Parshat Tazria-Metzora 5778: A Life Apart

Parsha Paragraphs

Rabbi Naftali Kassorla

Parshat Tazria-Metzora 5778

A Life Apart

The D’var Torah for this week is dedicated in memory of:

 ר׳ אלחנן יעקב בן מו״ח ר׳ שמואל פנחס ז״ל

If you are interested in sponsoring a D’var Torah in honor or in memory of someone, or for any occasion, please email: ParshaParagraphs@gmail.com

This week’s parsha tells us of the Metzora – someone afflicted with Tzaraat – who must be put חוץ למחנה ישראל, sequestered from the Jews’ encampment.

Why is utter isolation the appropriate punishment for the Metzora?

The Gemara in Arachin (15b) gives an interesting explanation:

"אמר ריש לקיש מאי דכתיב (ויקרא יד-ב) זאת תהיה תורת המצורע זאת תהיה תורתו של מוציא שם רע"

“Reish Lakish said: What is stated ‘This shall be the law of the Metzora’ (Vayikra 14:2) – This shall be the law of one who slanders”

This affliction comes upon one who has actively slandered others. Thus, it seems befitting that the punishment for this person is alienation. By slandering others, he is misusing the gift of speech – a potential means of connection to others and building a cohesive society – in order to wreak havoc and bring destruction to humanity. Such a person shows that he is not fit to live among the rest of the people.

Unfortunately, we see too often that slander is used to “get ahead” in the workplace and in life. Man will “play” one person against another in an attempt to curry favor with both, thinking this will make him successful. But the Torah tells us that this behavior will ultimately lead to his downfall. The message here is clear: in the end, it is the slanderer who will be left isolated and alone.

Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz זצ״ל explains why Chazal (Nedarim 64b) includes the Metzora among the four who are considered dead even in life: 1. The Poor man; 2. The Childless; 3. The Blind Man; and 4. The Metzora. Each one of these categories of people are in some way or another excluded from “society.” The poor man cannot afford his basic necessities as others can, the barren are excluded from family activities, and the blind man cannot sense what others sense. In these ways each one is “removed” from the general public. The Metzora too, due to his own infractions, cannot partake of civil society. He is considered “dead,” not privy to live life (חיים) among others. 

I once heard from Rav Yecheskel Weinfeld שליט״א of Jerusalem, a beautiful idea. The word for life – חיים – is plural. This signifies to us that true life is not one of isolation. Rather it is to be shared with others. This dovetails beautifully with the message of the Metzora. He who is actively engaged in antisocial behaviors, using his speech to undercut and hurt others, is to be expelled from civilization – from “life.” 

Both the Kli Yakar and Rav Hirsch tell us that, in his isolation, the Metzora is now forced to reflect on his deficiencies and repent, so that he can once more become worthy of being a part of this Nation.

But while we antagonize the actions of the Metzora, the Torah does not allow us to forget his plight. The Gemara in Moed Katan (5a) quotes the verse “He [the Metzora] is to call out “Contaminated, Contaminated!” (ibid. 13:45). The Gemara explains that this proclamation is to serve the dual purpose of warning others of his affliction, so that they will not come to contamination, and also to: “inform the public of his anguish, so that they may pray for him.”

This Gemara has always fascinated me. The Metzora has done irrevocable damage to people’s lives, families and the general good of the community, to the extent that we disallow him any association with others. Seemingly, if there is a poster-child for a cancer on society, this person is it! When banishing him, shouldn’t we be saying: “Good riddance!”? Yet we see the complete opposite response is expected. The Torah demands of us to pray for him, that he should fix his ways and learn his lesson. I believe the Torah is communicating a deep and nuanced idea here: while we banish the Metzora for his crimes against humanity, through that process we cannot lose our humanity; we must still be able to empathize and care for everyone.

