The mouth is a powerful tool. No, this is not an article on the depravity of lashon hara. On the contrary, if anything, it is an article on the power of lashon tov.

We are now in the weeks when we lain the parshiyos describing Yetzias Mitzrayim. One fascinating part of the golus of Mitzrayim that is taught to us by the seforim (see Sefas Emes and many others) is that dibbur, the power of speech, was also in golus at that time. The golus of Mitzrayim was so pervasive that the Bnei Yisroel couldn’t even use their regular power of speech. The only thing they could do was cry out—a wordless cry.

That is why, when Klal Yisroel finally came out of golus, we celebrate the Yom Tov of Pesach. In fact, if you take the word Pesach and divide it in two, it becomes “peh sach,” the mouth talks. It is for this reason that one of the primary mitzvos on Pesach is talking, giving over the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim to our children.

Indeed, words have tremendous power. Our words of Torah, our words of tefillah, a word of chizuk, a gut vort, can have a transformative impact on others. Last week, I spoke about the importance of giving compliments to others. This week, I would like to expound on that concept.

The Comment That Changed His Life

The following is a true story.

Reb Tanchum*, a kollel yungerman, would collect his mail every day when he came home from seder. One day, he received a wedding invitation. Upon opening it, he thought, “Interesting. I wonder why he sent me an invitation.”

It was true that the chosson, Tzvi*, had learned with him in the same yeshiva, but he was a few shiurim younger. Reb Tanchum barely recalled having a connection with him. “Still,” he thought, “if Tzvi took the trouble to send me an invitation, I will try to pop into the wedding.”

When the night of the wedding came, Reb Tanchum made a point of attending and joined the circle of enthusiastic dancing men. Tzvi was in the middle, dancing with someone else, but the minute he noticed Reb Tanchum, he jumped, ran over to him, and gave him a massive hug, exclaiming with great emotion, “Look around! This is all in your zechus! This whole wedding is in your zechus!”

Reb Tanchum was completely shocked.

Later, Tzvi explained, “I grew up in a family with little appreciation for Torah learning. Still, when it came time for me to go to yeshiva, I wanted to learn in yeshiva. I came for Elul, and it was excruciatingly hard. I had no friends, I didn’t really have good chavrusos, I wasn’t so adept at the social nuances, and I was miserable. Somehow, I made it through Elul, day after excruciating day. Even though I was unhappy, I decided to come back for the winter zeman, but it was awful. I really tried! I tried to learn the Gemara and Rishonim so that I would be prepared for the daily shiur, but in all truth, I understood very little of the shiur, and that just increased my despair…

“Finally,” the chosson continued, “around Chanukah time, I decided that I had had enough. I decided that yeshiva just wasn’t for me. Either way, I knew that my parents wouldn’t mind if I got a secular education and studied for an occupation, so I decided to go back to the dorm, get my things, pack up my suitcase, and leave.

“It was right then, as I was walking out of the building,” Tzvi explained emotionally, “that you, an older bochur who was considered a distinguished talmid in the yeshiva, came over, fixed my collar, which had been twisted without my knowledge, and told me, ‘Ah! Such a choshuve bochur! Such a choshuve bochur like you should look neat.’

“You have no idea what you did with those words,” Tzvi exclaimed. “With those words, you infused me with a bit of hope. I thought to myself, ‘Wow! This older, distinguished bochur values me! He thinks I am a choshuve bochur. He cares about me.’ Those words encouraged me to change course. I turned around, went back into yeshiva, and decided to push myself a bit more. Eventually, I began to catch on, I got good chavrusos, some members of the hanhalah began to notice me, and the rest is history. I am now marrying into a distinguished Torah family, and it was all because of a gut vort, an encouraging word.”

That is the power of words.

Reb Tanchum, the older bochur, didn’t even remember what he said, but his words transformed the life of a bochur and his future generations. That is the power of a gut vort.

“Why Did I Have to Wait Until I Was ‘Dead’ to Hear Compliments?”

There is a famous apocryphal story about Yossele the water carrier in a small village in Lita. Yossele’s family was sick with worry. He had not come home for supper. It was already hours later and there was no sign of him. What could have happened to Yossele?

What had happened?

