammerings create “by their very words, that violence is acceptable.” His concern with the contagion of reckless speech brought me back to the scriptural chapters on leprosy, and the new relevance those arcane chapters have come to play in our era. It recalled for me an incident in my seminary days.

In my senior year at the Jewish Theological Seminary, each rabbinic student was to preach a sermon based on a parsha of the week, in the presence of celebrated Jewish scholars, the faculty of the seminary and in the presence of one's peers. Two consecutive parshioth in the Torah every seminarian avoided like the plague, Leviticus 13-15, that deals with the plague of leprosy.

The Torah is a fascinating documentary of Jewish mythos, ethos, narrative, law, but these sections which deal with skin disorders and skin discoloration, skin swellings, scabs and shiny spots on the skin seem to defy any trace of relevance. What has dermatology to do with the Decalogue? Moreover, these sections of the Bible are explicitly detailed, referring to the leprosy that affects the skin of the body, the clothes of the leper, the walls of the house that require consultation with the priest, and which may result in the excommunication of the leper and the dismantling of the stones of the house afflicted.

The rabbis of the Talmudic period in the first centuries must have been equally puzzled by the relevance of the texts. They engaged in a profound spiritual exegesis of the eczema. They looked beneath the skin of the text, beneath its prosaic literalness and came up with the startling notion that when the scripture refers to leprosy or some skin disorder it is as a symptom, a sign of some deeper psychological, emotional and moral disorder.

Leprosy, skin disorders, appear mysteriously from within and not from an external blow. They traced the signs of leprosy to a disorder of the speech: slander, libel, defamation of character. They dissected the word metzorah into an anachronym: motzi shem ra, a slanderer.

When one looks at the rabbinic literature on these chapters, one cannot but be impressed with the seriousness with which the Jewish tradition regards the malice of the tongue. Maimonides, in his Hilchoth Deoth, said that there are three cardinal sins:  idolatry, incest, and murder, and the evil tongue is equal to all of them in gravity. The tale bearer, the slanderer, denies the very foundation of religion. To speak evil is to be a kofer b'ikar, to uproot the foundation of Judaism. In the writings of such Rabbis, as the Chafetz Chayim and the Chatam Sofer, we note highly focused concern with the tongue. Why this Jewish concern with words?

The tongue is to be watched, for the tongue in rabbinic tradition is likened to a sharpened arrow. A libelous word is not like a sword. When a victim begs for mercy, a drawn sword can be returned to its sheath, but what can you do with an arrow once it leaves the bow? Can you call it back? So it is with libel and gossip. The Talmud Baba Metziah explains that a monetary wrong can be repaid, but the loss of a reputation is beyond reparation. Therefore, an insult to the character of a human being is worse than stealing property from him.

Words are lethal weapons. They can humiliate people and to shame a person is to shed his blood. The rabbis use a remarkable phrase for deceitful, subtle libel. They call it avak lashon hara, the dust of evil speech, the smoke of innuendo and insinuation. “Look, I don't know what really happened. All I'm telling you what I myself heard.” or “Don't ask me about her. I hate to gossip.” That is dust of libel. He who whispers, “Who would believe that he would have gotten that job” is not mud- slinging, but raising the dust of insinuation.

Another category which the rabbis use describing the abuse of language is called onaath dvarim, the over-reaching of words. They offer a number of telling illustrations. In an altercation with a proselyte do not tell him, “Remember your ancestors were Gentiles.”

And when you comfort the bereaved, be careful that you do not grind down his soul with the heavy boots of theological justification. Consider Job's friends, who seeing his sufferings rush to defend the honor of God declaring, “Whoever perished being innocent and where were the righteous ever destroyed? They that plow iniquity and sow wickedness reap the same.” God rebukes the friends for their callous defense of God, insensitive to the feelings of Job. And God intervenes:  “My anger is kindled against you for you have not spoken of Me what is right. Therefore bring your sacrifices to Job that he may pray for you.” We are not to defend God by callousness toward human anguish.

Words are powerful. They are to be used with wisdom and sensitivity. Consider the series of statements of a rabbi of the second century, Shimon ben Elazar. He writes in The Ethics of the Fathers, “Do not pacify your friend in the moment of his anger”; that is, do not try to calm him down by sitting heavy on his rage and unintentionally provoking him.

Rabbi Shimon (2^nd century) said, “Do not comfort your friend while the dead rise before him,” which means do not be precipitous in comforting the bereaved. Allow his grief to be expressed.

Rabbi Shimon said, “Do not question your friend at the time he makes a vow,” which means do not pour water on the fervor of his idealism.

Rabbi Shimon also said, “Do not try to see your friend in the hour of his disgrace.” There are times when privacy must be respected, and when it is more appropriate to bite your tongue than to initiate advice.

Words are sacred. The psychologist engages in a language cure. She does not use a scalpel, she deals with words. Words can heal, words can devastate. How many children have been wounded by a word thoughtlessly spoken by a parent or teacher, by an adult? Words overheard by a child: “You're stupid,” “You're dumb,” “You're lazy,” “You won't amount to anything,” “You're fat, look at you,” “You are sloppy,” “You are unkempt.” In defense, the child may cry out, “Sticks and stones can break my bones but names will never harm me.” It is a defense of desperation. Names wound, names pierce, names tear and it takes a long time, if ever, for the wounds of the word to form healing scabs.

