Parshas Tazria/Metzorah: Not a Random Interruption

Parshas Tazria/Metzorah: Not a Random Interruption

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Last week’s parsha, Parshas Shemini, is weighed down by the distressing details of the death of Aaron’s two sons. While these deaths are dealt with completely in that parsha, it is interesting to note that the parsha we read next week is “Acharei Mot, After the Deaths.” It is not the fact that Nadav and Avihu’s deaths were significant enough to mark a time connection that is particularly interesting, but rather it is the fact that Shemini and Acharei Mot are separated by two parshios (that are generally read as one). Perhaps, there is something to be learned from these two parshios breaking the narrative of the deaths and the divine instruction that follows thereafter.

 

The first of these parshios is Tazria, and the primary subject matter of Tazria is the diagnosis and “treatment” of tzaraas. In reading the biblical description of the disease, it seems almost strange that this was consistently translated simply as leprosy since there are so many permutations of the ailment. More importantly, tzaraas is not a medical condition; it is a unique spiritual malady with an underlying pathogen that is actually a disease of the tongue - lashon harah (Though, to be fair and honest, there are other aveiros that are connected to tzaraas as well). The treatment for tzaraas is isolation and repentance, because this is how one begins to repair - to whatever extent it is repairable - the discord sown by lashon harah.

 

Parshas Metzora, the second parsha, continues the topic of the resolution of tzaaras and also discusses the transference of the marks of tzaraas from a person to an inanimate object and how to deal with it.  One of the correlations of tzaraas and lashon hara is the factor of pride, of ego. Lashon Harah most often stems from our need to feel more significant than someone else, or, said more succinctly, to put others down. 

 

So now back to the original question. Why does the narrative of the inauguration of the Mishkan, the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, and the aftermath commandments of Hashem have tzaraas interrupting it? Perhaps it has to do with Hashem knowing how humanity works. Here in the Torah is a story that is ripe for the picking for lashon harah. These men were struck down in front of the entire congregation. Everyone witnessed their ‘sinning.’ Everyone witnessed their consequence. Public information, right?

 

Wrong. Discussing what happened to Nadav and Avihu is important because we are meant to use every part of Torah to grow, spiritually. Speculating on salacious details because they are interesting or they are relatable, however, is no longer l’toeles. Let’s be honest with ourselves, there are a wide range of Torah based suggestion to what Nadav and Avihu did that day… and there is a reason that the most widely remembered is that they were drunk.

 

Tazria-Metzora is followed by Parshas Acharei Mot, which begins: “Gd spoke to Moshe after the death of Aaron’s two sons, when, having drawn near to Gd, they died. Gd said to Moshe: ‘Speak to your brother Aaron, and tell him that he must not come whenever he wishes into the Sanctuary beyond the partition Curtain…’”

 

After the completion of the inauguration, Hashem provides Aaron with instructions on proper etiquette in the Mishkan. The Torah demonstrates learning from what happened without hashing it out to pieces.

 

If you think about it, the placement of Tazria-Metzora – parshios in which the dangers of lashon hara is a constant theme - in the middle of the story of Nadav and Avihu is brilliant. There are few other such places in the Torah where there is wrong-doing and consequence, and yet, respect for the righteousness of those who received the consequence all at once. The sages have made many postulations as to what Aaron’s sons were punished for, and those discussions were l’toeles, to provide guidance for Bnei Yisrael. But how easy is it to descend into that which is not l’toeles when speaking about them possibly being drunk, or etc? But how easy is it to descend into that which is not l’toeles when speaking about anyone?

 

This sequence of parshios certainly reminds us of the complexities of life. What one sees on the outside is not necessarily what is truly involved. A person covered 100% from head to toe with a skin affliction, who would appear to be the loudest billboard for his own guilt of something, is not a metzorah. Life is not always how it looks, so don’t speculate on the lives of others.

 

Life is a constant path through other people’s actions. We can choose to watch them and judged them and make assumptions about them, or we can choose to accept that Hashem is the king and the ultimate judge. 

