Perhaps Hashem created the world with words to teach us their power – and ours.
“A man shall not torment his fellow, and you shall fear your G-d; I am Hashem, your G-d.” (Vayikra 25:17)
Rashi comments that the Torah here is proscribing speaking hurtful words to someone, and also giving improper advice, that is more to benefit the adviser than the recipient. If you will say, “Who will know?” for that I say, “you shall fear your G-d.” What is strange about this comment, though, is that giving bad advice has already be prohibited by the Torah, a few weeks ago in Parshas Kedoshim.
There it says not to place a stumbling block before a blind man, which Rashi explains to mean giving bad advice to someone who is “blind” in the matter. If you give him advice which will hurt him you are liable. And, there too, if you will say, “Who will know?” for that I say, “you shall fear your G-d.” With an almost identical explanation, why would the Torah have need for two verses to say the same thing?
R' Dovid Pardo z”l, an 18th Century rabbi and scholar from Italy, asks this same question in his work, “Maskil L’Dovid,” (Venice 1760.) He wonders why Rashi would provide the same explanation for this prohibition as the one he gave regarding the stumbling block. The Maskil L’Dovid gives an insightful answer which fits perfectly with the words of Rashi, and the different nuances in each posuk.
It is true that the posuk in Kedoshim warns us not to give bad advice to another, as Rashi says, “Do not give bad advice, don’t say, “Sell this field inexpensively,” and you will buy it from him.” That is the prohibition against outright advice, and you are warned that even if it sounds innocent, Hashem knows what is in your heart.
Here, though, the message is different; it is more subtle. This verse forbids making others feel bad with our words. Chazal give the example of reminding a Baal Teshuva of his former deeds. It is this that Rashi refers to. Here, his words flow through a new concept. “Do not hurt your fellow with words, not to belittle him, and convey poor advice, which suits the adviser.”
What he refers to, says the Maskil L’Dovid, is that when you remind someone of their flaws, they feel they will never overcome their past. They despair of being accepted, and they go back to their old ways. They wonder what the point would be of trying to improve, as it is a hopeless task. The other person might look better in comparison, but Hashem isn’t fooled. He knows what is in your heart, so don’t do this.
By putting people down, we mislead them into thinking they aren’t valuable and precious to Hashem. By dousing their spirits, we crush their dreams and erode their potential. Your words have the power to inspire and build; don’t desecrate them by using them to insult and destroy.
A young man from a religious family moved out and lived with an irreligious cousin. Eventually, he became engaged to a non-Jewish woman. He went to tell his parents, and spent Shabbos with them, mostly smoking and being on his phone. On Shabbos afternoon, his father asked if he wished to come to a shiur from R’ Ahron Leib Shteinman z”l. Surprisingly, he agreed.
After the shiur, they spoke to R’ Shteinman and related the current situation. R’ Shteinman asked the fellow whether he’d ever considered Teshuva. “A few times over the years, but it only lasted a few minutes,” came the reply. “And for those minutes,” smiled the sage, “you were in a place where even true tzaddikim can’t go. I envy you for that.”
They left, but these words haunted the boy. R’ Ahron Leib didn’t condemn him or discard him. The words he spoke conveyed love and appreciation. Soon, the boy broke his engagement and ultimately became fully Torah-observant again. All because of a few warm words.
To find out why he agreed to go to the shiur, e-mail [email protected] and ask for the rest of the story.
©2025 – J. Gewirtz
