Tazria-Metzora

This is a double Torah portion. Parashat Tazria describes the period of impurity after child-birth. It also goes into great details about the ailment of tzara'at - a disorder which could affect skin or clothes. Parashat Metzora deals with the purification ritual for a leper (probably not the illness we know as leprosy today) as well as with houses which seem to be affected by a similar plague. Metzora concludes with other emissions which cause impurity.

My Favourite Jewish Text

Tazria-Metzora – Ellen Dreskin

Ellen Dreskin, cantor, travels and teaches liturgy, music, mysticism, and synagogue transformation. She lives in New York with her husband, Billy Dreskin, a rabbi, and three amazing children.

"And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying, 'If a person has in the flesh of his skin (b'or b'saro) a sore'" (Leviticus 13:1-2)

A young child, walking home from synagogue with her father, says, "Daddy, may I ask you a question about the Rabbi's sermon?" "Of course, dear," replies her father. "Didn't the Rabbi say that God was bigger than everyone?" asks the little girl. "Yes, dear," replies the father. "But Daddy," continues the daughter, "Didn't the Rabbi also say that God is inside each and every one of us?" The father thinks for a moment. "Yes, dear, the Rabbi also said that God is inside each and every one of us." "Well," asks the little girl, "what I don't understand is, if God is bigger than all of us, and God is inside each of us, then isn't God bound to shine through?"

The Sfat Emet (Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter of Ger, 19th century) comments on Leviticus 13:1 with a midrash (traditional rabbinic narrative) from Genesis 3:21. As we leave the Garden of Eden, God makes for us garments of or, skin (spelled with an ayin). What were we clothed in previously? Garments of or, light (spelled with an aleph). When Moses descended from Mt. Sinai, when parents first see their newborn child, when a teacher is lost in passion for his or her teaching, the abandonment of oneself in the love or the task at hand allows one to positively 'glow'. Our original garments shine through.

Today, both physical and spiritual wounds or sores can create a metaphorical tzara'at (to our ancestors, the 'scaly affliction' that is the topic of our parasha), clogging our pores, scarring us, thickening our skins, deadening our emotions, and making it difficult for God's light to be revealed. Debilitating illness, guilt, weakness, anxiety, or depression can cause one to withdraw, to separate from friends and community. Our garment of light is concealed - we feel ill, tarnished, weakened, confused and unworthy.

In the absence of the priests and the set boundaries of our biblical communities, we become a cast of one in what used to be a communal drama. We judge ourselves, find ourselves diseased, unfit possibly for public appearance or inclusion in community, and close ourselves off either physically or emotionally from those around us. Tzara'at in Aramaic is segiru - closing.

It is not always a negative thing. Sometimes withdrawal gives one the time to heal, to gather strength for the challenges ahead, and to consider options for renewal and response. But in order to heal completely, we must (as Torah instructs) eventually return, emerge from our self-imposed isolation, and allow others to once again coax the light from within us.

In spite of our illnesses, our mistakes, and/or our failings, our original garments of light still exist just below the surface. We show honor and gratitude to God by allowing that light to shine through.



Rosh Chodesh Iyar

Daniel Roth teaches Chumash at the Pardes Institute in Jerusalem and is completing an MA in Talmud at the Hebrew University. He is pursuing a doctorate on Jewish approaches to conflict resolution.

"Torah Scholars increase peace in the world" - Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 64a

Several years ago, towards the end of Shabbat services, I was asked by someone sitting next to me: "How do we know the Siddur has a sense of humour? Because it says, "Torah scholars increase peace in the world!" Being a first year Yeshivah student, this infuriated me. Now, years later, I think a lot about this statement[1], and I ask myself what does it really mean? Is it just a joke, or could it be reality? Can studying Torah make us truly better at bringing peace? My answer is that it depends on how we study Torah in general, and in particular, how we interpret the many conflict narratives in our traditional texts.

