What is your strongest memory of childhood and of school in particular? Most of us have that favorite teacher or best friend who, no matter the circumstances, came to your rescue in some way. Frankly, the method they likely used to rescue you was speech. A teacher gave you praise that stuck with you for a long time. A friend stood up for you on the playground or in class when others turned against you. Or maybe you were as lucky as I was to have parents who never failed to tell us what we could do, not limiting us in any way with what they said.
My father was born in 1931 just as the Dirty Thirties were getting under way. His family farmed in a small community in southeastern South Dakota and they were, without a doubt, poor. Dad and his two older brothers were farmhands to their father. Every single day there were “bossies” to milk, hay to mow, crops to sow, barns to clean, and chickens to feed. There were no vacations and certainly no extra money for treats. In fact, Grandma made extra money for the household by butchering her own chickens and then, with three small boys in tow, pushing a buggy two miles into town to sell those chickens to the “town folk.”
Despite this hardscrabble life, Grandma was the most soft-spoken, sweet woman you could ever want to meet. Dad told of a specific memory of her saving her pennies to get him “The Big Little Book” for no other reason than that he loved to read. He spent hours reading about Dick Tracy, Captain Midnight, Alley Oop, and Buck Rogers. It was the smallest of gestures of kindness, but to Dad the memory was strong well into his 80’s. He would ask from time to time if you could still get a “Big Little Book.” Turns out you can. Grandma’s kind words became action for her youngest son.
Kindness, whether in word or deed, is a cornerstone of Jewish living. It is so important that two full parashahs, Tazria and Metzora, are dedicated to discussing what happens to those who fail to use kind speech. The condition of tzaarat was the result of those who used lashon hara, or “evil speech” to hurt others. According to the Sages, lashon hara was as bad as committing all three cardinal sins: idolatry, incest, and murder. They said it kills three people: the one who says it, the one about whom it is said, and the person who listens. The punishment was severe. You were banished to live temporarily outside the camp until you could get your proverbially poop in a group and be kinder to others.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, filmed a documentary about the work of a British speech therapist by the name of Lena Rustin. She was the founder of the Michael Palin Centre for Stammering in London. While most speech therapists work on breathing techniques to help cure a stammer, Rustin took a dramatically different approach. She didn’t treat just the child, but the entire family. Her belief was that the family environment had to change to help the child stop stuttering. The theory she ascribed to was that children who stammered lived in families that had settled into a pattern of behavior. Everyone had adjusted to the stammerer’s behavior and helped the child finish sentences or coaxed words out of the child, or even punished them for not “making a better effort.”
In Rustin’s work she taught the family members, especially the parents, that they needed to create a more nonthreatening environment to help the child overcome their stammer. Her recipe was to have each family member commit to catching another family member doing something good and praising them. As important as giving praise, they all had to learn as well how to accept praise. This atmosphere of support and respect generated self-confidence not just in the child with the stammer, but the entire family.
In his documentary, Sacks interviewed those who had participated in Rustin’s unique approach. The parents he spoke to said it not only helped their child, but in some instances it saved their marriage.
Throughout Tazria and Metzora we read about the punishment for lashon hara. Living alone outside the camp was a terrible way to learn that your behavior was unacceptable in polite company. Perhaps worse yet, was the thought that if your house became afflicted–and doesn’t evil speech in a family infect the household?–you could lose your house altogether.
In Tazria we read about another rule for those who were afflicted with tzaarat.
“As for the person with a leprous affection, his clothes shall be rent, his head shall be left bare, and he shall cover over his upper lip; and he shall call out, ‘Impure! Impure!””
Leviticus 13:45
It sounds terrible! However, according to Talmud this regulation wasn’t just to warn others of the leper’s condition, but also to elicit prayers and compassion from the community. A person afflicted with tzaarat not only had a responsibility to recognize their own illness and ask for help, but the entire community was accountable for providing support and prayer and not to shun the afflicted person.
There is an old saying that “loose lips sink ships.” It was introduced to our idiomatic language during WWII. The meaning was a military warning to “beware of unguarded talk.” Of course, in context, it was about confidential information being kept confidential. Today, the internet says it was part of a propaganda campaign by the Department of War. I’m not so sure I would call this propaganda. It’s actually truth, whether you are talking about a wartime situation in which there could be drastic consequences for saying something about position or strategy and having the enemy learn of it or considering the impact of gossip and slander against others.
I’m going to apply it here to lashon hara. Loose lips, those that gossip and tell tales about others, do sink ships. The ships are generally the self-esteem and/or reputation of the person about whom you are speaking “loosely.” We should all not only beware of such unguarded talk, but we ought to make a conscious effort to praise others in a sincere and honest way every single day. This is especially important in a family unit.
The opposite of lashon hara is lashon hatov–tov meaning good. Let positive talk, words filled with praise and respect, fill your mouth. If you do, tzaarat will not afflict you or your household. Pay attention to your words. Don’t gossip. Don’t slander. Don’t speak badly of others. Remember instead the words of Solomon, “life and death are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21). God created the world and gave Torah using mere words. You can create a social world around you as well using lashon hatov.
I Am My Father's Daughter 