blogs/rabbi-huberman

A few weeks ago, while walking from Penn Station to an appointment about five blocks away, I decided to perform a mental experiment.

I began counting the number of people who passed me by, and what percentage of them were looking at their phones.

I'm guessing I saw about three hundred and fifty people, of all ages and all walks of life. About sixty per cent of them were doing something with their phones.

There has been much written in recent years about the ill effects of society's addiction to smartphones and other "glass devices."

While they're connecting people in ways we never could have foreseen, they're also -- according to a lot of recent studies - making an unprecedented number of people feel alone, isolated, and depressed.

In her book IGen, released last year, author Jean Twenge reports that the generation born between 1995 and 2012, which has never known life without the internet or cell phones, suffers from higher rates of depression -- with less sleep, exercise or in-person interaction -- than previous generations.

She also concludes that IGen is one of the least prepared generations to enter adulthood.

There is so much that's positive about this new digital generation. Let us consider how quickly millions of young people and their parents mobilized in recent months to march in Washington and throughout the country for gun safety.

Let us consider how quickly information and knowledge can sizzle across wireless networks.

The question now becomes: in the sheer quantity of information being exchanged, how do we assess its quality?

This is the week in our Torah reading which inspires us to consider this question, as an important Biblical incident occurs which centers around the misuse of words.

The Torah recounts how Moses's sister and brother, Miriam and Aaron, express their upset over their young brother's choice of a new wife. The Torah implies that the marriage between Moses and his wife Tziporah has dissolved, partially due to Moses' workaholic habits.

Enter Moses's second wife, whom we are told hails from northern Africa. We can only surmise why Miriam and Aaron begin to criticize the newest member of their extended family.

She likely looks different, dresses differently, speaks differently and brings to camp different customs.

Miriam and Aaron's tongues begin to wag. Says the Torah, "Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses because of the Cushite woman he had married." (Numbers 11:34)

Moses, Miriam, and Aaron are summoned by God to the Tent of the Meeting, and when the cloud lifts, "Miriam was stricken with snow white scales." (Numbers 12:10)

In their commentaries, our Sages waste little time connecting the two events. While Aaron will face other punishments for his lack of interference, the Torah focuses on Miriam as the instigator, and so she is banished to the edge of the camp until she reconsiders her words.

After seven days, a mentally and physically healed Miriam returns.

Throughout the generations, Jewish ethicists have expounded upon this incident and form a connection between the words that we utter -- and our reasons for speaking them -- and our physical and mental health.

When we gossip, they tell us, a spiritual and physical backlash occurs. Gossip unsettles us at the core. And it deflects back to us.

The Talmud notes that when gossip is uttered, three persons are harmed: the subject, the speaker, and the one who hears it.

We live in a world where media takes great pride in mocking persons of stature. It's now apparently acceptable to post embarrassing videos of others on the YouTube or other platforms. Television programs peddling gossip and rumor come on just as we're sitting down for dinner.

But this is not the Jewish way.

We believe, in the spirit of "honor your neighbor as yourself," that we should never use words to damage another human being, especially when we know that these words would be hurtful to us.

We believe that hurting someone's feelings is tantamount to causing someone a deep internal wound, or spiritual death. According to the Talmud, words are like arrows.

This week's Torah portion inspires us to look at all forms of communication as we endeavor to use words to build rather than to destroy.

Sometimes we forget why we are placed on this earth. We are here to help God complete creation, one mitzvah, one action, one word at a time.

This is what Judaism espouses, and, indeed, we are supposed to be a light unto other nations.

This is the week in our Torah reading when we ask ourselves: Are we using words wisely?

Perhaps more importantly, are we supporting a culture in which words are used to wound rather than to heal?

Quarantined at the edge of the camp, as Miriam reconsiders her actions, Moses asks God to forgive his sister. In one of the few times that a Biblical character asks for something directly from God - Moses cries out: El Na, Refah Na La: "Oh God - pray, heal her."

It is a lesson from the Torah that even our most revered Biblical characters can sometimes sway and use loose lips to hurt another person.

Ever more the reason that we need to forgive ourselves, and those who harm us: and to remember that we are just as good as the next word that we create.

As we struggle within complex personal relationships, are we targeting others in the hope of building ourselves up?

Unlike Miriam, we may not be inflicted with a skin disease, but gossip does damage our souls. It festers there.

Isn't it time that we paid closer attention the words which surround us? And shouldn't we be monitoring our children to ensure the words they are projecting into the world are kind?

This week's Torah portion draws on events which occurred three thousand years ago, which remind us even today that words are powerful.

It remains incumbent upon us to monitor our mouths, thumbs and fingers, pushing back against a tweet world which is plagued by hurt, callousness and intolerance.

Are we part of the problem, or are we dedicated to a solution?

While the Torah spends much time this week punishing Miriam , our great sage Gersonides (1288-1344) notes that equal blame should be laid at the feet of Aaron, for he did nothing to intervene.

So: what stand are we taking within our homes?

What messages are we sending our children?

As evidenced by the current plague of bullying and teenage suicide, something needs to be done to confront, correct, and reconfigure how we interact with words.

Let us take this Shabbat to pay extra attention to the words we project. Are they hurtful, or are they kind? And what do they say about us?

Each word has power.

How are we using that power?

Are we creating light, or contributing to the darkness?

Shabbat Shalom v'kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman