Archive for the '3.04 Tazria / Metzora' Category

My Defining Moment

We read in Tazria Metzoria, this week’s Torah portion, that when a person is afflicted with tzaraat they must dwell alone outside of the camp until they are healed. Tzaraat is commonly translated at leprosy but was actually a scaly affection of the skin with some discoloration. It was not contagious, but rather is seems to have been a symptom of an inner spiritual disorder.  Why is dwelling outside of the camp so transformative?

I was thinking about this recently when reading a paper that my Yishama had to write. His assignment was to explore a defining moment in his life to date. This is what he wrote and the drawing that accompanied it:

Before I went to sleep-away camp I wasn’t independent or responsible. I was not responsible because I didn’t ask for any responsibility. I wasn’t as productive at school because I didn’t have a sense of how important school was. I relied on my parents and au pair a lot because I didn’t have to be independent or responsible.

The summer I went to sleep-away camp changed my life. At sleep-away camp I was introduced to many kinds of people. The environment at camp was different because there were all kinds of people and different ways of living, which helped open me up to new foods and lifestyles. When I came home from camp my parents were surprised by how much I had changed and matured.

After I came home from sleep-away camp, I was more independent, responsible, and didn’t rely on other people as much. When I came home from camp my parents trusted me enough to let me do a lot of things I had not been allowed to do before I went to camp, such as staying home alone and making my own plans. When I came back from camp I was more productive in class because I knew the value of education.  Meeting some of my new friends at camp showed me how much they valued education and they inspired me to keep learning more – just like they do. Going to sleep-away camp opened my eyes to the world around me and the person I aspire to be.

For Yishama leaving home and going to camp helped his grow in his confidence and sense of responsibility. Coming into contact with all kinds of people and different ways of living helped Yishama open up. When he returned from a summer at Camp Stone he was transformed spiritually. I can only assume leaving camp was as transformative to the ancient Israelites. And in both cases I assume when they came back they needed a really good shower.

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Purification Process: Primaries and Tazria

I recently read the New York Times endorsement of Hillary Clinton for president. While there was nothing particularly surprising there, it did remind me how we are in the midst of one the strangest presidential primaries ever. The Op Ed said:

For the past painful year, the Republican presidential contenders have been bombarding Americans with empty propaganda slogans and competing, bizarrely, to present themselves as the least experienced person for the most important elected job in the world. Democratic primary voters, on the other hand, after a substantive debate over real issues, have the chance to nominate one of the most broadly and deeply qualified presidential candidates in modern history. ( NY Times 1/30/2016)

In its ideal form the process of the primary is to give the nation two vetted choices of people worthy of the post. Unlike in any primary I remember this one is schlepping on and on. It is almost as if this primary is a gestation process that I am not sure who we want to see come to term.

I was thinking about this while reading Tazria, this week’s Torah portion. There we learn that when a woman gives birth she should undergo a process of purification, which includes immersing in a mikvah and bringing offerings to the Holy Temple. Along with creation of a new and pure life of the child the mother is asked to purify herself and provide an offering at the temple.

I recalled  the following image on Facebook.

jon-stewart-daily-show-bernie-sanders-candidates

Regardless about what you think about Bernie Sanders as person, politician, or prospect for President, you have to give him credit for bring authentic back to politics. Good leadership is being honest, present, aware and vulnerable of one’s own limitations, having a robust vision for the future, and having the tenacity and temerity to fight for that vision while making sure everyone gets what they need.

While I am concerned about who will be the next president, I am also concerned for purity of the nation that will give birth to these candidates for next president of this country. What will be our purification process post-election?

 

 

 

Plague of Permanence

My dad was an officer and a lawyer in the US Navy. Some of my earliest memories are of him dressing up and for reserve duty.  Growing up we would always take family trips on sail boats. I cherish those memories. There was something very special about all being together and moving at the same time. My dad would often quip, ” What is the difference between owning a house and owning a boat? A house is a hole in the ground that your pour money into, where a boat is a hole in the water that you pour money into.” Now a quarter century later as a home owner myself I see what he was saying. While it gives us a lot of joy to have a home of our own, there are huge ongoing and unexpected expenses in owning a home.

