Why is everyone being so hard on Sarah? Come on...
Let me post something about lashon hara (evil speech):
Often, we allow ourselves to judge our fellow unfavorably as a result of listening to lashon hara. The Torah has many things to say about lashon hara, but what exactly is it? It is lashon hara to say negative things about anyone whether true or not. It is lashon hara to imply negative things about anyone whether true or not. And it is lashon hara to listen to negative things about anyone - and if we do hear it, we are not to believe it. The most notable verse in Torah against lashon hara comes from Leviticus 19:16, "Do not go about as a talebearer among your people." The juxtaposition of this verse with the previous verse telling us to judge our neighbor fairly (see above) is very interesting. These concepts are inseparably linked, although they are separate mitzvot (mitzvot translated means a duty, commandment, or good deed). The Chofetz Chaim shows us very clearly in his works that to speak or listen to lashon hara is a transgression of 31 of the 613 mitzvot (there are a total of 613 commandments in the Bible). It is said that lashon hara is so powerful that it can erase the merits of a lifetime of Torah learning and mitzvah observance.
If we are to unravel this hatred against one another, we must suspend our unfavorable judgment of each other, halt the perpetuation of those unfavorable judgments through lashon hara, and make a conscious decision to truly forgive one another.
In Pirkei Avos 1:6, we learn that we must "judge everyone favorably". From Leviticus 19:15, we learn that "in righteousness you shall judge your people". What does this mean? The Talmud (Shabbos 127b) tells this story of an agricultural worker:
A worker spent three years working for a landowner. On the eve of Yom Kippur he went to his employer to collect the wages for the full three years in order to return home to his wife and children. The employer claimed to have no money. "Give me fruit," said the worker. "I have no fruit," the employer said. "Let me have some of your land," pleaded the worker, thinking that he could sell it and use the proceeds. Again the landowner claimed that this was impossible. Every request for equivalent payment by the worker (animals, pillows, blankets) was met with the same reply: "I have none."
Brokenhearted and penniless, the worker trudged home. After the holidays, the landowner arrived at the home of his former employee and presented him not only with his wages, but with several mules carrying foods and delicacies as a treat for the worker's family. "Tell me," asked the landowner, "when I told you I had no money, what did you think?"
"I assumed you had invested in merchandise that you were able to purchase at a good price," answered the worker.
"And when I said I hand no animals?" the landowner inquired. "Oh, I assumed you had hired out your animals," was the reply.
"And what about my claim that I had no fruit?"
"I assumed that you had not taken the necessary tithes," the worker replied, for it is forbidden to use fruit which has not been tithed.
"Fine; but what suspicion entered your mind when I claimed to have no pillows or covers?"
"None at all. I was sure you had consecrated all your property to the Temple treasury," replied the worker.
"I swear to you," replied the landowner, "that it was exactly as you thought. I pledged all my worldly goods to the Temple in order that my son merit success at his studies. Just as you judged me favorably, so may you be judged in Heaven in a favorable manner."
A more contemporary story from "Around the Maggid's Table", also explains this mishnah:
Mr. Usher Feingold of Ashdod was a poor man whose friends and neighbors helped raise money for his daughter's wedding. To everyone's astonishment, the wedding was catered in a large ballroom, in a very lavish manner. Many of the guests were highly offended. Was this how an ostensibly poor family had used the funds that had been raised for them? Surely the money could have been put to better use. The guests felt they had been used. After the wedding, the Feingolds could not fail to feel the resentment of the community.
Shortly thereafter, Mr. Feingold visited his rabbi and explained. He and his wife had gone to the caterer to arrange a simple and inexpensive wedding. During the course of the discussion, the caterer realized that she and her family owed their lives to Mr. Feingold's father, who had hidden them from the Nazis. She insisted on catering the wedding at her own expense, as a small expression of her gratitude - but she made the Feingolds promise that it would remain a secret.
"When we came to the hall that night, we were as shocked as everyone else, but I couldn't say anything to my guests. But when I saw the attitude of our friends, I went to her and explained. She gave me permission to tell the story, so now I beg you, please let people know the truth."
It is about such situations that we are taught to judge everyone favorably.
In our circles, we have often used the excuse, or some form of it, "I'm just telling you this to protect you," or "I'm just telling you this to ___________ (insert anything)." Our Sages and Rabbis, may their memory be a blessing, teach us that the only permissible time to speak negative of anyone is if ALL of the following criteria are met: 1) You are doing it to help someone, to prevent someone from being victimized, or to resolve a major dispute; 2) What you say is based on firsthand information; 3) What you are saying is true and accurate; 4) You have addressed the issue with the person about who you speak; 5) That person refuses to change; 6) There is no other way to meet the goal (help someone, prevent victimization, resolve major dispute); and 7) What you say will not cause undue harm.
