Yom Kippur is a time machine.
You don’t believe me, probably, because Yom Kippur is not a stainless steel car with doors that open up. You don’t believe me because sometimes the day itself feels like it goes on forever. How can we be time traveling if it feels like our own watches aren’t even moving? Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe Yom Kippur isn’t a time machine for our bodies; but it is a time machine for our souls, and where we hope to go on Yom Kippur, well, to get there, we don’t need roads.
Yom Kippur allows us to look back at our past mistakes and make them right. And it allows us the opportunity to affect the future. It allows us to look at who we aim to be and work to make that happen. This day might not allow us literally to travel to that place, to make right what once went wrong, but it does allow us to change both history and the future. We change history by working to apologize, to speak our regrets, express our remorse, utter our contrition for any hurt and pain we have caused. We change the future by turning away from that part of us that caused the pain and hurt. We change the future by not letting the past dictate its outcome, by telling ourselves that we are supposed to work on this.
In the last year, perhaps in no realm has it become clear that we must send our souls through time to change the future than in the realm of our words and our speech.
Judaism understands speech as powerful. Speech creates. Speech changes. And, speech connects. Creation, change, and connection are all potent, positive, divine attributes of speech, but they are the hardest to come by. Easier, and for that reason more often utilized by our species, is the power that speech has to demolish, damage, and detach.
The world we have exists because of divine speech. “Bereishit bara’ Elohim et hashamayyim ve’et ha’aretz In the beginning of God’s creating Heaven and Earth, the earth was unformed and void.”[1] And then God spoke. God does a lot of speaking in the Torah. In the beginning, God speaks and suddenly there is order out of primordial chaos. God speaks and there is suddenly light and dark, earth and water, flora and fauna, fish and fowl, beast and human. Our tradition has always recognized the power of God’s speech.
“Baruch she’amar v’hayah ha’olam, baruch hu Blessed is the one who spoke and the world came to be, Blessed is God. Baruch oseh vereishit, baruch omer v’oseh Blessed is the one who creates everything, blessed is the one who creates by speaking.” Each morning we recite these words as the opening of psukei d’zimrah, the section of our morning service praising God for all God’s goodness, love, and gifts. And we begin by praising the creative power of divine speech.
But it is not just God’s speech which is noted as powerful. Rav Kook, the first chief Rabbi of Israel writes in an essay titled: The Power of Speech “Sometimes we can sense the connection between our speech and the universe…as our soul is elevated, we become acutely aware of the tremendous power that lies in our faculty of speech. We recognize clearly the tremendous significance of each utterance.”[2]
Yom Kippur allows us to look back at our past mistakes and make them right. And it allows us the opportunity to affect the future. It allows us to look at who we aim to be and work to make that happen. This day might not allow us literally to travel to that place, to make right what once went wrong, but it does allow us to change both history and the future. We change history by working to apologize, to speak our regrets, express our remorse, utter our contrition for any hurt and pain we have caused. We change the future by turning away from that part of us that caused the pain and hurt. We change the future by not letting the past dictate its outcome, by telling ourselves that we are supposed to work on this.
In the last year, perhaps in no realm has it become clear that we must send our souls through time to change the future than in the realm of our words and our speech.
Judaism understands speech as powerful. Speech creates. Speech changes. And, speech connects. Creation, change, and connection are all potent, positive, divine attributes of speech, but they are the hardest to come by. Easier, and for that reason more often utilized by our species, is the power that speech has to demolish, damage, and detach.
The world we have exists because of divine speech. “Bereishit bara’ Elohim et hashamayyim ve’et ha’aretz In the beginning of God’s creating Heaven and Earth, the earth was unformed and void.”[1] And then God spoke. God does a lot of speaking in the Torah. In the beginning, God speaks and suddenly there is order out of primordial chaos. God speaks and there is suddenly light and dark, earth and water, flora and fauna, fish and fowl, beast and human. Our tradition has always recognized the power of God’s speech.
“Baruch she’amar v’hayah ha’olam, baruch hu Blessed is the one who spoke and the world came to be, Blessed is God. Baruch oseh vereishit, baruch omer v’oseh Blessed is the one who creates everything, blessed is the one who creates by speaking.” Each morning we recite these words as the opening of psukei d’zimrah, the section of our morning service praising God for all God’s goodness, love, and gifts. And we begin by praising the creative power of divine speech.