Parshas Metzora: The Beauty in Materialism

A beautiful, new set of freshly toiveld silverware sparkles in my hand as I gently dry it in preparation for the upcoming holiday. I smile, humming as I work because I feel happy that my Yom Tov table will look so pretty. Suddenly I start to wonder about redemption and Moshiach and what my joy in my pretty Amazon purchase bodes for my attitude toward redemption. Am I too attached to my home and my possessions? If Moshiach came now and this Pesach we celebrated the true call of redemption, would I be happy to, or even capable of, picking up and leaving?

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a bracha and an honor to be able to make a beautiful Yom Tov. We use the material to elevate us as we focus on the spiritual. The Torah doesn’t promote ascetisism. It’s okay to own and enjoy nice things, and it is even encouraged to fulfill mitzvos in the most beautiful way.

In an interesting way, we even see this in the roots of Pesach. During the ninth plague, Hashem made certain that we had the nice things. The plague of darkness provided Bnei Yisrael with the opportunity to discover the gold and silver that they would later request from the Egyptians, payment for the years of servitude. They later used that gold and silver, each person of their own desire, to build the mishkan.

It is noteworthy to think about the wealth they acquired. It was both payment and fulfilment. Payment, as in compensation for the generations during which the people were enslaved, and thus could be seen as something earned. Fulfilment, as in Hashem promised Avraham that his descendants would come out of the land of oppression with great wealth – a promise fulfilled; but also fulfillment, as in Hashem gives each person exactly what he or she is supposed to have.

So if Hashem gives each person exactly what they need, does that mean I might need new crystal for my Seder table? Maybe…but then it means it is there for a reason, and I should gain something spiritual from it.

The spiritual and material are inherently connected, and this week’s parsha, Parshas Metzora, makes that point in a particularly fascinating way. The parsha talks about the possibility of tzaraas transferring onto one’s possessions. It’s a very difficult-to-understand concept. In this day and age, unless something is designated as a religious object, we don’t think of the possibility of an inanimate object having spiritual modulation.

Our material possessions, however, are connected to us just as much as we are connected to them. My possessions can reflect a spiritual downturn, as in the case of tzaraas, or they can reflect elevation, as when used for a mitzvah. The question, as with many things, comes down to bechira, free will. If I use my wealth to do mitzvot as beautifully as possible, that underlines spiritual growth. If I use my wealth to build myself up to become either arrogant or, on the other hand, my attachment to materialism makes me jealous or avaricious, then that demonstrates a lack of growth.

There is an interesting Midrash (Vayikrah Rabbah 17:6, cited by Rashi on Vayikra 14:34) that explains that quite often the destruction of a house and possessions because of tzaraas led to the discovery of treasure hidden behind the walls (left by the Amorites, according to the Midrash). Hashem’s aim is not poverty and punishment. Hashem’s aim is to help us draw closer to Him.                                                                                                                                                                        In the fall, we celebrate Sukkot by leaving our homes and moving into “huts,” which demonstrates our faith that Hashem is truly in control. On some level, we leave behind our physical and material security. Right now, however, we are about to celebrate Pesach, to celebrate redemption from slavery, and we do so with a lavish and luxurious seuda in which we are taught to recline like royalty and drink rich wine – we surround ourselves with a physical glory in order to honor what Hashem did for us.

In preparing our magnificent seder tables – or while perusing those over-the-top magazine images of the perfect seder table – we are presented with the empowering challenge of being clear in our intentions. These sparkling new knives bring me joy because they will enhance my Yom Tov, not because they will enhance me, and if – no, and when, Moshiach knocks at my door, I could, if required, walk away from it all.

As we enter this auspicious time, I wish you all a gut Shabbas and the ability to focus on what really matters in this world, and I pray that Hashem will send a speedy redemption for those still held by Hamas and for our entire nation from this dire threat.  

Parshass Metzora – The Lesson of the Interruption

 The parshiot of Tazria and Metzora, which are most often read together, are interesting in that they are, one might say, interrupters. In Parsha Shemini, during the dedication of the mishkan, the Torah describes the unexpected and tragic death of Aaron’s two oldest sons. Parshas Acharei Mos, which is the parsha after Metzora, continues that narrative almost as if Tazria and Metzora did not exist.

