Words Matter: Parashat Devarim, Shabbat Hazon
Recently a long-time friend asked to set up time to hear my perspective on various American political issues. Because I strongly value this friendship, I have always avoided discussing politics with my dear friend whose views are at polar opposites from my own. I now so look forward to the opportunity to sit down together, share our respective views, and hopefully learn from each other.
Unfortunately, though, today in America’s charged political environment, the atmosphere has become so polarized that long-time friends often shy from meaningful discussions or have even stopped talking with each other.
These days it seems that we’ve become so stuck in our own ideological echo chamber that we are unable to hear, let alone accept facts that don’t align with our own beliefs. We have become locked in a state of “epistemic closure,” with our preconceived ideas determining what facts we will believe depending on the news source.
Today, we have become inured to malicious language, verbal insults, disrespectful speech, and toxic discourse. I believe that social media has played a significant role here: Respectful discourse seems to have gone by the wayside, with rampant hate speech, often with specific anti-Israel or antisemitic language.
How often, do we fail to consider carefully the language we use and the unintended consequences, whether it’s face to face or on social media posts? Our language defines us, how we relate to others, and how we want to be recorded for history. For example, do we use words that demonstrate respectful listening, even when we disagree, and do we agree to disagree? Or do we summarily cut off someone with an opposing ideological viewpoint, close our ears to a message that we don’t want to hear, or provide a brusque answer to what seems a stupid question?
I often wonder what archivists in the future will think when they dig through billions of social media feeds. What conclusions will they draw from social media posts about our society, our ethical standards, and how we act towards others?
Lessons from Parashat Devarim
Eleh Ha-Devarim asher diber Moshe El Kol Yisrael… (“These are the words that Moses spoke to all of Israel.”) So begins Sefer Devarim, the Book of Deuteronomy, Moses’ farewell address.
It’s a striking beginning to the fifth book of the Torah. Almost immediately, perhaps to ensure the validity of his message to a younger generation, Moses attributes the authenticity of his speech to no less an authority than God, i.e. “in accordance with the instructions that God has given for them.”
Sifrei Devarim, a halakhic midrash from the 3rd century CE, suggests that these are words of rebuke to all of Israel, rather than just some. That includes each of us.
This parasha is a history lesson that Moses is delivering to a new generation without personal memory of all of the events of the past 40 years. But there’s also an important underlying concept about what constitutes a just moral society, which lays the foundation for the Book of Deuteronomy.
As someone who loves to wordsmith, I have always been intrigued how this parasha uses language and facts. I find it particularly fascinating today when society has become so polarized that we often tend to hear the same words and interpret the same facts so very differently.
The first words of Deuteronomy, Eleh HaDevarim, “These are the words or these are the things,” are stunning in their simplicity. The language draws our attention to something important requiring our rapt attention.
Significantly, only four other places in the TanaKH use this exact same word combination, Eleh Ha-Devarim: The arrival at Sinai, when God defines the covenantal relationship with Am Yisrael, as a kingdom of priests and holy nation (Exodus 19:6) and when Moses convenes the entire Israelite community for the construction of the Mishkan (Exodus 35:1); Isaiah 42:16 in a passage discussing God turning light to darkness. And in Zechariah, where God talks about the restoration of Jerusalem: “[These are the things you are to do]: “Speak the truth to one another, render true and perfect justice in your gates!” (Zecharia 8:16)
We may infer that the words, Eleh HaDevarim, connote our Covenantal obligation, with expected norms for just and ethical behavior. Importantly, this relationship with God includes how we use words and that we refrain from inflicting hurt with our speech.
Saturday night begins the Fast of Tisha b’Av when we chant Eicha, the Book of Lamentations, and mourn the destruction of the Two Temples in Jerusalem as well as other calamities that befell the Jewish people. Over the centuries, as a reflection of different social and political times, there have been many explanations for the Temple’s destruction —from baseless hatred to drinking wine and liquor instead of reciting the Shema in the morning to a society that lacked integrity and trustworthy people.
Tisha b’Av reminds us of hatred and violence but it also teaches us that it is possible to change even the most painful narrative — to move from despair to hope, from sadness to joy, from darkness to light. But can we also become more mindful of our use of words?
Indeed, words matter: That means being willing to listen respectfully and truly hear what each other is saying. Significantly, what’s at stake is our ethical behavior rooted in the Torah and our obligation in accepting the Covenant.