That day, Yossele was walking to deliver water to a family that lived near the forest. As he was walking in the remote area, a band of thieves caught him and robbed him of his money. The robbers didn’t want to be caught, so they decided to kill him.

He begged them to spare his life, saying, “Please, you are good, compassionate people. It doesn’t ‘pass’ for you to kill me. You are better than that. Please don’t kill me. I promise that I will not tell on you.”

Feeling bad, they agreed to spare his life, but just to make sure that he wouldn’t tell anyone, they stripped him of all his clothing. In this way, it would take time until he could find something to cover himself. By that time, they would be far away.

While they were at it, the bandits decided to have some fun at Yossele’s expense. Upon seeing his tzitzis, the bandit leader took them and put them on. All his fellow thieves laughed uproariously at how he looked. When he took Yossele’s yarmulka and put it on his head, it looked even funnier. They cackled with laughter. The bandit leader then left Yossele all alone in the forest, with nothing to cover him, and they left.

Soon after, as the bandit leader was crossing a bridge, a piece of wood in the bridge cracked, he lost his balance, and he fell into the raging river below and drowned.

Meanwhile, back home, Yossele’s family was waiting and waiting. Search parties had been sent out to look for him, and eventually someone noticed a body floating in the river. They got close to it, and, lo and behold, they saw that he was wearing Yossele’s tzitzis. Sadly, they returned to Yossele’s village and told his family what they had found. A few hours later, the levayah was held. The entire town gathered, and the rov and others said hespeidim depicting the good qualities of Yossele, a simple, temimusdige Yid who tried his best to be a G-d-fearing Jew and perform the will of Hashem, who took care of his family and was a devoted husband and father.

Meanwhile, Yossele had finally found something to cover himself. He painstakingly made his way back to his village. When he arrived, he saw the signs hanging announcing his own levayah.

He knew where he would find everyone—outside the cemetery, where levayos were held. Indeed, when he arrived, he stood in the back listening as the maspidim enumerated his good qualities. Suddenly, someone noticed him. Then another person noticed him. Finally, everyone realized that Yossele was alive. It had all been a mistake!

Everyone was so pleased—except Yossele. He said, “Boruch Hashem, I am alive! But why did I have to wait until I was ‘dead’ to hear anyone say something nice about me?”

Focusing on What a Person Is Rather Than What He Isn’t

We all talk about tzedakah and chesed and how important they are, but you know what? It doesn’t cost a penny to tell someone a gut vort, to compliment him, to tell him what you admire about him, to say something encouraging, and to give someone an authentic word of praise. That, too, is chesed. A colossal chesed.

A bochur can say something nice to his chavrusa. A girl can thank her teacher for a lesson that she really enjoyed. A talmid can give a shkoach to a maggid shiur. A member of the shul can go over to the baal tefillah and tell him how much he enjoyed and was inspired by his davening. A father can compliment his son. A child can thank his or her parents. One can verbalize appreciation to his or her spouse. It isn’t rocket science.

Instead of thinking that it is a “mitzvah” to find someone’s deficiencies, perhaps try, for a change, to look for someone’s good qualities.

The following story took place with the Zidichover Rebbe of Chicago, Rav Yehoshua Heshel Eichenstein. It is a story in which the rebbe highlighted exactly this concept—the concept of focusing on what a person is instead of focusing on what he isn’t. It’s a concept that the rebbe perfected to the nth degree, and a concept that we can all try to implement, one compliment at a time.

Chaim* was going through a lot of difficulties, many of which were self-inflicted. Sadly, he was not seeing success in anything.

“I was discussing the situation with my father,” one of the rebbe’s children recalls, “to determine if there was any way we could help Chaim. In the course of our conversation, in my attempt to help him, I brought up something negative about Chaim. My father stopped me and made a comment that made a lifelong impact on me. He said, ‘Vos ehr iz nisht—what he isn’t—we already know. Let’s try to think of what he is, a point about him that is positive. Let us cultivate his positive attributes and enable him to use that as a springboard for his success!’” (based on a maamar in Gilyon Shalheves).

It does take a bit of thought, and most importantly, a change of mindset.

You usually know what someone “isn’t.” The question is: Do we take the time and effort to internalize what someone is, and then have the guts—or the good-heartedness—to actually tell him?

Try it. You might even feel good and become addicted to giving compliments.