Parshat Yitro
COURAGE UNDER FIRE: SO HOW DOES A JEW RESPOND
WHEN CAUGHT UNEXPECTEDLY IN A LOSHON HORO ENVIRONMENT?
By Rabbi Dov Fischer
The man eponymous with this week’s Parsha, Yitro the Priest of Midian, gave his precious daughter, Tzippora, as a wife for Moshe Rabbeinu. Tzippora, by virtue of her breeding, enjoyed extraordinary social status within her native land. But outside, among a new people, she was the subject of gossip. (Bamidbar 12:1) G-d intervened for her. But there is no record of anyone else speaking up.
Slander and other defamation is so terrible. And it is particularly painful to think these sinful torts might arise, however infrequently, amid a people whose rituals sensitize us to care so lovingly about the hurt feelings of a challah loaf that we cover the interwoven bread before reciting Kiddush on the adjacent Shabbat wine – to spare its feelings that we are blessing the wine first. Likewise, in this week’s Parsha, the final verse (Sh’mot 20:23) commands that the Kohen not ascend the altar on steps – rather, he must walk gingerly up a ramp – because the nature of his garment’s construction inevitably might expose some of his private parts to the stones below his gait if he were to raise his legs in tandem while alighting steps. And that could embarrass the stones.
Notwithstanding these sensitivities, slander does exist in the world, and our Rabbis endeavored to confront its challenges long before New York Times v. Sullivan and its progeny wound their way through America’s secular courts.
The Chofetz Chaim, author of the Mishneh B’rurah compendium on the Shulkhan Arukh that serves as the defining halakhic work for Ashkenazic Jewry in the modern era, nevertheless attached his name to his other defining life’s work – on the laws of loshon horo and hotza’at shem ra’ (loosely translated as evil speech and slander). He adopted his sobriquet from a verse couplet in Tehillim (Psalms 34:13-14): “Who is the man who desires life, (mi ha-ish he-chofetz chaim) who loves days to see good? Restrain your tongue from evil and your lips from manipulation.” And HaRav Yisroel Meir Kagan HaKohen, zt”l, would be known through the generations as the “Chofetz Chaim.”
The laws of loshon horo are numerous. For example, within certain rubrics, it is not necessarily loshon horo during an Israeli election to remind people of how Israel fared the last time a particular candidate unsuccessfully led the Jewish State. It is not loshon horo to denigrate Neturei Karta – the clowns in Hasidic garb who attend Fatah events and Holocaust Denial conferences to ally with our enemies – with the utmost contempt. It is not loshon horo to refer to Jimmy Karta or David Irving or Ahmedinejad with the utmost contempt. When someone inquires whether a fellow or lady is suitable as a pending wedding match or as a business partner, the halakhah permits and requires candor. There are many more examples of these principles.
On the other hand, in a different context, even a “roll of the eyes” can be a grave sin. Or a smirk. Or a snicker. When the intention is to reduce a person by conveying a negative meaning that has no independent halakhic justification, the conveyor of the loshon horo can forfeit rewards in the World to Come for all eternity.
Perhaps the challenge that is most difficult is how to respond when, unexpectedly – sometimes amid friends – we find ourselves caught in a loshon horo environment.
Loshon horo is an infection, a contagion that cries for quarantine. It sneaks into a conversation, often introduced cleverly and surreptitiously by someone whose agenda – whose personal axe-to-grind – manipulates the discussion into that direction. It predictably arises during late-night comic monologues. Sadly, it even can arise unexpectedly at the wrong person’s Shabbat table.
Suddenly, you are caught off-guard. Not your intent. But what to do? What indeed to do? To make a scene? To disrupt the ambiance? To ruin dessert? To emerge déclassé? What to do? Because, alas, silence is often tantamount to agreement, and it emboldens the character assassin to believe he is making inroads and winning allies.
In “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” author J.K. Rowling puts a profound thought into the mouth of Professor Dumbeldore: “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends.” And that indeed is the only prescriptive. To show courage -- even at the cost of friendship.
To speak up – because silence is not an option. To risk losing a friend – because losing a portion of Paradise is not an option. To realize that someone willing to stain your soul at his Shabbat table just may not be the best friend in your rolodex.
In the movie “Gentleman’s Agreement,” the 1947 Oscar winner as Best Picture for its depiction of a non-Jewish journalist who poses as a Jew in snooty Connecticut and Manhattan to learn from an insider’s perspective that Jew-hatred exists even among the upper crust, there is a memorable scene. A non-Jewish woman, the journalist’s fiancée, recounts having been present at someone else’s table, sitting there when someone suddenly started slurring Jews. She angrily recounts the incident here, among a group of people who oppose anti-Semitism, telling them that she was just so angry. So furious.
In approximately these words, one of the listeners then asks her: “So what did you do, Kathy? Did you speak out? Did you object to the comments? Did you convey your sentiments in any way?” And she responds that, no, she sat there silently. She allowed the slurs to continue flowing unimpeded. She did not have the courage to speak out.
Loshon horo is the ultimate anti-Semitism, a violation of the essence of Torah values that, if our guard is lowered, could emanate against Jews even from within the Jewish community, derogating one or more Jewish souls, assassinating an innocent Jew’s character, causing pain and suffering to its victims and targets, to family and friends. Even as it threatens to tarnish and stain bystanders drawn within its ambit, often innocent bystanders – or bysitters – caught unexpectedly in the oral terrorist’s cross-fire.
The only way to respond, when unexpectedly finding oneself caught in a loshon horo environment, is to speak out with bravery. To say “My spouse and I did not come here to listen to this. Nor do we want our children exposed to this poisonous environment. We reject what is being said. We are here to talk about ideas. If need be, perhaps we can abide discussions about things. But if the conversation turns again to people, we will leave this environment and not return.”
That is courage under fire, Jewish-style.