The ancient rabbis certainly thought about this, especially when it came to how we talk about each other – and about the Jewish people as a whole.

We find ourselves in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a rabbinic commentary on the Song of Songs, that most beautiful and enigmatic of biblical books. We're looking at verse 1:6: “Do not look at me that I am dark, that the sun has tanned me. My mother’s sons were incensed at me; they placed me as guard of the vineyards; I did not guard my own vineyard.”

Now, this verse is often interpreted as the voice of the Jewish people, and the rabbis use it as a springboard to explore a really important question: how should we, as leaders and as individuals, speak about Israel, especially when things aren't going so well?

Rabbi Simon kicks things off by quoting Proverbs: “Do not slander a servant to his master.” The text equates the Israelites to servants of God, drawing on Leviticus 25:55, "For the children of Israel are servants to Me.” The prophets, too, are called servants, as Amos 3:7 tells us: “Unless He has revealed His secret to His servants, the prophets.” So, the congregation of Israel is pleading with the prophets: don't focus on my darkness, my imperfections. Even when Israel messes up, the prophets shouldn't demean them for their sins.

It's a powerful idea, isn't it? Holding people accountable, but without tearing them down.

The text then brings up two heavy hitters: Moses and Isaiah. According to the Rabbis, no one rejoiced more in Israel than Moses, and yet, because he said, “Hear me now, defiant ones” (Numbers 20:10), he was denied entry into the Promised Land. A harsh penalty, perhaps? But it underscores the gravity of speaking harshly, even when frustrated.

Similarly, Isaiah, who also deeply loved Israel, slipped up. He lamented, “I live in the midst of a people with impure lips” (Isaiah 6:5). God's response? "Isaiah, you are permitted to say about yourself: 'For I am a man with impure lips,' that is fine; perhaps [you think it is acceptable to also say] 'I live in the midst of a people with impure lips'?" As Rav Shmuel points out, the seraphim then touches Isaiah's mouth with a coal (ritzpa). Rav Shmuel cleverly interprets ritzpa as a combination of the words rotz peh, meaning "smash the mouth of one who slandered My children." Ouch!

Then there's the story of Elijah. Remember Elijah, the fiery prophet? He complains that the Israelites have forsaken God's covenant, destroyed His altars, and killed His prophets (I Kings 19:14). God's response is pretty sharp: “My covenant; is it perhaps your covenant?” God asks, essentially, “Why are you so zealous toward Israel? Is it your covenant they have forsaken?" The text notes that Elijah is then presented with a cake baked on coals (retzafim), which Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman, like with Isaiah, interprets as rotz peh – smash the mouth of anyone who slandered My children.

Rabbi Yoḥanan brings up another example from Isaiah 17:1–2, a prophecy about Damascus that strangely mentions Aroer, a city in Moab. Why? The text explains that Damascus had 365 houses of idol worship, each dedicated to a day of the solar year. The Israelites, the text suggests, were adopting these idolatrous practices. So, when Elijah slandered Israel, God redirected him: “Go, return on your path to the wilderness of Damascus” (I Kings 19:15). In other words, focus on their sins, not on the sins of my people.

Finally, we have a story about Rabbi Abahu and Reish Lakish. Rabbi Abahu questions why they are entering a neighborhood of "cursers and blasphemers." Reish Lakish, without a word, shoves sand into Rabbi Abahu’s mouth. Why? "The Holy One blessed be He does not want one who slanders Israel." A rather visceral lesson.

So, what's the takeaway here? Are we supposed to ignore wrongdoing? Of course not. But the rabbis are pushing us to think about how we speak, especially about a community, a people, a nation. Are we building up, or are we tearing down? Are we focusing on flaws, or on potential? It’s a delicate balance, and one that demands constant self-reflection.

It's a reminder that even criticism should come from a place of love, a desire for growth, and a deep connection to the people we're talking about. And maybe, just maybe, a little less sand in the mouth.