There is an ancient Chinese folktale which unfolds as follows:
There once was a man Sei Weng who owned a beautiful mare. She was the pride of his farm and all his neighbors considered her to be the finest horse in all of China. One day, the mare ran away, and people came from near and far to consol Sei Weng. When they comforted him, he responded simply by saying: That’s how it was meant to be.
A few days later the lost mare returned, this time bringing with her two beautiful wild stallions, each as magnificent as she. When his neighbors came to congratulate him on his good fortune, Sei Weng simply said: That’s how it was meant to be.
Some time later Sei Weng’s only son was riding one of these wild horses when he was thrown, breaking his leg and crippling him for life. His friends came to offer their deepest regrets but Sei Weng simply said: That’s how it was meant to be.
Soon thereafter a war broke out in the region and all the able-bodied men were drafted into battle where they all perished, except for Sei Weng’s son. What good luck to still have your son, they said, but Sei Weng simply replied: That’s how it was meant to be.
Clearly the message of the story is that life is filled with its ups and downs, its blessings and its curses; and we should not be so quick as to fancy ourselves as interpreters. The truth is that things which might be for good, we sometimes perceived as malicious; while things that are ultimately for bad can look to us as if they are heaven sent. Therefore, the wise Chinese farmer was right – rather than jump to conclusions, instead of trying to interpret the inscrutable signs of life, perhaps it is better to faithfully wait and see.
Such is the unfortunate case in this morning’s Torah portion, Parashat Sh’lach L’cha. The famous story tells the tale of Moses sending 12 spies, a chieftain from each tribe, to scout out the land of Cannaan,
וּרְאִיתֶם אֶת-הָאָרֶץ מַה-הִוא, וְאֶת-הָעָם הַיֹּשֵׁב עָלֶיהָ הֶֽחָזָק הוּא הֲרָפֶה, הַֽמְעַט הוּא אִם-רָֽב:
“See what kind of country it is; are the people who dwell in it strong or weak, few or many?”
The results of their journey are well documented. They scouted up and down the land for forty days and for forty nights. They reached the wadi of Eshkol where they cut down a single cluster of grapes so large that two of them had to carry it on a frame. Surely they exclaimed, this is indeed a land flowing with milk and date honey. But they also saw some scary things along the way. They witnessed that the land possessed Anakites, giants, b’nei n’filim, super-human creatures, and Amalakites as well, the dreaded enemy of the Israelites. Surely, they claimed:
הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר עָבַרְנוּ בָהּ לָתוּר אֹתָהּ, אֶרֶץ אֹכֶלֶת יֽוֹשְׁבֶיהָ הִוא
“The country that we traversed and scouted is surely one that devours its inhabitants.”
Of the twelve spies, only two, Yehoshua ben Nun and Kalev ben Yefuneh gave positive reports, proclaiming the land to be Tovah Me’od, exceedingly good, and that not only does it flow with milk and date honey, but the Lord will surely bring us into that land, so have no fear. Aloh Na’aleh, ‘Let us by all means go up.’
What is most interesting about these two divergent reports of the land is not how they differ, but what they share in common. Both reports represent the land to be abundant in both produce and settlers. There can be no doubt, especially with regard to the grapes, that this land is overflowing with resources and in this sense it is surely a land in which the Israelites can dwell and thrive. This is indeed an Eretz Zavat Halav u’D’vash, a land of flowing milk and honey; and so the differing reports reflect not a discrepancy of fact, but rather of opinion.
In one of my favorite midrashim, the rabbis seek to explain how it is that the ten spies would come back with such a negative report – especially in their calling the land an Eretz Ochelet Yosh’veha, a land which devours her inhabitants! In Masechet Sota (35a) Rava explains that God said; I was only trying to help, but they interpreted My help as an evil! I thought that while they were touring about the land I would cause the death of one of the most important natives. This way, all of the people living in the land would busy themselves with preparing for the funeral, and no one would have time to ask around about these twelve spies. Rashi, basing himself on this midrash, explains that everywhere the spies went throughout the land, they discovered groups of people who were going out to bury the dead – hordes and hordes of people in mourning. And so it should come as no surprise that some in the group would have jumped to the unfortunate conclusion that it was a vicious land, one which devoured its inhabitants; after all, the desire to interpret the signs we see in life- is only natural.
