Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Ilai points out that there were actually three commandments the Israelites received upon entering the land: to wipe out the memory of Amalek, to appoint a king, and to build the Temple. They managed the first two. So, what happened with the Temple?
According to this teaching, the problem wasn't a lack of resources or will, but something far more insidious: informers. The presence of mosrim, those who spread malicious reports, prevented the Shechinah, the Divine Presence, from dwelling among them.
Think about it. Can a truly sacred space be built on a foundation of gossip and backbiting?
Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman provides a striking contrast. He notes that during the reign of Ahab, the people were idol worshippers, yet they were victorious in war. How? Because, as shocking as it sounds, they didn't have informers in their midst. Conversely, Saul’s generation was plagued by informers, like Doeg the Edomite and the Zifites, constantly whispering against David. The result? Defeat.
Rav Mona takes it a step further, stating that anyone who engages in lashon hara, malicious speech, drives the Divine Presence away. He illustrates this with a powerful image from David himself in Psalm 57. David laments being surrounded by those with tongues like "spears and arrows," and then cries out, "Rise above the heavens, God…" In other words, David is saying, “Get out of here! What is the Divine Presence doing down here? Remove the Divine Presence to the firmament."
Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman also calls lashon hara "the third speech," because of its devastating impact. It kills three people: the speaker, the listener, and the subject. He derives this from the story of Doeg, Saul, and the city of Nov – a tragic chain of events detailed in I Samuel 22, where Doeg's slander leads to the massacre of an entire priestly city.
But the Rabbis don't stop there. They even bring in the serpent from the Garden of Eden! They ask the serpent why it crawls on the ground with its tongue dragging. The serpent replies it is because it breached "the fence of the world" through malicious speech against the Creator. According to Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin in the name of Rabbi Levi, the serpent, who could once speak, slandered God, claiming that God forbade Adam and Eve from eating from the Etz haDa’at (Tree of Knowledge) out of fear that they would create their own worlds. As punishment, God severed its legs and silenced its tongue.
The Rabbis continue to probe the serpent, asking what it gains from biting. The serpent's response is chilling: "Before you ask me, why don't you ask those who engage in lashon hara?" The implication is clear: both are destructive forces.
Finally, they ask why the serpent's venom spreads throughout the entire body from a single bite. Again, the serpent deflects, pointing to the devastating reach of malicious speech, which can strike down someone across vast distances.
The Devarim Rabbah concludes with a sobering thought: the Israelites were commanded to build the Temple upon entering the Land. But because they engaged in malicious speech, it wasn't built in their time.
This isn't just a historical footnote. It's a potent reminder of the destructive power of our words. It challenges us to consider: What kind of world are we building with our speech? Are we contributing to a sacred space, or are we, through gossip and slander, driving away the very presence we seek?