The Dangerous Boy and His Dangerous Words
Parsha Kedoshim
Parsha Kedoshim Summary: The commandments are expanded along with clarification on charity and equality. Kedoshim concludes like an anti-Porn Hub menu. The new regime of G-d aims to take all the illicit fun out of life with a list of prohibited sex acts. No more incest, shagging your father’s wife, daughter-in-law or step-aunt. Homosexuality, bestiality, and relations with a menstruating woman are also outlawed.
Evil talk kills three people: the speaker, the listener and the one who is spoken of. (Talmud, Erachin 15a)
Evil talk is like an arrow. A person who unsheathes a sword can regret his intention and return it to its sheath. But the arrow cannot be retrieved. (Midrash Tehillim)
This is the story of a dangerous boy who spoke dangerous words with no ill intent and without knowing the danger of his dangerous words.
Solomon was raised by his single mother, Shelomit, the daughter of Divri, of the tribe of Dan, in an average abode somewhere on the outskirts of Cairo. He was neither precocious nor dim-witted. Solomon walked the fine line of averageness. He was neither handsome nor ugly. Smart nor stupid. Fat nor thin. Tall nor short. Everything about Solomon was average except…he had learned to talk seemingly overnight.
For ten years Solomon never spoke a single word.
When an Egyptian Master beat his mother for spilling wine, Solomon never spoke. When the first plagues destroyed livestock, turned the river into blood and left boils bigger than golf balls on the bodies of the Egyptians, Solomon said nothing. When his mother instructed Solomon to pack as much as he could and stop waiting for the bread to rise, for they were leaving Egypt in a hurry, Solomon failed to make a sound. When the Red Sea parted and the Israelites escaped the onrushing horde of Egyptians, Solomon continued his pledge of silence.
It had become an accepted fact within the camp, that Solomon was mute and his voice would never be heard.
On Day 212 of the Exodus, Solomon’s world changed.
Moses returned from his hike up Mount Sinai. Red-faced and flushed with righteousness, Moses laid down the law. Not his law, but the law of G-d. The second time was greeted with much celebration. Nobody liked to talk about the first incident involving golden calves and mass orgies. Nobody liked to mention Moses tripping over his feet and shattering the tablets. Everyone agreed to the cover story about Moses being full of rage and upset over the partygoers.
But a strange thing happened that day. Solomon found his voice.
As 3000 people were lined up for execution, Solomon spoke out. He dared to challenge the word of Moses, special envoy to the House of G-d. The words came tumbling out of Solomon’s lips. They spilled over the desert like an oasis spring, washing over the amazed onlookers. Words that beget sentences that beget an entire speech with no moments of pause, no pregnant silences and no meaningful intervals. This was the world’s longest stream of consciousness.
The crowd, who had first cheered and celebrated the opening of Solomon’s mouth, were soon aghast at the words he spoke. Dangerous words. Words of condemnation. Words that described illicit affairs. Words of accusation.
The phrase ‘children should be seen, not heard’ was based upon Solomon’s perfectly weighted existence. For ten years, Solomon had slowly turned invisible. The world no longer saw Solomon standing in the corner, observing the daily rituals of the Israelites. His was an unseen presence, concealed in plain sight.
His Mother ushered Solomon back to his tent. She had waited over ten years to hear him speak and when he finally spoke, she couldn’t wait to shut him up.
But Solomon wasn’t done.
He decided he was far more worthy than the lowly status the tribes had bestowed upon him. Solomon felt entitled to a grander slice of Judaism and shifted his tent closer to the action.
The crowd turned on Solomon. They cursed his name. They pointed to his lack of Jewishness, his lack of tribal belonging. They insinuated his mother had slept around. Everybody knew his absent father was of Egyptian heritage. Solomon was a second-class citizen in flesh and blood. He had no right to shift his tent closer to Moses.
Solomon, fresh with the discovery of voice, spat out curses. He condemned the crowd. He was an agitated mess. Ten years of words. Finally, Solomon took G-d’s name in vain. A four-letter indictment admonishing the Lord.
The crowd was horrified and quickly reported Solomons's indiscretion.
When Moses had finished executing the 3000 jamboree idolaters, he turned his attention to Solomon the Mute.
Armed with the Lord’s extensive laws on the freedom of speech, Moses felt he had no choice. He kindly explained to Solomon’s mother the consequences of his actions. The new addition to the Torah, clearly stated:
“You shall not go about as a talebearer amongst your people; you shall not stand by your fellow’s blood (19:16)”
And Solomon had over-stepped the mark.
“Oi, on the one hand, we have miracle. Baruch Hashem, the boy speaks. Such beauty it is to hear sounds of a child for the first time. Oi. The other hand? Not so good. The boy waits ten years and he says these things? Such filth. Such lies. To take the Lord-s name in vain? Oi! This is not good.”
Moses continued to explain his predicament.
He talked about setting an example. He talked about leadership and equality. He talked about the strength to do the right thing and how sacrifices were all part and parcel of following the Lord’s work. He spoke of Abraham and the shit G-d put him through to prove his devotion.
Finally, Moses spoke of judgment.
The boy was to be stoned to death for being a talebearer, but his biggest crime was reviling G-d.
“Besides,” said Moses, “the boy isn’t even fully Jewish. His father? Egyptian, yes? He’s a half-caste. He doesn’t fit in, nu?”
There was no need for a trial. Two days later, Solomon was stoned to death.
I did not see that coming.