Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Parashat Metzora: A Tale of Slander, delivered Shabbat morning 4/28/2012

Once… many, many generations ago, in a time and place that was in so many ways not so unlike today, there was a young man struggling to keep his friends. I must tell you, that this young man at one time was very popular. He had lots and lots of friends. Everyone in the community seemed to be drawn to him and his remarkable ability to tell tales – elaborate and entertaining tales. The problem was, it was soon noticed, that most of his ‘tall tales’ were told at the expense of others. He was able to weave a brilliant story, but too often used his gift of storytelling in order to spread gossip and rumor. Slowly, as his words and stories spread, his friends and neighbors, one by one, started avoiding him. They didn’t want to be the source of his tall tales. The young man couldn’t understand why everyone was beginning to leave him alone. They were just words…he may have exaggerated here and there, or shared negative gossip that he had heard, but it wasn’t like he was actually hurting anyone? Or, so he thought.


After awhile, he began to apologize for his behavior, but he was still left alone. No one wanted to be his friend. So, he went to his Rabbi for advice (as was common in that day and age), asked, “Rabbi, how do I make friends again?” I’ve tried to say I’m sorry, but no one will listen to me.

The Rabbi asked the young man if he truly want to make amends for his behavior. The young man respond eagerly, “yes!” So the Rabbi told the young man, “Go and fetch a pure feather pillow and a pair of scissors, and then return to me.” The young man was very confused by the Rabbi’s request, but he followed the instructions nonetheless. He found a pure feather pillow and a pair of scissors and returned to the Rabbi’s study. “Ok, here I have the pillow and scissors. Now what?”

And the Rabbi responded, “Go now to highest hill in our district, cut a hole in the pillow, and let all of the feathers, every single one of them, out into the wind; then return to me here. “ The young man, thought the Rabbi was a bit nuts, but he was eager to have his friends back so he complied with the unusual request. He went out that evening to the top of the highest hill, cut open the pillow, and watched as all of the feathers took flight into the wind. He then dutifully returned to the Rabbi’s study.

“I did everything you told me, Rabbi! I took my pillow and scissors out to the highest hill and let all of the feathers from the pillow out. It was beautiful watching all of the feathers float in the air, but I’m not sure I understand: how will this help me get my friends back?”

The Rabbi continued carefully, “I have one more task for you. I want you to go back to that same hill and collect all of the feathers into this paper bag.”

The young man was outraged! “What? How am I ever supposed to do that? The feathers have already blown to the next town by now…heck, they are probably all over many towns far beyond our small hamlet. How could I possibly gather them back up? You have set up an impossible task!”

“Ah…,” the Rabbi answered. “So it is with your words and your stories. They have spread far and wide, and it is an impossible task to gather them back. It will take time, patience, as well as effort, in order to earn your friends’ and neighbors’ trust back. In the meantime, keep your words close to your heart and your lips, and guard your tongue from evil or malicious speech.

This well-known, and often adapted, folk tale expresses the essence of the Rabbinic understanding of Parashat Metzora. Particularly by the late Rabbinic period – the period known best for its aggadic interpretations, the unknown affliction known in the ancient world as Tazra’at (and mis-understood by moderns as leprosy) was viewed as a punishment for engaging in slander and malicious gossip. Metzora was viewed as a metaphor for motzi shem ra, for bringing forth or furthering a bad name or reputation. Simply put, slanderous talk was viewed as a threat to the very foundation of human society. The Talmud, for instance, links the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem to claims of gossip (B. Gitten 65a). Kohelet, the anonymous author of Ecclesiastes, writes “many have fallen by the edge of the sword, but not as many as have fallen by the tongue.” (Kohelet 28:18) And, it is noted in Genesis Rabbah that “what is spoken in Rome may kill in Syria” (Gen. Rabbah 98:23).

Short of transporting ourselves back in time to the biblical period in order to ask if the intent of parashat metzora was in fact to deal with impurity brought upon the community due to slanderous talk, we will never know how much the Rabbinic interpretation was born out of a real desire to curb gossip or an effort to contemporize and relate to a challenging text that they too didn’t fully comprehend. An interesting question for sure for the historian.  From the rabbinic perspective, however, it doesn’t quite matter. Rather appreciating and, more importantly, learning from the creative and valuable lessons of rabbinic tradition and incorporating them into our time becomes our mandate as modern Jews.

Our society as a whole could learn from the rabbinic concern with slander. Just look at the manner in which many of our political candidates speak about each other. Look at the print media with which we are bombarded at various check out isles. Listen to the manner in which so many of our television characters and personalities speak to each other. It is incumbent upon us to model a better example for our children. Our capacity for language is one of the critical characteristics that separate us from the rest of the animal world. We’d be wise to view our abuse of language, as the early Rabbis did, as threatening to humanity. We’d be wise to use our words – whether spoken, typed, or texted – in a manner which forwards compassion and understanding in the world.

No comments:

Post a Comment