Do Words Still Matter If No One Hears Them?
Leviticus 16:1-20:27 (Parshat Acharei-Kedoshim)
A driver cuts you off in traffic. By the time the light turns green, the other car is gone—but you’re still muttering at the windshield. No one hears it. The moment feels harmless, a quick release of irritation. But does it matter what we say when no one else is listening?
This week’s Torah reading raises that question.
“You shall not curse a deaf person.”
Leviticus 19:14
At first glance, the command feels oddly specific. Of course, we shouldn’t curse anyone. Why single out someone who cannot hear?
In its original setting, this verse appears among moral instructions about fairness, honesty, and respect for others. Jewish tradition has long noted that the Torah’s concern extends beyond protecting the person being insulted. It also addresses the inner life of the speaker.
A Midrash—an early collection of Jewish teachings—observes that words leave impressions even when unheard. Speech is not merely sound traveling through the air. It reinforces the attitudes forming within us. Harsh words, even whispered privately, cultivate the habit of harshness.
The medieval Jewish philosopher Maimonides deepens the point. Someone might justify negative speech by thinking, “No one heard it, so what’s the harm?” The Torah rejects that reasoning. Words shape character. Each expression of anger or contempt strengthens the impulse behind it.
Chassidic teaching, a stream of Jewish spiritual thought, emphasizes the creative power of speech. Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, known as the Alter Rebbe, described speech as the bridge between inner thought and the outside world. What we say—even quietly to ourselves—gives those thoughts greater force.
Jewish ethics also warns about lashon hara, harmful speech. The tradition teaches that such speech harms three people: the one who speaks it, the one who hears it, and the one being spoken about. The Torah’s example of cursing someone who cannot hear adds a striking twist: sometimes the person most affected by our words is the one speaking them.
Modern psychology echoes this insight. Repeated negative language—even when spoken privately—can reinforce cycles of anger and pessimism. The words we repeat shape how we see the world.
Picture someone leaving a tense meeting. By the time they reach the parking lot, they’re replaying the conversation aloud—each retelling sharpening the criticism. No one else hears it, yet the words deepen the resentment forming inside.
Speech works like planting seeds. Kind words nurture patience and understanding. Bitter words—spoken publicly or muttered alone—plant something different. Over time, those seeds shape the atmosphere of the heart.
This insight feels especially relevant today. In a world of constant commentary—messages typed quickly into group chats, sarcastic remarks after meetings, complaints spoken on the drive home—it is easy to treat words as disposable. The Torah reminds us they are not.
This week, the Torah invites us to notice the quiet moments when speech slips out unguarded. Before muttering a complaint or repeating a sharp remark, pause. Ask not only what the words say about someone else, but what they are shaping inside you.
In the end, the Torah’s unusual command about cursing someone who cannot hear points to a deeper truth: words always have a listener. Even when no one else hears them, the speaker does—and the soul remembers.
I wish you a good week and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yonatan Hambourger