Tazria-Metzora - The Message of Tzaraas

The main subject in the parshios of Tazria-Metzora is tzaraas, in its various forms. (Tzaraas is often mistranslated as leprosy, however, in reality, it bears no resemblance to any known skin disease, and was a purely supernatural affliction.) The Sages (Talmud, Arachin 15b) teach us that the most common reason for tzaraas is the sin of lashon hara - harmful speech. (There are several different prohibitions that fall under the general category of lashon hara.)

The basic message of the affliction of tzaraas is to teach us the severity of the sin of lashon hara, for, as Maimonides writes in his conclusion to the laws of tzaraas (Hil. Tumas Tzaraas 16:10), the sin of lashon hara will eventually lead to mocking the sages, the prophets, the Torah, and ultimately even to denying the existence of God. God therefore provided us with this unique physical manifestation of punishment for this sin to emphasize the great importance of this matter.

The Zohar (Vayikra 46b) tells us that the ultimate cause of tzaraas is that, through sin, man causes himself to be separated from his spiritual Source. In kabbalistic terminology, his neshama - Divine "breath" or "soul" - leaves him. When the Jewish people are on a sufficiently high level (Ramban, Leviticus 13:47), this departure can manifest itself physically in the form of tzaraas. (This may explain why tzaraas manifests as white spots, indicating the departure of the soul, which is symbolically associated with blood (Leviticus 17:11).) This is especially true for sins involving speech, for, as the Zohar and many other sources teach us, the power of speech is deeply connected to the neshama - "soul" - and, thus, all else being equal, sins involving speech are particularly harmful.

The Chofetz Chaim

Based on this, tzaraas is an indication that one has lost his connection with God, that his sin has caused him to lose a basic aspect of his status as a human being. The Talmud (Pesachim 118) states that anyone who speaks lashon hara "it is fitting to cast him to the dogs." The Chofetz Chaim (R' Yisrael Meir Kagan, d.1933) explains ('ספר שמירת הלשון, שער הזכירה, פרק ח) that this teaches us that the sin of lashon hara causes a person to lose his status as a proper human being, making him even lower than a dog. For, as the Maharal explains, at the time of the exodus from Egypt, the dogs held their tongues from barking at the Jewish people (Exodus 11:7), but this person, whom God has graced with intelligence and understanding, cannot control his tongue.

In his discussion of tzaraas (Mitzva 169), the Sefer HaChinuch (14th century) writes that the basic message of tzaraas was to convey the message that God watches over all of man's deeds and that nothing happens without His will. Thus, even though tzaraas appeared to be a physical ailment, the afflicted person was to recognize that it was not a natural occurrence, but a punishment for his sins. Tzaraas was therefore to be "treated" exclusively by the kohanim; the same priests who are responsible for bringing atonement to the Jewish people through their performance of the Temple service. This was to reinforce in the sinner's mind the reality that God is fully aware of our actions and that nothing happens without His will.

While this is certainly an important lesson for us to learn, one might ask why this lesson would be of particular significance with regard to the sin of lashon hara, which, as we said earlier, is the most common reason why a person was afflicted with tzaraas. Perhaps the answer is that, like many sins between man and his fellow, the sin of lashon hara is actually rooted in a dysfunctional relationship with God. As the Chofetz Chaim writes ('ספר שמירת הלשון, שער התבונה, פרק ט), one of the main reasons we are tempted to speak lashon hara is because we feel that someone has harmed us, and we are tempted to strike back at him through lashon hara. However, the Chofetz Chaim continues, when we have proper bitachon (trust in God) we recognize that no other person can truly harm us. (This is also the explanation provided by the Sefer HaChinuch for the prohibition against revenge (Mitzva 241).)

In addition, it is common for baalei lashon hara (those who regularly engage in speaking lashon hara) to imagine that they are actually serving an important social function, for, by publicizing the misdeeds of others, they believe they are actually helping the community and fighting evil and injustice. In fact, within limitations, this argument is correct! The laws of lashon hara do provide for a number of exceptions when there is a beneficial purpose in conveying the information. However, while such exceptions certainly exist (and they should certainly be utilized when appropriate), they do not provide a blanket heter (dispensation) to publicize every misdeed, and certainly not every accusation or rumor of a misdeed, just so that people should be aware of the "issue" or "problem". The Chofetz Chaim (םפר חפץ חיים, הל' לשון הרע, י:יד) very emphatically stresses that it is all too easy to fall into the sin of lashon hara if one relies on these exceptions without careful attention to all the rules that apply. (This topic is briefly summarized here.)

It is certainly possible that diligent attention to the laws of lashon hara may occasionally result in someone "getting away" with doing bad things, and even harming others. The same could be said of many legal principles, such as evidentiary requirements, or concepts such as the obligation to judge others favorably. Every ethical or legal system has to find a balance between respecting the rights and dignity of those who are accused of misdeeds, and the rights and dignity of possible victims or of the community as a whole. The Torah provides us with such a balance, given to us by God, and we are obligated to respect those boundaries even when we imagine that it would be better, in a given case, to go beyond them.

It is here that bitachon plays a role. If we believe that, ultimately, God runs the world, then we recognize that, in the final analysis, it is God who punishes the wicked, and protects the innocent. While we certainly have an obligation to do whatever we can to fight against evil and injustice, our ability to do so is restricted by the ethical principles taught in the Torah. To go beyond those ethical principles is a basic violation of the principle of bitachon.

Thus, we can see how the lesson of bitachon - trust in God - which is rooted in our recognition that God runs the world and is aware of everything that takes place in the world - is particularly important for one who speaks lashon hara. Indeed, this brings us back to our earlier point, that the sin of lashon hara causes a separation between the sinner and God. As we have discussed previously, an important concept in Jewish  thought is that our thoughts create our spiritual reality. Thus, the sinner's failure to recognize God's presence in this world and His involvement in our lives, which lead him to the sin of lashon hara, is itself the root cause of his separation from God.

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Va’eira - The Names of God

In the beginning of Parshas Va’eira, God tells Moses (Exodus 6:3), “And I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as E-l Sha-dai, and by My name Hashem^[1] I did not become known to them.” As the commentaries point out, this verse is difficult to understand, as we find several times in Genesis where the name Hashem was used by the Patriarchs, and that God Himself gave this as His name. For example, in Genesis 15:7, God speaks to Abraham saying, “I am Hashem, Who took you out of Ur Kasdim, to give you this land to inherit it.” Clearly, then, this verse cannot mean that this name had been hidden from the Patriarchs.

The commentaries therefore explain that the verse does not say that God did not make the Name of Hashem known to them, but that He did not make Himself known to them through this Name. Every name of God refers to one of God’s modes of interaction with His creation. This verse teaches us that God was now entering into a fundamentally new, more direct and open, mode of interaction with mankind; that the Jewish people would come to experience God’s presence in the world in a manner that the Patriarchs had not. Although the Patriarchs certainly knew of this mode of interaction, and God had even revealed it to them in prophecy, they had never experienced it themselves.

This verse helps us understand the role that the “Names of God” plays in Jewish thought. Whether it is in our understanding of Scripture or in our prayers, a proper understanding of this concept is essential. (This concept is particularly important for a proper understanding of the teachings of kabbala.)

The most basic principle to understand is that, in Himself, God is innominate; i.e. He has no name, and, indeed, He cannot be named. The Tikkunei Zohar (17b) states, “You [God] have no knowable name.” Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin expands on this concept (Nefesh HaChaim 2:2), explaining that the actual essence of God is completely hidden from us and cannot be referred to by any name whatsoever, even Hashem. All the Divine names that we find in Scripture, or that we use in prayer, are to be understood as referring only to aspects of God’s relationship with creation.

There is a very basic dichotomy in our relationship with God. On the one hand, we strive for an intimate connection (deveikus) with God. He is our Father and our Beloved. We speak to Him in prayer, we recognize His hand in our lives, and we strive to understand and obey His will as expressed in His Torah.

On the other hand, we also recognize that God is fundamentally unknowable, that we can never even begin to understand His true nature because He is infinitely beyond all of creation. Even the highest angels have no conception of God’s true nature.

This dichotomy is fundamental to Judaism and finds expression in many aspects of Jewish practice. For example, in every blessing that we recite, we find a startling grammatical anomaly. Every blessing begins in the second person, “Blessed are You, Hashem, our God, King of the universe…”, yet it ends in the third person, “Who sanctified us with His commandments…” or “that all came to be through His word.”

This grammatical shift is done to express our recognition that, while we have a personal relationship with God in which we can speak to Him directly, yet we cannot know Him as He truly is. He reveals Himself to us through His actions, yet He is hidden from us in His essence. (ראה רבינו בחיי, כד הקמח, ברכה)

At first glance, it might seem that this recognition makes it more difficult for us to have a proper relationship with God. Even if this were true, it would not diminish the importance of this recognition, as a relationship with God that is based upon a false conception of His nature is fundamentally flawed, and if the misconception is bad enough, it may not be a relationship at all.

The truth is, however, that it is only through our recognition that God is fundamentally above and beyond any human conception that it is possible for a person to have a personal relationship with God in the first place. If God’s true nature existed within the limited and finite realm of human comprehension, then it would be simply impossible to believe that He has a personal, intense, loving relationship with every single human being.

The “Names of God” are given to us, by God, as a means for us to connect to Him. He wishes us to develop an emotional, human, relationship with Him, as our Father, our King, our Beloved. In that mode, we are expected to use these names in a human manner, as if they refer to God Himself. Yet, at the very same time, we must always remember that, in His essence, He is above and beyond any possible human understanding, and we can only know Him indirectly, through what he reveals to us in His Torah and His creation. It is in this sense that Jewish tradition speaks of the entire Torah, and indeed, all of Creation, as being made up of "the names of God."

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[1] The term Hashem literally means, "the name", and is used in Jewish literature to refer to the four-lettered "personal" name of God (the Tetragrammaton).

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Vayishlach - Tell God Exactly What You Need

Parshas Vayishlach begins with the account of Jacob's preparation for his meeting with his estranged brother, Esau. Jacob was very concerned about this meeting, and the Torah states that he turned to God in prayer. The Zohar (1:169a) tells us that Jacob's prayer serves as a model for all mankind of how to approach God in prayer.

One of the lessons that the Zohar derives from the prayer of Jacob comes from the verse (32:12), "Rescue me, please, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, lest he come and strike me, mother and children." The Zohar says that this teaches us that, in prayer, a person should fully state his concerns. Although, in principle, Jacob could have simply said, "Rescue me, please!", Jacob went on to state, in detail, who he was afraid of - "my brother", "Esau" - and what he was afraid Esau would do to him. The Zohar says that this should be a model for our prayers as well.

The question that remains, of course, is why should this be so? God certainly knows what we need, and He certainly knows what our intent is. Why is it necessary to lay it all out in such detail? In fact, this raises the even more basic question, why do we need to pray - verbally - at all?

These questions clearly demonstrate that, in its essence, the function of prayer is not to inform God of our needs - which would be an absurdity - but to accomplish some important change in the person who is praying. As many commentaries point out, the Hebrew verb for prayer, l'hispallel, is in the reflexive form. The object of the verb is the one who is praying!

In his Guide for the Perplexed (3:36), Maimonides explains that the function of prayer is "to firmly establish the true knowledge" that God is concerned about us and is able to help us, and that nothing happens by chance. Prayer reinforces in our mind the knowledge that God is the source of all that we have and, through this, prayer enables us to reconnect to God and become worthy of receiving new blessings from Him.

This is why a short, vague, prayer is insufficient. By clearly stating our concerns, we remind ourselves that God is fully involved in our lives, not just in some general way, but in every detail. Our father, Jacob, by speaking to God in detail about his concerns about meeting his brother, was reinforcing in his own mind his knowledge of God's detailed providence over his life. We too, in our prayers, whether in our formal prayers from the Siddur, or in our informal personal prayers, should use these opportunities to come closer to God by internalizing the basic message of all prayer, that God cares about us and is only waiting for us to open ourselves up to His blessings.

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