In mid-February, looking at what our community seemed preoccupied with, the list-serv was the clear winner. Interestingly, the hot issue was not any one thing being discussed there, but it concerned the list-serv itself. Before addressing the specifics of this issue, let me offer a plug for the very institution of the list-serv.
This is how our community learns of shiva minyanim and birth announcements, reminds itself about shul events, finds plumbers and contractors and roommates, and shares political perspectives (and occasionally gets worked up over particular hot-button topics like peanut butter or ex-members). If you’re worried about being inundated -- a fair concern! -- you can receive messages in one "daily digest" form, making them easy to skim all at once.
Judaism as a not-on-weekends-only phenomenon, a common value in our community, is practiced through the list-serv. Monday night after the kids are asleep, or Wednesday morning 3 AM, we can connect and be connected. There is no substitute. You may sign up on line. Eighty-plus-percent of Adat Shalom households can’t be wrong ...
So now we turn to the latest issue, and with it the larger question of email etiquette. As of this writing, the list-serv brouhaha has been about who could be on the list-serv, rather than how we act once we’re on it. Yet the behavioral concern is the real one. We’ve faced it before, and no doubt will again -- and in a sense we face it every time we log on, or for that matter every time we take out our pens or open our mouths or use words in any way. We must remember that according to our tradition, words can kill, and words can heal.
This Jewish teaching called lashon hara, the "evil tongue," is a constant reminder of the importance of guarding our speech. Those of us in shul by 9:40am (!) know that on p. 177 we sing Barukh she’amar -- "Blessed is the one who spoke, and the world came to be." Speech creates not just words, but worlds. And unless we’re careful, it can destroy them too -- at the other end of the service, the Amidah traditionally concludes by requesting God’s help to "guard my tongue from evil, and my lips from spouting lies; may I think before I begin to speak, may my words be gentle and wise" (translation from Reconstructionist music group MiRaJ in their song "Elohai Netzor").
E-mail is a lashon hara minefield, since we miss expression or intonation or context or body language or all the other non-verbal cues that offer nuance in live speech. It’s easy to come across as curt, or insensitive, or clueless, when we’re not; it’s easy to see another as angry, or malicious, or distant, when again that’s not the case. Worse yet, it’s easy to send the wrong e-information to the wrong people, or to violate confidentiality in a whole host of ways. A modern "Elohai Netzor" might read, "God, guard my fingers on the keyboard from evil, and my server from spouting lies; may I think before I press ‘send,’ may my words be gentle and wise."
Since few topics are of such importance, let’s remember that lashon hara is not only committed in cyberspace. Anytime we describe a situation we want to remedy by assigning blame, or put undue attention on the individuals involved, we commit lashon hara. When we offer faint or disingenuous praise, or refuse to comment with a knowing glance, we commit lashon hara. When we pass along hearsay as fact, or even relate things we know to be true about others that are not in the "need to know" category, we commit lashon hara.
I’ve taught on this subject before, and continue to hear what a difference that class has made. This month I’ll be teaching the same subject at our old home, for the JCC, on two Wednesday nights (see calendar). And if we hear of sufficient interest, it’s a topic always worth repeating - so that the sin of lashon hara need not be repeated. May all our words be gentle, and wise.
Rabbi Fred Scherlinder Dobb