It's not just about the big stories, but the tiny details, the way things are phrased. The Bamidbar Rabbah (Numbers Rabbah), a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Numbers, dives into this very idea. It's almost like the Torah is trying to protect us, to elevate us even in the way it speaks.
"This is the statute of the Torah" – and the text reminds us of the verse from Psalms (12:7): "the sayings of the Lord are pure sayings, refined seven times." Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi makes a fascinating observation. He points out that God, in His infinite wisdom, sometimes adds extra words to the Torah in order to avoid directly uttering something impure.
Think about Noah's Ark. Instead of saying "impure animals," the Torah says, "From the pure animals, and from the animals that is not pure" (Genesis 7:8). And again, "and of the animals that are not pure" (Genesis 7:2). It's a subtle shift, but a powerful one. The Torah uses "not pure" (lo tehora) rather than "impure" (teme’a). Why?
Rabbi Yudan takes this idea further. When the Torah introduces the signs of impure animals, it begins with the signs of purity. Consider the camel. It's not written, "the camel, because it does not have split hooves," but rather, "[the camel,] because it brings up the cud [but does not have split hooves]" (Leviticus 11:4). Same with the hare and the pig. The Torah leads with a positive attribute before pointing out the deficiency. It's like the Torah is trying to find the good in everything, even in what is considered impure.
This reminds me of a beautiful teaching from Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin in the name of Rabbi Levi: in the time of David, children, before they had "tasted sin," could expound the Torah with forty-nine reasons for purity and forty-nine reasons for impurity for any given question! Imagine that level of understanding, that innocent brilliance! David would pray for them, saying, "You, Lord, preserve them...keep their Torah in their heart...Keep them secure, from this generation, forever" (Psalms 12:8).
But here's the heartbreaking part: even with all that potential, all that divine protection, they would go to war and fall. Why? Because, according to the text, there were slanderers, lashon hara, in their midst.
David lamented, "Amid lions, I lie among the eager, [men whose teeth are spears and arrows, whose tongues are a honed sword]" (Psalms 57:5). The text identifies these "lions" as scholars like Avner and Amasa, but the "eager" ones are identified with those eager to slander, like Do’eg and Aḥitofel. The Zifites, who betrayed David to Saul, are described as having tongues like "a honed sword" (Psalms 54:2). David then cries out, "Rise above the heavens, God" (Psalms 57:6) – remove Your Divine Presence from their midst!
The text draws a stark contrast: the generation of Ahab were idolaters, but because they had no slanderers, they were victorious in war! Ovadya's actions in hiding the prophets of God from Jezebel (I Kings 18:13) show the importance of protecting those who speak truth. The text even points out the difficulty in getting them water—protecting these individuals was clearly a challenge. And Elijah, despite being seemingly alone (I Kings 18:22), was supported by a people who kept silent rather than betray him.
The text takes an unexpected turn, recounting a conversation with a serpent. Why does it bite and kill? The serpent's answer is chilling: "If the serpent bites without a whisper, there is no advantage to the charmer" (Ecclesiastes 10:11). In other words, is it possible that I would do anything that was not stated to me from on High? It's a powerful statement about the destructive power of lashon hara, slander.
"Why do you bite one limb and all the limbs feel it?" the serpent is asked. And the serpent replies, "You say it to me? Say it to the master of the tongue [baal halashon], who is here and kills in Rome." Wow.
Why is slander called "third" – lishna telita’i, a "triple tongue"? Because, the text explains, it kills three: the speaker, the listener, and the subject. In Saul's time, it killed four: Do’eg, Saul, Aḥimelekh, and Avner.
The text then explores the reasons for Avner's death. Was it because he put his name before David's? Because he treated war like a game? Or because he didn't push for reconciliation between Saul and David? Each explanation highlights the devastating consequences of pride, recklessness, and a failure to promote peace.
Finally, the text analyzes the laws of the red heifer (parah adumah), a complex ritual purification process. Rabbi Ḥanan ben Pazi points out the repetition of "seven" throughout the passage – seven heifers, seven burnings, seven sprinklings, seven immersions, seven impure, seven pure, seven priests. If someone questions the number of times "priest" is mentioned, he explains that Moses and Aaron are included, as it is stated: "The Lord spoke to Moses and to Aaron, saying: This is the statute of the Torah" (Numbers 19:1–2).
So, what's the takeaway from all of this? It's a profound reminder of the power of words. The Torah is incredibly careful with how it speaks, avoiding even the slightest hint of impurity. And we, too, must be mindful of our own speech. Slander, gossip, and negativity can have devastating consequences, destroying individuals and even entire communities. Let us strive to use our words for good, to build bridges, and to promote peace and understanding. Let's cultivate a world where our words are as pure and refined as the Torah itself.