April 21st: Tazria and Metzora
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Though the special Haftarah this week is for the New Moon, it also has an interesting connection to the theme of our Torah portions, Tazria and Metzora—possibly the “worst” Torah portions of the year. Their subjects? The diagnosis and treatment of leprosy and house mold, various bodily discharges, and the religious rituals surrounding these situations. These portions both call on all our analogy/ metaphor/allegory skills as we try to find modern meaning in these ancient instructions.
Isaiah 66.1-24. Isaiah’s message speaks of a kind of moral rot that sin and depravity bring into human lives. Like mold that can render a good house uninhabitable, our sins can sabotage our happiness. Indeed, how can we expect to be close to God when we mix our religiosity with disrespect?
“As for those who slaughter oxen and slay humans,
Who sacrifice sheep and immolate dogs,
Who present as oblation the blood of swine,
Who offer incense and worship false gods—
Just as they have chosen their ways
And take pleasure in their abominations,
So will I choose to mock them,
To bring on them the very thing they dread…” (Isaiah 66.3-4)
Isaiah’s read of our history is that the disasters experienced by ancient Judah and Israel are not by happenstance. Rather they are punishments meted out by God because of our immorality and idolatry. Just as our God of Justice plagued the ancient Egyptians because of their crimes and sins, so does the same God hold us responsible when we corrupt our lives. Justice and righteousness are incumbent upon every nation, and our only remediation is to repent—both individually and communally.
Isaiah also counsels patience—that God’s forgiveness will come but it may take a while before the blessings become abundant again.
I would like to pursue this metaphor of something rotting from within and apply it to the question of our abundance. I believe that a certain kind of economic thinking can rot our sense of abundance and bring misery into our lives. The idea I am challenging is the one that says, If we are not winning, then we are losing. If we are not doing better than others, then we are unsuccessful.
Part of this thinking comes from the competition upon which commerce is based. There are a limited number of cabbages, washing machines, or shirts that will be purchased, and merchants compete to sell theirs. However, when this competitive inclination is applied to our sense of abundance and happiness, we get into trouble. A case in point was reported last week. Whereas “the American Dream” has been, for many generations, that “children will do better than their parents,” this possibility seems to be waning. Statistics suggest that upward mobility is no longer a ubiquitous expectation, and, if this continues to be the case, is the American Dream dying? Or, as I suspect, is this thinking less than well-founded? Do we need to do “better than our parents” to succeed?
I take these questions personally, because I am someone who chose a career in which I knew I would not make as much money as my parents. Was this therefore a poor career choice? Did my parents defeat me in a competition I was supposed to win? Or are there simply different income figures when one makes an unnecessary comparison? Is the point of income to win a competition or to provide for one’s needs and desires? Does one need to win a competition to win in life?
A similar competitive analysis got a lot of attention back around a dozen years ago. The Great Recession of 2008 reduced the wages and retirement contributions of many young people, and, when pushed forward by economic modeling, these workers were projected to amass less wealth by the time they retire than the cohort that started their careers a decade earlier. Focusing on this disparity can bring about a lot of anxiety, frustration, and even nihilism. Unless we ask: How much is enough? If someone retires in 2050 with $2 million instead of $3 million—a possible disparity caused by the Great Recession, what would be the “abundance effect?” Will this earner have been able to purchase a home? Will he/she have been able to send their children to college? Will this citizen have been able to take vacations, drive reliable cars, and enjoy the various pleasures of life? Yes, but. Instead of vacationing in Aruba or Tahiti, they might have had to enjoy the beach on the Jersey Shore or the Outer Banks. Instead of living in a 3500 square foot house, they might have had to settle for one with only 2000 square feet. They might have had to endure with less, but could they have had enough?
I am not talking about real poverty—or about the various social justice dimensions of income disparity. I am not talking about subsistence farmers or penniless immigrants trying to support their families. For so many of us—a few generations beyond that kind of economic desperation, the question is less about economic survival than about having enough to be comfortable. When we see everything in terms of a competition that we either win or lose, we bring misery to ourselves and miss the blessings we are given. We have, in other words, the ability to inculcate rot into the core of our abundance and to ruin our ability to appreciate.
Our real concern should be developing the ability to be satisfied. We can be poor in the midst of plenty, or rich in relatively poor circumstances. We are not always in a race, a fight, or a competition. As we pray on Shabbat: “Sab’aynu mituvecha. Satisfy us with Your goodness.” May we, O Lord, learn to appreciate our blessings and to share them with others.