To Tell or Not to Tell: The Controversy about Lashon Hara and Asking Mechilah

There’s a story about a man who came to his rabbi seeking advice on how to repent for speaking lashon hara—harmful gossip. The rabbi told him it was possible, albeit complicated. He instructed him to take an old-fashioned pillow filled with feathers, cut a hole in it, and walk around town allowing the feathers to escape. The man did as instructed and returned to ask what to do next. The rabbi’s second instruction was significantly harder than the first: “Now pick up all the feathers.”

The message is clear: lashon hara is uniquely challenging for the penitent. Once harmful words have been spoken and spread, gathering them back is nearly impossible. This inherent difficulty in making amends is one explanation for the particular severity attributed to lashon hara in Jewish tradition. Indeed, much literature is devoted to assessing what can be done after the offense has taken place.

The Problem of Restitution

When it comes to financial restitution, there’s not much to be done. This offense is generally not enforceable by a rabbinic court through the collection of damages, since damages inflicted indirectly are generally not actionable, and lashon hara causes its harm indirectly.
However, this doesn’t mean that a rabbinic court must ignore an act of lashon hara, particularly an egregious one. The medieval authorities agreed that even if the letter of the law doesn’t provide for restitution, extralegal methods exist to discourage such behavior and address the rift and harm that has been created.

Rabbenu Asher asserted that the court should excommunicate the offender until he appeases the victim. Maimonides notes that it’s appropriate for a rabbinic court to establish protective measures and penalties, “in every time and every place as they see fit.” The Shulchan Arukh rules that one who embarrasses another with words should be excommunicated until he appeases the victim, and Rabbi Moshe Isserles emphasizes that slander is included in this category. Despite the basic exemption from monetary damages, the victim may legitimately condition his forgiveness on some kind of restitution. (In 1965, with later amendments, the Israeli government passed a law that imposes penalties, including imprisonment, for acts of lashon hara.)

Yet the question of monetary compensation is actually the less vexing part of the equation; it’s the appeasement that’s significantly more challenging. The effects of lashon hara are far-ranging and often irreparable, so it’s often impossible for the offender to claim he has fully rectified the problems he caused. Consequently, it’s understandable if the victim is hesitant to forgive what is essentially an ongoing offense.

Indeed, there’s a view in the Talmud Yerushalmi that while it’s considered “cruel” or even sinful not to forgive someone who is truly penitent, it is acceptable not to forgive a slanderer. Too many people may have heard the slanderous accusations but not the correction and apology. Nonetheless, it’s still laudable to forgive, but the justification of the hesitancy is instructive. Some authorities assert that if the speaker has made a sincere effort to correct his slander to the greatest extent possible, he indeed should be forgiven.

The Great Controversy: To Tell or Not to Tell?

However, there’s another factor that’s very significant in obstructing reconciliation in many cases of lashon hara, and it sits at the center of a major dispute between two giants of Jewish ethical leadership.

One of the primary advocates of the active focus on character development, known as musar, was Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (1810-1883). Given this focus, it would be expected that he would strongly support the efforts of the Chafetz Chaim in his writings. Nonetheless, according to several reports, he declined to give a written endorsement to the book.

Apparently, while he agreed with the work’s general message, there was one ruling in it that he felt he could not associate himself with, and the risk was too great that his endorsement would be seen as concurrence with this ruling.

This single controversial ruling concerns the question of apology and reconciliation following an offense of lashon hara. The Talmud teaches that repentance is ineffective for offenses committed against another person unless apology is made to the victim and forgiveness is obtained. As a general rule, at least the first part—the apology—is in the hands of the offender to do. However, lashon hara may present a unique challenge.

It’s usually expected that in apologizing, one is required to specify the offenses of which one is aware, rather than mouthing a general confession lacking any recognition of the particular manner in which harm has been done to the other. Often, the hurtful comments have been made outside the presence of the subject, who is blissfully ignorant. To apologize under such circumstances would mean the infliction of emotional pain on one who has already been the victim of malicious gossip. Is that warranted?

Rabbi Yisrael Salanter’s Position

To Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, the answer was clear. The Torah’s strong prohibition against causing emotional suffering is the priority. The offender would have to find some other way to assuage his conscience and set things right; but to do so at the expense of his victim was not acceptable. In his view, informing the victim would violate the fundamental principle against causing another person pain.

