As an introduction to the various Issurei Gilu’ei Arayos listed in this week’s parasha, the pasuk prefaces “Lo Sikrivu LiGalos Ervah, Ani Hashem.” Rashi comments on the words Ani Hashem that the pasuk adds these seemingly unnecessary words to remind us that Hashem is “Ne’eman LiShaleim Sachar,” trusted to issue reward [for our keeping of the Mitzvos, like distancing ourselves from Gilu’ei Arayos]. But how can Hashem give us Schar for not doing a Mitzvas Lo Sa’asei? Of all places to remind us aboutSchar, the pasuk interjects this in the middle of an Azhara! Wouldn’t a lesson about Onesh be more fitting?
The Mizrachi answers that separation from Gilu’ei Arayos is much more active than not doing a Mitzvas Lo Sa’asei. The Schar is only paid for a person who is put into a situation where he could have violated the Mitzvah and then fought off his Yeitzer. One must wonder, however, why the Torah did not make separation from Gilu’ei Arayos into a Mitzvas Assei if Hashem intended to reward us for this action. There are plenty of other Mitzvos, like Yom Tov or Hashavas Aveida, that are both Mitzvos Asei and Lo Sa’asei, so if Rashi meant to say that we receive Schar for this Mitzvah, why wouldn’t the pasuk have been structured as a Mitzvas Asei? Furthermore, we still have no explanation why Rashi should talk about potential Schar and not potential Onesh in the middle of an Azhara.
It should be noted that Rashi’s comment “Ne’eman LiShaleim Schar” is not an isolated statement; rather it is the continuation to a much longer explanation on pasuk 2. The pasuk there introduces the concept of Chukos HaGoyim and states “Ani Hashem Elokeichem.” There, Rashi quotes the Sifra’s explanation of this seemingly superfluous declaration:
Rebbi said: It was known and obvious to [Hashem] that [Bnei Yisrael] were destined to resort to Arayos in Ezra’s time. Therefore, he came to them within His decree “Ani Hashem Elokeichem,” [meaning] know who is decreeing upon you, [for I am a] judge who collects payment, and I am trusted to issue reward. (Sifra 13:5)
There are several problems with this Sifra. First of all, if the words Ani Hashem Elokeichem directly regard the commandment of Gilu’ei Arayos, why should they precede the pasukim about Chukos HaGoyim? Why not write about Ma’asei Artzei Mitzrayim ViKina’an first, and then introduce Arayos with this pasuk? Also, why do we consider Hashem “trusted to issue reward?” Why not simply regard Him as the Dayan HaPorei’ah U’MiShaleim Schar?
But before we address these smaller problems, we should first wonder what Rebbi meant to teach about Hashem and His decree altogether. Does his comment to mean that Hashem did not want us to sin, and therefore He reminded us about all the bad that would happen to us should we err and all the good we would earn should we act properly? No! He clearly states that Hashem knew we would sin in the future; the Aveirah was inevitable. Sure enough, the people still sinned in Ezra’s days, despite the fact that Hashem had stated Ani Hashem Elokeichem! So what then did Hashem accomplish by saying “Ani Hashem Elokeichem”?! What is Rebbi trying to teach us?
The gemara in Mesechet Avoda Zara offers a tremendous insight – a critical Yisod – regarding the concept of Hashem collecting payment and issuing reward to Klal Yisrael:
[Some heretics once asked Rebbi Avahu:] the pasuk says “Rak Eschem Yadati MiKol Mishpachos HaAdamah, Al Kein Efkod Aleichem Es Kol Avonoseichem,” [Hashem says] ‘I love you [Bnei Yisrael] more than all the other nations of the world, therefore I will make you pay for all of your sins.’ When a person is angry, does he vent his anger on his best friend?! Of course not! Why then does Hashem vent His frustration on you if He loves you the most? Rabbi Avahu answered: what is this [pasuk] like? Like a man who lends money to two people: one friend and one enemy. From the friend, he goes out of his way and is willing to trouble himself to collect payments in small sums, little by little. But from the enemy, he waits until the end of the loan period and then collects it all in one heap. So too, Hashem treats us like His friend and makes us pay for our sins over a long duration so that all we will have when Olam Habah arrives are our Mitzvos. But He does not collect from the Goyim, His enemies, until their day of judgment, and so none of them will merit Olam Haba. (Avoda Zara, 4a)
Rabbi Avahu’s response turns our perspective of Hashem’s system of punishment upside-down! The fact that Hashem punishes us for our Aveiros does not reflect Midaas HaDin; in fact, it is actually something Hashem does out of Rachamim and out of His love for us. Therefore the pasuk uses the name Hashem, and not Elokim, in order to reflect the Midas Rachamim present in His judgment. Also, we now understand why He is Ne’eman LiShaleim Schar. Because He doesn’t mete out Schar until Olam Haba, all we see are our punishments and Puraniot; therefore, the pasuk teaches us that we shouldn’t worry; we will receive our rewards in due time.
And we can even come to understand the tremendous love Hashem expresses to us through giving us a Mitzvah that He knows we cannot keep! It seems like the strangest thing in the world. Did Hashem actually create Man without the potential to fulfill all 613 Mitzvos – or even 7 Mitzvos, for that matter – to the fullest degree?! It seems unfair. To a certain degree it is very unfair, but we can also view it as Hashem’s way of guaranteeing that only His chosen nation will merit Olam Habah. If both we and the Goyim sin, then everyone will end up in debt to Hashem. This gives Hashem the awesome ability to select who will pay for these inevitable sins over a long span of time, and who will pay for them on judgment day, what the gemara in Avoda Zara calls Yom Eidam (see dafim 2-4).
The lesson of “Ani Hashem Elokeichem” stretches way beyond the simple reminder to do the right thing. It is the recognition that sometimes Hashem gives us difficult Mitzvos and expects exactly the opposite results! However, Hashem promises to always be Porei’ah from us, and so he becomes Ne’eman LiShaleim Schar.
But this lesson is only helpful for us, and it only eases our concerns regarding the impossibility of perfectly observing Issurei Arayos, if we truly recognize that we are Hashem’s friend and the Goyim are His enemy. That’s why the pasuk cannot immediately segue into Hilchos Arayos. Instead, we spend four pasukim detailing the concept of Chukim, both the Chukim of the Goyim and the Chukim of the Torah. We come to recognize that there is a significant difference between us and the other nations of the world. We recognize how their customs and traditions are meaningless and hollow, while our customs are the King’s decree. And we are thus assured that we will maintain our close relationship to Hashem through even our toughest times. It is now clear that Chukos HaGoyim does not only connect to the concept of Arayos, there is no more fitting introduction to the concept. And there is no more fitting Mitzvah for Klal Yisrael to embrace than Arayos, especially within the parasha that thoroughly details Hashem’s guarantee to forgive all of our Avonos.
21.4.05
19.4.05
Pesach 5765
Sippur Yitzeas Mitrayim begins with the paragraph of Mitichilah Ovdei Avodah Zara Hayu Avoseinu and segues into the pasukim of Arami Oveid Avi. We open at a point where we couldn’t be more distant from Hashem, and ultimately achieve closeness with Hashem and a separation from the other nations. (Rambam, Hichos Chametz U’Matzah, 7:4)
But along the way, we get chronologically sidetracked from what the Rambam tells us to focus on. We make mention of Terach Avi Avraham and then of Avraham himself, then of Yitzchak, and then of Yaakov and Eisav, and Yaakov and his sons heading down to Mitzrayim. The obvious next segment of this sequence should be Shibud Mitzrayim, yet we break our train of thought and retrace history back to Avraham and the Bris Bein HaBisarim. We thank Hashem for keeping his promise to Avraham that we would go down to Mitzrayim and, 400 years later, emerge a free nation.