But it is not just God’s speech which is noted as powerful. Rav Kook, the first chief Rabbi of Israel writes in an essay titled: The Power of Speech “Sometimes we can sense the connection between our speech and the universe…as our soul is elevated, we become acutely aware of the tremendous power that lies in our faculty of speech. We recognize clearly the tremendous significance of each utterance.”[2]
Are we, with every word, recognizing the potential power of our words? Are we, with every utterance mimicking the divine, creative speech filled with blessing? Are we, with every simple expression, sensing the connection between our speech and the universe?
Or, are we just destroying?
There has been a lot of destructive speech this past year. Speech is amplified more than ever before, thanks to social media. And not just is it amplified, but the number of people whose speech we are exposed to have multiplied exponentially. This summer, the Jewish community in particular, witnessed the destructive power of speech, as related to the Nuclear Deal with Iran. The American Jewish community fractured between those who felt it was a good deal, and those who felt it was bad. Some felt one way for the United States and a different way for Israel.
The Jewish community of the past has had disagreements; the Talmud is based on disagreements, and this disagreement certainly won’t be our last. Disagreement is not the issue.
The many opinions over the imperfect deal have merit and deserve to be discussed constructively and with creative force. Instead, we resorted to name-calling, accusations and attacks. If you were for the deal, even reservedly, you were sentencing Israel to death and annihilation and capitulating to the Ayatollah. If you were against the deal, you showed dual-loyalty and were accused of being a war-monger. None of this speech is true because none of these words have nuance. Nuance is hard when emotions are high. Nuance is especially hard in 140 characters. And nuance is even harder to make into a soundbite.
Un-nuanced speech destroys. It destroys relationships and individuals. It destroys communities and it destroys years of hard work building alliances and friendship. Our community’s destructive speech altered the timeline, and the Jewish community in America will now have to work hard to reconcile after the difficult summer. It will not be possible if we do not go back to the past, and work to make what we said right. There can be no future if we do not commit to this today.
What the future requires is creative speech, speech that builds up. Speech that recognizes difference, yet maintains a level of respect, decorum, and a recognition that the other is indeed imbued with the same divine spark as we are. Let us strive to divine, creative speech in the new year.
According to Jewish Law, speech also has the power to change, to transform, matter and being, spiritually speaking. Some of you may search for chametz in the days before Passover. As we go around our houses’ corners with a feather and candle, looking for crumbs, we know that we can’t conceivably find each and every crumb from each piece of bread or every pretzel. So, the rabbis instituted a blessing which declares that any chametz, any leavened product, which we didn’t find is as the dust of the earth. With our words, we change the state of the crumbs from bread to dust.
Many of us have also, with our words, changed the status of our beloved. “Be consecrated to me, with this ring, as my spouse, according to the laws of Moses and Israel.” It is this familiar formula of the wedding vow coupled with the exchange of the rings that for Judaism renders a couple married. Without the words, the ceremony is incomplete. Speech in the form of a marriage vow changes two people into spouses.
When we speak, do we recognize the power our words have to transform? When we utter our words, do we recognize the power that they have to render us obligated, and do we take that seriously? When we talk, do we consider every word a promise or an oath, tied to our character and our trustworthiness?
Or, are we just destroying?
There has been a lot of destructive speech this past year. Speech is amplified more than ever before, thanks to social media. And not just is it amplified, but the number of people whose speech we are exposed to have multiplied exponentially. This summer, the Jewish community in particular, witnessed the destructive power of speech, as related to the Nuclear Deal with Iran. The American Jewish community fractured between those who felt it was a good deal, and those who felt it was bad. Some felt one way for the United States and a different way for Israel.
The Jewish community of the past has had disagreements; the Talmud is based on disagreements, and this disagreement certainly won’t be our last. Disagreement is not the issue.
The many opinions over the imperfect deal have merit and deserve to be discussed constructively and with creative force. Instead, we resorted to name-calling, accusations and attacks. If you were for the deal, even reservedly, you were sentencing Israel to death and annihilation and capitulating to the Ayatollah. If you were against the deal, you showed dual-loyalty and were accused of being a war-monger. None of this speech is true because none of these words have nuance. Nuance is hard when emotions are high. Nuance is especially hard in 140 characters. And nuance is even harder to make into a soundbite.
