April 12th: Tazria
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
One of the great lessons of Torah came for me during a discussion on this week’s portion over forty years ago. Tazria is the portion in Leviticus (Chapters 12-13) which deals with “leprosy.” “When a person has a skin swelling, rash, or discoloration, and it develops into a scaly affection on the skin, it shall be reported to Aaron the priest or to one of his sons, the priests. The priest shall examine the affection on the skin: if hair in the affected patch has turned white and the affection appears to be deeper than the skin, it is a leprous affection; when the priest sees it, he shall pronounce the patient tameh/impure.” (Leviticus 13.2-3)
Some modern translations hesitate to use the word leprosy because it refers to what medical science now knows are a large number of different skin disorders—Hansen’s Disease being only one. Nonetheless, whatever the skin disorder, the Priest’s diagnostic duty is to determine whether a rash is just a rash or something more serious.
But this was not the great Torah lesson. The lesson came from a Senior Sermon that extrapolated from the priest’s declaration of tameh (impure) or tahor (pure) for leprosy to a matter of social justice. The issue was a plan to locate a group home for intellectually disabled adults in a residential neighborhood—and the opposition of some neighbors. The student rabbi saw the neighborhood opposition as a modern form of “shunning lepers” and maintained that no human should have the power to declare another human unacceptable. Who does the Kohen/Priest think he is to declare another human unacceptable? How could the Torah dictate such elitism and discrimination?
My classmate’s social justice fervor was understandable, but our supervising professor was concerned about the way his anger impugned a legitimate priestly function. Is it unjust for a Priest to identify danger and then act to protect the community? Our professor did not question the social justice and egalitarian views of the student rabbi, but he did suggest a different perspective on the existence of authority. Is it possible that authority can be used for good?
The Biblical Kohanim, he pointed out, do not act arbitrarily. They are trained in the medical skill of identifying dangerous and contagious conditions—in order to protect the community from them. If the rash turns out to be nothing more than a rash, then the Kohen can let everyone know that no danger exists. If the rash turns out to be leprous, then the Kohen can prescribe quarantine procedures and treatment to protect both patient and community. And, if the rash eventually goes away—if whatever it was has healed, then the patient and community can be given the “all clear” sign. Though authority is given and used, the purpose and effect is good.
In the modern neighborhood discussion, the professor suggested, the problem is not in the existence of fear. Neighborhood residents have a right to be concerned about their safety and their property values. In every social justice pursuit, there needs to be a calculation about costs and benefits. As Hillel asks, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” (Avot 1.14) The fear—as in the ancient fear of someone’s possibly contagious rash—is understandable. What is needed is for the modern Kohen/moral leader to investigate the plan for the group home and the way the residents will be selected and supervised. If there is no danger, then they can be declared tahor. They are not lepers; they are pure. If there is danger, however, then it is reasonable for the modern religious leader—rabbinic or lay—to work on the situation so that both neighbors and group-home residents are treated fairly. In other words, authority should be used to determine the truth and then to act for the good.
There are times when we are very aware of our relative weakness—of our smallness in the world. Some people, institutions, and situations are so much greater than we are that we feel powerless, vulnerable. Sometimes, we look at these powers and feel resentment. Other times we find fault with the way authority is used. However, for all of its potential pitfalls, authority is a fact of life and can be both necessary and helpful. Rather than railing against authority qua authority, which my classmate seemed to be doing in both ancient and modern contexts, the lesson of the day was to figure out ways to use authority for justice and good.
One more lesson. Our professor also suggested a different perspective on the Scripture. When we disagree with Scripture—when some ancient institutions and practices seem distasteful or morally problematic, we have a choice in how we distance ourselves from them. We can negate and reject the whole Biblical record, or we can try to understand how different times and cultural values led to such customs or laws—how something that might have begun with good or reasonable motivations eventuated in practices we now realize are neither just nor fair. This means viewing the Tradition with positive reverence—as one would view a work in progress. What began as ancient and imperfect attempts to live in holiness progressed through centuries of experience and insight—and gave us the chance to improve.
In my mind, the Bible is like the founding documents of our United States. Though many of the principles and aspirations were not fulfilled in the early centuries of our national life, the seeds of justice and righteousness were planted—and our history shows a persistent struggle to make these goals reality. Though racism and misogyny and other prejudices stymied the lofty principles of The Declaration of Independence, the stated principles of equality and fairness have served as beacons, beckoning us to improve. The same can be said of the society outlined in the Torah. There are principles there, the attainments of which were far beyond the possibilities of our ancient ancestors. Nonetheless, the values are inscribed in our sacred texts, and, nurtured by conscience, have been waiting to be actualized and inspiring us to make our Judaism a better Judaism. Though there is more work to be done, the possibilities of living in relationship with the Divine call us to improvement.
Getting back to our Torah portion, the problem is not with identifying “leprosy” as dangerous. Skin diseases can be dangerous. The challenge is to be accurate in our identification and to manage our fears and responses—approaching our problems with clarity and justice. This is the challenge for authority and those of us who strive to use it for good.