Kedoshim
Shabbat shalom. Hi, people! (double wave) I wanted to start off with a kind of peek into my brain. I classify people I know and like as my people. That sounds weird, but I’m sort of weird, so I think that I get a free pass for that. I mean I know you, you know me. We share something. That is why you are here, because in a way, some way, any way at all, you’re my people.., and thanks for coming. I’m so happy you’re here for my bat mitzvah. In the Torah service this morning we read from the book of Leviticus or Vayikra..?, in the portion Kedoshim, which means HOLY. When I thought about the portion, and started to talk about it with my amazing Rabbi Barbara, I thought of this story.
You may recognize it, but, here, I’ll tell it:
There was a small town. It was pretty and tightly knit, with kind people. There were shops and houses and fields. But this story isn’t about how nice the town is. It’s about pillows. There was a woman named Rachel, and she was the seamstress of the town. She made beautiful things, but she never had too much business. The reason why? She couldn’t hold her tongue. She spread rumors and lies left and right. Her shop sat empty many days, because everyone was afraid that they would come out of her shop rumored to have fangs, or a secret, or to have kissed the baker. Even if they didn’t enter, it was a possibility. The town also had a wise rabbi. The rabbi loved to think, and was always open for questions or giving advice. Many people had come to him, complaining about Rachel. The rabbi had sat and listened, and now he was ready. He talked to Rachel and asked of her two things. “Please meet me by the wooden gate tomorrow,” he’d said. “Bring your goose down pillow, and we’ll have a lesson.” Rachel was confused. Her? She was not a scholar. But the next day she went to meet the rabbi. “Hello, Rachel,” the rabbi greeted her. “You’ve got your pillow?” She nodded. He sat on the gate and gestured towards her pillow. “Open it, please.” She did. “Take a feather out, Rachel. Good. Now let the feather go.” Rachel didn’t question it, and the feather blew. The rabbi spoke his next words kindly. “Empty the whole pillow. Let every feather go.” Rachel’s brow furrowed. But every feather floated on the breeze. He looked at her, his face calm. “Now, go and put them all back in the pillowcase.” At this she burst. “Rabbi, that’s impossible! They’re out of my control.” He nodded. “Like the rumors you spread? Can you take those back? No. They are on the wind now. You can’t do anything.” He got up, his silver hair blowing in the wind, the same wind that had carried the feathers. He left her alone, leaning against the wall, thinking about what to do next. Now, on Rachel’s bed, there’s a stitched-up, refilled pillow, a reminder of her lesson with the rabbi.
Many people here may know what Rachel did as gossip. There’s a Jewish term for this, leshon hara. Leshon hara, literally evil speech, means you didn't hold your tongue and your words did harm. Leshon hara is a lot like gossip, but it’s a lot deeper. What makes it evil is the fact that you are hurting someone with your words, the words that you have control over. Remember the nursery rhyme, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me? Every person in this room has experienced what a big lie that is. Whether what you say or hear is true about the person, or not, no matter what you think of them, words can inflict a lot of pain, and hurting people with your immensely powerful tongue is wrong. As I told you before (look, here comes the connection), the name of my portion, Kedoshim, means holy. So why am I talking about gossip, one might ask? In Kedoshim, the Torah says, ‘do not become a talebearer among your people.’ The rabbis interpret this as telling us not to speak leshon hara. My portion literally tells us “you should be holy.” And then it lists lots of ways to be holy-or to try to be holy. And one of those ways is to avoid leshon hara, to guard our tongues. We need to use our WORDS wisely if we are even going to try to be holy. As humans, we have a desire to be accepted. We go very far to make sure people like us and approve of us, and we want others to think we’re funny and interesting, even if that means we’re not always careful with the impact of our words. Leshon hara is normal and pushed upon us in our lives from a very young age. Sometimes we want acceptance enough to push others down for it, by laughing at a dehumanizing joke or spreading juicy gossip. But we know deep down it’s wrong and harmful, even though it’s so common.
When I thought about my portion, holiness, and shmirat lashon–guarding or holding your tongue–which is what the rabbis say we’re supposed to do instead of leshon hara, I wanted to know how you could fix the harm your words caused, and how you could make it better, because people make mistakes and leshon hara is bound to happen. I wanted to look deeper. I learned that many people before me had asked and tried to answer this same exact question, and discussed it in terms of teshuvah, or repentance. The Ba’al Shem Tov, a rabbi who lived in the 18th century and founded Hasidic Judaism, says roughly, regret the sin, then leave it behind you, as it is a trick of evil to be constantly worried about your past sins. This really resonated with me because I know from my own personal experience how easy it can be to dwell on mistakes I’ve made.