The sin of the spies therefore, was not in lying. In fact, they told the truth! They saw a land flowing with milk and honey – and they saw giants there. And according to the midrash, they used there eyes, they toured out the land, they saw the formidable signs and they made a conclusion – surely this is a land which devours its inhabitants. No, the sin of the spies was not in lying, it was in eliminating the possibility that something good could come from all this; it was the sin of misinterpretation, the sin of being slaves to their limited perception.
This tendency for human beings to misinterpret God’s ways is certainly not exclusive to the ancient world; it is alive and well in our time as well. I am reminded of something I once heard Rabbi Brad Artson, the Dean of the Zeigler Rabbinical School at the American Jewish University in Los Angeles, say. He explained that when he was a rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary he was always in awe of, and perhaps even jealous of, those students who came from rabbinic pedigree. What an advantage he thought, to have grown up in a home filled with Torah; think of all the knowledge he lost out on, not having studied Torah with his father each shabbas. Therefore, he resolved, if I have children of my own, I will study Torah with them, I will give them what I never had. Well, Rabbi Artson and his wife were blessed with children, twins in fact; a girl and a boy. But things were not exactly as he had planned. His daughter, he explained was a ba’alat hen, a true master of mercy and righteousness, quick to extend a helping hand to any and all who needed; but when it came to studying Torah, it just wasn’t her thing. And as for his son, well his son was born with a severe form of autism, seriously limiting his ability to speak. So, Rabbi Artson, with gratitude, and with a tinge of disappointment said to God, ‘ok, God, I made a prayer, and I guess that your answer is a ‘no.’’
That is until his son Jacob was about to become a bar mitzvah, when he communicated his desire that he wanted to study the writings of Abraham Joshua Heschel with his father, and learn the parasha together as well. So each Shabbas, Rabbi Artson and his son Jacob sit down to study Torah together; And though Jacob cannot speak, he writes, he communicates, and he dreams of being a writer and a teacher of Torah. Rabbi Artson, in his profound wisdom and honesty, when retelling this story added one more personal detail: an apology that he made to God. ‘God,’ he said, ‘I am so sorry; I misinterpreted Your yes, as a no; just because it wasn’t the yes I had imagined in my dreams.’
Rabbi Artson’s story is one we all can relate to. Life is a complicated series of signs and portents, wishes and dreams, prayers and petitions. Often we are blessed, and just as often we are not. We may feel that our prayers have not been answered, and perhaps they were not. We may interpret life’s twists and turns as hurdles and obstacles preventing us from an easy life, and perhaps they are. But there exists another possibility as well. That within the light dwells the darkness and within the darkness dwells the light. That God’s world is beyond our understanding, our conception and certainly our interpretations.
As the Psalmist says in his Song for Shabbat:
Ma Gad’lu Ma’asecha Adonai, Me’od Am’ku Makhshevotecha!
How great are Your works Adonai; how unfathomable are Your thoughts!
Ish Baar Lo Yedah, u’Chsil lo yavin et zoat,’
The thoughtless cannot comprehend; the foolish cannot understand this.
How many times in our lives have we heard, and indeed mourned over a ‘no’, only to discover it was in fact a ‘yes.’ How many times have we interpreted by means of the immediacy of our eyes instead by means of the discernment of our souls? How often have we acted like the ten, enslaving ourselves to first perceptions and eliminating even the possibility of the good?
And so instead let us learn a lesson from the story of the spies – a lesson about the inherent danger of interpretation. Let us look for the good that lies just beneath the surface, for the light which lives within the darkness
And when life gives us a sign, let us act not like the ten, but like the two: Caleb and Joshua, and find the faith within ourselves to utter the words:
Aloh Na’aleh, ‘Let us by all means go up.’