Speech is really an amazing thing. It has no physical characteristics (דבר שאין בו ממש), yet we see that it has the power to build or destroy, alienate or connect. We would be wise use the power of speech, not to put-down and belittle, but rather as a tool to create and empower. The common adage that everyone’s mother has told them at least once is: “If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it.” But I want to add to that: If you have something nice to say, say it! Positive words and affirmations, which to us may be a mere afterthought, can be opportunities to change a person’s day, or even his life.

The Vilna Gaon has an amazing idea, quoted in his brother’s sefer Maalot HaTorah on the pasuk in Tehillim (1:3): והיה כעץ שתול על־פלגי מים אשר פריו יתן בעתו ועלהו לא־יבול...״ (He [The Righteous] is like a tree planted beside streams of water, which yields its fruit in season, whose leaves never fade). Chazal brings ועלהו לא־יבול (his leaves never fade) as the source for the concept that שאפילו שיחת תלמידי חכמים צריכה לימוד  – that even mundane conversations of Torah Scholars need to be gleaned for lessons (Sukkah 21b). The Gr”a asks: how in the world did Chazal see in these words that even their everyday conversations are worthwhile? The Gr”a answers that man is compared to a tree, as it says in Devarim (20:19) כי האדם עץ השדה, and the פרי, the fruit of man, is when he speaks about Torah topics. Just as the leaves on the tree protect the fruits, so too the leaves (ie. the mundane matters he discusses) protect the Torah. For the way one utilizes his mundane speech, reflects on the quality of the person’s Torah. Torah scholars, whose quality of Torah is so great, will have that reflected in their “everyday” discussions, and therefore there is much to be gained from them always.

The day presents itself with countless opportunities for communication and proper use of our words. Thus we too, each on our own level, can and should take advantage of these opportunities, to build closer connections with positive words.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Vayikra 5778 - The Great Communicator

Parsha Paragraphs

Rabbi Naftali Kassorla

Parshat Vayikra 5778

The Great Communicator

The D’var Torah for this week is dedicated in memory of:

ר׳ אלחנן יעקב בן מו״ח ר׳ שמואל פנחס ז״ל

If you are interested in sponsoring a D’var Torah in honor or in memory of someone, or for any occasion, please email: ParshaParagraphs@gmail.com

This week's parsha welcomes us to a new Sefer and the world of Korbanot. The parsha begins: וַיִּקְרָ֖א אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֑ה וַיְדַבֵּ֤ר יְהוָה֙ אֵלָ֔יו מֵאֹ֥הֶל מוֹעֵ֖ד לֵאמֹֽר - “He called out to Moshe, and Hashem spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying” (Vayikra 1:1). Rashi explains that ויקרא, which appears superfluous, comes to teach us a rule – that every statement, saying, and command from G-d to Moshe is preceded with a קריאה (a “calling”) which is a language of endearment, the same language that the ministering angels use.

In communicating with this endearment, G-d does so only with Moshe. The rest of the nation could not hear. Meaning, that this was a prophecy to which only Moshe was privy. Rashi says: “The voice [of G-d] would go, and reach Moshe’s ears, and all of Israel could not hear it.” Rashi continues: “One might have thought that there was a ‘calling’ at breaks (i.e. the breaks in the text indicated by blank spaces).” One might have thought that a break indicates the beginning of a new and distinct prophecy which would be preceded with a new “calling”. The Torah teaches us that no, only when G-d actually speaks is it a new prophecy, but the breaks do not indicate a new prophecy. (Mizrachi, translated by Artscroll.)

If the breaks in the text did not serve the purpose of indicating a new and distinct prophecy, what purpose then did they serve? Rashi continues: “to give Moshe the time for contemplation of one parsha and the next, and between one topic to another. קל וחומר (all the more so) that time between subjects is necessary for a הדיוט (an ordinary person) who learns from another הדיוט.”

