Last week, the Torah introduced us to the plague of tzarat, a skin disease commonly believed to be punishment for the sin of speaking ill of someone. After introducing it, the Torah continues its discussion of tzarat and its cure in this week’s portion, Parashat Metzora. After discussing the sacrifices necessary, and the process of scraping clean the stones of a home cursed with tzarat, Metzora returns to other uncomfortable topics: secretions, and menstruation.
One of the most interesting elements of tzarat is that even the term “skin disease” is far from an accurate way of describing it. Tzarat doesn’t infect just humans, it can get on clothes, or even walls. Garments don’t have skin, homes don’t either. Even “disease” doesn’t work, since diseases are biological, and I’m pretty sure stones can not catch one. Even organic entities can’t catch most diseases from one another. Sorry, no blaming the dog for your cold. Yet, tzarat is contracted between organic and non-organic objects. So it isn’t your typical disease. The only honest way I can find to describe tzarat is as a “divine discoloration.”
In Metzora, God warns the people that when they enter the land of Israel, many of the homes they will come to occupy will already have this divine discoloration. The preeminent 11th century scholar, Rashi cites a source saying that apparently, tzarat in Israelite homes was a good thing, because it revealed that the nations who previously inhabited them were hiding gold and great treasures in the walls. Your house has discoloration? Score! If only that were true today; if I found gold in every apartment with mold or bad paint jobs, I would never have to work again.
In this case, tzarat of the home is a positive thing, but unfortunately, this is not true for all house discolorations. In many cases it is still considered a form of punishment, and even if it is good, you still have to completely dismantle and rebuild the house. Divine skin discoloration comes from speaking ill of a person, and divine home discoloration also relates to speech. The following text, drawn from the ancient collection of biblically based fables and laws, the Midrash, reveals an example of how someone can bring tzarat upon their own homes:
A man says to his friend, “Lend me a [measurement] of wheat,” and the other says, “I have none”; or one asks for the loan of a measure of barley… or a measure of dates, and the other says, “I have none.” Or a woman says to her friend, “Lend me a sieve,” and the other says, “I have none” … What does God do? He causes tzarat to light on his house, and as he takes out his household effects, people see, and say: “Did he not say, ‘I have none’? See how much wheat is here, how much barley, how many dates! Cursed be the house with such cursed inhabitants!
One of two possibilities exist here: Either Tzarat is a result of being dishonest about one’s possessions—no tax evasion folks—or a result of refusing to assist others. Based on tzarat’s relationship with speech, I would say that it is most likely the former. However, it shows that this is about more than just hiding something, there is a moral element here, too. Hiding an object because you don’t want to leave it where a robber can find it is not the same as hiding it so that you don’t have to share with others.
During my research, I came across an interesting tidbit on the parsha. In the first century, a rabbi named Judah Hanasi compiled what was considered an Oral Torah passed down since Sinai called, the Mishnah. “Woe to the wicked, and woe to his neighbor!,” says the Mishnah regarding this portion. “Both remove the stones, scrape around the walls and bring the new stones.” There are two possible interpretations of this: When one is dishonest, others are punished, or when one is punished their neighbors have a responsibility to help them become purified.
I would argue, once again, that in truth both are true and related. Community is an important part of being human, but without trust, a community can be shattered. When we are being dishonest, we aren’t just hurting the people we are lying to. We hurt ourselves by causing them to distrust us, and we spread a general sense of distrust within the family. Think of the person who has had one too many people betray them, do they only mistrust those who lied in the past, or do they have a mistrust of people in general? I have seen it firsthand, good people who have come to distrust others to the point where they become haughty, self-centered, and self-serving. Our dishonest behavior is what creates this unholy atmosphere, destroying any sense of community.
Yet, the text of the Mishnah teaches that our responsibility doesn’t end by being honest, we also have a responsibility to fight this corruption. There are two ways we can do this, one is by standing beside those who are causing corruption, and the other is by trying to teach them a better way. We don’t fight them, ripping down their walls ourselves, but instead we help them in their process of cleansing. This is done by approaching them with kindness and understanding, letting them know that there is an issue, then helping them guide themselves toward fixing it. More importantly, we also have a responsibility to help scrape away the discoloration, meaning we need to fight the atmosphere of dishonesty that has been created. How do we do this? By being honest ourselves, but also by showing others that we trust them, by expressing trust in our neighbors. Just as with teaching others to be honest, it may require patience and a level of forgiveness on our behalf, but breeding the right atmosphere will be well worth it.
David Gutbezahl is a student at Gratz College.