 

Although it is not explicitly stated, the affliction of tzaraas and being in the state of being a metzora are tied to lashon harah, and this fact is, perhaps, significant given the narrative which it interrupts. Thinking back to Parshas Shemini, one might recall the variation of commentary on why Nadav and Avihu died. Each of these interpretations is based on tradition and textual evidence, and each of them is meant to guide us on how to live life, not simply on critiquing the behavior of Aaron’s sons.  One could, however, imagine the amount of speculation that occurred when the dedication ceremony ended. Perhaps this is the first place where one learns the lesson that one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.

 

Vayikra 14, which is the first and dominant perek of Parshas Metzora, first describes the very detailed ritual necessary for one with tzaraas to undergo in order to return to normal life within the settlement of Bnei Yisrael. One would expect this to be the end of the topic of tzaraas, since its appearances and diagnosis were discussed in the previous parsha and here we have the means of purification. The perek, however, continues on to describe what happens when a nega tzaraas,  a plague on a house, appears on a home.

 

There are many interesting, although perhaps strange, concepts attached to the idea of a nega tzaraas. Beyond the idea that a house can be afflicted because of its residents’ behavior, there is the idea that the kohain can minimize the impact of his assessment by pushing off his inspection or by making certain the resident has removed anything he wouldn’t want destroyed before he comes to inspect the affliction. But really, what is fascinating here is the very idea that the consequence of tzaraas, or the impact of lashon harah, goes so much further than an individualized punishment.

 

It is fairly obvious why speaking ill effects both the individual who spoke ill and the person about whom they spoke. It is even obvious how lashon harah can affect those who heard the negative talk, whether first hand or multiple iterations later (which can sometimes be far worse for the distortion). The development of nega tzaraas, of an affliction upon a house, is an important reminder that lashon harah can be detrimental to the very fabric of society, and why it needs to be curtailed as quickly as possible.

 

We today live in a society that is woefully high strung and incredibly willing to accept and react to lashon harah. Fair and just reporting and the opportunity to examine the facts have been buried under that pressure of competition and immediate gratification. In other words, the 24 hour news cycle and social media fire the flames of constant lashon harah.

 

Imagine if Bnei Yisrael in the wilderness existed under 21^st century conditions. Not only would the ceremony dedicating the Mishkan not have been able to carry forward, but within minutes the entire structure of the kahuna (priesthood) might very well have been decimated. Public speculation about why Nadav and Avihu were struck down would have maligned not just the deceased priests, but their father and their brothers as well.

 

There is much commentary on the fact that Aaron continued on with the ceremony after his sons perished, and it would seem a strange narrative to be interrupted by laws that seem to have no connection to either the actions of Nadav and Avihu or the modified reactions of their family. On closer consideration, however, one might see that it is not completely random, that there is yet another valuable lesson to be learned from this narrative. (And, one might even, perhaps, speculate that this is a lesson that had less meaning before we entered the era of social media!)

 

Lashon Harah is complicated… It takes people of tremendous fortitude to truly abstain from it in all forms. Human nature, with ego and jealousy and righteous indignation, constantly finds ways to justify lashon harah. When we remind ourselves of how dire the consequences can be, however, perhaps we are able to strengthen ourselves just a little; perhaps the next time we are on the bring of sharing our judgements we will remember how very detrimental lashon harah can be.

 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas and, if I don’t get to post next week, a chag Pesach Kasher v’sameach.

 

This Dvar Torah is dedicated to continued Besoros Tovos and Refuah Shelaimah for Rivka bas Golda.

 

Parshas Tazria/Metzora – The Challenge of Identity

 Society has always, in one way or another, acknowledged the connection between one’s emotional well being and one’s physical well being. In Medieval Times (and, alas, far after the so-called Dark Ages), doctors treated people’s psychological unwellness by treating their “Humors” (bodily fluids). In more recent times, we know that stress causes ulcers, thyroid can cause depression, and etc. It is clear that our bodies and our minds are deeply entangled. And yet it is still incredibly difficult, at least for me, to understand the parshiot of Tazria-Metzora, of an “illness” of the soul being reflected by a physical ailment. (And I will certainly note that I think a big part of my challenge is having grown up with the English translation of it being leprosy and then discovering that leprosy was caused by a bacterial infection and learning that leprosy is really just a very bad translation.)

