One of the problems with our cycle of Torah reading is that they often seem out of touch with the festival cycle. As we spend the next two weeks preparing for the celebration of the biggest drama in Jewish history, the liberation from slavery and the exodus from Egypt, we will be reading in the synagogue about various details of biblical skin diseases and their treatment. It’s always a nice intellectual challenge to be forced to find the relevance in them, and usually, if you look closely enough, you find what you need to find.
I’ve said before that despite the later interpretations, when the Torah speaks about leprosy and the other afflictions in the parasha, it sees them as a fact of life whose consequences need to be dealt with, rather than seeing the sick person as guilty or immoral or unwanted. The focus is actually not on the diseases but on the impurity associated with them and how they interact with the holy spaces, but even that doesn’t have to be negative, impurity is also a fact of life. It’s also interesting to note that impurity isn’t identical with these skin afflictions; it is often a consequence, but not an automatic one. One of the verbs repeated in practically every verse is ‘to see’: the priest comes to visit the afflicted person, sees them and examines them closely, and only after they are declared impure are they impure. This leads to an interesting loophole: if the priest doesn’t see them, they are pure and can continue their ritual life as before.
וְאִם־פָּר֨וֹחַ תִּפְרַ֤ח הַצָּרַ֙עַת֙ בָּע֔וֹר וְכִסְּתָ֣ה הַצָּרַ֗עַת אֵ֚ת כׇּל־ע֣וֹר הַנֶּ֔גַע מֵרֹאשׁ֖וֹ וְעַד־רַגְלָ֑יו לְכׇל־מַרְאֵ֖ה עֵינֵ֥י הַכֹּהֵֽן… וּבְי֨וֹם הֵרָא֥וֹת בּ֛וֹ בָּשָׂ֥ר חַ֖י יִטְמָֽא
רש”י: וביום. מַה תַּ"ל? לְלַמֵּד יֵשׁ יוֹם שֶׁאַתָּה רוֹאֶה בוֹ וְיֵשׁ יוֹם שֶׁאֵין אַתָּה רוֹאֶה בוֹ, מִכָּאן אָמְרוּ: חָתָן נוֹתְנִין לוֹ כָּל שִׁבְעַת יְמֵי הַמִּשְׁתֶּה, לוֹ וְלִכְסוּתוֹ וּלְבֵיתוֹ, וְכֵן בָּרֶגֶל נוֹתְנִין לוֹ כָּל יְמֵי הָרֶגֶל
Now if the tzaraat sprouts, yes, sprouts on the skin so that the tzaraat covers all the skin of the afflicted-one, from his head to his feet, wherever the priest’s eyes look: the priest is to look… And on the day of there reappearing on him live flesh, he is to be considered impure (Leviticus 13:12-14).
Rashi comments: Why is the word ‘day’ used? To inform us that there are days when you may see the affliction and there are days when you may not see it. The Rabbis said: A bridegroom is given a respite of all the seven days of the marriage festivities, and similarly on a festival everyone is given a respite all the days of that festival — and during these periods the priest may not come to examine him or his clothing or his house (cf. Moed Katan 7b).
The ‘seeing’ of the priest doesn’t just confirm the reality of impurity, it creates it. This is the case in many areas of Jewish life: the months used to be announced by the observation of the new moon, but if that would cause calendar difficulties like Yom Kippur on a Friday, the rabbinical court would delay the witnesses — they would ‘see’ the moon a day later — until it was convenient to announce the beginning of the month. In other cases too, witnesses create the reality rather than just observing it. In marriages, for example, the witnesses don’t just see but create the status of the couple being married. And in general, seeing something or someone is crucial for understanding their situation more deeply. It sounds banal maybe, but seeing is more powerful than knowing. I think of the story I heard [but haven’t been able to verify] of Rav Amital, a prominent rabbi in Israel, who was approached on Shabbat to ask about treating an animal that was giving birth and had medical complications that necessitated transgressing Shabbat to save its life. Rav Amital walked several kilometres to the farm where the animal was to make his decision. He said afterwards that halacha is not decided from abstract facts, but from seeing with one’s own eyes, hearing the animal crying, and then understanding the reality.
One of the first ritual acts that we do to prepare for Pesach is the night before the festival, when we search for chametz in the house. In many families, it’s become a fun game for kids, something like searching for Easter eggs, but actually, you’re meant to be really looking through every room of the house and checking that there’s no chametz forgotten there. Importantly, it has to be done by the light of a candle. And not just any candle: there are rules that it can’t be too strong or a flickering flame. Flashlights are allowed as a replacement for a candle, and many rabbis [Yalkut Yosef] encourage people to keep the electric lights on in order to see better, but even if one does so, a candle needs to be used. Why?