Un-nuanced speech destroys. It destroys relationships and individuals. It destroys communities and it destroys years of hard work building alliances and friendship. Our community’s destructive speech altered the timeline, and the Jewish community in America will now have to work hard to reconcile after the difficult summer. It will not be possible if we do not go back to the past, and work to make what we said right. There can be no future if we do not commit to this today.
What the future requires is creative speech, speech that builds up. Speech that recognizes difference, yet maintains a level of respect, decorum, and a recognition that the other is indeed imbued with the same divine spark as we are. Let us strive to divine, creative speech in the new year.
According to Jewish Law, speech also has the power to change, to transform, matter and being, spiritually speaking. Some of you may search for chametz in the days before Passover. As we go around our houses’ corners with a feather and candle, looking for crumbs, we know that we can’t conceivably find each and every crumb from each piece of bread or every pretzel. So, the rabbis instituted a blessing which declares that any chametz, any leavened product, which we didn’t find is as the dust of the earth. With our words, we change the state of the crumbs from bread to dust.
Many of us have also, with our words, changed the status of our beloved. “Be consecrated to me, with this ring, as my spouse, according to the laws of Moses and Israel.” It is this familiar formula of the wedding vow coupled with the exchange of the rings that for Judaism renders a couple married. Without the words, the ceremony is incomplete. Speech in the form of a marriage vow changes two people into spouses.
When we speak, do we recognize the power our words have to transform? When we utter our words, do we recognize the power that they have to render us obligated, and do we take that seriously? When we talk, do we consider every word a promise or an oath, tied to our character and our trustworthiness?
Or, do we only use our words to cause damage?
Words can damage, changing someone not for the better, not in a divine or sacred way, but rather in a hurtful way. All the more so these days because of the anonymity associated with speech on the internet. According to psychologists and neuroscientists,[3] speech damages not just in the present but in the future. Adults who report verbal abuse, particularly those who experienced that in adolescence show underdeveloped connections between the brain’s two sides and higher incidences of anxiety and depression. A fleeting word to one person lasts a lifetime for another. The damage that words cause in the present can be permanent and affect the future.
Words can also damage a reputation. Earlier this year, Brian Williams was suspended from his role as the anchor of the NBC Nightly News. Later, he was permanently replaced, and all because of words. His words recounting his experiences embedded with soldiers in Iraq were exaggerations. He made his story more exciting and harrowing than it actually was. This is no great sin, except that we have trusted our news anchors to deliver facts about the goings on in the world, and if one part of a story is made up, what else might be? It may not be fair, but it is the truth of the function of the press. Whether pride, misjudgment, or a bad memory were the culprit doesn’t matter much, not to his reputation and his future as a broadcast anchor. It is Yom Kippur, so it is important to recognize that Brian Williams has apologized, served out his suspension, and appears ready to do whatever it takes to earn back his reputation. In the new year, let us commit to speech that elicits changes for the good and commit to measuring each of our words as if they were a vow.
Speech has the power to connect. Robert Alter points out that it is only after woman is created from man’s rib that man speaks.[4] God commands the man about which trees he can and cannot eat. It is only after the man does not respond to God that God recognizes that “It is not good for man to be alone, I will make him a helping counterpart.” After woman is created, Adam finally speaks: “this is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.” The first words that Adam speaks are words recognizing that the two of them, the origins of all humanity on earth, are made of the same substance. Adam sees the connection between him and his helping counterpart and declares first what they share.
We also strive for that connection, when we speak the words of prayer. While meditation and silent contemplation are worthwhile and important ways to reach the Divine, as Jews we speak many of our prayers out loud and as a community. There is a power in a large group of people all saying the same words together. It connects us. It gives us a shared experience and a shared vocabulary. It tells us that our words are not for us alone and that our neighbor’s words are for us, too. We all work together in calling out to God, in praising God’s name, in praising God’s creative power.
We pray the vidui, the confessional, in the plural and out loud, because we are all in this together. We take responsibility for our actions as well as our neighbors’. If one of us sinned, then all of us are guilty. That connection to another, that feeling of, “I’m here for you because I know you are here for me,” that can come through prayer, if we recognize the power of connection through shared speech. We even ask God for that ability, Adonai sefatai tiftach u’fi yagid tehilatecha, Eternal God, open my lips that my mouth may declare your glory!” God is found in the space of the shared speech.