Monday, June 20, 2011
Hachnasat Holim: The Welcoming of the Sick Tazria 5771
Giving the D’var Torah on Parashat Tazria is sort of like presenting at a dermatology convention. It’s late in the morning, people are getting hungry, and it is your job to show them a bunch of slides of differing skin diseases. So here goes:
Slide #1: S’eit: Our first skin disorder from this morning’s parasha is a localized swelling; a generic inflammation or growth, likely similar to our modern day boil or mole.
Slide #2 Please: Sapakhat: Sapakhat is often translated as a rash, which indicates a breaking-out of the skin, often spreading to other areas.
Slide #3: is Baheret. A discoloration, a white, shiny spot upon the skin, which can also spread around the body.
Slide #4: is the generalized Nega’ – literally meaning ‘touch’; in our parasha it connotes an affection of the epidermis, a generic term for a plague or a skin ailment.
Finally there is Slide #5: This one is particularly nasty. This is the ailment known in the Torah as Tzara’at; and often translated as leprosy. Scholars maintain that Tzara’at was not indeed leprosy, the laymen’s term for a condition known as Hanson’s disease, but it was certainly not pleasant. A scaly abrasion of the skin, highly contagious it seems, and even able to affect inanimate objects such as our clothing and our dwelling places.
Ready for lunch yet?
But there is one more slide to go:
As our parashah states:
וְהַצָּרוּעַ אֲשֶׁר-בּוֹ הַנֶּגַע, בְּגָדָיו יִהְיוּ פְרֻמִים, וְרֹאשׁוֹ יִהְיֶה פָרוּעַ, וְעַל-שָׂפָם יַעְטֶה; וְטָמֵא ׀ טָמֵא יִקְרָֽא:
This slide demonstrates to us the Biblically-prescribed course of treatment for the Tzaru’a’, the one affected with Tzara’at. This slide depicts a man recently diagnosed with tzara’at. Here he stands beginning his treatment – his clothes rent, his head shaved bare, his upper lip covered, shouting for all around him to hear “I am unclean, I am unclean!” And our parasha continues:
כָּל-יְמֵי אֲשֶׁר הַנֶּגַע בּוֹ, יִטְמָא טָמֵא הוּא; בָּדָד יֵשֵׁב מִחוּץ לַֽמַּֽחֲנֶה מֽוֹשָׁבֽוֹ:
We see him here, as he dejectedly walks out of the camp, into his quarantined quarters; until his ailment passes after an indeterminate period of time.
Here’s the part where I tell you how far we have come in diagnosing these ailments; and aren’t we glad. We live in a modern society which has developed fabulous talents at diagnosing specific skin rashes, catching them at an early stage, and curing them with a variety of prescription creams and other remedies. So we read a parashah like this one and say, ‘Wow, those Israelites sure did overreact about a little ‘ol rash!”
Also, looking down from the lofty perch of our modernity we can be quick to criticize the Torah’s methodology of recovery. The Torah’s mandatory quarantine of the Tzaru’a seems like a harsh over-reaction. A person breaks out in a rash and they are banished from their community and made to live in total isolation?
In fact, it seems that this particular treatment might indeed be worse than the malady itself!
Picking up on this theme the Talmud explains that “M’tzora chashuv ka’met!” (Nedarim 54a) “A person suffering from Tzara’at is thought of as though they are dead.” How can this be asked Rabbi Meir Simcha HaKohen of Dvinsk? How could the sages of the Talmud say that a person who is simply sent off from the community in order to heal is really considered as though they are dead? His answer:
כיוון שהוציאו אותו מחוץ למחנה ואין לו שיח ושיג עם הבריות, הרי חייו אינם חיים.
Since they sent him out of the camp, and since he has no opportunity to converse with or interact with another human being, then his life is not truly a life.
And ending with a famous quote from the G’marah, Rabbi Meir Simchah haKohen says:
או חברותא או מיתותא!
