Whose Words Should We Take Seriously?

One of the most heartbreaking stories in the news these past two weeks has been the publication of new details surrounding the kidnapping and presumed murder of the mother of television journalist Savannah Guthrie. Like millions of Americans, I have followed the story with sadness. I have no interest in second-guessing the investigation itself. I am not a criminologist, nor am I a law enforcement professional, and it would be inappropriate for me to pretend otherwise.

What caught my attention, however, was something entirely different.

In a recent interview with The Wall Street Journal, Pima County Sheriff Chris Nanos responded to criticism of his department's handling of the investigation by suggesting that some of his earlier public statements had been taken more literally than he intended. That observation stopped me in my tracks.

If not the sheriff's words, whose words are we supposed to take seriously? After all, a sheriff occupies a position of public trust. When a sheriff addresses the public during a kidnapping investigation, people naturally listen. Families listen. Reporters listen. And given the high-profile nature of this case, the entire nation was listening. They make decisions, form opinions, and seek reassurance based upon what they hear.

That is not a burden placed upon the public. It is a responsibility placed upon the office.

And it raises a larger question that reaches far beyond one sheriff and one tragic case. What does the Torah expect of those whose words other people trust?

This week's Torah portion offers a remarkable answer. Parashat Re'eh warns the Jewish people about a false prophet. We often imagine a false prophet as someone who predicts the future incorrectly. But that is not the Torah's primary concern. The danger is not merely that the prophet speaks falsely. The danger is that people trust him.

The false prophet occupies a position of influence. His words shape decisions. They affect lives. They lead people either toward God or away from Him.

The Torah understands something about human nature that remains true thousands of years later. Leadership is built on trust. And wherever trust is placed in a leader, words carry extraordinary weight. That is why public trust transforms private speech into public responsibility.

When society entrusts someone with authority, that person's words no longer belong entirely to him. They become part of the public trust. They can reassure or alarm. They can unite or divide. They can clarify or confuse. They can strengthen confidence or undermine it.

Our Rabbis understood this instinctively. Authority does not merely give a person the right to speak. It increases the moral obligation to speak carefully and precisely.  Or in other words, the higher one's office, the fewer "throwaway" words one is entitled to have.

Now in these hyper-partisan times, this principle has nothing to do with political parties or ideologies. It is not a Republican principle. It is not a Democratic principle. It is not a conservative principle or a liberal principle. It is a Torah principle, that goes all the way back to Moses. Public office magnifies speech. The greater the trust placed in a leader, the greater the responsibility to choose words carefully.

Judaism has always understood this because Judaism has always understood the power of words. After all, God created the universe through speech. The blessings we recite create obligations. Judges render decisions with words. The ancient Prophets challenged nations through words. Speech is never merely sound. It is one of the greatest powers entrusted to human beings.

The Torah never suggests that words become less important as a person's authority grows. Quite the opposite. The greater the influence, the greater the responsibility. The higher the trust, the greater the responsibility.

As I reflected on this week's Torah portion, I realized that its message is not just about false prophets. It is about the sacred obligation that accompanies trust.

Every Friday morning, I send a Shabbat message to our synagogue community, and every Shabbat I stand before this congregation and speak to you. I hope my words are thoughtful, honest and worthy of your attention. But that privilege carries with it a sacred responsibility. If I ask you to listen, then I must strive to deserve your attention.

Perhaps that is the enduring lesson of Parshat Re'eh. The question is not simply whether we have something to say. The question is whether our words are worthy of the trust that has been placed in us. May God help us to be people whose words can be trusted, whose speech, whether in public or private, reflects wisdom and humility, and whose voices lead others toward truth, responsibility, and understanding.