Rashi, quoting the Torat Kohanim (1:9), explains that G-d gave Moshe the time to contemplate and to understand the subject, and from the rule of kal vachomer we learn that ordinary people must also give and be given that time to contemplate.

However, what is the logic and reasoning behind this deduction? We can understand that while Moshe was the greatest prophet to have ever risen, and was master of all wisdoms, perhaps even he needed that time to contemplate when learning from G-d Himself. When learning the Torah from G-d, Whose wisdom cannot be fathomed, His essence cannot be grasped, and His grandiosity cannot be comprehended, of course Moshe would need the time to properly digest the concepts. But, who is to say that in the case of two “ordinary” people, where both are on the same level, that time must be given for the other to comprehend? What is the reasoning of the Torat Kohanim?

In truth we have to ask, what is the intention of the Torat Kohanim? Is it trying to tell us that due to the “lack” of the student we must give the רווח (space) to understand? Or perhaps it is telling us that when a teacher teaches, whether or not the student is lacking, he must be careful to teach in a way that the students have the ability to comprehend. If it is due to the lack on the part of the student, then our question stands. But if the Torat Kohanim is giving a lesson about the mark of a good teacher – that a teacher is lacking if he does not giving ample time for his students to comprehend – then we have our answer. From the fact that G-d gives Moshe – the most wise and humble of the prophets – the time to contemplate, we can learn that in our dealings, as “ordinary people” we must present our ideas in a way for them to be comprehended. It’s a lesson about the method of teaching, not the lack of the student.

This idea can be helpful in a myriad of aspects of teaching, including how loud one projects, how slowly one speaks, or a hundred other pedagogical methods which can aid the clarity of the message and comprehension of the student. But this is also a powerful lesson regarding the most basic underpinning of teaching: the teacher’s mindset and motivation for teaching.

A Rebbe is not there for himself; his objectives in teaching should be based solely on the comprehension of the students. And, barring other factors, if the student is not understanding, then he has failed his mission. For if they are not walking away with more clarity and understanding, what then is being accomplished?! That the Rebbe himself said a good shiur? That he felt honored? That he understood the subject?

I was once talking to someone who had a thirteen-year-old son in a “top tier” Yeshiva High School, and he was decrying the amount of sources and analytical approaches the teacher was “cramming” into the students. He felt his son was not understanding. This father, who himself is an accomplished scholar, told me that he was not the only one; other parents had also expressed concern that their children were not comprehending. When the parents finally mustered the strength to confront the Rebbe and express their concerns, he responded, “I teach the students on the level where I am holding. I was the top of my class, and I want them to witness true scholarship.”

When I heard this, I was blown away. How is it possible for someone, who has been entrusted with the holy task of חינוך (education) to think in such selfish terms? How could he get it so wrong? I believe the the truth is that this “Rebbe” is teaching for all the wrong reasons. He is not teaching with the aim of התבוננות and הבנה of his students, which would clearly warrant a tapering down of the level of the shiur. Rather he is involved in a nihilistic and self-serving pursuit under the guise of virtue, all while using the students as his footstool to raise up his own honor. I once heard from a very prominent Rabbi, that this type of teacher would be included in the prohibition of being המתכבד בקלון חברו - putting down others to raise up your own honor; for a teacher that neglects the progress of the students, while using them to honor himself, is the same as one who actively degrades them.

One of my most favorite quotes is in the name of Rabbi Yosef Dov Halevi Soloveitchik זצ״ל who would often remark that his favorite title was not Rav, Rosh Yeshiva, or Posek (halachic expert); rather it was מלמד, just a simple teacher, for G-d Himself is called teacher: המלמד תורה לעמו ישראל. Rabbi Soloveitchik felt that the highest calling, that which emulates G-d himself, is that of מלמד. And we learn from Hashem, in giving that “space” to Moshe to contemplate and comprehend, a demonstration of the proper way to accomplish the holiest of tasks – teaching Torah, with the holiest goal: to better the student.

Shabbat Shalom