As one reads the parsha one learns about the physical appearance of the blemish, and, in truth, the idea of strange discoloration is something that most people can envision and understand. But what about the very strange situation described in Vayikra 13:12-17:

If the eruption spreads out over the skin so that it covers all the skin of the affected person from head to foot, wherever the priest can see—if the priest sees that the eruption has covered the whole body—he shall pronounce the affected person clean; he is clean, for he has turned all white. But as soon as undiscolored flesh appears in it, he shall be unclean; when the priest sees the undiscolored flesh, he shall pronounce him unclean. The undiscolored flesh is unclean; it is leprosy. But if the undiscolored flesh again turns white, he shall come to the priest, and the priest shall examine him: if the affection has turned white, the priest shall pronounce the affected person clean; he is clean.

“If a person’s entire physical being becomes covered in a blemish” - this isn’t Vitiligo, the slow process of pigmentation loss. It is, as the pasuk notes, an eruption of blemish. Having just been taught that this very type of blemish indicates a spiritual impurity, the Torah is now teaching us that an entire body covered in this very blemish is to be declared pure, and if a patch of regular skin appears, then he is impure. It is, one could say, a rather shocking and confusing passage. Shocking because it is hard to imagine one erupting in a blemish that could cover the entire body, and confusing because said person goes in and out of the state of pure and impure.

The process, as I understand it, is that it starts as an initial impurity that, after having been declared impure, quickly spreads over the entire body. Now that it is over the entire body, the kohain looks at it and declares that it is not an impurity, it is a skin issue. If it is everywhere, it is clean and the person is pure. However, once it has been declared pure, or shortly thereafter, it shifts again and retreats creating a patch of the person’s original skin. Now the kohain says “Wait a minute, it is not a skin issue, it is an impurity.” This can go back-and-forth multiple times. As long as it is completely one way or the other, the person is pure, but the patches shift the person back to impurity.

In a way, this speaks greatly to the question of identity, a topic that appears to be a hot button issue today but, in reality, has always been an important part of human nature. Think about the stories of kids in high schools (public) who went “Goth,” declaring that they were asserting their independence, but it was clear that what they were asserting was their group identity.

We all, as human beings, struggle with identity. When we figure out how to be completely our true selves, we are pure. However, when we let that niggling self doubt of our path enter our minds, we are no longer are pure selves. This does not mean we should not question ourselves, that we should not follow correction of a halachic or hashkafic path of Torah, that we should not be involved in constant growth and readjustment.

One could give an extreme example, such as allowing comments made during a religious debate to cause one to question Torah, chas v’shalom. Without proper care, that small impurity can worm its way into one’s sense of self, can make one doubt things that are known to be truths.

One could also think of the silly, more mundane moments when who we are and what we like is challenged by other people. For instance, a person like sardines and enjoy having them for lunch, but the guy at the next seat tells him that eating sardines is weird. One could respond, “Well, , that’s your opinion” and continue eating sardines. But, quite often one might, instead, begin to worry that he is doing something unacceptable.

This is very normal for human beings to do. Our goal, and one of the biggest challenges of being people of faith in an unfaithful world (to sound like a charming book cover) is that we need to have tenacity to hold on to our point of view, to our inherent identity. If we let a random, outside thought create a blemish, then we must stop and recalibrate ourselves all over again, to get to the point where we can once again know for certain who we are and what our purpose is. Is this a natural process - yes! Is it a challenging process - yes! Is there something we can do about it - yes! It is what our people have always done. We study, we learn, and when we worry about the first signs of a patch of impurity, we take it to our spiritual experts, and we ask them for guidance.

*What I write here now are purely my thoughts, with no commentaries or midrashim having been researched, although someone may find something similar somewhere I want it to be stated because it is just my unbacked up ideas.

