Shabbat Tazria-Metzora: Seems To Me

Don’t Believe Everything You Think

Our ancestors dealt with forces beyond their control just as we do; in this week’s parashah, which joins together the parshiyot called Tazria and Metzora, what we read according to the third year of the Triennial Cycle for Torah begins with some kind of moldy growth detected upon the walls of one’s home.

Some kinds of discoloration on a wall are harmless, but some are indications of growths that can destroy the house, or at least its resale value. In ancient Israel the comparable problem was in ascertaining whether the growth would render the house tame’, or ritually impure, or not. And so we find in chapter 14:

וּבָא֙ אֲשֶׁר־ל֣וֹ הַבַּ֔יִת וְהִגִּ֥יד לַכֹּהֵ֖ן לֵאמֹ֑ר כְּנֶ֕גַע נִרְאָ֥ה לִ֖י בַּבָּֽיִת

the owner of the house shall come and tell the priest, saying, “Something like a plague has appeared upon my house.” (Lev. 14.35)

Two aspects of the narrative are striking. The first is that the person who has observed the growth is not allowed to judge what it is. They are merely to say nir’ah li, “it seems to me” that it is “something like a plague”. This is interesting, even provocative. It is on your house; you have observed it; yet you are not allowed in any way to define what is happening.

The second rather surprising aspect of this story is that the first thing that the priest does is to minimize the possible damage:

וְצִוָּ֨ה הַכֹּהֵ֜ן וּפִנּ֣וּ אֶת־הַבַּ֗יִת בְּטֶ֨רֶם יָבֹ֤א הַכֹּהֵן֙ לִרְא֣וֹת אֶת־הַנֶּ֔גַע וְלֹ֥א יִטְמָ֖א כׇּל־אֲשֶׁ֣ר בַּבָּ֑יִת וְאַ֥חַר כֵּ֛ן יָבֹ֥א הַכֹּהֵ֖ן לִרְא֥וֹת אֶת־הַבָּֽיִת׃ 

The priest shall order the house cleared before the priest enters to examine the plague, so that nothing in the house may become unclean; after that the priest shall enter to examine the house.  (Lev. 14.36)

Whatever is in the house when the priest enters to examine the growth is included in whatever diagnosis is reached, but whatever is taken out in advance is spared. This is a clear indication that nothing has a status until it is proclaimed. Not unlike the very act of creation, when according to midrash the first human was invited to name the creatures in order to bring them fully into existence, here also reality must be named before it can be recognized, and before it has influence.

What is compelling here, in terms of human behavior, is not so much that we are summoned to name our reality. That is considered an act of valor: “call it what it is” is a kind of honesty. What is more interesting here is that we are not meant to name our reality by ourselves. We are not to reach a conclusion without checking in with someone else. In ancient Israel, it was the local priest. With us, it might mean an appointment with a therapist, or a rabbi, or a reliable, impartial frend.

In these complicated and frightening days, we are flooded with declarations of what is: the world is ending, or it is being saved. We who have been taught to trust our gut, to go with our own insights, may be having a hard time deciding, all by ourselves, the fate of the world. We could do worse than to remember to say nir’ah li, “it seems to me”, and to consult, and to seek insight, beyond our own understanding.

In this week in which the Jewish world has lived through another Yom HaShoah in which we remember the horrors of the Holocaust, and not long afterward Yom HaZikaron (remembrance day) and Yom HaAtzma’ut (Israel independence day), we would do well to refrain from quick and individual judgement. Say nir’ah li, “it seems to me,” and consult beyond yourself; be not so quick to judge or to be sure, whether you consider disaster or redemption more likely to be in the offing.

From mourning those lost to violence, to making the effort to reach out a hand of support and connection to those who share our home with us, to simply remembering to be in awe of human resilience and compassion in the worst of times, these are intense days for all of us who feel with the medieval poet Yehudah HaLevi “my heart is in the East, and I am in the uttermost West.” May Shabbat bring a sense of the longed-for sukkah of peace and may we feel it spread over us.