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Copyright © Louis Schmier and Atwood Publishing.
Date: Sat 2/15/2003 6:11 AM
Random Thought: Guard My Tongue From Evil
I didn't go walking this morning. Haven't been on the pre-dawn
streets for a few days. Grounded. Just because of some silly sniffles.
And, though my angelic boss is away in Charlotte because of a family
emergency, she left strict orders that I dare not disobey. She has hers
spies. With all the viral crud that is ravaging the University like the
Black Plague, I'm indoors when I'm not on campus. When I tried to protest
that the sniffles were nothing, I got a glass of orange juice loaded with
echinecea and a silent laser stare. And, I responded with a submissive
and meek and obedient, "Yes, ma'am.".
So, here I am. Alone, confined to the house, with a less than
consoling cup of freshly brewed coffee as company. I have to admit that
in itself wasn't enough to ground my spirit. I have been soaring high for
over a week. About ten days ago, during what we call the "Picasso
Project"--a new one I am experimenting with--there occurred in class what
I would describe as one of those mysteriously miraculous "What was that?"
"Wow, "I want more of that!" "Let's celebrate!!" moments.
The spirit was about to grab me and I was feeling that dance step
in my fingers when I made the mistake of opening my mail box and I began
to read what seemed to be the opening chapters of a long lost Dickens
novel, "A Valentine's Carol." This "bah, humbug" mesage that hit me the
wrong way. On this morning after Valentine's day, I opened my mailbox to
receive a very "unvalentine card" addressed to me. As I read it, I
thought maybe Cupid had put the wrong stuff on the tip of his arrow. The
message was from a professor who started her message with an abrupt "You
always think the best of students and that they each have such potential.
Well, let me show you...." She went on with a list of "they can't write"
student mistakes on an essay test she had just graded. You know, it was
one after another of those "....according to students" bloopers that we
all love to find in student's words or actions and can't wait to share.
Maybe it was the juxaposition between what had happened to a
self-described "nothing little girl" who started growing into an
"important tall woman" in class and the not so subtle ridiculing,
sarcastic and self-righteous "Look who they're letting in these days" and
a groaning "why me" tone of this professor's heart-missing message.
Anyway, the "soaring miracle" will have to wait since this
unloving message sent me "sore-ing."
This professor's message sent me back to synagogue last night.
The central prayer of the Sabbath service is called the Amidah, the silent
devotional. It ends with a not-so-gentle reminder and admonition that
begins with these words: "Oh, Lord, Guard my tongue from evil, and my lips
from speaking guile." I've heard those words and have spoken them in open
refrain for many a decade. This morning I suddenly saw their meaning.
There is a folk tale about a man who bloopered someone. Feeling
guilty, he came to the rabbi to ask how he could be repentant and take
back his words and the harm they've done.
"That's a tough one," said his rabbi.
"There must be something I can do?
"Let me think."
A donation?
"Let me think!"
"What if I go to the person and beg forgiveness, and tell him
what I've been saying about him behind his back?"
The rabbi thought for few minutes. "Tell you what, go home and
bring me a feather pillow."
"Whatever you tell me to do," replied the bewildered man.
When he returned, the rabbi told him to take it outside, climb the
nearby hill, and tear it open in the wind. "Once you've done that, come
back."
The even more bewildered man did as he was told and returned
thinking that in some way the feathers acted as some strange ritual act
of contrition.
"What happened when you ripped the pillow open?" asked the rabbi.
"What do you think?" the man exclaimed. "The feathers flew all
over the place and scattered in every direction."
"They sure did, didn't they." said the rabbi. "Now, I want you to
go outside, collect all the feathers--every last one of them--put them
back into the pillow, and then bring it to me as if you have never torn it
open."
"But that's impossible," said the man. "Now there's no telling
where all those feathers are."
"Then, I'm sorry. I cannot help you."
There's go getting around it. Understand, that bloopering is
speaking evil, and that it falls under the category of gossip and slander.
Yeah, we've all done it, me included. And, we all excused it.
Nevertheless, conscious or otherwise, it is a deliberate act of speaking
guile. Insults, ridicule, jest, or anything that might cause another
person harm, embarrassment or displeasure all are. As a caveat to her
description of her students, maybe knowing there something amiss about
what she was writing, this professor, trying to get out of it as we all
do, said as an introduction, "Now, I believe in students, but..."
There is that neutralizing, mind-closing, discouraging,
inflexible, unexciting "but." It says, "erase what I just said." Let's
be honest. By saying things like "I was only joking," or "I didn't mean
anything by it," or "It's innocent and harmless humor," or "It's was
nothing," or "I did the same thing myself," or "I wouldn't mind if
someone said that about me," or "I'm not laughing at" are only forms of
self deceit. It is something; it is not a random act of lovingkindness.
It wasn't joking around; you did mean something by it. It isn't innocent
or harmless; it's sinful and harmful. Sure, you're laughing at someone,
and don't tell me you would love to be the butt of laughter. It is all the
evil tongue. None of it is said in delight. None of it is said as paens
of praise. It's all said with a moan at someone's expense.
I know. Some are you are going to tell me to relax, stop being so
uptight, get a life, and stop being so serious. Well, I am talking about
life, someone's life. And, I don't apologize for being serious about
something serious. Beware, what this professor and most of us have done
is so dangerous. It insidiously dangerous because these very intentional
destructive verbal predators are so easily disguised as innocent lambs.
It is dangerous because it is roadkill, diseased carrion, that you ingest
as if it were aged filet mignon. It is dangerous because the more you do
it, the less you are. And, before you go off bloopering a students,
remember something the sages said. There are three things for which a
person is punished in this world and forfeits his position in the world to
come. They are idolatry, sexual immorality, and murder; but an evil tongue
is equal to all three put together! The sages also say that, the evil
tongue destroys three people: the one who says the evil, the one who
listens to it, and the one spoken about; and the one who listens to the
evil tongue will be hurt more than the one who speaks with the evil tongue
No, we can't use the frailities, or foibles of a student--or even
of colleague, administrator, staff person--for our entertainment, idle
enjoyment, or self-inflation. Words make reality. It doesn't make sense.
We wouldn't put garbage in our mouths. So why do we put garbage in our
ears and let it poison our hearts and minds? Such denigration only douses
the sacred spark in ourselves and in each of those around us. It only
shuts our eyes to wonder. It deadens our taste and prevents us from
savoring. It's as nourishing as fast-food. It forces us to plod
lead-footed. We restrict our own boundaries. It makes us smaller. And
with each wagging of an evil tongue, we ritualize all this purposelessness
and meaninglessness.
I mean if you see something broken, fix it. If you see someone
lost, help them find their way. If you see something that need to be
done, do it--unless you really don't want to be bothered doing any of
that.
I dare us all, me especially, to see if we can make through a day
without talking in such a hurtfulabout a student--and a colleague, and a
staff person, and an administrator. See if we can make through a day
without playing with someone else's name or image. Just remember, every
word we utter, continues to float on the wind like a feather long after we
have shredded the pillow and walked down the hill.
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