Back to the Basics this Week
This week, I have been struck by the cruelty, callousness, and discord that's swirling all around us. To share two quick illustrations that have loomed large for me in recent days:
In Oklahoma last Thursday, ICE raided a family's home, confiscating belongings and putting the family outside in the rain in their underwear. They continued tearing the home apart even when it became clear that the family members were all U.S. citizens, and not the people they were looking for. This heavy-handed action feels unnecessarily cruel and intimidating, which perhaps is precisely the point.
In Ra'anana, Israel, when a congregation much like ours gathered to watch a live screening of the Israeli-Palestinian Joint Memorial Ceremony for Yom HaZikaron, they were attacked by a mob of Jewish Kahanist demonstrators who threw objects and firecrackers at the building, defaced cars, forced their way inside, and assaulted participants. A Reform rabbi and left-wing lawmaker called the incident "an attempted pogrom;" a right-wing activist called it an "opening shot."
These episodes take place against the backdrop of other, slower-drip cruelty and derangement: the new U.S. administration's disregard for the health and safety of Americans (here I'm thinking of the gutting of cancer research funding, disabilities protections, vaccines, education, and more), and the fact that it's now been a full two months since the Israeli government permitted an aid truck into Gaza(!). Despite the beautiful spring sunshine here in Seattle, it feels to me as though we have been plunged into a new "Dark Ages," void of science, truth, and basic moral decency.
At first blush, this week's Torah portion, Tazria-Metzora, doesn't seem to have anything at all to say about this aspect of the world we are living in. This double parasha is the epitome of the the Book of Leviticus's ritual concern, as it catalogues the skin afflictions, scaly rashes, and discoloration that affected our ancient ancestors, and details an elaborate purification ritual by which the priests (Aaron and his sons) would welcome the afflicted "leper" back into the camp after they had healed.
Early rabbis who read this parasha, however, noted that leprosy and skin afflictions -- when they appear elsewhere in the Tanakh -- are usually presented not as naturally-occurring illnesses, but as divine punishments for unethical action. So, perhaps it's unsurprising that when the rabbinic collection entitled Vayikra Rabba opens an entire chapter of its work with the verse “This shall be the law of the leper on the day of his purification: he shall be brought to the priest” (Leviticus 14:2), the interpretations that follow are not about the topics of law, leprosy, purification, or the priesthood in the least! Rather, the midrash understands "leprosy" as a spiritual malady, and probes to gain understanding into the unethical behaviors that are to be avoided and/or healed.
The result is that Vayikra Rabba's section on the "law of the leper" (chapter 16) becomes, instead, an expanded ethical homily. It opens with one of the rabbis' favorite exegetical tools: the bringing of another verse "from afar" to bear on the verse in question. In this case, the go-to biblical text comes from Proverbs 6:17-19, which reads:
“Six things the Lord hates, and seven are an abomination to God: Haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart devising iniquitous thoughts, feet hastening to run to evil, he who utters lies as a false witness, and he who incites discord among brothers."
Each of the seven items on the Proverbs list is then connected back to tzara'at, "leprosy," through stories and additional proof-texts.
Later this month, I will celebrate my 21st anniversary since my rabbinic ordination. In my early years of working as a rabbi, I never permitted myself to write a Dvar Torah where the punchline was simply to be kind, or honest, or ethical. Preaching or teaching that kind of message felt far too obvious, and far too cliche. Now, however, I am feeling more and more like we are swimming in a sea of depravity, meanness, lies, and violence. And, the harsher and crueler the world around us feels, the more I feel like that "be a good person" sermon may actually be the only one worth giving!
(As a side bar, I'll note that Vayikra Rabba is dated to the fifth or early sixth century CE in the land of Israel, with some of its texts and teachings having been collected over the previous centuries. During these centuries, Jews in Syria-Palestina were still living under Roman rule, and the codification of the book happens to approximately coincide with the fall of Rome. I wonder now whether the rabbinic authors of Vayikra Rabba were feeling the same sense that I am -- that as the Roman Empire began to unravel, the world around them was swirling with cruelty, scheming, and discord, and that it was up to them to preach "basics"?)
Returning to the Proverbs text the rabbis chose to teach in conjunction with this week's parasha, this teaching identifies seven behaviors that are anathema to how our tradition wants us to be in the world. These categories feel shockingly relevant even today... and of course, we could set our course by aiming for their opposites:
In a world filled with "haughty eyes," we should aim towards humility.
Rather than a "lying tongue," we aspire to be truth-tellers.
Instead of having "hands that shed innocent blood," we should try to appreciate the value and sanctity of each human being, and do everything we can to preserve life.
When surrounded by "hearts devising iniquitous thoughts" (i.e. those who are plotting, with nefarious aims), we should check that our intentions are upright.
Rather than having our "feet hastening to run to evil," Judaism calls on us to hasten to do whatever good we can.
Surrounded by those who "utter lies as false witnesses," we can ensure that justice and fairness prevail.
When others "incite discord among brothers," our tradition insists that we should be the peace-makers.
In our parasha, the priest goes out to the leper to inspect his skin and to perform an elaborate ritual welcoming him back into the camp once he has healed. That priest is Aaron, about whom the rabbis also had a teaching... one so famous that it's made its way into the traditional daily prayer service, such that it's become a short-hand tool for centering ourselves on some of the most core of our values -- "the basics" -- for who we want to be and how we want to act. Here's the quote, from Pirke Avot 1:12:
הִלֵּל אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַהֲרֹן, אוֹהֵב שָׁלוֹם וְרוֹדֵף שָׁלוֹם, אוֹהֵב אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת וּמְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה
Hillel used to say: be of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving all human beings and drawing them close to Torah.
As society around us continues to go haywire, it is my firm hope that through Torah and through community, we can manage to keep our moral compasses pointing towards true-north. May we all aspire to become true disciples of Aaron the Priest: pursuers of peace, lovers of all humanity, and teachers of ethical and enduring truth.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum
