The biblical Miriam, one of the great heroines of Jewish history, is ironically associated in a formal way with one regrettable episode of her noble and distinguished life. Speaking to her brother Aaron, she said something regarding their brother Moses and his relationship with his wife, although the Torah does not explicitly say what it was; there is much discussion as to how Miriam's comments constituted lashon hara, especially as they are considered a cautionary model for all of us. Many maintain that her offense was an assessment of Moses as comparable to others, without regard for his unique status, while others note that Miriam failed to extend the benefit of the doubt to Moses, and that is an aspect of lashon hara (see Netiv Chaim 8:2, Chafetz Chaim, Hil. Lashon Hara Klal 8, BMC 1, and Pachad Yitzchak, Shavuot, #3). Following this act, she was afflicted with tzara'at, and healed after Moses prayed on her behalf.
The incident with Miriam is central to an unusual commandment in the Torah. The verse (Deut. 24:9) states "Remember what the Lord your God did to Miriam on the way when you were leaving Egypt." Nachmanides, differing from Maimonides, argues this should be included in the list of 613 commandments (see Nachmanides, Deut. 25:17 and glosses to Sefer HaMitzvot, essin 7). The commentaries attribute a straightforward purpose to the imperative, to stem the inclination to lashon hara.
(One may consider it ironic that the Torah highlights the dangers of lashon hara by appearing to disparage and to perpetuate the memory of the discrediting of Miriam, especially considering her great stature. See Nachmanides, Deut. 25:17, and also R. Aharon Kotler, Mishnat Rabbi Aharon al haTorah, pp. 343-344, and Chiddushei Torah of the Satmar Rebbe, Deut. p. 10, as well as Chokhmah UMussar II, 340 , and Daliyut Yechezkel and LiMa’an Achai ViReai, both cited in Chakhmat HaMatzpun, Deut. (vol II) pp. 191-193 and Iyyunim BaParshah, Lev. pp 91-92. See also the discussion of this and related topics in VaYita Eishel to Arakhin, 96.See also R. Nissim Dayan, Peirot Genosar, p. 53, regarding the question of why Miriam was punished more severely than Moses himself was for a similar offense (Ex.4:1-7).)
However, this motive would seem to be insufficient basis for a dedicated commandment. There are hundreds of prohibitions in the Torah, and on the whole they exist without need for either cautionary tales or special commandments to remember those tales. The singling out of lashon hara for this type of support begs explanation.
R. Yitzchak Isaac Sher, the spiritual guide of the Slabodka Yeshiva, in his ethical discourses (Leket Sichot Musar, I, pp. 394-395), addresses this question by making reference to broad categories included in the rubric lashon hara under the title of avak lashon hara. This category includes not only the intentional disparagement of one's fellow, but even positive statements that unwittingly yield negative interpretations (Mishneh Torah, Hil. Deiot 7:4). One might question the fairness of such an inclusion. By definition, the speaker has benevolent intentions. To assume a prohibition in such a case would seem to pose a near impossible burden. It is possible, if difficult, to refrain from malicious commenting about others. However, if the speaker is unaware of the negative impact of his statements, how can he avoid the offense? Indeed, the Talmud (Bava Batra 164b-165a) states that all are guilty of at least avak lashon hara.
It is here that the unique risks inherent in lashon haraare in evidence, and justify the exceptional focus afforded by additional commandments and cautionary tales. Lashon hara is not a transgression one can avoid by simply deciding to refrain. It is the expression of a mindset, sometimes an active negativity and distortion of judgment, and sometimes a simple insensitivity and lack of appreciation. It may emerge from insufficient awareness of the unique nature of the other individual; of their particular sensitivities and frailties; of the impact of speech and the differences between the speaker and the listener; or of the cognitive biases and tendencies that transform words into weapons by the time they have reached their target.
All of this is not offset by a simple commitment. It requires forethought, internal reconditioning, training, and practice. There can be no greater reminder of this than the story of Miriam. Miriam, a woman of towering stature, with the best and purest of intentions, found herself inadvertently in violation of the value of lashon hara. Surely, others are no better equipped to avoid this transgression. The advantage available is the benefit of the story of Miriam, and all of the Torah literature that surrounds it: a cautionary message that this area of human interaction requires "remembrance," in the sense of extensive advance preparation (R. Reuven Schwartz, in the introduction to his Emek HaLashon, notes that while other commandments of "remembering" in the Torah demand discrete acts of recitation or the like, the commandment to remember Miriam appears to be a constant imperative of awareness, correlating to the ongoing challenge of lashon hara).
This reality may contribute to an understanding of a comment of the Rabbis (Yalkut Shimoni, Isaiah, remez 459, quoted by Rashi in his commentary to the Torah). In the Torah, the story of Miriam and her punishment is immediately followed by the episode of the spies who spoke negatively of the land of Israel. The Rabbis comment on the juxtaposition by noting that in their behavior, the spies failed to learn the lesson of Miriam.
The comment is difficult, because it seems to imply there was a message a fortiori; what Miriam did was bad, what the spies did was worse. However, instinct would point in the other direction; Miriam spoke about a human being, with feelings and emotions, while the spies sinned against land. In fact, the Talmud itself adopts this perspective, stating that the story of the spies instructs on the severity of lashon hara, as their punishment was for disparaging the land, and surely to speak badly of humans must therefore be far worse (Arakhin 15a).
It would seem, rather, that the Rabbis are making a different point. Miriam's transgression was indeed, in terms of the victim, worse than that of the spies. The lesson the spies should have learned was not that their disparagement of the land constituted an even more severe violation. The lesson actually had to do with the extreme complexity and challenges involved in addressing negativity through speech and thought. If Miriam, with her personal greatness and noble intentions, could still run afoul of this value, clearly a program of mental reorientation and proactive attitude adjustment is necessary.
An instructive comparison may come, perhaps unexpectedly, from the laws of kiddush on Friday night. When this ritual is performed over wine, the practice is to cover the challah breads. The Talmud and commentators (Talmud Yerushalmi, cited in Tur, O.C. 271, and see Ohr Zarua, Hil. Shabbat II, 22) offer a number of possible explanations, one of which is striking. By law, kiddush could have been recited over the challah; in this case, the kiddush is being recited on the wine. Accordingly, the challah breads are covered so they not "witness" their losing this honor to the wine and thus be "embarrassed."
This attribution of human feelings to pastry is difficult to understand. Is there truly concern that inanimate objects will experience humiliation? It seems, rather, that the concern is to the complexity of human emotion. Determining what will or will not have hurtful consequences to another is a highly involved enterprise, one that does not come easily to the untrained intuition. To assume that undeveloped instinct will rise to the challenge of the moment is dangerous; offense can occur even unintentionally, when the speaker is unpracticed in the nuances of human sensitivity. Thus, even interactions with inanimate objects are viewed as opportunities to hone the awareness necessary to deal with actual people. Being cognizant of a "slight" to challah will, it is hoped, ensure awareness of the risk involved when a human is in such a situation.
The obligation to remember Miriam, then, is to train oneself in sensitivity in advance, so that when a situation presents itself, there is a hope that the challenge will be negotiated successfully. This, then, is the lesson that the spies failed to learn. Immediately after Miriam's punishment, to indulge a biased negativity in evaluating the land of Israel was a complete rejection of the moral message.
An analysis of the prohibition of lashon hara reveals two components, the practice of harmful speech, and the corresponding malevolence of spirit. These two elements possess a sort of negative synergy; the character trait makes the harmful effect more likely, and practicing the offense nurtures the malicious nature. While one or the other may dominate as the focus of the prohibition, it is difficult to escape from the interconnectedness of the two.
The commandment to remember Miriam is a reminder of this negative loop. It is impossible to extricate oneself from the behavior of lashon hara without addressing its accompanying mentality. The mentality, in turn, is developed and fed by the behavior. Maimonides, who declined to list this precept as an actual commandment, nonetheless does appear to understand it that way, when he details, in the laws of the impurity conferred by tzara'at (Hil. Tumat Tzara'at 16:10), the nature of lashon hara as an escalating pattern, in which one who expresses negativity towards others builds on this tendency until ultimately he disparages God himself.
The authoritative commentary to the code of Jewish law known as the Magen Avraham (Orach Chaim 60:2) quotes a suggestion that the blessing recited prior to the daily recitation of the shma prayer contains allusions to various commandments in the Torah directed at remembering. The commandment to remember Miriam, according to this, is hinted at in the words "to offer praiseful thanks to you" (lihodot likha). The explanation provided is that the mouth was created to give praise to God, not to speak lashon hara. Another interpretation, though, may be suggested. One who indulges in negative attitudes will, as Maimonides warns, grow increasingly cynical, and ultimately lose the instinct to be thankful to God.
It is noteworthy that one interpretation in the Midrash(Sifra, Lev. 26:3; see also Nachmanides, Deut. 24:9) of the commitment to remember Miriam and how it is to be implemented practically is that it constitutes an imperative to study the relevant laws. While the notion of study as a form of remembrance is a recurring theme in the Torah, in this instance it seems to have particular significance. When the Talmud identifies Torah study as the only true corrective, on a personal level, to lashon hara, it seems that it is not referring to the general purifying aspects of Torah study that are discussed elsewhere.
Rather, the intent here is to recognize that lashon harais addressed on both a behavioral level and an attitudinal level. To be successful in this realm, one must work to understand and internalize the principles involved in lashon hara and its related precepts. There were and are Torah scholars who nonetheless stumble in the area of lashon hara, despite their great learning. This phenomenon was addressed by some of the authorities who gave written approbations to the volume Chafetz Chaim. They asserted that it is not general Torah study that is effective in this role, but specifically the focus on the laws of lashon hara, its underlying principles and concepts, coupled with personal commitment, that can bring about the shift in personality that is required (see the approbation of the rabbinic court judges of Vilna, R. Yosef and R. Betzalel HaKohen, to Chafetz Chaim, and R. Yisrael Salanter, Iggeret HaMussar, s.v. hanisgav).
The Rabbis (Midrash Rabbah, Parashat Metzora 16:2, and in Yalkut Shimoni, Psalms ch. 52 (remez 767), and a different version, involving R. Alexandri, can be found in the Babylonian Talmud, Avodah Zarah 19b) tell a story about a peddler who would travel through the towns near Tzippori, calling out, "Who wants to buy the elixir of life?" When a crowd gathered, he would open the book of Psalms and read to them the verses of King David: "Who is the person who desires life, who loves days, to see good? Guard your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit. Turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it" (Tehillim 34:13-15). Rabbi Yosef Zvi Dushinsky (Torat Maharitz to Lev.) explained the usage here of the word "deceit." One will only see the promise of that verse if one is able to bring the mind, the heart, and the mouth into sync with each other. A disconnect between them, a mind that is "deceitfully" judging one's fellow negatively while outwardly praising him, will ultimately express its disparaging sentiment outwardly, even if it is initially concealed.
Thus, this prototypical "Jewish" mitzvah is, perhaps also typically, a fusion of personality and practice, one that by its very nature demands an integration of mind, manner, and message. Thus, it is understandable that study has taken such a central role in the realization of this religious precept. Fully manifesting the Torah's vision of a just, responsible and compassionate citizen demands a lifetime commitment to learning, understanding, and growing.
Furthermore, the unique demands and balances of lashon hara require even greater awareness and sensitivity. Making appropriate decisions in this area involves a constant recognition of the competing and sometimes conflicting needs of avoiding malicious speech on the one hand and protecting the innocent and the positive functioning and development of society on the other. More often than not, there is no clear-cut, easily provided answer to the quandaries that arise in this area, no simple guideline or slogan that will reduce the complexity of the issue. A refined appreciation for all of the relevant values and a sophisticated knowledge and understanding of the applicable principles and precepts is a necessary foundation to approach these areas responsibly.
