Medical
anthropologists Ron Barrett and George Aremelagos contend that ancient nomadic
peoples suffered less from acute infectious diseases that led to raging
epidemics than from chronic infections and parasites contracted hunting and
gathering. With the advent of the agricultural revolution, people settled into
the land and formed villages, allowing local populations to grow sufficiently
large to support acute epidemic disease. Torah speaks of plagues that strike
the Israelites, interpreting them as God’s punishment for violations of divine
will; perhaps this is a reflection of the later agricultural period in
Israelite history.
In the parshiot
Tazria and Metzora, we find echoes of the nomadic challenge of chronic
infections. In this week’s parashah, Metzora,
Torah discusses the metzora, one who
is afflicted with tzara’at, which is often inaccurately translated “leprosy,”
as well as neg’a, some sort of plague
that infests houses, growing on the walls. Imagine, for a moment, how
frightening such infestations must have been in the ancient world.
The term tzara’at is an umbrella term covering a
variety of skin ailments that were understood to convey ritual impurity and
require exclusion from the community until healed, followed by purification
when the sufferer is welcomed back. We do not know precisely what conditions
are included under this umbrella, but chronic infections and parasitic skin
ailments are undoubtedly among them. Priests preside over the identification of
tzara’at, the welfare of the metzora who is required to reside
outside the camp, and the purification of the sufferer once readmitted. Purification
involves two
live pure birds, cedar wood, crimson stuff, and hyssop (Leviticus
14:4) entwined in a complex ritual. Here is how Torah describes it:
The priest shall order one of the birds slaughtered over fresh
water in an earthen vessel; and he shall take the live bird, along with the
cedar wood, the crimson stuff, and the hyssop, and dip them together with the
live bird in the blood of the bird that was slaughtered over the fresh water.
He shall then sprinkle it seven times on him who is to be purified of the
eruption and purify him; and he shall set the live bird free in the open
country. The one to be purified shall wash his clothes, shave off all his hair,
and bathe in water; then he shall be pure. After that he may enter the camp,
but he must remain outside his tent seven days. On the seventh day he shall
shave off all his hair—of head, beard, and eyebrows. When he has shaved off all
his hair, he shall wash his clothes and bathe his body in water; then he shall
be pure. (Leviticus 14:5-9)
The following
day, the recovered metzora brings a
sacrifice to the Tent of Meeting consisting of two male lambs, one ewe lamb,
flour, and oil.
The metzora bathes himself not once, but twice:
the first time he washes his clothes, shaves his hair, and bathes his body
while still outside the camp, just before re-entering; again, a week later just
prior to bringing sacrificial offerings to the Mishkan (Tabernacle) he bathes a
second time. Sefer Ha-Hinnuch,
published anonymously in Spain in the 13th century, explains that
the purpose of bathing himself is not only to cleanse himself. We are talking about
ritual purity here, not personal hygiene, so this comes as no surprise, but Sefer Ha-Hinnuch has an interesting take
on the spiritual effect the immersion in water: It is an act of rebirth or
recreation; the metzora is born anew
out of the water. Just as the world emerged out of watery chaos (Genesis 1:2)
so too the metzora emerges
spiritually a new person from the emotional chaos of tzara’at, the exclusion from the community, and recovery. He is a
different person.
Many people who
have gone through a devastating illness report that they emerged new people and
describe survival as starting life over. Suleika Jaouad graduated from
Princeton University in 2010, ripe and ready to jump onto the fast track to
success. No sooner had she begun her first corporate job than she was diagnosed
with cancer. Following two years of chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant, Suleika
emerged a different person, one who had developed what she calls “invisible
muscles” for confronting and coping with stress. One senses that her experience
has led her to reassess her life path. The world looks entirely different on
the other side of the dark tunnel, because the one who emerges into the light
is forever changed.
If you have been in the dark valley of illness or trauma,
did you emerge changed in some way? Were you, in a sense, born anew, with new
insights and priorities, newfound sensibilities?
The S’fat Emet (Rabbi
Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter,
1847–1905) makes a fascinating comment on a very strange verse in the parashah.
After recounting the rituals and procedures described above, Torah tells us:
When you enter the land
of Canaan that I give you as a possession, and I inflict an eruptive plague
upon a house in the land you possess, the owner of the house shall come and
tell the priest, saying, “Something like a plague has appeared upon my house.”
(Leviticus 14:34)
The S’fat Emet asks, as perhaps you are asking yourself:
What sort of strange
announcement is this?
S’fat Emet invokes Rashi’s imaginative suggestion that the
plague on the walls of the houses was not a punishment for wrongdoing, but
rather a ploy to compel the Israelites to tear down the walls, thus revealing
treasure concealed within. He explains:
Rashi explains that the
Canaanites [had been hiding gold treasures inside the walls of their houses,
which the Israelites would find upon destroying the houses]. Now really?! Did
the Creator of the universe need to resort to such contortions? Why would God
have given the Canaanites the idea of hiding [treasures in the walls of their
houses] so that Israel would have to knock down the houses?!
The idea of a treasure-concealed-within inspires S’fat Emet
to comment:
The real meaning of these
afflictions of houses is in fact quite wondrous, a demonstration that Israel’s
holiness is so great that they can also draw sanctity and purity into their
dwelling-places… That is what Israel did when they brought the land of Canaan
forth from defilement and into the reality of holiness. Then it became the Land
of Israel, and the blessed Creator caused His presence to dwell in the holy
Temple...
We can already see that S’fat Emet is bringing a
psychological interpretation to this passage of Torah. The houses of the
Canaanites are the world around, as well as us. The treasure concealed in the
walls is the holiness implicit in everything in the world, including us—all
reality—awaiting discovery. But we build psychological walls in our
houses-of-the-self and fail to find them. Yet the hidden treasures—inherent
holiness—abounds and surrounds us. And what is more, the treasure of holiness
is within us. S’fat Emet concludes:
This is the real “hidden
treasure” — that in the most corporeal of objects there are hidden sparks of
the greatest holiness… (S’fat Emet 3:139f)
We must destroy the walls to find the treasure. I would
propose that our walls may be build of self-absorption, deceit, insensitivity,
vicious competitiveness, overweening pride, thoughtlessness, stubbornness,
narrow-mindedness, nastiness, fear of considering new ideas, pomposity—all of
which arise from our sense of vulnerability and insecurity. We build the walls
(that is, act out of these negative attributes) to protect ourselves, to wall
ourselves off from the sense of being vulnerable, the feeling of insecurity.
The key to our happiness and wellbeing, expressed in Torah as cure and purification,
is to tear down the walls and shed these negative traits.
But how do we do that? It would seem by accepting
vulnerability and insecurity as a normal part of the human psyche. It’s okay to
feel that way—everyone does. A young mother named Lana who suffers from chronic illness (rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia) says
that illness has changed her in some positive ways, as well as some
not-so-positive, ways. The positive changes are that she has learned to choose acceptance, to offer and when
necessary seek support, and to look for a silver lining instead of asking
“why?” Lana understand that she must actively decide to choose to accept her
vulnerability. She copes with her insecurity by choosing to accept help from
others, and by pushing away the dead-end question of “why” and instead searching
for a silver lining.
Demolition is never easy. But it is liberating. It may seem
counter-intuitive, but accepting our own vulnerability and insecurity
contributes to our own spiritual healing by allowing us to liberate the treasures
of holiness hidden behind the walls. Accepting our own vulnerability and
insecurity frees us to be far better versions of ourselves.
© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
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