OK, so now we should get back to the story and detail how Hashem kept His promise. Right? Wrong! In fact, we totally abandon the Hagadah’s history lesson and talk about how all the nations of the world hate us. It must be known before we continue any further into the Hagadah that Paroh wasn’t the only person who tried to kill us, but rather in every generation, they try to murder us. And miraculously Hashem saves us each and every time. What does this paragraph have anything to do with Yitze’as Mitzrayim?
Lets slow down for a second. What really is the point of this paragraph? Is it really inserted to pique our awareness of anti-Semitism? The words certainly suggest so, but then it wouldn’t have to end with thanks to Hashem for saving us every generation. Perhaps this no more than an extension of the previous Baruch Shomer Havtachaso, a tribute to Hashem for keeping us alive in every generation, because had it not been for His promise to Avraham, who knows if we would have been alive to make it down to Mitzrayim altogether. Tzei U’Limad Ma Bikeish Lavan HaArami! We must thank Hashem for keeping us alive so that we could journey down to Mitzrayim in the first place! And that’s why ViHee She’Amdah belongs exactly where we read it. And so everything fits together nicely…
Except we haven’t explained why we need to thank Hashem for keeping His promise. Somehow, the Bris Bein HaBisarim plays a vital role within our acknowledgement of the relationship we eventually establish with HaKadosh Baruch Hu. Strangely, this acknowledgement somehow belongs out of its proper frame in history’s timeline and instead attached to Yaakov’s journey down to Mitzrayim. Why? The paragraph of Tzei U’Limad seems to come as an explanation of everything we acknowledge in ViHee She’Amdah, so perhaps we should look a little further into the Hagadah’s story.
In Tzei U’Limad, we seem to focus on the evil of Lavan, the fact that he wanted to destroy the entire Jewish nation while Paroh only wanted to wipe out the males. What a perfect night to belittle Shibud Mitzrayim! And who really cares how much Lavan hated us? Lavan hated us, Mitzrayim hated us, both wanted to destroy the nation, both are remembered in the ViHee She’amdah, we were saved from both by Hashem. Does this really need to become a competition over who hates us more?
Which forces us to wonder if even Tzei U’Limad was intended to make us aware of Anti-Semitism. If Tzei U’Limad is merely a clarification of ViHee She’Amdah, then it can only serve as an analysis of anti-Semitism if ViHee She’Amdah does. So Tzei U’Limad is not an analysis of anti-Semitism after all. Rather, our awareness of how much Lavan hated us is the very form by which we thank Hashem. And if we can prove this, then maybe we can also come to understand why the thanks to Hashem we offer with our Bikurim must begin with the recognition that Arami Oveid Avi, as Rashi translates: (Lavan the) Arami sought to destroy our forefather (Yaakov).
What event in history does Arami Oveid Avi revisit and recount? Rashi in Ki Tavo (26:5) says this is a reference to the day when Lavan chased after Yaakov. Yaakov was living three days away from his father-in-law when he fled. Therefore, it took three days for Lavan to discover his son-in-law’s actions, and he furiously chased after Yaakov with lethal intent. When Lavan began his pursuit, Yaakov had a six day head start (as the messengers traveled three days east, Yaakov traveled three days west), but Lavan’s hatred fueled his chase and he caught up in only one day. Hashem appeared to Lavan in a dream that night and warned him to speak kindly to Yaakov the next morning, and it was this miraculous dream that saved Yaakov’s life. So Arami Oveid Avi refers to Lavan’s redifah.
To review, Lavan’s redifah was Derech Shivas Yamim, a seven day journey traveled in one day. Keep two things in mind: 1) Yaakov fled so fast, he could travel as fast as the messengers who returned to Lavan to tell over the bad news. 2) Lavan STILL caught up in one day! Fueled by Anti-Semitism, Lavan’s hatred of Yaakov was the sole reason he ever caught up.