Words form our most intimate ecology. They surround us. “The walls have ears.” All this was before television. With the advent of television the walls have mouths, we have invited hundreds of mouths into our living rooms. Television sets fill our homes, and on or off prime time nothing is sacred and nothing is private. No private parts, no private thoughts. On the contrary, the spotlight focuses upon infidelity, perversion, indiscretion, vulgarity, obscenity. They fill our living rooms with relentless exhibitionism and voyeurism.

A new breed of television talk show, specializing in salacious subjects and ad hominem confrontation, are so successful in drawing audiences that few producers of programs, executives of companies that own them or advertisers raise any questions about their content. Self- censorship is a proposal by the naive. Are you kidding? A show like the one presided over by Jenny Jones or Rikki Lake, profits reach fifty to sixty million adolescents a year, comparable to what Jay Leno brings NBC with The Tonight Show. The murderous link to a live T.V. encounter on “The Jenny Jones Show” will not hurt the popularity of the Jenny TV viewers. As the ratings rise, the level of morality sinks. The “Jerry Springer Show” brought before the audience five young women behind a screen, one of whom was to be chosen by a man, Raymond, who sought to lose his virginity. As the young women answered Raymond's questions, a message scrolled across the screen “Raymond doesn't know this, but one of the contestants is his 18-year-old virgin sister.” The family that plays together stays together. The words, battles, emotional strip-teases are winning over the conventional programs of Oprah Winfrey and Phil Donahue.

Graffiti is spread over our walls. That ancient section of the Bible that speaks of the leprous contagion and contamination of the walls scream their relevance. As in the Bible, the walls of the house must be scraped and the contaminated stones removed.

The leprosy of libel, the leprosy of words is contagious. It spreads into the political arena. A majority leader of the House of Representatives, Dick Armey, speaks to the media of an openly declared homosexual fellow Congressman, Bernie Frank as “Bernie Fag.” A verbal dagger is plunged into the heart of a human being.

The mother of the Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich is allegedly coaxed to broadcast that her son calls the wife of the President of the United States a “bitch.”

A Congressman from the state of California, Robert Dornan, wildly and viciously calls the President of the United States a “traitor.” The Governor of the State of California refers to members of Congress as “whores.” One of the most powerful senators in the Senate, Jesse Helms, addresses the press warning President Clinton that he ought to think twice about coming to North Carolina. Only words? The rabbis warned, “The word is the shadow of the deed.”

We Jews who have lived through this in our history. We know that name calling dehumanizes, demoralizes, desacralizes our neighbors. “Nigger,” “guinea,” “bohunk,” “Jap,” “spick,” “greaser,” “kike,” “sheeny,” “heimey” are meant to reduce the dignity of the human being to that of vermin. Vermin was one of the major names that Aryan racists hurled against their victims.

We Jews have to be especially concerned with guarding our lips. Too many use the word shegetz and shiksah referring to non-Jews. Perhaps they don't know the derivation of those epithets. In the Bible shekatzim refers to idols, insects, unclean loathsome creatures, detestable things. The phrase in the Bible is “shaketz tshaktzenah,” detest them, detest them.

Some use the word goy to refer to the non-Jew, and in defense explain that the term “goy” means nation. Do they really mean that when they say goyishe kop? Do they refer to the head of a nation? Is schwartze merely an innocent translation of black?

The leprosy chapters must be read with a shock of relevance, because they point to the infectious character of words. It takes a huge toll on our lives and forms an environment. In our times we are bombarded by the spitting vulgarities of Beavis & Butthead, or the scatological abuse of Howard Stern, or the bashing, the “in your face” vocabulary of so-called cross fire gang shows, the proliferation of Rush Limbaugh talk hosts who fill the atmosphere with the miasma of ridicule, who leave us naked, uncivilized. The celebrities we honor are the uncouth, the mockers and scorners of civility, the verbal taunters who gleefully destroy character.

Jewish ethics has much to instruct us in these times. Jews are not only prohibited from eating treif, we are prohibited from talking treif. Not only what goes into your mouth but what leaves your mouth must be pure.

Ours is a tradition which reverences the word. On Yom Kippur most of the litany of the Al Chet refers to the desecration of language: the Al Chet of “bitui sfatayim,” the utterance of the lips, the sin of “dibbur peh,” the sin of the misuse of language, the sin of “tumath sfatayim,” unclean lips, the sin of “tipshuth peh,” the folly of the mouth, the sin of “latzon,” scoffing, the sin of “siach sfatayim,” idle gossip, the sin of “rechiluth,” tale bearing.

Our homes are oases in a wilderness of vituperation. On the posts of our houses are affixed a mezzuzah, a parchment of words which includes the verse: “And these words which I command thee this day...Ye shall teach them diligently to your children when you rise up and when you lie down.” The home, the haven of the heart and soul, must resist the incursion of mass culture so filled with violence, enmity, derision, name- calling. We must be careful that we do not catch the virus of incivility, that we speak with each other, parents and children, husbands and wives with kindness. We are fragile human beings and words can shatter us. We are a people committed to unity and words must remind us of our kinship.

In our daily meditation, the Amidah, the Rabbis chose to begin with a silent prayer to open our lips to praise God. They chose to conclude the Amidah with the silent prayer: “Lord guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile. And to those who slander, let me give no heed. May my soul be humble and forgiving unto all.”

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