As a newish rabbi, when I learn new things, there’s always a sense that I was supposed to know it already.

And then I remind myself not to feel ashamed.

Because I came into the game of Judaism and rabbi-ing very late.

And learning goes on for a lifetime.

I’ll never know it all, so it’s really okay.

And then I let go of some of the shame.

So, this week I learned something new!

That for this Torah portion, you’re supposed to whisper while reciting it.

This idea spurred a very interesting conversation among my Jewish Women Clergy Collective.

Why do we whisper this Parsha?

Why do we whisper in general?

When do we whisper?

Is it only when we’re telling a secret?

Or when we don’t want everyone present to hear what we’re saying?

What about when we are ashamed of something we’re saying or sharing?

When we’re afraid of something “going out into the universe?”

This week’s Parsha is full of curses.

The curses are so horrible, so horrendous—that the custom arose of reciting them in a whisper.

Maybe it’s a kind of protection against the evil eye?

These curses follow last week’s Parsha in which we are told of all the good that will come once we “enter the land.”

All the good that will happen—as long as we follow the laws we are given.

Remember?

Like giving a rest to ourselves and the land and animals and workers on the Sabbath and during the Sabbatical year.

(Yes, the idea of teachers getting a sabbatical comes from the Torah—pretty cool, right?)

Also, like freeing all slaves (Hebrew ones, I must clarify), and returning all propertys to its original owner at the end of 49 years, the Jubilee.

But this week it’s all about what will happen if we don’t follow these laws.

Like, we will be running from our own shaddow.

Like, we will be so hungry, we will eat our own babies.

Yes, that kind of horrible.

So we can understand why we might not want to say all this too loudly.

But can whispering it also be a kind of turning away, a denial, a not wanting to hear it come out of our own mouth?

A recognition that what we are saying is literally unspeakable?

Perhaps like when we turn a blind eye to what is happening in Rafah now.

The way our government administration is doing.

Perhaps the way we stop talking about the climate emergency because we feel helpless?

Or take on the language of “natural disaster” when it’s anything but natural.

Perhaps we should think more about how we “enter the land,” who we are hurting in the process, and recognize it.

And maybe now is a time to actually feel ashamed.

Perhaps, just perhaps, we should listen to our Torah, even if, or especially when, it comes out in a whisper.

Because it’s really not okay.