Dvar Torah Parsha Tazria and Metzora

Vayikra 12:1-13:59, 14:1-15:33

This week, we have two parshat, Tazria and M’tzora. They are read together most often when it’s not a Jewish leap year when an extra month is added. Here we are introduced to the concepts Tumah, the state of being Tameh, that is, ritual impurity; and Taharah, the process of becoming Tahor which is ritual purity. To our modern minds, these carry a negative connotation that is not really deserved. Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg in a paper on the subject quotes Lisa Berman with Mayyim Hayyim, saying Tumah is like an everyday state of being, while Taharah is an elevated state needed to enter the Tabernacle. Or as suggested by Etz Chaim, the notion of Tumah grows out of a sense of reverence of the miraculous nature of birth, the awesome power of death, and the mysteries of illness and recovery.

So Tazria begins with the process of becoming Tameh, with the birth of a boy, and then that of a girl. The period for a male is 7 days, followed by circumcision on the eighth day and counting 33 days from that date. For a girl child, it is 14 days, followed by counting 66 days. At the end of either, the woman offers a guilt offering. Other things, like seminal emissions, menstruation, contact with death, a skin disorder called tzara-at can cause one to be Tameh. Tzara-at is a skin condition referred here as leprosy, but it is separate from Hansen’s Disease which we call leprosy today. None of these other conditions require as long to move to tahor as childbirth. So, lots to unpack here. Why does the time double for girls? It seems there are almost as many reasons given as there are Rabbis. To some, it was a belief that the male embryo developed more quickly than that of the female. Others, bless their hearts, thought it was because of the greater grief for not having a male child. According to Yael Tischler in a dvar on this topic, a few more palatable reasons were offered. She says Mary Douglas suggests our ancestors believed that circumcision had protective power, so the mother and her male child did not need as much time apart. Rachel Adler says that the birth of a potential life giver would have compounded the time to reach equilibrium. Adler goes on to say that both needed the time because the brush with death was so great. In our modern era, it is not the threat to life it once was. In my opinion, the latter makes sense, though I also would suggest that in writings by patriarchs, this sort of division is not entirely surprising.

While Tazria is all about identifying and diagnosing instances of tameh, Metzora is about the process of healing or moving from tameh to a state of purity. In diagnosis and treatment, the priest plays the role not only of spiritual leader but as medical healer as well. It occurs to me that this tradition lasted well beyond Biblical times. In my study of British archaeology, medieval hospitals were run by monastic groups where their Christian patients would come to the hospital and first do confession, then get herbal treatments, possibly a leech regimen, all just outside a church so they could hear the service from their beds. The Talmud suggests that the skin disorders or tzara-at were a result of malicious gossip, referring to Miriam who had acquired tzara-at after complaining to the people about Moshe. But the Torah itself considers it a disease to be healed, not a fault to be corrected. For those with this affliction, they had to rent their clothing, go outside the camp, calling “Tameh! Tameh!” This suggests to me, that there was at some level an understanding that some disease could be spread to others. The diagnosis was given, not only to the person, but their hair, beard, clothing, even stones in their walls.

It was the role of the priest to go outside the camp to inspect for the ones who were healed. Metzora explains the ritual of purification, including bathing in living water (a mikveh). Like the new convert, they emerge a new person. Finally, we see a discussion on discharges, including those other than the usual emissions and menstruation.

So our parshat speak of those things we’d rather not talk about. Death, disease, discharges of all sorts. There is a verse in Song of Songs 5:11 that goes, “his head is finest gold, his locks are curled and black as a raven.” Set aside for a moment, the racist connotation that black to the medieval commentator represents that which is undesirable, according to Rabbi Aviva Richman of Hadar. But in the interpretation found in Vayikra Rabbah 19:3, “R. Shmuel bar Yitzhak interpreted the verses to be about certain sections of the Torah. Even though they seem disgusting and dark to say them in public- such as the laws of emissions, skin afflictions, menstruation, and giving birth – said the Holy Blessed One, ‘These are pleasing to Me.’ As it is said, ‘The gift of Yehudah and Yerushalayim is pleasing to Hashem’. Malakhi 3:4.” In other words, these are about our humanity, our Jewishness, and it is sweet and beautiful to Hashem.

Torah tells us we are a nation of priests. After the destruction of the second Temple, it falls to us to reach out. In Biblical times, an afflicted leper was the ultimate example of the other. It was the priest who went out and made contact, working towards their healing. The concept of “other” remains with us. It may be illness, death, or something societal that results in isolation. As today’s priests, we can reach out, assist in healing in our own ways. A card, a visitation, just a reminder of their humanity and a reassurance that they are not alone, can make a world of difference. We serve Hashem by serving others. Compassion is in and of itself a huge a great healer, for others, but also for ourselves. Baruch Hashem!