How often have we spoken negatively of someone while only, supposedly, meeting the first criteria. How often has it been that we have met all seven criteria? Can you think of a single time that all seven criteria were met?
And finally, how many of us fail to forgive and bear a grudge based on the unfavorable judgments we have passed and lashon hara we have heard and spoken? I can truly only speak for myself, and my failures here are myriad. Indeed, we are commanded by Torah to forgive. Again, juxtaposed and inseparably linked from the above passages, yet a separate mitzvah, Leviticus 19:18 tells us, "You shall not take vengeance nor bear any grudge."
A story, from an unknown source, elucidates the impact of lashon hara:
Once there was a man who had said awful things about someone. Realizing that he has done something awful, he goes to his rabbi and asks, "Rabbi, what can I do?" The rabbi thinks a bit and tells the man to bring him a feather pillow. The man brings the pillow, and the rabbi tells him to go outside, rip the pillow open, and shake out the feathers. The man does that. As he shakes out the feathers, the wind catches them, and they start flying everywhere. The man comes back to the rabbi and says, "I did as you said. Now what?" The rabbi says, "Now go back outside and pick up all the feathers." The man looks startled and says, "How can I? The wind took them! I don't even know where they are now." The rabbi says, "Exactly. Just like your words. Once they're out, it's impossible to get them back"
We can't go back and recapture all the lashon hara that has been spoken, at least I know that I can't "capture my feathers". But we can resolve to speak it and hear it no more. The Chofetz Chaim said, "If an entire group resolves together to guard their speech, the merit is greater than if only one individual has made this resolution."
Some weeks ago, I started reading the bedtime shema with my daughter before she went to sleep, and reading it for myself again before I went to sleep. The first prayer is a declaration of our forgiveness of others. It reads:
Master of the universe, I hereby forgive anyone who angered or antagonized me or who sinned against me - whether against my body, my property, my honor or against anything of mine; whether he did so accidentally, willfully, carelessly, or purposely; whether through speech, deed, thought, or notion; whether in this gilgul or another gilgul - I forgive every Jew. May no man be punished because of me. May it be Your will, HaShem, My G-d and the G-d of my forefathers, that I may sin no more. Whatever sins I have done before You, may You blot out in Your abundant mercies, but not through suffering or bad illnesses. May the expressions of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart find favor before You, HaShem, my Rock and my Redeemer.
That is a beautiful prayer. For me, I guess reading that prayer, and meaning it, on a consistent basis has had a real impact. In my recent studies, I've learned much about what forgiveness means in Judaism. Perhaps that is because I've been studying so much about Yom Kippur. There are several preparatory acts for Yom Kippur. Those are piyus (reconciliation), tevilah (immersion in a mikveh), viduy (confession of sins), and tzedakah (charity). Also, there is kaparos (the atonement ritual), but today that is observed through tzedakah which was already listed. With regard to piyus (reconciliation) we learn from Mishnah Yoma 8:9:
For sins between man and G-d, Yom Kippur provides atonement; but for sins between man and his fellow man, Yom Kippur does not provide atonement, until he appeases that man. This did R' Elazar ben Azariah expound: "From all your sins before HaShem shall you be cleansed" (Leviticus 16:30).
The Talmud relates that Rav, having once angered R' Chaninah, went every year for thirteen years to appease him on Erev Yom Kippur. Therefore, on Erev Yom Kippur every man should set his heart on appeasing everyone against whom he has transgressed.
Another man's sins are between him and G-d. It is our responsibility to seek forgiveness for our own sins from our fellow. It is our responsibility to forgive whether our fellow seeks our forgiveness or not. When we live up to our responsibility to seek forgiveness from our fellow, we should focus on our own shortcomings only. If our fellow does not forgive, that is between him and G-d, but we still have the responsibility to seek forgiveness for as long as it takes. When we live up to our responsibility to forgive our fellow, and he does not seek our forgiveness, that is between him and G-d, but we should forgive him anyway. It has been said that forgiveness takes time. Forgiveness takes an instant. Wounds may take time, but forgiveness is a decision that we either decide to make or decide not to make.
Please hear my heart on these matters and search your own hearts. It is still not too late. This holy season is a perfect time for it. It is said that Yisrael will only merit the Messiah when we all guard our speech. Perhaps, if we, together, resolve to guard our speech and forgive one another, then, as the Chofetz Chaim teaches, our merit will be counted as righteousness. Perhaps, if we do so, we will merit the Messiah again in our midst.
