Shaarei Shamayim

METZORA 5768 / 5771

I remember in my childhood seeing people with abnormalities that we don’t see much of anymore. A cleft pallet or missing teeth was not uncommon. Once in a while I would see a cancer patient on the subway with a huge lip or growth out of their head. We don’t see much of these, thank Gd, any more. I guess we’ve figured out a way to either fix these problems or make the sufferer appear more “normal.”

There were those who suffered from polio and Spina Bifida that wore crutches and sat in wheel chairs. And then there were the “Thalidomide babies.” Thalidomide was a drug that was often prescribed during the late 1950s and early 1960s to pregnant women to combat morning sickness and to help them sleep—with catastrophic results. Approximately 10,000 children were born with severe malformations—like extremely short arms and hands.

I remember seeing these people as a child and I also remember how uncomfortable I felt every time—cringing and wanting to run away. These were the “untouchables,” the ones that were hard to be around. There were no programs—as there are today—for children or cultural messages for adults to sensitize them to the plight of those outside the normal pale.

Today’s Torah portion describes a similar circumstance with the Biblical disease of metzora, incorrectly referred to leprosy. It’s not a pleasant picture: rotting skin, wounds that ooze endlessly, tell-tale blemishes that leave others running for protection.

Worst of all, we learn that the one who was afflicted with this strange malady became an outcast. Such a person could not remain in the camp. Living on the edge of society, he/she became untouchable until the disease subsided. And then, through an elaborate ritual of purification, the person was welcomed back into the community. I suspect, however, that he/she continued to be tainted for life. “There he goes,” people would whisper, “You know, the one who was a metzora.”

The rabbis explained this affliction by associating it with the sin of gossip or slander—saying that the word metzora was a contraction of the term, motzi sheym ra, “one who gives a bad name.” But that, I imagine, may have only made it worse. Imagine becoming ill with a devastating disease and having people say, “Gd must be punishing you. What did you do or say to deserve this affliction?” The metzora, was both physically and emotionally an outcast.

This is beautifully brought home in today’s Haftorah. The city of Samaria in the upper kingdom of Israel is under siege. People are starving—some resorting to cannibalism to stay alive. But those who are metzora-im, who have this disease, are still excluded from the city. The gates are locked to them and so they live “outside the gate” in a kind of no-man’s land between the city and the camp of the enemy army. Nobody wants them—not the Israelites and not their Syrian enemies. They’re lost, forgotten, unloved—shunned!

We no longer have this Biblical disease in our time—it’s disappeared. And a simple dose of penicillin or a topical treatment of certain ointments can treat most skin diseases. So what are we today to learn from the Torah’s account of this disease? 1^st of all, although we don’t fear contracting a disease from speaking gossip or slander, we should remember that lashon hara still has devastating consequences. We should be so careful—especially around Pesach when we’re in the midst of family and friends—not to gossip or speak ill of anyone. Believe me; it will make for a much happier and fulfilling Yom Tov. 

An egregious example of the devastating effects of lashon hara for the Jewish people can be seen this week in the retraction of Richard Goldstone of the “Goldstone Report.” If you remember, after Israel’s war in Gaza in 2008, the U.N. Human Rights Council voted for the parties to be investigated for possible war crimes. Richard Goldstone, a noted South African jurist—a Jew—was chosen to lead the Commission. The report criticized Hamas somewhat, but plundered Israel. It accused Israel of intentionally killing innocent civilians. Now, Israel has been accused of a lot of things from time to time, but nothing like this. The world jumped upon the Goldstein Report to justify its on-going condemnations and boycotts and divestitures from Israel. 

Then in last Friday’s Washington Post, Judge Goldstone apologized in an op-ed piece. He said that if he had known then what he knows now, he never would have written it! Ok, but what does Israel do with this apology now? It’s a bit too late. Let me illustrate with letter in this week’s Los Angeles Jewish Journal by David Suissa:

Dear Mr. Goldstone:

You really screwed up. You screwed up so badly that Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic says you contributed, more than any other individual, to the delegitimization and demonization of the Jewish state.

The deliberate killing of innocent civilians is the equivalent of murder. As far as accusations go, that’s about as low as you can go. Your report accused Israel of a lot of things, but that accusation was the most lethal: targeting innocent civilians.

