Moving Forward-Rabbi Boris' Blog

A fence for wisdom is silence.

Pirkei Avot 3:17

The Jewish people are known for being good talkers.  We argue, we ask questions, we find something in the world that need fixing and we kvetch about it and talk about it until something is done.  But our tradition also teaches us that there is an important place in the events of our daily lives and in our conversations to hold back our words and to be silent.  Amazingly, in the discussions about the ethics of speech, we are even allowed to hide the full truth from others if this means we can create a more peaceful conversation or relationship.

In this week’s parsha, Vayera, God tells Sarah that she is going to give birth to a child.  Sarah, who is quite old, thinks that the idea of an elderly woman such as herself having a baby is difficult to believe, and she laughs.  She says to God: “Now that I am old, and my husband is also old, how can I have a child?” A few moments later, God retells this conversation to Abraham, but leaves out an important detail.  God asks: “Why did Sarah laugh and say, “Can I really have a child, now that I am old?” But Sarah said that both she and Abraham were old!  Rashi tells us that God was not being forgetful, but instead was sensitive to Abraham’s feelings and changed Sarah’s words, mipnei darchei shalom, for the sake of peace.  (Abraham has good reason to be a bit sensitive about his age--remember he was nearly a hundred!)

The original source of the concept of mipnei darchei shalom is from Mishnah Gitten 5:8.  Here various laws are listed that we should follow, not necessarily because of their practical value, but instead so we do not create more problems or arguments--“for the sake of peace.”  One of the often cited cases from the Talmud that explains this idea says we should “feed the non-Jewish poor along with the Jewish poor, and visit their sick along with the Jewish sick” (Gitten 61a).  Yet what does this mean? Are we feeding the non-Jewish poor and visiting the sick simply so that people are not suspicious of our good deeds, or judge the Jewish community for only caring for their own?  Shouldn’t we be caring for all people, simply because it is the right thing to do?

In this case, the Talmud is telling us that in any given situation or encounter we have with another person, we need to move beyond our own needs and feelings and above all think about how others will react.  Sometimes we might do this because of a genuine compassion for another person, or sometimes simply because we don’t want to start a fight. Yet either way, we should never say or do something while only taking our own needs into account.

These ideas again bring up the remarkable flexibility of Jewish practice and reminds us that Jewish law and practice always must be used within the reality of life.  While Judaism stresses honesty as one of the most important character traits, and one which is necessary for maintaining strong relationships and community, sometimes the truth can actually makes things worse.  I am sure that we have all been a situation where we knew that telling someone the truth would hurt another person’s feelings or would make a situation more difficult or painful. Even answering the question “How are you?” truthfully can sometimes lead to difficult and unnecessary conversations.  Sometimes “for the sake of peace” we must hold back and not say all that we can say.  

Does our tradition tell us to lie?  Maybe not, unless it means saving a life.  But leaving out a fact or stretching the truth--there is a place for this, if it means maintaining peace between people.  

In our relationships, as in our lives, we need to know when to speak up and when to hold back our words.  Honesty is important, but so is respecting other’s feelings. When we put effort into taking this additional step, we are not only guarding our tongues, but we are also doing our part to bring peace to each other and the world.