Devarim Rabbah, a collection of homiletic teachings on the book of Deuteronomy, tackles this very issue head-on, using a powerful verse from Psalms: “You sit and speak against your brother; you slander your mother’s son [ben imekha]” (Psalms 50:20). It's a verse about the insidious nature of gossip and slander.
Rabbi Yoḥanan, a prominent figure in the Talmud, takes this verse and drills down into the subtle escalation of negative speech. He suggests that if you get into the habit of speaking against someone who is not one of your own people [ben umatekha] – someone outside your immediate circle – it’s only a matter of time before you turn that critical tongue toward those within your own community. It's a fascinating observation about how easily negativity can become a habit.
Rabbi Yehuda ben Levi offers another layer to this idea. He argues that if you become accustomed to speaking against a brother who shares only your father – a paternal brother, but not a maternal one – eventually, you’ll end up slandering your own full brother, your maternal brother. The implication is clear: the closer the relationship, the more damaging the slander, and the easier it becomes if you've already greased the wheels with lesser offenses.
But here’s where it gets really interesting. The text goes on to say that anyone arrogant enough to speak against someone greater than themselves risks bringing tzara'at upon themselves – a skin disease often translated as leprosy. This isn’t just about being rude; it’s about a spiritual consequence. Why? Because lashon hara, evil speech, is seen as a corruption of the soul, a defilement that can manifest physically.
And if you doubt this, Devarim Rabbah offers a stark reminder: "If you do not believe it, let the righteous Miriam be a model for all who engage in malicious speech. That is, “Remember what the Lord your God did to Miriam.”
Miriam, the sister of Moses and Aaron, a prophetess in her own right, was struck with tzara'at after she and Aaron spoke against Moses (Numbers 12:1-15). It's a powerful and sobering example. The Torah doesn’t shy away from showing even the most righteous figures grappling with human flaws. Miriam’s punishment wasn't arbitrary. It served as a very public lesson about the destructive power of gossip and the importance of respecting leadership and authority.
What's the takeaway here? It’s not just about avoiding saying mean things. It's about cultivating a mindset of respect, empathy, and mindful communication. It's about recognizing that our words have power – the power to build up or tear down, to heal or to harm. The Rabbis are teaching us to be mindful of the trajectory of our words. Where are they headed? What kind of world are we creating with them?