The Chafetz Chaim’s Position

To the Chafetz Chaim, however, the issue was somewhat more complicated. If the gossip was ineffectual, causing no apparent damage to the subject, the Chafetz Chaim agreed that there’s little to be gained by informing the subject in order to obtain his forgiveness. However, if there was indeed harm inflicted by the speech, it would then be necessary to tell the subject what had been done and to apologize.

Reportedly, Rabbi Yisrael found this ruling so objectionable that he refused to associate his name with the entire book, despite its immense overall value. The ruling of the Chafetz Chaim had a strong foundation, apparently based on an earlier statement of the great medieval ethicist Rabbi Yonah of Gerondi. Nonetheless, many of the later authorities seemed to be in agreement with Rabbi Yisrael.

It’s reported that the famed Rabbi Aharon Kotler, who founded and led the Lakewood yeshiva, asserted that Rabbi Yisrael was qualified to argue with the rulings of the great medieval authorities due to his phenomenal expertise and prominence in these matters. Others endorsed Rabbi Yisrael’s position while interpreting the view of Rabbi Yonah as being in agreement as well (and in some cases also interpreting differently the view of the Chafetz Chaim).

Practical Solutions When Direct Apology Is Prohibited

If seeking mechilah (forgiveness) and specifying the offense is indeed contraindicated, options may still exist. The first is to ask for a general forgiveness, without identifying a particular wrongdoing. This does tend to arouse suspicion, and in this vein some note that this may be a situation in which a less than ideal social phenomenon may be utilized.
As Yom Kippur draws near, many approach all of their friends and associates and ask for forgiveness practically by rote, without identifying (usually even in their own minds) any specific offense. While this actually falls short of the standard normally required of such apologies, in this case it may be preferable. Some argue, however, that this may be effective only when the gossip is routine. If the lashon hara was extensive and egregious, though, it’s harder to assume the unaware subject is able to issue any kind of meaningful forgiveness.
Interestingly, some of the students of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter may have also endorsed such an approach. One of his most prominent disciples, Rabbi Yitzchak Blazer (1837-1907), corresponded with another, Rabbi Naftali Amsterdam, as the former was leaving a rabbinical position and was concerned that he may have spoken badly about some of his congregants and now needed their forgiveness. The latter advised him to apologize in a general way, noting that this transition provided a good opportunity to ask for a broad forgiveness for any offenses during his tenure, without provoking focus on any specific deed.

Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik suggests that in the instance of lashon hara, in place of begging absolution, it’s appropriate to spread information that will counteract the negative effects of the gossip; in this case, such action is more consistent with increasing harmony than seeking the victim’s pardon. However, this advice is easier said than said; as we have seen, successfully countering the effects of the initial negative speech can be, more often than not, a very daunting task.

The Chafetz Chaim’s Apparent Contradiction

The question as to whether the ruling of the Chafetz Chaim has been accepted in practice could actually start with the opinion of the Chafetz Chaim himself. The Chafetz Chaim was also the author of an extremely authoritative commentary on the code of Jewish law known as the Mishnah Berurah (which was published after the Chafetz Chaim). In that work, in the laws of asking for forgiveness prior to Yom Kippur, the author approvingly quotes a view of the 17th-century authority Magen Avraham that appears at odds with his position in the

Chafetz Chaim.

There, the ruling is that if a request for forgiveness will embarrass the victim, the offender should not specify his wrongdoings. Thus he appears in this work to favor the view of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, against his own position in Chafetz Chaim.

Scholars have offered various ways to reconcile these seemingly contradictory positions, though none are entirely satisfying. Some suggest he distinguishes between anguish (necessary) and embarrassment (counterproductive), though both are prohibited by the same Torah law. Others propose that Mishnah Berurah addresses cases where the victim already knows what happened, while Chafetz Chaim deals with situations where they’re completely unaware. A third view suggests one need not provide embarrassing details, but must at least inform the victim that something was said—though Rabbi Yisrael Salanter would likely object that such vague disclosure could cause even greater anguish than specifics.
Conceptual Frameworks
This controversy, the dispute between the two titans, the Chafetz Chaim and Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, may revolve around differing conceptual understandings of the main principles involved.
For example, it may be that they disagree as to the underlying concepts of lashon hara. Perhaps, at least as far as repentance is concerned, the Chafetz Chaim is focusing on lashon hara as a negative character trait; thus, attempting to reconcile with the victim, even if it’s a difficult conversation for him, may still be an attempt to reverse the taint of character. Conversely, Rabbi Yisrael may understand the offense as inflicting harm through speech; thus, to inflict even more harm, by anguishing the victim through informing him, would be blatantly counterproductive.
Alternatively, the debate may be as to the true purpose of seeking forgiveness. Rabbi Yisrael may understand that the purpose is a removal of tension between the parties; thus to create tension would certainly be ill-advised. Conversely, the Chafetz Chaim may see a waiver of claims for damages as a primary focus; thus, it’s necessary to inform the victim so that he is able to release the claims.