I was thinking about this when reading Metzora, this week’s Torah portion. The parasha deals with ritual impurities ranging from skin disease (צָּרַעַת, tzara’at), to houses with an eruptive plague, to male genital discharges, and to  menstruation. There we read:

When you are come into the land of Canaan, which I give to you for a possession, and I put the plague of leprosy in a house of the land of your possession; then someone who owns a house shall come and tell the priest, saying: ‘There seems to me to be as it were a plague in the house.’  And the priest shall command that they empty the house, before the priest go in to see the plague, that all that is in the house be not made unclean; and afterward the priest shall go in to see the house.  (Leviticus 14:34-36)

This brings up two questions. The first question is how could our houses have the same issues as our persons. The second one, why is this plague limited to “when you come into the land”. I think the answer to both are connected to my father’s comment about boats. The comfort we take in permanence of our buildings and bodies is illusory. The notion that we own anything in life is misguided. Tzara’at reminds us that we are but tenants for a short time in our homes and even in our bodies. At best they are like boats bringing us closer to the ones we love: moving us further in life’s journey.

 

 

Mark of a Tzadik

In Tazria-Metzora, this week’s Torah portion, we read about various forms of biblical ritual impurity. It addresses cleansing from skin disease (צָּרַעַת, tzara’at). What was tzara’at, this skin disease? The person with tzara’at has to present their case to a priest to determine the right course of action. Why would you need to present a medical case to anyone other than a doctor?

One approach  is simply that  tzara’at not a medical condition.  In the Talmud Rabbi Samuel bar Nahmani said in the name of Rabbi Yohanan that skin disease results from seven things: slander, the shedding of blood, vain oath, incest, arrogance, robbery, and envy (Arakhin 16a.) Even so, how would a priest help you deal with one of these seven sins?

Ideally the priests followed in the ways of Aaron. The priests tried to literally be the “disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace; love your fellow creatures and draw them nigh unto the Law!”( Avot 1:12) They were peacemakers. Who else would be able to deal with these seven sins?

I was thinking about the person of Aaron this past Shabbat. My wife was away and I was having Shabbat dinner with our three children. While I was making Kiddush Emunah (3)  started screaming. In response Yishama (6) yelled at her saying he hates her and her screaming and stormed off to the living room. Emunah started to cry. Without saying a word Yadid (9) went off to the living room leaving me head in hand. I have no idea what they talked about, but a couple of moments later Yadid returned to the dining-room.  He gently but his arm around his crying sister and said, “Yishama apologizes for what he said”. And just like that, we had peace again.

At that moment all I could think about was Aaron.  He was an ideal priest of the people, far more beloved for his kindly ways than was Moses. While Moses was stern and uncompromising, brooking no wrong, Aaron went about as peacemaker, reconciling man and wife when he saw them estranged, or a man with his neighbor when they quarreled, and winning evil-doers back into the right way by his friendly interactions. (Avot de-Rabbi Natan 12 and Sanhedrin 6b). I grabbed Yadid  and give him a big hug. I said to him that he is the gilgul, reincarnation, of Aaron. Yadid is a Tzadik.  I hope by the time Yadid reads this blog his tender soul is revealed to more of the world. But, for now I am happy that this Tzadik saved my Shabbat meal last week.

Having this experience with my son makes we question what else could restore peace to the world. Other then someone who works tirelessly to help people make peace for themselves, what else could heal the world? What else could remove the blemish of one of these seven sins?

I hope that this Shabbat goes smoother for everyone. Shabbat Shalom.

Rejoining the Community

Camp works. And now we even have evidence to that effect as seen in the recent longitudinal impact study and Avi Chai’s Limud by theLakeRevisited. There is a profound experience of Jewish community at camp by  our campers and our staff alike. Even after not talking for years when I reconnect to people with whom I went to camp the bond still strong. But, how often do I take pause to think about all of the people for whom camp did not work? For many of us, being out of sight is being out of mind. For those who left camp for an embarrasing reason there is a risk that they are lost to our community. There is often a stigma connected to an untimely dismissal from camp that is a barrier to our reconnecting.

It was hard not thinking about these people this week when learning Metzorah, this week’s Torah portion. There we read about those who have been plagued by leprosy and had to leave the camp. There is no question that they needed to leave camp, but it does not mean that they should be lost to the community. There we read,

This shall be the law of the leper in the day of his cleansing: he shall be brought to the Kohen. And the Kohen shall go forth out of the camp; and the Kohen shall look, and, behold, if the plague of leprosy be healed in the leper. (Leviticus 14:2-3)

Is the leper being brought to the Kohen or is the Kohen going to the leper? At the core it defines what it means to have a holy community. Both parties need to make the effort to repair that relationship.

Similarly, in our camps we need to kick people out to preserve the safety and sanctity of the community that we are creating. These people might have made some bad choices or camp just might not have been appropriate for them, but does it mean that they are no longer part of the community? And going back to Metzorah, whose responsibility is it to try to bring them back into the community? Clearly both parties need to make the effort.