Much harm is done if those who could protect the innocent fail to do so because of misguided conceptions of lashon hara; similarly, much devastation can be inflicted by those who would speak with malice or insensitivity, cloaked in either a false or mistaken veneer of purpose and necessity. The fact that either mistake can be defended by pointing to either value is irrelevant. In this as with all areas of life, the person is responsible for the quality of his judgment calls. This means, in turn, that the person is responsible for the substance of that judgment; to ensure that it is built upon solid knowledge, sensitivity, perspective, wisdom, and maturity. To some, this was actually the main lesson of the peddler; the life that is desired by he who "loves days" is obtained not through simple abstinence, but through the awareness born of constant study. This requires a lifetime of living and learning and is a mission that is never complete.
When the Torah included the prohibition of talebearing in the same verse as the mandate to protect the victimized (Lev. 19:16: "Do not go as a talebearer among your people; do not stand idly by the blood of your fellow; I am God"), it closed the verse with the words "I am God." Rabbinic tradition teaches that there are specific moments when the Torah finds it necessary to remind us of God's presence. It is at those times when nobility of behavior and righteousness of deed is concealed from outside observers, when either poor judgment or maliciousness of intent can be hidden behind a credible excuse, that the actor is told to remember that God is watching. Yes, the verse contains two competing mandates that demand balance and judgment; however, this does not mean that all decisions are equally valid, but rather that the burden is on the actor to ensure that God's wisdom and command is deeply infused into the discretionary process (see Pitchei Teshuvah, Orach Chaim 156).
The 16th century rabbinic authority Rabbi Shlomo Luria, known as the Maharshal, described his daily ritual in his work of responsa (Responsa Maharshal 64). He noted that every day, after reciting the blessing on learning Torah, he immediately followed with a representative selection of Torah content. To represent scripture, he recited a passage of three consecutive verses, which he considered "equal to the entire Torah." This set was comprised of the verses beginning with "love your neighbor" and ending with the verse prohibiting talebearing, the verse of the peddler.
Perhaps, one can understand how even this verse alone may contain principles representative of the entire Torah. The Talmud teaches that the defining values of the Torah are summarized in one verse from the book of Micah (Micah 6:8): "It has been told to you, O Man, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: only to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk modestly with your God." The mandate not to travel "as a talebearer" has given directives including all of these principles. It has taught respect for privacy, the essence of modesty; it has taught true empathy and identification with the needs of others, their uniqueness, and their sensitivities, the essence of compassion; and it has taught the need to genuinely weigh all relevant factors, realities, and variables in judgment of others, and to balance them against the basic needs of the innocent and of society in general, the essence of justice.
The focus that has emerged in recent years on the study of the laws of lashon hara is a profound gift. A life devoted to understanding and refining commitment to these principles is a life of ever expanding sensitivity, of ever growing awareness, of ever increasing appreciation of the complexity of humanity. It is a constant attention to the most fundamental needs of others, in all of their diversity and nuance. It is a lifelong course in the finest points of interpersonal interaction. It is a mindset that forces the trivialities of life to recede and to fade, while directing attention towards the genuine priorities of life, whatever they may be. It is a recognition of the endless capacity to grow, to improve, and to transcend a history of mistakes or misjudgments. It is an affirmation that humans must not be painted by the brush of their worst moments, and that the full picture of an individual will always be so much more than any other person can grasp at any moment. It is, in essence, to derive infinite potential through perceiving that potential in others.
There is a tradition of texts and teachings that can guide in developing the personalities necessary to give expression to these values. One cannot guarantee that the answers will be the right ones, but one can commit to a process that is honest, informed, compassionate, and responsible. One can be the grateful beneficiary of the legacy that was commanded by the Torah and expressed by King David, the rabbinic literature, the Chafetz Chaim, and all who shared in their vision. As the peddler promised, if one truly desires a life of love and goodness, there is a path; the first step towards walking on it is to see it there, waiting.