Not Just a Burn (Tazria-Metzora)

 This week’s double parsha of Tazria-Mezora is, for most of us in the 21st century, rather hard to understand. Can our spiritual actions really cause us to become ill? We were all raised in the era of modern medicine – and while we know that stress and emotional strain can contribute to illness, most of us are comfortable with believing that the majority of illnesses are the result of a virus or a bacteria. In other words, we pretty much have all been raised on scientific medicine, which does not affect a person because of bad middos.

Vayikra 13, the second chapter contained in parshas Tazria, is a lengthy discourse of how to recognize a negah and how each type of case should be handled. On a general read, it can seem both detailed and repetitious. However, the variations, when looked at carefully, are both subtle and fascinating.

There is one particularly interesting verse, the start of a sub-chapter within the perek, that says: “When the skin of one’s body sustains a burn by fire, and the patch from the burn is a discoloration, either white streaked with red or white” (13:24). Up until now, the perek described strange marks upon the skin that, from a modern perspective, sound like dermatological ailments. The subgroup mentioned before the burn is a mark that remains after a boil, but even a boil could be thought of as a dermatological infection. A mark that remains after an area of the skin gets burned by fire, however, seems an odd contrast to naturally occurring ailments.

Perhaps the question one should ask is how the flesh was burned in the first place. One thought might be that this is a non-accusatory warning against a person trying to hide a negah. It is highly feasible to imagine that a person would not wish to go through the complicated process of checking a negah, which would be disruptive to life and perhaps to one’s reputation. In such a case, one might try to treat the blemish as we today treat a wart – by trying to burn it away. But the negah will remain because the spiritual healing has yet to be done.

The phrasing of Verse 13:24 might hold another subtle lesson for us. “When the skin of one’s body sustains a burn by fire…” Burns happen easily, and we assume that it is simply the result of carelessness. But in the world of Jewish thought, everything happens for a reason…hashgacha is an always active factor in our lives. Perhaps from the seemingly casual turn of phrase (“When the skin of one’s body sustains a burn”), there is a lesson that this incident may not be so casual. It is a reminder that nothing happens without a purpose and if one gets injured one should, perhaps, stop and assess one's spiritual actions as well as one's physical actions.

Dealing with Mold (Metzorah)

The parshiot of Tazria and Metzorah describe something that is very difficult for most of us today to understand - a physical affliction brought on by a spiritual trespass. Last week’s parsha, Tazria, described the physical affliction, and this week’s parsha details how the affliction is to be cured and what to do when a similar affliction appears on a person’s home.

It would be easy to say that the understanding of tzaraas as a spiritual ailment was simply an ancient people’s way of dealing with the unknown. This is why the affliction is most often translated as “leprosy,” which, based on modern knowledge, is a terrible translation. Leprosy is a bacterial infection. It is a long and cruel disease that afflicts a person’s skin and nerves and can be contagious, but a cure and treatment have been discovered. The fact is that in modern day language, tzaraas, has no comprehensible translation because we do not live in an era where one’s haughty or unkind behavior results in strange spots on our skin.

Let’s look at the description of the house tzaraas. If, like bodily tzaraas, one were to try to name it as a modern problem I think it sounds like mold. Mold gets into the recesses of the wood and stone and the best way to stop mold is to get in and tear it out. And sometimes mold can spread everywhere. If we are discussing the house tzaraas on a spiritual level, the comparison to mold is actually still relevant. Mold grows in dark and damp areas, just like loshen harah and the jealousy/haughtiness that drives the urge to speak loshen harah thrives in conversations held in lowered voices and somewhat subtle insinuation. More significantly, mold reproduces via spores, air-born particles that find a nutrient rich surface and latch on. Like the famous analogy of the pillow feathers, disparaging words shoot out of our mouths and drift away on the wind, once uttered they cannot be collected. Those not-so-nice remarks latch on to the thoughts of another person who maybe already had a small sense of negativity and then fester and grow.

Mold is treated by removing the affected area and by making changes so that the environment is unfriendly to further growth. The job of the priest is not just to identify tzaraas on the wall of the house, but to instruct the owner what spiritual repairs need to be made so that the insidiousness of his/her negativity cannot further affect their lives.