“Give me companionship or give me death!” (Ta’anit 23a)
In this light, the Biblically mandated quarantine for a person suffering from Tzara’at found in our portion today, is one which we as moderns must look at and say – ‘Boy I’m glad I don’t live in the ancient world!’
But, if we are really being honest with ourselves we must admit, that while our tools for diagnosis may have evolved – our style of treating of various diseases actually remains hauntingly the same.
I remember learning this lesson on my first day of chaplaincy training at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York. Our supervisor explained that there are only two places in modern society where you are admitted, given an identity bracelet, have your clothes taken away from you, are made to live on someone else’s time schedule, and you have to stay there until they tell you that you are free to go. The first is the hospital, the second is prison.
It’s true. Illness can be a lonely and isolating experience; leaving the affected with the sense that they are left apart from their family, their friends, their community. When we recognize this unavoidable element of our human condition, we come to understand that Parashat Tazria is simply reflecting that feeling isolated was a reality of ancient illness – a reality we still experience today in our modern world.
What do I mean?
Well let’s start with this slide depicting our dealing with the continuing global epidemic of AIDS: Here you can see an individual living with AIDS, one of an estimated 35 million people world-wide. Although modern medicines mean those diagnosed with AIDS can now live a relatively normal life; here at home and around the world, people with AIDS are still being shunned by their families, separated from their friends and ostracized by their communities.
This next slide depicts a person in our community battling cancer. In addition to the stunning fear which accompanies the diagnosis, there are the additional challenges of the treatment and the isolation it brings. The chemotherapy makes those fighting cancer weak, tired and nauseous. Just as the Tzaru’a in our parasha, their heads become bald as the drugs attack all of the body’s rapidly-reproducing cells – the bad ones and the good ones. And a low white-cell count means they are highly-susceptible to contracting infections, forcing them into further isolation from friends and community.
And I have a countless number of other slides depicting additional illnesses which cause one to be secluded from the embrace of community: both the diseases that you can see: physical handicaps or deformities; as well as those you cannot: such as mental illness.
So, the bad news is that despite thousands of years of progress in terms of our ability to properly diagnose and medically treat any number of diseases – loneliness, quarantine and isolation remain part and parcel of the experience of illness.
But the good news is that there is something we can do; both in our world at large, as well as within our own close-knit community.
The truth is that our world has become smaller and we can indeed find ways of helping those who are suffering from illness, even if we do not know them. Perhaps you might feel moved by the life’s work of the now-late Elizabeth Taylor, who dedicated her volunteer life to fighting for, and reaching out to those who suffer from AIDS around the world. One example of something we all can do here at Temple Emanu-El is participate in the AIDS Orphan Care Pesach Flower Arrangement Fundraiser, conceived of and run by our very own Kutenplon-Rayess family. Last year, simply by ordering beautiful flowers for your seder table, they raised $1400 for orphans in Lesotho, battling the disease of AIDS and the loneliness it causes.
And closer to home there is so much that we can do for those who are battling illness and disease; particularly the various forms of cancer which attack our bodies and threaten our lives and our peace of mind. The fact is that Judaism mandates that each of us is Hayyav, obligated to perform the Mitzvah of Bikkur Holim, of visiting the sick; and while this certainly means a physical visit, it can also mean a phone call to check in, a card in the mail, or a posting on a website like caring bridge; which all serve to let the one who is ill know how much love and support there is behind them. And of course, there is the very act of saying a prayer on their behalf – The Misheberach L’Cholim, the Prayer for Those in Need of Healing, we recited just minutes ago. Rabbi Franklin and I cannot tell you how often we are told by those who are sick how important it is for them to know that their name is being said at shul, by those who love them.
But this morning, I would like to add one final obligation to our role as a caring community, and in the process coin a new mitzvah: Hachnasat Cholim. That is; the welcoming of the cholim back into our community as they feel better and more comfortable. Let us be sure to tell them that we missed them. Let us make certain to give them a long hug, some much needed conversation and physical warmth. And let us succeed in making our society as a whole and our community here at Emanu-El one which understands that while loneliness and isolation are a part of the human condition that is illness; given the choice between mituta or hevruta, between a loneliness as frightening as death – and the embrace of companionship - Let us choose companionship every time.