The Talmud often uses a hermeneutic method called gezera shava to learn a law from two verses that share a similar word. The idea is that the Torah intentionally uses the same word in order to apply something written explicitly in one verse to the situation in the second verse. But for Pesach, we have a very intricate textual game, a super-gezera shava, in order to teach that one needs to search for chametz with a candle. It sounds more like a mystical poem than a legal interpretation.
לְאוֹר הַנֵּר וְכוּ׳. מְנָא הָנֵי מִילֵּי? אָמַר רַב חִסְדָּא: לָמַדְנוּ מְצִיאָה מִמְּצִיאָה, וּמְצִיאָה מֵחִיפּוּשׂ, וְחִיפּוּשׂ מֵחִיפּוּשׂ, וְחִיפּוּשׂ מִנֵּרוֹת, וְנֵרוֹת מִנֵּר.
Rav Hisda says: How do we know this? We learn Finding from finding, Finding from searching, Searching from searching, Searching from candles, and Candles from a candle. (Pesachim 7b)
In effect, Rav Hisda links four different verses, the first speaks about chametz and the final one speaks about searching with a candle.
שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֔ים שְׂאֹ֕ר לֹ֥א יִמָּצֵ֖א בְּבָתֵּיכֶ֑ם כִּ֣י ׀ כׇּל־אֹכֵ֣ל מַחְמֶ֗צֶת וְנִכְרְתָ֞ה הַנֶּ֤פֶשׁ הַהִוא֙ מֵעֲדַ֣ת יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל בַּגֵּ֖ר וּבְאֶזְרַ֥ח הָאָֽרֶץ׃
No leaven shall be found in your houses for seven days. (Exodus 12:19)
וַיְחַפֵּ֕שׂ בַּגָּד֣וֹל הֵחֵ֔ל וּבַקָּטֹ֖ן כִּלָּ֑ה וַיִּמָּצֵא֙ הַגָּבִ֔יעַ בְּאַמְתַּ֖חַת בִּנְיָמִֽן׃
And he searched, and began at the eldest, and ended at the youngest: and the cup was found in Benjamin’s sack. (Genesis 44:12)
בָּעֵת הַהִיא אֲחַפֵּשׂ אֶת יְרוּשָׁלִַים בַּנֵּרוֹת
At that time, I will search Jerusalem with candles (Zephaniah 1:12)
נֵ֣ר יְ֭—הֹוָה נִשְׁמַ֣ת אָדָ֑ם חֹ֝פֵ֗שׂ כׇּל־חַדְרֵי־בָֽטֶן
The spirit of man is the candle of God, searching [or: ‘revealing’] all the inward parts. (Proverbs 20:27)
There seems to be a spiritual message here, using the metaphor of God searching humanity with the candle that is the soul of man. But even without examining the implications of that metaphor for the ritual, I notice the insistence on searching as well as finding. The candle is used, rather than a flaming torch or sunlight, because it forces us to move slowly and focus on one place at a time. Importantly, even someone who just spent two weeks cleaning the house needs to search for chametz with a candle on the night before Pesach. Knowing something isn't the same as seeing it.
I think about this in other contexts too. Just by the synagogue, outside the metro station, there were some posters of Israeli children kidnapped by Hamas. A day after they were put up, they were torn down, like many others around Paris, around the world. I try and imagine the mind of the cowardly person tearing down these posters, who cannot bear to see a narrative that contradicts their own, who is incapable of holding any kind of complexity. Being forced to see with your own eyes a reality that you don’t already know is difficult and crucial — these posters have become a battleground and shouldn’t be abandoned now. And of course, I would say the same thing on the other side (although there aren't necessarily only two sides to this issue): supporters of Israel need to find the honesty and courage to look at the human tragedy in Gaza, and not look away from the hunger and suffering that exist there. Before interpretation, before assigning blame, we cannot close our eyes, or have the same mindset as those who tear down posters of Israeli hostages. Our tradition forces us to go and look closely, and teaches that seeing has consequences. Not always, not all the time: the priest could look away for the seven days of the wedding celebration, or during the festivals, because life must go on. But the priest couldn't look away forever.
Maybe one final implication of this insistence on going out to see with our own eyes is found in another requirement of the Pesach experience, the telling of the story of the Exodus. Each Jew is required, according to the halacha, to see him or herself as if they personally were leaving Egypt. (חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת עַצְמוֹ כְּאִילּוּ הוּא יָצָא מִמִּצְרָיִם) After the requirement to go out to see the world as it is and create the world that needs to be seen, we’re reminded to turn our gaze inwards. Seeing ourselves as if we were leaving Egypt isn’t just an imaginary fantasy game, we need to look inwards and understand who we are, which parts of ourselves are enslaved and which feel liberated, we need to apply the same courage and honesty in seeing ourselves as we strive to have in seeing the world around us.
Shabbat shalom!
Thank you for your moving words on the necessary empathy we must feel for all our fellow human beings who are in pain - not only our own people taken hostage by Hamas but also all the innocents suffering in Gaza. (for my mother Deborah Simon)