I would like to suggest that there are two ways of interpreting these conflict narratives. The first way is the classic interpretive approach: the individual interpreter reads a story, assumes there is only one way of reading it (the Peshat - literal meaning), fills in all the textual gaps as if they don't exist, and as a result tends to favour one side in the conflict over the other. The interpreter becomes the "friend" of one side of the conflict, and then another interpreter may take the other side, thereby perpetuating the conflict. An alternative approach to interpreting conflict narratives is what I would like to refer to as "mediative interpretation". This is the study of the text together with the spectrum of commentaries, recognizing that there may be several legitimate interpretations, and that there are textual ambiguities that cannot be resolved. This approach may foster awareness that there needs to be a distinction between an agreed reality (in this case the words in the verse), and the assumptions behind the interpretation of that reality. The interpreter will now be equipped to understand the rationale behind each side of the conflict, thereby recreating the hidden "third story"[2]. The interpreter in this style will not be perceived as taking sides, but rather as remaining neutral and assisting in reconciling the other conflicting sides.

To illustrate the distinction between these two approaches, I will site one example of a Biblical conflict and its interpretations. In Genesis 16, we have a wonderful demonstration of how conflict can be triangular.[3] We are told there that after Sarah was unable to have a son of her own, she offers her maidservant, Hagar, to Abraham. Once Hagar proceeds in getting pregnant, Sarah senses that her position is being threatened, so she turns to the third side of the story, Abraham, and says, "...may the Lord judge between you and me!" The commentaries on this verse are in disagreement about the nature of Sarah's words. Genesis Rabbah (a collection of midrashim – traditional rabbinic narratives) comments that, "whoever plunges eagerly into litigation does not escape unscathed" and therefore Sarah should be punished for her overly combative behaviour. On the other hand, the Targumim (early rabbinic Aramaic translations)[4] on this verse hear something different in her words and translate them as "and let Him spread peace between me and you". According to the Targum's account, Sarah is not blaming Abraham, but rather expressing her deep desire to reconcile their relationship[5].

What do we do with this disagreement? A classic approach would be to choose one interpretation over the other. Either Sarah was out of line or she wasn't. The more neutral approach to interpretation, "meditative interpretation", embraces both contradictory interpretations as containing aspects of truth. Perhaps from Sarah's perspective she only meant to say, "May G-d spread peace between you and me", however Abraham may have heard her as blaming and wanting to bring him to a Divine court. It is often the case that intentions are understood in completely different ways, especially in a difficult conversation.[6]

Through the "meditative interpretation" approach to studying Torah, which seeks to mediate not only between the conflicting sides within the narrative, but also between the different interpreters in conflict, we can begin to create a method of Torah study that gives us tools to manage our own conflicts and increase peace in the world. The seemingly humorous statement, "Torah Scholars increase peace in the world" is not only my favorite text, it is also my dream.


[1] In addition to the citation in T.B Berachot 64a, it may also be found as the final lines of several tractates of the Talmud and Midrash: i.e. T.B. Yevamot, Nazir, Critut, Y.T. Berachot, Avot. de. R. Natan b., Sifre Devarim etc... Back

[2] The third story "means describing the problem between the parties in a way that rings true for both sides simultaneously." Stone, Patton, Heen, Difficult Conversations. Penguin Press. 1999. p. 150. Back

[3] There is an old Napalese proverb that says: "When the first wife fights with the second, the husband gets his nose cut off." That is because conflict is triangular in origin and in resolution. Augsburger. D.W. Conflict Mediation Across Cultures. 1992. Chapter 5. Back

[4] Early Rabbinic Aramaic translations, in this case Targum Yonatan, Neophiti and the Jerusalem Targum. Back

[5] Philo in his book "The Preliminary Studies" 151-153, also gives a favorable account to Sarah's words. "On which account she says very appropriately, "May G-d judge between thee and me; not making haste to condemn him beforehand as having done her wrong, but intimating a doubt, that perhaps he may speedily do her right..." Back

[6] Difficult Conversations ch. 3 "Don't assume they mean it: Disentangle Intent from impact." Back