Dayenu we filled our beds with campers. Dayenu we filled the hearts and heads of all of our campers. Dayenu we trained our staff to do this. Dayenu we had the time to do alumni development with the alumni who left camp under good terms. And I am not just talking about the fund raisers, but the friend raisers. As we read this week’s Torah portion we should all put it on our schedule to get up and go out of camp to bring those people back into our communities. That would surely be enough. We all can serve in this role of the Kohen. But if we cannot think about supporting the work of a camp to enable them to have staff time to do this outreach. Camp is an amazing time and place for people to join community. In the act of helping someone rejoin the community we all become holy.

Apex in Creation

At the end of Shemini, last week’s Torah portion, the Torah went into a lot of detail regarding the laws of Kashrut. What can we eat? What we cannot eat? And why? There we read:

For I am the Lord your God; therefore sanctify yourselves, and be  holy; for I am holy; neither shall you defile yourselves with any manner of swarming thing that moves upon the earth. For I am the Lord that brought you up out of the land of Egypt, to be your God; you shall therefore be holy, for I am holy.This is the law of the beast, and of the fowl, and of every living creature that moves in the waters, and of every creature that swarms upon the earth; to make a difference between the unclean and the clean, and between the living thing that may be eaten and the living thing that may not be eaten. ( Leviticus 11:44-47)

A simple reading seems that God wants us to imitate God. But what does it mean to be holy like God? What do we make of the out-of-place reference to the Exodus from Egypt? And most importantly this week, what do we make of the transition from Shemini to Tazria, this week’s Torah portion?

At the start of Tazria we read:

Speak to the children of Israel, saying: If a woman be delivered, and bear a male child, then she shall be unclean seven days; as in the days of the impurity of her sickness shall she be unclean. (Leviticus 12:2)

On this Rashi quotes Vayikra Rabbah and comments:

Rabbi Simlai said, ” Just as the creating of man came after {the creation of ]all of the cattle, beast, and fowl in act of Creation, so this law is explained after the law of the cattle, beast, and fowl. (Rashi on Leviticus 12:2)

Rabbi Simlai, my Amoraic hero, points out the sequence of the laws of Shemini and Tazria mirrors the creation narrative. It is telling that the next large section of the Torah deals with a series of aweful dermatologic issues. Before this story of birth we learn all of these laws of Kashrut in which we are told to eat different to separate ourselves from lower creatures. After the story is the birth of children we learn how we fall a part as people. Most of life is controlling how we fend off parasites and other creatures living off your bodies, until ultimately we return to the earth. At our base we are no different from the animals we eat. Birth is the apex of the biblical imagination of creation. Is it any surprise that soon after Adam and Eve are created they eat something they are not supposed to eat and are condemned to mortality? But it is also after this act they become parents. As parents having a children represents our fulfilment of the directive to imitate God as a creator.

And so what do we make of the reference to the Exodus  from Egypt in the middle of all of this? In many ways, when we were slaves we were closest to being seen by others and seeing ourselves as animals. It was only after the Exodus from Egypt  that we became people again. The crossing of the Red Sea was our national birth. Just as Tazria is followed by issues (pun intended)that ailed us as individuals, the time in the desert was a time in which the Israelites were dealing with numerous national problems. In many ways it was our adolescence, with all of the acting out of base animal desires and even the acne. It is fitting that on Shabbat of Tazria in which we allude to a high point in becoming creators with the birth of a child we look ahead to celebrate Passover, the moment of our national birth.  So we keep kosher and remember the Exodus from Egypt to remind us of where we came from and the risk of forgetting our mission. We are all but animals, but we are vested with the infinite potential to create. Birth is just the beginning, we all have a long way to go toward realizing our divine potential.

The Torah of “Coodies”

In this week’s Torah portion, Tazriah Metzora, we read about laws of purity. Most interesting is a condition described called tzara’at. It seems to be a symptom of lashon ha’rah, saying something bad about someone else. Contrary to what most people think, lashon ha’rah is not about saying something bad that is not true. It is necessarily true but not nice.  It is about drawing attention to someone’s perceived flaw.

Somehow the Torah understood that there was a physical manifestation to treating people poorly. When we were little we made people feel bad by proclaiming that they had “coodies”. The Torah proclaims that you have this condition when you make other people feel bad.

The Ba’al HaTorim, in his commentary on Tazriah, points out something very interesting. He says that this portion mentions the word Torah in reference to tzara’at five times corresponding to the five books of the Bible. This is meant to teach us that not speaking poorly about people is tantamount to keeping the entire Torah.

So, just because it is true does not mean you need to say it. I could give you many examples, but as my mother always says, “If you have nothing nice to say…”


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