Shabbat Shalom and Refuah Shleimah.
Slide #1: S’eit: Our first skin disorder from this morning’s parasha is a localized swelling; a generic inflammation or growth, likely similar to our modern day boil or mole.
Slide #2 Please: Sapakhat: Sapakhat is often translated as a rash, which indicates a breaking-out of the skin, often spreading to other areas.
Slide #3: is Baheret. A discoloration, a white, shiny spot upon the skin, which can also spread around the body.
Slide #4: is the generalized Nega’ – literally meaning ‘touch’; in our parasha it connotes an affection of the epidermis, a generic term for a plague or a skin ailment.
Finally there is Slide #5: This one is particularly nasty. This is the ailment known in the Torah as Tzara’at; and often translated as leprosy. Scholars maintain that Tzara’at was not indeed leprosy, the laymen’s term for a condition known as Hanson’s disease, but it was certainly not pleasant. A scaly abrasion of the skin, highly contagious it seems, and even able to affect inanimate objects such as our clothing and our dwelling places.
Ready for lunch yet?
But there is one more slide to go:
As our parashah states:
וְהַצָּרוּעַ אֲשֶׁר-בּוֹ הַנֶּגַע, בְּגָדָיו יִהְיוּ פְרֻמִים, וְרֹאשׁוֹ יִהְיֶה פָרוּעַ, וְעַל-שָׂפָם יַעְטֶה; וְטָמֵא ׀ טָמֵא יִקְרָֽא:
This slide demonstrates to us the Biblically-prescribed course of treatment for the Tzaru’a’, the one affected with Tzara’at. This slide depicts a man recently diagnosed with tzara’at. Here he stands beginning his treatment – his clothes rent, his head shaved bare, his upper lip covered, shouting for all around him to hear “I am unclean, I am unclean!” And our parasha continues:
כָּל-יְמֵי אֲשֶׁר הַנֶּגַע בּוֹ, יִטְמָא טָמֵא הוּא; בָּדָד יֵשֵׁב מִחוּץ לַֽמַּֽחֲנֶה מֽוֹשָׁבֽוֹ:
We see him here, as he dejectedly walks out of the camp, into his quarantined quarters; until his ailment passes after an indeterminate period of time.
Here’s the part where I tell you how far we have come in diagnosing these ailments; and aren’t we glad. We live in a modern society which has developed fabulous talents at diagnosing specific skin rashes, catching them at an early stage, and curing them with a variety of prescription creams and other remedies. So we read a parashah like this one and say, ‘Wow, those Israelites sure did overreact about a little ‘ol rash!”
Also, looking down from the lofty perch of our modernity we can be quick to criticize the Torah’s methodology of recovery. The Torah’s mandatory quarantine of the Tzaru’a seems like a harsh over-reaction. A person breaks out in a rash and they are banished from their community and made to live in total isolation?
In fact, it seems that this particular treatment might indeed be worse than the malady itself!
Picking up on this theme the Talmud explains that “M’tzora chashuv ka’met!” (Nedarim 54a) “A person suffering from Tzara’at is thought of as though they are dead.” How can this be asked Rabbi Meir Simcha HaKohen of Dvinsk? How could the sages of the Talmud say that a person who is simply sent off from the community in order to heal is really considered as though they are dead? His answer:
כיוון שהוציאו אותו מחוץ למחנה ואין לו שיח ושיג עם הבריות, הרי חייו אינם חיים.
Since they sent him out of the camp, and since he has no opportunity to converse with or interact with another human being, then his life is not truly a life.
And ending with a famous quote from the G’marah, Rabbi Meir Simchah haKohen says:
או חברותא או מיתותא!
“Give me companionship or give me death!” (Ta’anit 23a)
In this light, the Biblically mandated quarantine for a person suffering from Tzara’at found in our portion today, is one which we as moderns must look at and say – ‘Boy I’m glad I don’t live in the ancient world!’