Words can damage, changing someone not for the better, not in a divine or sacred way, but rather in a hurtful way. All the more so these days because of the anonymity associated with speech on the internet. According to psychologists and neuroscientists,[3] speech damages not just in the present but in the future. Adults who report verbal abuse, particularly those who experienced that in adolescence show underdeveloped connections between the brain’s two sides and higher incidences of anxiety and depression. A fleeting word to one person lasts a lifetime for another. The damage that words cause in the present can be permanent and affect the future.
Words can also damage a reputation. Earlier this year, Brian Williams was suspended from his role as the anchor of the NBC Nightly News. Later, he was permanently replaced, and all because of words. His words recounting his experiences embedded with soldiers in Iraq were exaggerations. He made his story more exciting and harrowing than it actually was. This is no great sin, except that we have trusted our news anchors to deliver facts about the goings on in the world, and if one part of a story is made up, what else might be? It may not be fair, but it is the truth of the function of the press. Whether pride, misjudgment, or a bad memory were the culprit doesn’t matter much, not to his reputation and his future as a broadcast anchor. It is Yom Kippur, so it is important to recognize that Brian Williams has apologized, served out his suspension, and appears ready to do whatever it takes to earn back his reputation. In the new year, let us commit to speech that elicits changes for the good and commit to measuring each of our words as if they were a vow.
Speech has the power to connect. Robert Alter points out that it is only after woman is created from man’s rib that man speaks.[4] God commands the man about which trees he can and cannot eat. It is only after the man does not respond to God that God recognizes that “It is not good for man to be alone, I will make him a helping counterpart.” After woman is created, Adam finally speaks: “this is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.” The first words that Adam speaks are words recognizing that the two of them, the origins of all humanity on earth, are made of the same substance. Adam sees the connection between him and his helping counterpart and declares first what they share.
We also strive for that connection, when we speak the words of prayer. While meditation and silent contemplation are worthwhile and important ways to reach the Divine, as Jews we speak many of our prayers out loud and as a community. There is a power in a large group of people all saying the same words together. It connects us. It gives us a shared experience and a shared vocabulary. It tells us that our words are not for us alone and that our neighbor’s words are for us, too. We all work together in calling out to God, in praising God’s name, in praising God’s creative power.
We pray the vidui, the confessional, in the plural and out loud, because we are all in this together. We take responsibility for our actions as well as our neighbors’. If one of us sinned, then all of us are guilty. That connection to another, that feeling of, “I’m here for you because I know you are here for me,” that can come through prayer, if we recognize the power of connection through shared speech. We even ask God for that ability, Adonai sefatai tiftach u’fi yagid tehilatecha, Eternal God, open my lips that my mouth may declare your glory!” God is found in the space of the shared speech.
And in our confessionals today there are many references to our sins of speech. Al chet shechatanu, for the sin we have committed with our words. For the sin we have committed by malicious gossip, for the sin we have committed by speaking slander. Judaism, and Yom Kippur especially, ask us to take stock of the words we’ve used in the past and work to prevent that harmful speech in the future.
When we speak, are we striving for connections to God, declaring God’s glory? When we talk are we endeavoring for relationship? Are our mouths uttering words of commonality and similarity?
When we speak, are we striving for connections to God, declaring God’s glory? When we talk are we endeavoring for relationship? Are our mouths uttering words of commonality and similarity?
Or, are we only focusing on that which separates us?
For speech also has the power to detach, to disconnect us from our neighbors, those with whom we share so much. We use our speech to put people in boxes and categorize them, based on the color of their skin, their national origin, their sexual orientation, their size, only ever focusing on those parts that are different. We see in those differences only what separates, not that those elements make up the mosaic of humanity. Our political system is replete with speech that disconnects, and it comes at us from all sides. The speech of detachment gains quick points, because it draws us to our own corners, apart from each other, and it plays on our fears.