The Chafetz Chaim’s Distinction: Effective vs. Ineffective Gossip

It’s similarly illuminating to consider the Chafetz Chaim’s distinction on the matter, in which he maintains that one need only apologize if the lashon hara was “successful,” but not if it did no damage. This lays the foundation for a number of questions.

First, it’s worth noting that the Chafetz Chaim distinguishes on this point between lashon hara and rekhilut (tale-bearing). In the case of lashon hara, it’s possible that the speech had no impact, as the listener may not have really been interested in the subject or paying any attention. However, in the case of rekhilut, the listener is the subject, and therefore by its very nature there will be some negative impact. Accordingly, the Chafetz Chaim rules in the latter instance that his premise that an apology is necessary is applicable in all cases.

This distinction emerges from a context in which the Chafetz Chaim poses a question on his own position. What if the gossip doesn’t appear to have inflicted any damage yet, but there’s reason to believe that it will in the future? Certainly, it would be ideal that the process be stopped in its tracks. However, considering that that’s often not possible, should the apology requirements correlate to the current extent of damage or anticipated future damage? In presenting this question, the Chafetz Chaim distinguishes between lashon hara, which may not impose significant damage if the listener is disinterested, and rekhilut, in which it can be assumed that there’s always some degree of damage.

Can Lashon Hara Ever Be Harmless?

The Chafetz Chaim’s position is also noteworthy in his assumption that it’s possible to have lashon hara which doesn’t inflict damage. In such a situation, the Chafetz Chaim asserts that there’s no interpersonal impact, although there’s certainly a sin involved, and the indulgence of a negative character trait. Thus, the offender must repent, but this penitence is between him and God and need not involve the subject. This distinction reflects the dual nature of the transgression of lashon hara that we have thus far seen.

However, there are those who challenge the claim that there can ever be a situation of lashon hara which doesn’t cause damage. Rabbi Yitzchok Hutner, who in practice endorses the position of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter that one should not inform the victim for the sake of seeking apology, nonetheless addresses the Chafetz Chaim’s assumption on this point. He asserts that every act of derogatory speech has a negative impact, regardless of the acceptance of the listener.

This is due to the mandate to “love your fellow as yourself.” To express negative sentiments about the other, even if they’re not accepted by another party, is to detract from the feelings of love due to that subject. He supports this point by noting Maimonides’ position that one who curses his fellow, also a Torah prohibition, must seek forgiveness from the target of the curse, despite the fact that Maimonides doesn’t ascribe any actual practical impact to the curse itself.

The distinction of the Chafetz Chaim also gives rise to the question as to what meets the threshold for damage. Does this refer to actual material harm, or would the “acceptance” on the part of the listener itself constitute damage? Acceptance is a prohibition in its own right, also presenting the question as to what penitence is necessary for the receiver. To this, the Chafetz Chaim asserts that an apology is not called for, but instead, the receiver would be required to “remove the matter from his heart.”

Clearly, that’s also a task that can be far more daunting than the words may imply. However, it may go to the essence of the question of repentance for the transgression of lashon hara. If, as may be the case, the acceptance of lashon hara is actually the primary offense, with the speaker the facilitator rather than the main protagonist, then the internal work necessary to correct the effects of lashon hara on the personality and the mental framework may actually be the question of central importance, and deserving of attention on its own.

