Even ‘good’ gossip can do nothing but drag us down
by Gary Rosenblatt
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It's no surprise that Liz Smith believes gossip is good for us.
The syndicated columnist recently wrote that gossip is cathartic, empowering and comforting -- proof that celebrities have the same kinds of problems we do. She also suggests that gossip is "one of the great luxuries of a democracy. It is the tawdry jewel in the crown of free speech and free expression."
More than harmless fun, Smith adds, gossip "makes you interesting and boosts your self-esteem" when you have it to tell.
Perhaps even the Chafetz Chaim would agree with Smith's last point. The revered rabbi, who wrote a classic text on the prohibitions against gossip, said that we spread damaging words about others as a means of elevating ourselves.
He suggested that we choose our words in speaking as carefully as we do when composing a telegram.
Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, author of an insightful modern-day book on the positive and negative power of speech, wrote a book called "Words That Hurt, Words That Heal." He asserts that the least observed of the 613 commandments in the Torah may well be: "Do not go about as a talebearer among your people" (Leviticus 19:16).
The prohibition is not only against spreading false information, but the truth, too, though there are cases when it is permissible to offer an accurate report, such as a character reference and newspaper articles.
The Talmud, understanding human nature, goes a step further. "Do not speak well of your friend, for although you will start with good traits, the discussion might turn to his bad traits" (Bava Batra, 164b).
So much for newspapers, magazines and television talk shows, where gossip has been elevated to the status of legitimate news. What are we to make, then, of this culture clash between Judaism's admonition against discussing others and our society's glorifying of it?
It comes down to a very real difference between the traditional Jewish and modern American views of how we see our roles as individuals, and whether anything more than self-gratification is required of us. The clash of values could not be more stark.
In America today, the Me Generation continues to rule. We are taught to look out for No. 1 -- ourselves -- and place great emphasis on a person's wealth, social status and celebrity. We raise our children to feel entitled and to believe that they are the center of the universe. Indeed, more and more of us have our own personal Web sites, a technological statement that we believe our lives to be of enormous interest to others.
Contrast that with Judaism, a religion of mitzvot, or commandments. Jewish teaching serves as a constant reminder of one overall truth: God is the source of all, and we are forever in God's debt. The purpose of this world, we are taught, is not personal pleasure, but doing what is required of us, performing acts of kindness for others, and in so doing, bringing glory to our Creator.
In the Torah portion Kedoshim, God offers a curt but powerful challenge and command: "You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy."
What exactly is required of us? Our rabbis suggest that holiness is about separation. We must not only separate ourselves from the other nations of the world, but also, in a sense, from ourselves. That is to say, we are reminded that we are not the center of the universe. God is. And the more we remember that there is a world beyond our own needs and desires, the more capable we will be of doing kindness to others.
American Jews are uncomfortable with having to choose between values of Judaism and modernity. We would prefer to think that they are not in conflict; but at times, they are.
Do we simply dismiss the Jewish concept as old-fashioned and narrow-minded, or do we seek to understand the roots and motives of the traditional viewpoint? Whichever way we choose to act, we should at least be knowledgeable of what our Jewish heritage has to say, and why.
Gossip is a case in point. For while Liz Smith claims it's harmless, the rabbis of old reflected a greater wisdom, recognizing that once words of lashon hara -- literally, evil tongue -- are spoken, they can never be retrieved.
It is the Jewish tradition -- not our modern society -- that places the utmost respect on each individual as created in the image of God. It is incumbent on us to take those time-honored teachings to heart.
The writer is editor and publisher of the New York Jewish Week.
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