But, if we are really being honest with ourselves we must admit, that while our tools for diagnosis may have evolved – our style of treating of various diseases actually remains hauntingly the same.
I remember learning this lesson on my first day of chaplaincy training at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York. Our supervisor explained that there are only two places in modern society where you are admitted, given an identity bracelet, have your clothes taken away from you, are made to live on someone else’s time schedule, and you have to stay there until they tell you that you are free to go. The first is the hospital, the second is prison.
It’s true. Illness can be a lonely and isolating experience; leaving the affected with the sense that they are left apart from their family, their friends, their community. When we recognize this unavoidable element of our human condition, we come to understand that Parashat Tazria is simply reflecting that feeling isolated was a reality of ancient illness – a reality we still experience today in our modern world.
What do I mean?
Well let’s start with this slide depicting our dealing with the continuing global epidemic of AIDS: Here you can see an individual living with AIDS, one of an estimated 35 million people world-wide. Although modern medicines mean those diagnosed with AIDS can now live a relatively normal life; here at home and around the world, people with AIDS are still being shunned by their families, separated from their friends and ostracized by their communities.
This next slide depicts a person in our community battling cancer. In addition to the stunning fear which accompanies the diagnosis, there are the additional challenges of the treatment and the isolation it brings. The chemotherapy makes those fighting cancer weak, tired and nauseous. Just as the Tzaru’a in our parasha, their heads become bald as the drugs attack all of the body’s rapidly-reproducing cells – the bad ones and the good ones. And a low white-cell count means they are highly-susceptible to contracting infections, forcing them into further isolation from friends and community.
And I have a countless number of other slides depicting additional illnesses which cause one to be secluded from the embrace of community: both the diseases that you can see: physical handicaps or deformities; as well as those you cannot: such as mental illness.
So, the bad news is that despite thousands of years of progress in terms of our ability to properly diagnose and medically treat any number of diseases – loneliness, quarantine and isolation remain part and parcel of the experience of illness.
But the good news is that there is something we can do; both in our world at large, as well as within our own close-knit community.
The truth is that our world has become smaller and we can indeed find ways of helping those who are suffering from illness, even if we do not know them. Perhaps you might feel moved by the life’s work of the now-late Elizabeth Taylor, who dedicated her volunteer life to fighting for, and reaching out to those who suffer from AIDS around the world. One example of something we all can do here at Temple Emanu-El is participate in the AIDS Orphan Care Pesach Flower Arrangement Fundraiser, conceived of and run by our very own Kutenplon-Rayess family. Last year, simply by ordering beautiful flowers for your seder table, they raised $1400 for orphans in Lesotho, battling the disease of AIDS and the loneliness it causes.
And closer to home there is so much that we can do for those who are battling illness and disease; particularly the various forms of cancer which attack our bodies and threaten our lives and our peace of mind. The fact is that Judaism mandates that each of us is Hayyav, obligated to perform the Mitzvah of Bikkur Holim, of visiting the sick; and while this certainly means a physical visit, it can also mean a phone call to check in, a card in the mail, or a posting on a website like caring bridge; which all serve to let the one who is ill know how much love and support there is behind them. And of course, there is the very act of saying a prayer on their behalf – The Misheberach L’Cholim, the Prayer for Those in Need of Healing, we recited just minutes ago. Rabbi Franklin and I cannot tell you how often we are told by those who are sick how important it is for them to know that their name is being said at shul, by those who love them.
But this morning, I would like to add one final obligation to our role as a caring community, and in the process coin a new mitzvah: Hachnasat Cholim. That is; the welcoming of the cholim back into our community as they feel better and more comfortable. Let us be sure to tell them that we missed them. Let us make certain to give them a long hug, some much needed conversation and physical warmth. And let us succeed in making our society as a whole and our community here at Emanu-El one which understands that while loneliness and isolation are a part of the human condition that is illness; given the choice between mituta or hevruta, between a loneliness as frightening as death – and the embrace of companionship - Let us choose companionship every time.
Shabbat Shalom and Refuah Shleimah.
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