Words Fail Me
Words fail me.
This common idiom鈥攕o casually tossed off in a moment of surprise鈥攅xpresses a deep truth. Words do indeed fail us, sometimes to tragic effect.
That is the way the Zohar (the foundational text of Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism) understands our exile in Egypt: as the exile of speech, a failure of words. In this reading, the breakdown of speech is both cause and effect of our enslavement, while healing and redeeming speech鈥攆inding our voice鈥攊s both the process and hallmark of redemption.
How does the exile of speech鈥攆ailed, unredeemed language鈥攎anifest itself? Most commonly, it is what we call leshon hara (literally, negative or evil speech), typified by Pharaoh:
- false language, from outright lies to more nuanced falsehoods like partial truths and oversimplifications; (e.g. Exod. 5:8)
- language used to advance evil ends, such as words that are hurtful and destructive, or that incite fear, hatred or violence; (e.g. Exod. 1:9-10, 16, 22)
- words that limit possibility and prevent growth, or demoralize rather than inspire; (e.g. Exod 5:2, 4-5) or
- unreliable language, such as empty speech and unfulfilled promises. (e.g. Exod. 8:4)
But the Zohar鈥檚 notion of the exile of speech points also to a deeper failure of language鈥攏ot only the presence of leshon hara, but the impossibility of positive speech, what we might call leshon hakodesh (holy language, words of hope, healing and redemption). This failure manifests as a kind of muteness, as language that will not or cannot be spoken鈥攅xemplified by Moses鈥檚 famous reluctance or inability to speak in God鈥檚 name (see Exod. 4:1, 4:10, 5:22鈥�23, 6:12, 6:30). And it may also manifest as a kind of deafness: redemptive language going unheard or unheeded. In other words, failing.
It is this failure that opens our reading this week. God appears with a sweeping promise of redemption, to be communicated to the people by Moses:
I have now heard (shamati) the moaning of the Israelites because the Egyptians are holding them in bondage, and I have remembered My covenant. Say, therefore, to the Israelites: I am YHVH. I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you . . . And I will take you to be My people and I will be Your God . . . I will bring you into the land . . . and I shall give it to you for a possession, I YHVH.鈥� (Exod. 6:5鈥�8)
But where God has heard the cry of the Israelites, the Israelites are unable or unwilling to hear the word of God:
So Moses spoke accordingly to the Israelites, but they did not listen (velo shame-u) to Moses, because of crushed spirits (mikotzer 谤耻补岣�) and oppressive labor (ume-avodah kashah). (Exod. 6:9)
On the surface, we might empathize with a people so beaten down and demoralized by oppression and fear that they are unwilling to take seriously a message of hope. After all, they have listened and trusted Moses once and the result was a worsening of their condition. Their refusal to listen further might be understandable.
But the Zohar鈥檚 notion of the exile of speech pushes us to a deeper, more timely meaning. The Exodus narrative is not merely historic but paradigmatic, representative of an ongoing search for lashon hakodesh, Godly language with the potential to free and to heal. Notably, the Hebrew word for 鈥減haraoh鈥� is comprised of the letter peh (mouth) followed by the word 谤补鈥檃丑 (evil). Thus, we can read Pharaoh as a symbol of leshon hara itself. And our exile is thus emblematic of the danger of physical and metaphorical enslavement and exile whenever a society becomes dominated by such negative, evil speech, and redemptive speech is silenced, drowned out, or dismissed.
On this level, the people鈥檚 failure to hear is shockingly tragic, and understanding that failure is essential to our own liberation. So how and why did Moses鈥檚 message fail?
The verse itself is susceptible of multiple meanings. Velo could mean 鈥渄id not鈥� (a simple failure) or 鈥渨ould not鈥� (a willful failure). And velo shame-u might mean that they actually did not hear Moses speaking, that they heard him speaking but did not listen to what he had to say, that they heard Moses鈥� words but did not understand or take in their meaning, or that they understood but did not heed.
The cause of the failure is similarly open to interpretation. The Torah gives us two reasons. The latter, avodah kashah, refers to the hard and oppressive labor imposed upon the people. The former, kotzer 谤耻补岣�, is less transparent.
Some commentators translate 谤耻补岣� as 鈥渂reath,鈥� and the failure to hear as a physiological response. Rashi (11th century, France), for example, comments that 鈥渙ne who is under stress is short of wind and breath, and is unable to breathe deeply.鈥� In a remarkably contemporary reading, the Netziv (19th century, Volozhin in present-day Belarus) notes that the physical impact of stress (shallow breathing) limits our attention span: 鈥渋t becomes difficult to tolerate longer speech, which demands both explanation and an extended period of focus and concentration.鈥�
Alternatively, 谤耻补岣� might refer not to a physical but to an emotional, intellectual or spiritual limitation. Ramban (13th century, Spain) translates kotzer 谤耻补岣� as 鈥渋mpatience of spirit鈥� resulting from fear, and avodah kashah as lack of time to hear and consider resulting from the pressure of Pharaoh鈥檚 demands.
Especially rich is the commentary of the Or Ha岣yyim (18th century, Morocco), who writes:
Perhaps because they had not yet been given the Torah they were unable to hear, and this is called kotzer 谤耻补岣�, because the Torah expands a person鈥檚 consciousness.
Here, the study of Torah鈥攂oth in its content and in its methodology, its use of words鈥攊s seen as offering training in how to hear and understand more deeply, more expansively, more generously, more hopefully.
Taken together, we see some striking and disturbing parallels to our own culture. Stress, overwork, impatience, narrow self-concern, and lack of intellectual and emotional discipline often prevent us from listening deeply, from taking the time to hear and attend to the voices that elevate, and offer genuinely constructive paths forward.
And perhaps it is our growing inability to listen that is silencing the very voices our world most needs to hear. The Torah text suggests that the people鈥檚 failure to hear, Moses鈥� difficulty speaking, and the empowerment of Pharaoh/笔别丑-搁补鈥檃丑 are all interconnected and mutually causative (See, for example, Exodus 6:12 and 6:30). Speech enables hearing, but the reverse is also true: it is deep listening that makes healthy and meaningful speech possible. And the absence of either amplifies the voice of Pharaoh.
Leshon hakodesh (holy, healing language) is a demanding and courageous act. Words do indeed fail, and speech is always in danger of going into exile. But as the Torah teaches (Exod. 2:24), redemption begins with listening: 鈥淕od heard.鈥�
This commentary was originally published in 2016.
The publication and distribution of the 91快播 Parashah Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (z鈥漧) and Harold Hassenfeld (z鈥漧).
