Parshat Metzora
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Our twenty-first century minds may find the purification process of the metzora unsettling. "Take two live birds, cedar wood, scarlet and hyssop. Have one bird killed in an earthen vessel over running water. Dip the remaining items (including the other live bird) in the blood of the first bird. Sprinkle the mixture on the one being purified, then let the live bird go free." (14:4-7)
After this, anyone who thinks tzara'at was a medical condition, such as leprosy, ought to have the head examined. It is obviously a highly symbolic formula, and each ingredient carries a deeper message for the former metzora looking to rejoin society after a week or more isolated from the rest of society. The gemara in Arachin 16b lists a number of actions that may have brought about the tzara'at – the common denominator being that the person has neglected to consider implications of one's actions vis-à-vis the society at large.
What most fascinates me is the live bird that goes free. Every other Torah ritual that involves an animal results in the animal's death. Only the effort to remove tzara'at of the body and of the house utilizes a bird who is released, alive and well, with a mini bathing in blood to serve as a memory of his experience. Why is its life spared?
On a very simple level, it could represent the idea that just as the bird's life is spared and it goes free, the metzora could have been punished otherwise, perhaps losing his life, but he is now free.
The Kli Yakar takes the significance of the two birds to a much deeper level.
He explains that a person experiences two types of speech – prohibited and mitzvah-oriented. The prohibited speech, which includes lashon hara, is represented by the chirping bird that is slaughtered over the earthen vessel under running water. If he is a real person, he will have a weakened spirit at the sight of the bird that is taking his place, as the verse in Mishlei 15:4 says, "A healing tongue is a tree of life, but if there is perverseness in it, it causes destruction by wind." His judgment is compared to the earthen vessel which, were it to become unkosher in some manner, it can never be fixed and must be smashed.
On the other hand, if he is a scholar, his resolution at the sight of all these happenings will be to study Torah, which is compared to running water. This is why the term "zot torat" (This is the Torah of…) appears five times in the telling of the metzora's purification process, as it teaches him that one who delves into the teachings of the Five Books of the Torah can be saved from the tzara'at he may have received on account of speaking lashon hara.
The bird that lives and is set free represents the words of Torah and prayers that a person may have uttered. They are to be combined with cedar wood, scarlet and hyssop which represent one's submission and humility. Even when studying and praying one's heart should have that feeling of being broken and submissive.
The rabbis taught us (Sotah 5a), "The Torah does not say 'man' will be healed, but that 'flesh' will be healed (Vayikra 13:18), because only a person whose heart is soft and fleshy (as opposed to hard as stone) will be healed of his tzara'at."
Sotah 5a also teaches that "Basar" (flesh) is an acronym for "Bushah, Sruchah and Rimah" – shame, foulness and worms. This could be a reminder of the disgrace and degradation that awaits one at death on account of his deeds.
With this in mind, one might choose one's words more carefully and pursue humility when dealing with others.
The sprinkling of the blood soaked living bird upon the healed metzora is meant for him to see the possibility of repenting for past deeds, and taking upon himself a sincere effort to improve in the future. Torah study is meant to help this pursuit of goodness, as living by its guiding principles is meant to create a wholesome and wonderful human being.
Picture the image of a bird that is released from captivity. Imagine it spreading its wings as it flies away. This is what the live bird is meant to represent to the metzora. "Your past deeds are duly noted. You did the wrong thing and were given this spiritual ailment to serve as a wakeup call. You are being given a new lease on life. Don't waste this opportunity. Pursue truth, kindness, and have utmost respect for your fellow man through the things you say and the way you carry yourself."
Amen.
Showing posts with label korban. Show all posts
Showing posts with label korban. Show all posts
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Friday, March 26, 2010
Chametz: The Bread of Freedom
This article appears in the Jewish Star
Parshat Tzav and Pesach
A child looks at the holiday table that always has a plump centerpiece with an ornate cover. The cover is lifted to reveal… three matzos. Bummer. Where is the bread?
The first of the four rhetorical statements in the Mah Nishtanah is, “Tonight we eat only matzo.” One can argue this observation is not motivated simply due to the innocent questions of a child. Rather, there is a real contradiction in that on the evening when we are supposed to be celebrating freedom, we are only eating poor man’s bread. (I think matzo is called poor man’s bread because once you’ve bought matzo made under the strictest conditions, you become a poor man who can’t afford bread anyway.)
Interestingly, there is only one korban (offering) in this week’s parsha that includes a series of breads. Usually the bread used for a korban is matzo. But in chapter 7, we find that the Korban Todah — the thanksgiving offering — includes real bread along with the matzo.
What is the significance of including bread in the offering?
According to Rashi, the reasons one would bring a Korban Todah are the same reasons one should nowadays say Birkat Hagomel (the blessing recited over personal miracles): being saved from the sea, crossing the desert, imprisonment, or a major health decline — all of these are alluded to in Psalms 107.
[A brief aside: Should one recite the blessing when traveling by plane across an ocean? The literalists argue: If you cross the ocean you say the blessing. The realists say the difficult part of the journey is trying to sleep while seated upright in a 1.5 cubic foot area. A plane crash is highly unlikely and physical needs are otherwise met. Surviving a car crash is a bigger personal miracle than stepping off an El-Al flight at Ben Gurion airport — especially if you travel business or first class.]
Following Rashi’s interpretation, it would be appropriate to bring the Korban Todah for events which would cause one to sponsor a Seudat Hoda’ah — (a meal of thanksgiving) for real moments when G-d deliberately intervened to save you.