Hasty speech, speech that assumes, also disconnects because it disregards context and foregoes thought and reflection. Nowhere is this more true than in a comments section on any website. A single article or a single quote tells all that is needed to know to size up a person and welcome an onslaught of vitriol. One inappropriate comment renders a person a racist forever. One offensive joke, potentially made years ago, and we know right away and with great certainty that he’s an anti-Semite to his core. Their life, their history, their struggles don’t matter. All that matters is the opportunity to tell someone off, to shame them, to ensure that the right opinion is heard, often accompanied by hateful speech from so many anonymous arbiters, derogatory comments, and occasionally threats of violence. Our modern lives make it easy to communicate with one another from anywhere and everywhere, and yet we seem more detached than ever.
In the new year, let us commit to speaking with the purpose of connecting with our families, our neighbors, our communities, and even strangers.
The rabbis of old understood this struggle between creation and destruction, between change for good and change for bad, between connection and detachment. They recognized how difficult it was to err on the side of positive speech. Because of this, they added a prayer to the end of the Amidah, which we don’t recite out loud, because it is about the rest of our speech. It begins with the following words: Elohai netzor leshoni mi-ra…Oh Eternal, guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking deceit.” The rabbis put this prayer in to remind us of the purpose of our words of prayer, that they should be for good and truth, and we are to take the message with us after we pray, as well. These words, imploring God to help us choose our words correctly, end The Prayer, Hatefilah, and we say them to ourselves. Maybe we ought to begin saying it out loud, together.
Let us take their message from the past with us into the future. Yom Kippur is a time machine. Let us use our speech to remedy the wrongs of the past and create a better future built on creation, positive change, and connection.
Shanah Tovah.
[1] Genesis 1:1
[2] Orot HaKodesh Vol III p 285 (emphases mine)
[3] https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-new-brain/201010/sticks-and-stones-hurtful-words-damage-the-brain
[4] Robert Alter to Gen 2:23 (thanks, Rabbi Elisa Koppel)
For speech also has the power to detach, to disconnect us from our neighbors, those with whom we share so much. We use our speech to put people in boxes and categorize them, based on the color of their skin, their national origin, their sexual orientation, their size, only ever focusing on those parts that are different. We see in those differences only what separates, not that those elements make up the mosaic of humanity. Our political system is replete with speech that disconnects, and it comes at us from all sides. The speech of detachment gains quick points, because it draws us to our own corners, apart from each other, and it plays on our fears.
Hasty speech, speech that assumes, also disconnects because it disregards context and foregoes thought and reflection. Nowhere is this more true than in a comments section on any website. A single article or a single quote tells all that is needed to know to size up a person and welcome an onslaught of vitriol. One inappropriate comment renders a person a racist forever. One offensive joke, potentially made years ago, and we know right away and with great certainty that he’s an anti-Semite to his core. Their life, their history, their struggles don’t matter. All that matters is the opportunity to tell someone off, to shame them, to ensure that the right opinion is heard, often accompanied by hateful speech from so many anonymous arbiters, derogatory comments, and occasionally threats of violence. Our modern lives make it easy to communicate with one another from anywhere and everywhere, and yet we seem more detached than ever.
In the new year, let us commit to speaking with the purpose of connecting with our families, our neighbors, our communities, and even strangers.
The rabbis of old understood this struggle between creation and destruction, between change for good and change for bad, between connection and detachment. They recognized how difficult it was to err on the side of positive speech. Because of this, they added a prayer to the end of the Amidah, which we don’t recite out loud, because it is about the rest of our speech. It begins with the following words: Elohai netzor leshoni mi-ra…Oh Eternal, guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking deceit.” The rabbis put this prayer in to remind us of the purpose of our words of prayer, that they should be for good and truth, and we are to take the message with us after we pray, as well. These words, imploring God to help us choose our words correctly, end The Prayer, Hatefilah, and we say them to ourselves. Maybe we ought to begin saying it out loud, together.
Let us take their message from the past with us into the future. Yom Kippur is a time machine. Let us use our speech to remedy the wrongs of the past and create a better future built on creation, positive change, and connection.
Shanah Tovah.
[1] Genesis 1:1
[2] Orot HaKodesh Vol III p 285 (emphases mine)
[3] https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-new-brain/201010/sticks-and-stones-hurtful-words-damage-the-brain
[4] Robert Alter to Gen 2:23 (thanks, Rabbi Elisa Koppel)
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