So Lavan miraculously reached to Yaakov, and not a moment too soon, since virtually immediately after Yaakov’s confrontation with Lavan comes his confrontation with Eisav. How soon we forget that Lavan wasn’t the only man chasing after Yaakov with thoughts to kill him.
The years that Yaakov spent with Lavan taught him how to coexist with a man like Eisav, but even after those twenty years, Yaakov still only felt comfortable dealing with tricksters from a comfortable distance. Yaakov’s only hope to reunite with his brother was to learn to coexist peacefully, in close proximity, and that was something he learned to do when Lavan confronted him this last time. After this final confrontation, Yaakov undergoes a tremendous metamorphosis; he puts his head down to sleep for the first time in twenty years, and right next to Lavan. Only then is he prepared to, in the upcoming parasha, save his life a second time; only then has he properly learned how to coexist with Edom, as is clear to Eisav, who offers to travel alongside Yaakov. Though Yaakov refuses his brother’s offer, he says he will catch up and travel together in the future.
Tzei U’Limad how much Lavan wanted to kill us, for if he hadn’t such a strong desire, Eisav would have certainly finished what Lavan had initially set out to do. It’s also worth noting that ViHee She’Amdah is very unclear as to whom it refers. SheLo Echad Bilvad Amad Aleinu LiKaloseinu, Elah SheBiChol Dor VaDor Omdim Aleinu LiKaloseinu. Shouldn’t it have read SheLo Dor Echad, and furthermore, why does it change from singular to plural? There are really two aspects to our recognition in ViHee She’amdah. First, we must recognize that Shibud Mitzrayim was not the only time in history we faced persecution. But we must also be aware that in those other generations, there is no single adversary. Lavan wasn’t the only foe out to destroy Yaakov. And yet Hashem arranged history in such a way that we could deal with all our enemies, one way or another. That’s the thanks and acknowledgement we express within Baruch Shomer Havtachaso; that’s the recognition of Arami Oveid Avi. And so when we recognize VaYeired Mitzraimah VaYagar Sham when we bring Bekurim, we make sure to note Arami Oveid Avi, for there is no greater proof that Hashem is Mechasheiv Es HaKeitz than if we look back at history and recognize how even the Anti-Semetism we face, ironically enough, is what keeps us alive.
But along the way, we get chronologically sidetracked from what the Rambam tells us to focus on. We make mention of Terach Avi Avraham and then of Avraham himself, then of Yitzchak, and then of Yaakov and Eisav, and Yaakov and his sons heading down to Mitzrayim. The obvious next segment of this sequence should be Shibud Mitzrayim, yet we break our train of thought and retrace history back to Avraham and the Bris Bein HaBisarim. We thank Hashem for keeping his promise to Avraham that we would go down to Mitzrayim and, 400 years later, emerge a free nation.
OK, so now we should get back to the story and detail how Hashem kept His promise. Right? Wrong! In fact, we totally abandon the Hagadah’s history lesson and talk about how all the nations of the world hate us. It must be known before we continue any further into the Hagadah that Paroh wasn’t the only person who tried to kill us, but rather in every generation, they try to murder us. And miraculously Hashem saves us each and every time. What does this paragraph have anything to do with Yitze’as Mitzrayim?
Lets slow down for a second. What really is the point of this paragraph? Is it really inserted to pique our awareness of anti-Semitism? The words certainly suggest so, but then it wouldn’t have to end with thanks to Hashem for saving us every generation. Perhaps this no more than an extension of the previous Baruch Shomer Havtachaso, a tribute to Hashem for keeping us alive in every generation, because had it not been for His promise to Avraham, who knows if we would have been alive to make it down to Mitzrayim altogether. Tzei U’Limad Ma Bikeish Lavan HaArami! We must thank Hashem for keeping us alive so that we could journey down to Mitzrayim in the first place! And that’s why ViHee She’Amdah belongs exactly where we read it. And so everything fits together nicely…
Except we haven’t explained why we need to thank Hashem for keeping His promise. Somehow, the Bris Bein HaBisarim plays a vital role within our acknowledgement of the relationship we eventually establish with HaKadosh Baruch Hu. Strangely, this acknowledgement somehow belongs out of its proper frame in history’s timeline and instead attached to Yaakov’s journey down to Mitzrayim. Why? The paragraph of Tzei U’Limad seems to come as an explanation of everything we acknowledge in ViHee She’Amdah, so perhaps we should look a little further into the Hagadah’s story.
