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Freedom of speech is part of what makes America great, but it is also an enormous responsibility, a responsibility that we sometimes fail. Understanding Lashon Hara—truthful but hurtful thought and speech—helps us understand how much we fail this great freedom.

This past week, a federal judge in Detroit was asked by the American Civil Liberties Union to strike a program of the National Security Agency that, in its search for terrorists, monitors the telephone calling patterns of many Americans. NSA does not listen to calls, but it does monitor calling patterns: who calls whom and when.

The ACLU says the program violates the First Amendment and intimidates free speech. The NSA says the program is vital for national security.

I don’t know which side is correct. But imagine for a moment that HaShem rather than the government were monitoring your every conversation—your every thought, your every calling pattern. We might be intimidated—for the better.

Even though we know HaShem is listening, we still engage in lashon hara.

This week’s parasha, Behaalotecha, shows that words can do a great deal of harm. In Numbers chapter 12, we learn that Miriam was complaining to Aharon about Moshe’s wife, and was jealous that her brother received most of the prophecies. HaShem heard and punished her with leprosy. One’s initial reaction may be that leprosy is a harsh punishment for complaining about her brother.

However, there are a total of 31 mitzvot—14 positive and 17 negative—in the Torah that relate directly or indirectly to forbidden speech. Forbidden or improper speech includes lashon hara—a derogatory but TRUE statement and motzi shem ra—a derogatory and false statement. Motzi shem ra is a lot easier to deal with—it’s lying. The Torah very clearly says, “Lo taaneh v’reiacha ed shaker.”—“You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.”

Lashon hara isn’t about lying. It’s about pointed comments, reminders of things we’d rather forget, and the raising of hopes only to be dashed. One can be hurt very deeply by words, especially if what’s being said is true.

Among the very first words spoken by man to Hashem involve Lashon hara. When asked by Hashem if he had eaten from the forbidden tree, Adam did not say: “Yes, I have done what you told me not to do. I am in the wrong and very sorry.” Instead, he said: “The woman whom You gave to be with me – she gave me of the tree, and I ate.”

What Adam says is true, but it is hurtful for Eve, and even hurtful for HaShem whom Adam implicitly blames for his own mistake. And when Hashem asks Eve what she has done, she too is neither remorseful nor repentant but instead blames the serpent. A truthful statement, but perhaps Lashon Hara again.

The Talmud says that “just as one can be cheated with money, so one can be cheated with words.” The harm done by words is much worse than the harm done by stealing or cheating because that can be compensated. A famous Hassidic tale illustrates the extent of damage done by words.

A man went around his community telling lies about the rabbi. After a while, he realized the wrong that he’d done and began to feel remorse. He went to the rabbi and begged his forgiveness. He said he’d do anything to make amends. The rabbi told him to take a feather pillow, cut it open and throw the feathers to the wind. The man thought that this was a strange request, but complied and came back. The rabbi then told him to go and gather up all the feathers. Upon hearing that this couldn’t be done, the rabbi replied that just as it was impossible to gather up the feathers, it was impossible to take back the words spoken and make amends.

The Talmud teaches that the tongue is so dangerous that it is hidden behind two protective walls: the lips and the teeth. There are three things that we should die rather than doing and that cut us off from olam habah: murder, sexual immorality and idolatry-- but lashon hara is equal to all three.

Some scholars say that embarrassing someone in public is like murder, like shedding blood. Murder is likened to the way someone’s face changes color—to red or to white—when embarrassed. We can never tell who will hear what we say, therefore we cannot say anything that would embarrass someone should they hear it.

If lashon hara is as bad or worse than murder, than why do people speak it so much more than they murder?

A possible answer is that we aren’t aware of the laws concerning lashon hara. Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan, a 19^th century scholar, wrote a book primarily about lashon hara based on the mitzvot concerning improper speech. This work was so widely-read and influential that the rabbi is now known by the title of the book—Chofetz Chaim.