Rabbi Art Green, an American scholar of Jewish mysticism and Neo-Hasidic theologian, who is doing well in Newton, responded to the Ba’al Shem Tov and agreed, saying, “Regret is an essential part of the process” of teshuvah. This is smart. If you want to get past your sins, to understand the past and present situation and have a different future, you have to recognize that you did something wrong and feel remorse for it. But that’s only part of the process of repenting, of teshuvah–there’s a lot more that comes after regret, as the rabbis knew. Medieval philosopher and rabbi Maimonides had a 5-step model of teshuvah, and Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg, who lives in Chicago, just wrote a book called On Repentance and Repair, which applies Maimonides’ 5-step model to modern life.
The first step is acknowledging that you couldn’t, or didn’t, guard your tongue. The next step is feeling remorse- and you should actually feel it; do not pretend. People can express remorse for leshon hara in different ways: they might be meek, regretful, or sad; but the important thing is not to get stuck there, because you need to move on to the next step, which is saying sorry to the person you’ve hurt, and meaning it. Then, you ask them what you can do to make it better, and really listen to what they say. Have them tell you about how they felt and feel, and what they need from you. Then, learn from it! If you don’t learn from the experience of repenting, then you haven’t done it right. Finally, try to do better next time. You’ll know your teshuvah is successful if your behavior changes. It’s not just about what you feel and what you say, but about what you do-your actions are important.
This links to another important idea I learned about while studying my Torah portion and thinking about holiness. Commentator Bernard J. Bamberger, an American Reform rabbi and scholar who lived in the 20th century, wrote that the “idea of holiness implies that what we do and what we make of our lives matters not only to us as individuals, not only to society, but to the entire cosmos.” (look around, do open shrug arms) I think that this is saying you have to acknowledge that you have power. You can harm, you can heal, with your words and with your actions. With great power comes great responsibility - oh. Sorry Spiderman- you have to keep striving to “do the next right thing” as Princess Anna of Arendelle says. You have to keep moving forward, and not get stuck in your past mistakes; repenting isn’t dwelling on what you did wrong, it’s thinking on it– not too long– accepting it, and moving on. Change your ways, repenting tells us. You still have to strive even though you know that you’re going to make another mistake.
In the Torah, the holiest of holy people, like Moses, make mistakes and they’re still holy. Our role models, our ancestors, made lots of mistakes, but bounced back from them, showing us what to do, which is one of the reasons why I think they’re so influential. We have to persist like they did and do teshuvah and strive for holiness. We can make ourselves, the world, and everything better. As Jews, we have to keep going, learn from our mistakes and always keep striving.
I did this when I began to prepare for my bat mitzvah. I was looking for a long time for The One, the mitzvah project that I would click with. One fateful night, this very synagogue took us to CRADLES TO CRAYONS, a marvelous organization that people can donate items to, or donate a bit of their time- volunteering! That’s what we did, and I felt like I was making a difference. By packing up shoes, I made sure that some little kid in need has sneakers to wear, and that he likes them. Everyone wants to feel good in their clothes. That’s why I’m wearing sneakers, not dress shoes! (foot poke.) Cradles to Crayons is making sure kids can feel good about all sorts of things, from clothing, to shoes, to backpacks, to pencils. I decided to make this my project and spend more time volunteering there. It truly was life-changing for me, because I was making a difference for somebody, right then. I will be continuing to volunteer this spring.
As I prepared for my bat mitzvah, studied my portion and learned how to chant from the Torah, there was a lot of learning, a lot of striving, and a lot of hard work. Many people helped me learn and strive and I want to thank them all. Thank you, Mama and Eema. You are so helpful and patient, and I love you. Literally nothing could have happened without you. Gracias, Eliza, sweet sister who shares my love of candy and mischief. Love you too. Thank you to my extended family- I’m so glad I know you. Thank you to all my friends, y’all are great. Thank you Tracy! You’re a really good teacher. Thanks, Benita, you’re always there for a hug when I need it. Thank you Jaz and every single Chaverim teacher I have had in my many many many years in Chaverim- you handled us well. Rabbi Barbara, thank you for helping me write this d’var and always being open to talk. I’ve known you for so long, and I have learned a lot from you- you are always there with an insightful comment. Finally, thank you to this community. You are the people that I have known all of my life, and you have made me better and helped me grow. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone. Shabbat shalom.