In Tzei U’Limad, we seem to focus on the evil of Lavan, the fact that he wanted to destroy the entire Jewish nation while Paroh only wanted to wipe out the males. What a perfect night to belittle Shibud Mitzrayim! And who really cares how much Lavan hated us? Lavan hated us, Mitzrayim hated us, both wanted to destroy the nation, both are remembered in the ViHee She’amdah, we were saved from both by Hashem. Does this really need to become a competition over who hates us more?
Which forces us to wonder if even Tzei U’Limad was intended to make us aware of Anti-Semitism. If Tzei U’Limad is merely a clarification of ViHee She’Amdah, then it can only serve as an analysis of anti-Semitism if ViHee She’Amdah does. So Tzei U’Limad is not an analysis of anti-Semitism after all. Rather, our awareness of how much Lavan hated us is the very form by which we thank Hashem. And if we can prove this, then maybe we can also come to understand why the thanks to Hashem we offer with our Bikurim must begin with the recognition that Arami Oveid Avi, as Rashi translates: (Lavan the) Arami sought to destroy our forefather (Yaakov).
What event in history does Arami Oveid Avi revisit and recount? Rashi in Ki Tavo (26:5) says this is a reference to the day when Lavan chased after Yaakov. Yaakov was living three days away from his father-in-law when he fled. Therefore, it took three days for Lavan to discover his son-in-law’s actions, and he furiously chased after Yaakov with lethal intent. When Lavan began his pursuit, Yaakov had a six day head start (as the messengers traveled three days east, Yaakov traveled three days west), but Lavan’s hatred fueled his chase and he caught up in only one day. Hashem appeared to Lavan in a dream that night and warned him to speak kindly to Yaakov the next morning, and it was this miraculous dream that saved Yaakov’s life. So Arami Oveid Avi refers to Lavan’s redifah.
To review, Lavan’s redifah was Derech Shivas Yamim, a seven day journey traveled in one day. Keep two things in mind: 1) Yaakov fled so fast, he could travel as fast as the messengers who returned to Lavan to tell over the bad news. 2) Lavan STILL caught up in one day! Fueled by Anti-Semitism, Lavan’s hatred of Yaakov was the sole reason he ever caught up.
So Lavan miraculously reached to Yaakov, and not a moment too soon, since virtually immediately after Yaakov’s confrontation with Lavan comes his confrontation with Eisav. How soon we forget that Lavan wasn’t the only man chasing after Yaakov with thoughts to kill him.
The years that Yaakov spent with Lavan taught him how to coexist with a man like Eisav, but even after those twenty years, Yaakov still only felt comfortable dealing with tricksters from a comfortable distance. Yaakov’s only hope to reunite with his brother was to learn to coexist peacefully, in close proximity, and that was something he learned to do when Lavan confronted him this last time. After this final confrontation, Yaakov undergoes a tremendous metamorphosis; he puts his head down to sleep for the first time in twenty years, and right next to Lavan. Only then is he prepared to, in the upcoming parasha, save his life a second time; only then has he properly learned how to coexist with Edom, as is clear to Eisav, who offers to travel alongside Yaakov. Though Yaakov refuses his brother’s offer, he says he will catch up and travel together in the future.
