As social creatures, whose wholesomeness is dependent on being with others, feeling separate and apart can be most distressing to the emotional wellbeing of our psyches. None of us are immune to the occasional experience of loneliness and rejection, and abandonment can be especially devastating to young people.
We know that kids can be cruel. But their cruelty, like their moods, tempers and emotions tend to flare and die away. A few minutes after a bitter feud, they are laughing together like nothing has happened. Unfortunately, modern technology has introduced another level to the common spat among kids, especially teenagers, though there have been stories of kids as young as nine who were bruised (and even damaged) by this new way of communicating taunts, insults and even explicit pictures.
Facebook, Twitter and cellular texting allow kids to ridicule their friends, peers or neighbors, impersonate them, lie about them and then disseminate – within seconds – that hurtful talk to the entire class or social circle. When the recipients forward such messages, the effect on the victim and his or her family can be devastating. Why? As the New York Times reported, “Online bullying can be more psychologically savage than schoolyard bullying. The Internet erases inhibitions, with adolescents often going further online than they could ever in person.” (December 4, 2010)
This phenomenon has become so common that it has a name of its own – “cyber-bullying” – and it has already been the subject of several studies. Further in the New York Times, it graphically described this newest social problem, highlighting a number of tragic stories, including that of a 13-year-old boy, a new arrival at school, who was so viciously taunted that he and his family nearly moved out of town due to the hurt and harassment. In short, this boy became a pariah. And that brings us to today’s topic. How does someone who becomes a pariah in society – for whatever reason – recover their sense of self worth and belonging?
The Torah addresses the problem of the social outcast in this week’s reading – Metzora (Leviticus 14:1 – 15:33), which at first glance may seem obscure and irrelevant to our modern times. For the Torah discusses here the metzora, a person afflicted with a spiritual, leper-like disease who was sequestered from the community and banished to live alone outside of the camp until he was healed. But upon a deeper look, the “law of the leper” contains some very relevant lessons to our lives today concerning those who feel shunned by society for whatever reason.
What is a leper? A leper is someone suffering from a horribly disfiguring disease caused by bacteria. Left untreated, leprosy can be progressive, causing open skin lesions and resulting in tissue loss that causes permanent deformation. Because of this terrible, highly contagious disease, lepers have always been social outcasts. So much so that, in today’s English, the word leper is most often used to denote somebody shunned by society – synonymous with “reject” or “pariah.” The Torah calls him metzora. But Torah’s leper is not an ordinary leper, for the Torah is speaking about a person with another problem altogether, a spiritual problem with physical manifestations, not a leprous bacterial infection. The rabbi/physician, Moses Maimonides writes that this disease – which, in his understanding, occurred primarily in spiritually advanced individuals whose body functions were subject to their spiritual state – does not exist today.(Yad, Tumat Tzara’at 16:10)
So what relevance can this possibly have for our modern lives? Since the very word “Torah” means “instruction” (from the Hebrew hora’ah), we must assume that the chapters pertaining to the metzora do contain timeless lessons. Furthermore, these lessons must be of crucial importance as the Torah devotes two full chapters (comprising nearly 100 verses) – in Parshat Tazria and Parshat Metzora – to the subject of this pariah, and how he or she can be healed and re-introduced into society. But odd as it may seem, the introduction to the discussion of the leper – which is obviously linked with it in the same Torah reading – does not mention anything repellent at all. Indeed, it speaks of a pure miracle: conception and childbirth.
The rabbis do actually comment on the fact that these two Torah portions (Tazria and Metzora) are often read together – though not this year because it is a leap year. And that their juxtaposition does bring about a bizarre convergence of these two paradoxical elements: the power and beauty of conception and birth, and the degradation and lowliness of the leper. Indeed, Sefer Yetzirah (the Kabbalistic “Book of Formation”) states:
“Nothing is higher than pleasure (oneg). Nothing is lower than leprosy (negah).” Oneg and negah consist of the same three Hebrew letters: ayin-nun-gimmel. When the ayin comes first it creates oneg (“pleasure”), but when the letters are re-organized and the nun comes first, it creates negah (a leprous curse”). There is no greater pleasure (oneg) than birth. But pleasure is only possible and appreciated when contrasted with something unpleasant.
In reply to Job’s timeless question “Why do people suffer?” God replied (in short): “If there was no life there would be no pain, if there was no birth there would be no death, if there were no pleasure there would be no suffering.”(Job Chapters 38-39) Negah is a form of death (for the leper is considered as “dead”). Yet the same letters slightly re-organized describe the deepest pleasure of birth.
It is perhaps the most fundamental truth of all truths – and the basis of the entire Torah – that every individual was created in the Divine Image, each with a pure soul, and no matter what happens in one’s lifetime, the sacred innocence remains intact. Perhaps cloaked, obscured, even to the point of total concealment, but still flickering in some way, waiting to be fanned into a flame. This applies even to the child who grew up in the most abusive home, where instead of being nurtured he or she was hurt and rejected. This applies to a child who was bullied at school, ostracized and friendless. Any damage done, any wounds incurred, are only on the exterior, conscious level. The inner soul can never be damaged by another. It always maintains its potency, and with effort and persistence, it can be brought back to the surface.
This is the meaning of the two Torah portions which discuss the leper, Tazria and Metzora. Out of the pariah’s isolation greatness can be conceived. True, the leper is a lonely sufferer, outside the camp and community, but the Torah also relates how this is part of the process of his healing.
Shabbat Shalom
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