At such a moment, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains, “[Chametz] represents man in control of all that is his, with nothing to impede him. He was delivered from some difficulty that had inhibited his step. He emerged from dire straits and attained broad independence. This full independence… has no means of expression more fitting than ten chametz loaves… [Ten] is the quantitative expression of qualitative perfection.”
This is a beautiful concept. But Rabbi Hirsch is well aware that the 10 bread loaves are accompanied by thirty matzos. That is a ratio of three to one, matzo to chametz, an offering the individual is comfortable with, says Hirsch, due to how he understands and perceives his state of well-being.
“What appears as chametz from the standpoint of his position in the world appears to him as ‘matzo’ when he stands before G-d… only by G-d’s grace does he regain chametz — independence. Thus, as he regains worldly independence, his sense of dependence on G-d is renewed and he commits himself anew to dedicate his whole life and all his independent powers to the service of G-d. He brings matzo in the same measures in which he brings chametz, and only this law of matzo opposite chametz makes his offering a todah.” (The thirty matzos had the same amount of flour as the ten loaves of bread according to the list of ingredients from Parshat Emor and Korach and the Talmud Menachot 77-78).
Perhaps the first statement in Mah Nishtana is really a question. “We have all the trimmings of a Seudat Hoda’ah. We should really have matzo and bread. Why only matzo?”
And the answer is that we are celebrating a kind of freedom and independence that is not about our physical survival. “Had G-d not taken us out, we’d still be slaves,” we declare in the Haggadah. But we would have survived!
Chametz and matzo are brought together when we celebrate what might have otherwise been our death. But when we celebrate our complete dependence on G-d on the evening of the exodus from slavery, we are not yet at a point when chametz and matzo can be rejoined. Therefore only matzo has a role in the holiday, until complete independence is established at the splitting of the sea on the last day of the holiday. Only then can chametz be reintroduced to our diets, when we are completely free once the holiday comes to an end.
Parshat Tzav and Pesach
A child looks at the holiday table that always has a plump centerpiece with an ornate cover. The cover is lifted to reveal… three matzos. Bummer. Where is the bread?
The first of the four rhetorical statements in the Mah Nishtanah is, “Tonight we eat only matzo.” One can argue this observation is not motivated simply due to the innocent questions of a child. Rather, there is a real contradiction in that on the evening when we are supposed to be celebrating freedom, we are only eating poor man’s bread. (I think matzo is called poor man’s bread because once you’ve bought matzo made under the strictest conditions, you become a poor man who can’t afford bread anyway.)
Interestingly, there is only one korban (offering) in this week’s parsha that includes a series of breads. Usually the bread used for a korban is matzo. But in chapter 7, we find that the Korban Todah — the thanksgiving offering — includes real bread along with the matzo.
What is the significance of including bread in the offering?
According to Rashi, the reasons one would bring a Korban Todah are the same reasons one should nowadays say Birkat Hagomel (the blessing recited over personal miracles): being saved from the sea, crossing the desert, imprisonment, or a major health decline — all of these are alluded to in Psalms 107.
[A brief aside: Should one recite the blessing when traveling by plane across an ocean? The literalists argue: If you cross the ocean you say the blessing. The realists say the difficult part of the journey is trying to sleep while seated upright in a 1.5 cubic foot area. A plane crash is highly unlikely and physical needs are otherwise met. Surviving a car crash is a bigger personal miracle than stepping off an El-Al flight at Ben Gurion airport — especially if you travel business or first class.]
Following Rashi’s interpretation, it would be appropriate to bring the Korban Todah for events which would cause one to sponsor a Seudat Hoda’ah — (a meal of thanksgiving) for real moments when G-d deliberately intervened to save you.
At such a moment, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains, “[Chametz] represents man in control of all that is his, with nothing to impede him. He was delivered from some difficulty that had inhibited his step. He emerged from dire straits and attained broad independence. This full independence… has no means of expression more fitting than ten chametz loaves… [Ten] is the quantitative expression of qualitative perfection.”
This is a beautiful concept. But Rabbi Hirsch is well aware that the 10 bread loaves are accompanied by thirty matzos. That is a ratio of three to one, matzo to chametz, an offering the individual is comfortable with, says Hirsch, due to how he understands and perceives his state of well-being.
“What appears as chametz from the standpoint of his position in the world appears to him as ‘matzo’ when he stands before G-d… only by G-d’s grace does he regain chametz — independence. Thus, as he regains worldly independence, his sense of dependence on G-d is renewed and he commits himself anew to dedicate his whole life and all his independent powers to the service of G-d. He brings matzo in the same measures in which he brings chametz, and only this law of matzo opposite chametz makes his offering a todah.” (The thirty matzos had the same amount of flour as the ten loaves of bread according to the list of ingredients from Parshat Emor and Korach and the Talmud Menachot 77-78).
Perhaps the first statement in Mah Nishtana is really a question. “We have all the trimmings of a Seudat Hoda’ah. We should really have matzo and bread. Why only matzo?”
And the answer is that we are celebrating a kind of freedom and independence that is not about our physical survival. “Had G-d not taken us out, we’d still be slaves,” we declare in the Haggadah. But we would have survived!
Chametz and matzo are brought together when we celebrate what might have otherwise been our death. But when we celebrate our complete dependence on G-d on the evening of the exodus from slavery, we are not yet at a point when chametz and matzo can be rejoined. Therefore only matzo has a role in the holiday, until complete independence is established at the splitting of the sea on the last day of the holiday. Only then can chametz be reintroduced to our diets, when we are completely free once the holiday comes to an end.
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