Midrash Tehillim, that beautiful collection of interpretations on the Book of Psalms, offers a surprising answer: kindness, all day long.
It sounds simple, almost too simple, doesn't it? But Proverbs 31:26 tells us of a wise woman, "She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the Torah of kindness is on her tongue." Here, Torah isn't just about dry legalisms; it's intertwined with chesed, kindness. They’re inseparable. When we speak with kindness, we’re literally embodying Torah.
The Midrash then takes it a step further, suggesting that even engaging in Torah study itself is an act of kindness! It’s like you are doing kindness all day. But here’s the kicker: it’s not just about what we do, but what we don’t do.
The children of Israel, we are told, are commanded to show kindness to everyone they encounter. It’s an active, outward-facing commitment. But then David, in a powerful moment, challenges Doeg, essentially saying, "A person who engages in kindness all day is doing something difficult." Why difficult? Because it requires constant vigilance, a conscious choice to act with compassion in every moment.
But what about the flip side? What about the harm we can inflict, often without even realizing it? That’s where lashon hara (evil speech) comes in.
Rabbi Yosi ben Zimra paints a vivid picture of the power, and the danger, of our tongues. Imagine, he says, how difficult lashon hara is. We have so many parts of our body, some strong, some weak, some exposed, some hidden. But the tongue? It's trapped in the mouth, surrounded by cheeks, held by countless muscles. And yet, it can unleash such devastating force. A word, carelessly spoken, can shatter a reputation, destroy a relationship, or inflict deep emotional wounds. Rabbi Yosi ben Zimra suggests that if we could truly see the power of the tongue, the potential for destruction it holds, we would be much more careful with what we say. If its difficulty were visible, how much more so would this be the case!
So, what does this all mean for us, today? Maybe it's a call to re-evaluate our priorities. To consciously choose kindness, not just in grand gestures, but in the small, everyday interactions. To be mindful of our words, and the impact they can have. To remember that even the act of studying Torah, of seeking wisdom and understanding, can be an act of chesed, of loving-kindness.
Perhaps the most profound takeaway from Midrash Tehillim is this: living a life of meaning isn't about achieving some distant, unattainable ideal. It's about making a conscious choice, every single day, to embody kindness in all that we do, and all that we say. It's a difficult path, yes, but one that leads to a life rich with purpose and connection.