The story goes that a businessman handed the Chofetz Chaim a list of his books that he wished to buy. After looking at the list, the Chofetz Chaim said, “I notice that you want to buy all of my books except the one on the laws of lashon hara.” The businessman sighed and replied, “I’d really like to get that one too but I meet a lot of people each day and it’s impossible for me not to hear or speak lashon hara.” The Chofetz Chaim answered, “I’m fully aware of the problem. I’ve even spoken to Rav Israel Salanter about it. He told me that it is worth reading my book even if the only result will be a sigh upon completion.”

Thus the first step is to be aware of the laws. If we know how bad lashon hara is then we will think more carefully before we speak.

Another reason that we speak lashon hara is that it has fewer difficult consequences attached to it. If one commits a murder, one has to deal with all sorts of things : disposing of the body, hiding the evidence, possibly escaping the police and the media. When speaking lashon hara, one has only to deal with one’s conscience. There generally won’t be any policemen involved.

Not only is our society not geared to look down on lashon hara but it’s a multi-billion dollar industry of gossip magazines, TV shows and websites. We’re very disapproving of smoking, of excessive drinking and the like but lashon hara, with its few legal and physical consequences, isn’t considered an evil. For most people, littering is worse than lashon hara. This seeming lack of consequences means that lashon hara is omnipresent.

How can we as a community change the culture of lashon hara? When Rabbi Joseph Telushkin speaks on lashon hara, he challenges his audiences to go 24 hours without violating the laws of forbidden speech. After all, he reasons, if one can’t go 24 hours without drinking alcohol, one is considered an alcoholic. If one can’t go 24 hours without smoking, one is considered addicted to nicotine. Perhaps if one can’t go 24 hours without making a derogatory comment, one has lost control over one’s tongue.

This is a very short-term attempt designed to make us aware of what we say. Let me draw your attention to the words of the Amidah. At its conclusion, we say, “Elohai n’tzor l’shonee mayrah oosfatai meedaber meermah, vleemkal-lai nafshee teedom vnafshee ke-afar lakohl teeyeh.” “My G-d, guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking deceitfully. To those who curse me, let my soul be silent; and let my soul be like dust to everyone.” In our liturgy, we ask Hashem to guard us from lashon hara. And in the next thought, we even ask Hashem for help to keep us silent even to those who curse us.

Curiously, for over one thousand years, Jews living under the most tyrannical forms of rule and with basic human activities including speech circumscribed, have not prayed to Hashem for freedom of speech. We have no prayers asking Hashem: “Please, for one day, let me say whatever my heart yearns to say.” Just the opposite. We have prayed to Hashem for help in keeping silent rather than saying exactly what we might be tempted to say even when others curse us.

Moreover, we don’t have prayers that say “Let my lips speak all the truth.” Our rabbis were much wiser than that. We pray not to speak deceitfully and for silence. An individual spouting unending truths as an Oracle of Delphi would be an unbearable fate, both for the person and all those within hearing distance.

Ironically, our prayers written during periods of great oppression may well be the best guide to life in a land of practically unbounded freedoms.

Consider again the case in federal court this week. Suppose America were filled with profoundly humble people who never said, much less thought, anything remotely wrong or harmful. The National Security Agency could monitor the patterns of all telephone calls, and no one would be worse off. No one would have any conversation to hide—from our neighbors, from perfect strangers, from our government, from HaShem.

The paradox of free speech is that we sometimes use it to protect what we want to hide, and we all have things to hide. Of course terrorists and criminals have their secret plots and crimes to hide from a curious government. But ordinary and primarily good people have things to hide from the government as well: personal weaknesses, idle gossip, and lashon hara. Who among us has not said things, even truthful things, that we would rather not have others know, much less repeat? A truly humble person mindful of lashon hara would not have these problems. But few of us attain that humility.

We should avoid hurtful speech such as lashon hara not because law enforcement officers will strike us down, but precisely because they will not. We should avoid lashon hara not because others will condemn us for it, but precisely because they likely will not. External forces preclude us from engaging in lashon hara. In a land renowned for freedom of thought and speech, only we, with Hashem’s help in the Amidah, can choose to avoid lashon hara.

In two weeks, we celebrate the Fourth of July. We are profoundly fortunate to live in the United States with all of its freedoms, including freedom of speech. Perhaps the greatest joy of freedom is to use it wisely and responsibly rather than recklessly.