Now you write that you were wrong. Israel is not the war criminal she was made out to be. It was Hamas that targeted innocent civilians, not Israel. Well, like Goldberg says, “it is somewhat difficult to retract a blood libel, once it has been broadcast across the world.”

Remember, this was no ordinary blood libel. This was an official indictment bearing the stamp of approval of the closest thing we have to a global legislative body—the United Nations. Thanks to this stamp of approval, Israel’s enemies have feasted on Israel’s good name like vultures on a carcass.

I’m sure you’ve noticed the campaign to delegitimize Israel, as well as the flourishing BDS (boycott, divestment and sanctions) movement that is turning Israel into a pariah state. Sadly, much of the ammunition for these movements has come from the Goldstone report—the same report you now have repudiated with a phrase that might go down in Jewish infamy: “Civilians were not intentionally targeted as a matter of policy.”

…It’s [like] the story of a man who goes to his rabbi to ask for forgiveness because he spread malicious rumors about him. The rabbi instructs him to take a feathered pillow and a knife, go to a nearby forest and slice open the pillow. When the man returned, the rabbi said to him, “Now go try to retrieve all those feathers.”

Now, go try, Mr. Goldstone, to “retrieve” all the damage your report inflicted on Israel.

Such is the damage that lashon hara can do—even to a sovereign state.

The 2^nd thing we must learn from the Torah’s account of the metzora disease is that although no one anymore has this disease, we still have outcasts—people who live on the edge of society in a kind of psychological no-man’s land like the metzora in our parsha who was exiled outside the camp.

Rabbi Mark Greenspan postulates that it’s no accident then that the Kohen, the highest ranking person in Jewish society, not only treated the leper, but was commanded to leave the camp and inspect the leper’s sores: It was not the job of the outcast to break down the gates to get back into society. It was the job of the Kohen to go out to the outcast and treat him with compassion and understanding. Why? So others would see this and say, “If the Kohen who must live by such stringent standards of purity—nevertheless must go out to the leper—how much more so should I treat this unfortunate person with compassion and empathy.”

My friends, as we prepare for Passover, I think we should stop and consider who our modern-day outcasts are. At the Seder we begin by declaring: Kol dichvin yeytey v’yuchal, “All who are hungry come and eat. All who are needy come celebrate Passover with us.” But do we really mean it? There are people—because of circumstances beyond their control—who have not had the opportunity of a Jewish upbringing and education. They feel that they stand out, that they will be the only ones who don’t know what’s going on if they walk into a synagogue or come to a Seder. How do we make such people feel accepted?

There are people suffering with physical illnesses that are easy to diagnose but hard for us to confront. A man once said to me, “I don’t understand, rabbi, where did our friends go? When my wife was well, she had friends who stopped by, all the time. But when she became ill they disappeared.”

There are people who suffer from more contemporary afflictions: emotional illnesses, depression and personal problems. Do we go out to them or do we ignore them?

And there are people who are just a little strange, who don’t dress the right way, who have an odd look in their eyes, whose voice is a little too shrill or annoying. It’s easier to turn our back on them and push them out the gate than it is to include them in our lives.

Today there are so many Jewish singles who live alone and—because of life’s circumstances—don’t have a great circle of friends and community. They’re not outcasts, but I can tell you now that a good deal of them will be alone on Seder night because no one invited them to a Seder and they’re too embarrassed to ask.

Too often we invite mostly our family to the dinner table on Passover but ignore the rest of the world. Kol dichvin yeytey v’yuchal, “All who are hungry come and eat. All who are needy come celebrate Passover with us.” It’s no accident that the Torah singles out the metzora. Nothing was more frightening or repugnant in the ancient world than this strange disease. But the metzora had to be treated with compassion and reintegrated into the community in a meaningful way.

The image of the closed gate to the city in our Haftorah stands in stark contrast to the open door on Seder night. We must ask ourselves: who is outside and who are we prepared to let in? As we finish our final preparations for Passover I ask us all to make a personal inventory of the people in our lives? Do you know anyone who lacks a place to go for Seder? Why not reach out to them. You can’t imagine how easy it is to open the gate and let them in. And you can’t imagine what a difference it would make in their lives and in yours as well. Amen!

                                                            Rabbi Mark Hillel Kunis

                                                            4/12/08 / 4/9/11