A Radical Reframing: Silence as Repentance

There’s a profound insight that emerges from Rabbi Yisrael Salanter’s position, one that fundamentally reframes what repentance means in the case of lashon hara. It’s important to note that Rabbi Yisrael’s position is not a leniency, exempting the offender from the necessity of apologizing. Rather, it’s a stringency; the need for reconciliation and forgiveness for damages inflicted is still present (and in this sense, perhaps Rabbi Yisrael is actually in theoretical agreement with the earlier ruling of Rabbi Yonah), but the offender is precluded from achieving atonement because of the cost to the victim.

Some have suggested that the purpose of offering apology is to express concern and sympathy for the victim and a concern for his well-being; in that case, refraining from asking for forgiveness, when doing so would inflict pain, is actually the more compassionate and thus more appropriate choice. Thus, the inaction is in place of, and preferable to, the action of informing the victim.

In other words, the very act of restraining oneself from seeking forgiveness—bearing the weight of unresolved guilt rather than transferring additional pain to the victim—may itself constitute the truest form of repentance. The offender demonstrates genuine concern for the victim’s welfare by choosing to live with their own discomfort rather than seeking emotional relief at the victim’s expense. The silence becomes an act of chesed (lovingkindness), a tangible expression that the victim’s wellbeing matters more than the offender’s own spiritual comfort.

This reframing transforms what appears to be a paradox into a profound moral teaching: sometimes the deepest repentance isn’t about making ourselves feel better through confession and forgiveness, but about prioritizing the other person’s peace even when it means carrying our own burden indefinitely.

The Inner Work: Personal Repentance Beyond Apology

Whatever one’s position on the mechilah controversy, there remains another dimension to addressing lashon hara that is always accessible and always necessary: the internal work of repentance. Lashon hara impacts the soul of the offender in addition to any harm it inflicts upon others, and has a dual effect, harming the subject and the speaker at once.
The basic steps of general repentance are called for: confession, regret, and commitment to better behavior. This internal work is never dependent on external circumstances or the victim’s knowledge. It requires honest self-examination about what led to the harmful speech—was it jealousy, insecurity, anger, a desire to feel superior? It demands a genuine commitment to personal growth and character refinement.

The tradition teaches that one who has been afflicted with tzara’at (the spiritual affliction associated with lashon hara) must be separated from the Jewish encampment. The Talmud explains that the gossiper separated people from each other through his harmful speech, and thus it’s fitting that he should be separated from the community as a whole. This isolation creates space for introspection—an opportunity to understand the impact of one’s words and to cultivate the internal qualities that prevent such speech in the future.

This internal dimension may be the most critical aspect of repentance for lashon hara. If acceptance of lashon hara is actually the primary offense, then the internal work necessary to correct the effects on the personality and mental framework may be the question of central importance.

Conclusion: Caution, Hope, and the Path Forward

What emerges from this controversy is a sobering paradox: lashon hara may be one of the few transgressions where full atonement is structurally impossible in the conventional sense—or perhaps it simply requires us to expand our understanding of what atonement means. The offender who follows Rabbi Yisrael Salanter’s position carries unresolved guilt but demonstrates profound compassion. The offender who follows the Chafetz Chaim’s position must navigate the difficult terrain of causing temporary pain for the sake of ultimate healing.
This underscores the unique severity of lashon hara and reinforces the wisdom of the feather parable. Once the words are spoken, once the feathers are scattered, no amount of effort can fully restore what was lost. Prevention is not just preferable—it’s essential. The best time to address lashon hara is before it leaves our lips.

Yet there is hope in this teaching, not despite its severity but because of it. The very difficulty of repairing lashon hara calls us to a higher standard of mindfulness about our speech. It invites us to cultivate the inner qualities—humility, generosity of spirit, love for others—that naturally prevent harmful speech from arising in the first place. And when we do stumble, as humans inevitably will, the path of internal repentance remains open: the honest accounting, the genuine regret, the determined commitment to grow.

This controversy reminds us that some wounds cannot be healed by apology alone, but it also teaches us that the work of repentance extends beyond interpersonal reconciliation. There is always the possibility of personal growth, of refining one’s character, of transforming oneself so thoroughly that the person who emerges would not commit the same offense again.
In a world where words travel faster and farther than ever before, this ancient wisdom remains urgently relevant. It calls us to think before we speak, yes—but also to do the deeper work of becoming people whose hearts naturally incline toward seeing the good in others, whose default impulse is compassion rather than criticism. The challenge of lashon hara becomes not just a warning but an invitation: to grow, to change, to become worthy of the power of speech we’ve been granted.