Tzei U’Limad how much Lavan wanted to kill us, for if he hadn’t such a strong desire, Eisav would have certainly finished what Lavan had initially set out to do. It’s also worth noting that ViHee She’Amdah is very unclear as to whom it refers. SheLo Echad Bilvad Amad Aleinu LiKaloseinu, Elah SheBiChol Dor VaDor Omdim Aleinu LiKaloseinu. Shouldn’t it have read SheLo Dor Echad, and furthermore, why does it change from singular to plural? There are really two aspects to our recognition in ViHee She’amdah. First, we must recognize that Shibud Mitzrayim was not the only time in history we faced persecution. But we must also be aware that in those other generations, there is no single adversary. Lavan wasn’t the only foe out to destroy Yaakov. And yet Hashem arranged history in such a way that we could deal with all our enemies, one way or another. That’s the thanks and acknowledgement we express within Baruch Shomer Havtachaso; that’s the recognition of Arami Oveid Avi. And so when we recognize VaYeired Mitzraimah VaYagar Sham when we bring Bekurim, we make sure to note Arami Oveid Avi, for there is no greater proof that Hashem is Mechasheiv Es HaKeitz than if we look back at history and recognize how even the Anti-Semetism we face, ironically enough, is what keeps us alive.
15.4.05
Parashat Metzorah
Many wonder why the laws of Tzara’as on the house appear in a totally separate parasha from the rest of Hilchos Nega’im. Obviously, there is something that makes Nega’ei Batim very different from any other form of Tzara’as. However, the Midrash Tanchuma explains that when Klal Yisrael would sin, Hashem would restrain Himself from immediately expelling them from Eretz Yisrael, opting to first send a call for Teshuva. He would inflict their houses with Negai’m. If they would do Teshuva, good; but if not, He would inflict their clothing. Then He would send Karachas and Gabachas, then Nesakim, then Shchin, and finally Se’ais Sopachas and Baheres. If none of these would convince Klal Yisrael to do Teshuva, He would then kick them out. It seems clear from the Midrash that there is a very close correlation between Niga’ei Batim and other Nega’im, so what reason do we have to consider the house’s Tzara’as so different?
Here’s one difference: Regarding the process of declaring Nega’ei Batim, the pasuk says “U’Va Asher Lo HaBayis ViHigid LaKohein, KiNega Nirah Li BaBayis.” Until now, by the Tzara’as of the body and clothing, the person would bring the Nega to the Kohein without a declaration; he never had to say anything. But all of a sudden, the Torah gets very particular about the exact phrasing this man should use when addressing the Kohein.
More to the point, the pasuk insists that the man not pronounce the spot on his walls an actual Nega; rather, he should say it looks like a Nega and leave it to the Kohein to decide for sure, no matter how certain he is. Rashi comments, even if the man is a Talmid Chacham and he knows for sure, he shouldn’t paskin with words of certainty. The Mifarshim are very bothered by this comment. We all know that Nega’im are only Tamei once the Kohein pronounces them Tamei, and even the greatest Talmid Chacham hasn’t the ability to execute psak on his own. Why then should the Torah care at all what the Talmid Cacham, or any other individual for that matter, says about the Nega?! The Mizrachi explains that Rashi didn’t intend us to think the Chacham could paskin the case on his own; rather, Rashi meant that it’s not proper Derech Eretz for the Chacham to talk with such certainty; it would be arrogant of him to declare a ruling if he is not in position to execute that ruling himself.
However, there is a severe problem with our understanding of the Mizrachi’s explanation. Rashi seems so concerned for the words that the homeowner uses regarding the Nega, yet the Kohein himself, before he even goes to visit the house, tells the homeowner to clean out all of his possessions so they do not become Tamei. Shouldn’t the Kohein first take a look at the house, and then tell the man to clean it out immediately before declaring “Tamei Hu?” Yet he instead says right away, “go clean out your house, I’m sure it’s a Nega.” What happened to stressing “KiNega Nirah Li BaBayis?!”
There seems to be a much more significant difference in the way the Torah goes about describing Nega’ei Batim: Until now, the Torah spent a great deal of time discussing the process behind declaring Nega’im to be Tamei. What if it’s not deep enough, what if it has two hairs, what if it it’s not bright enough, et cetera. When it comes to Nega’ei Batim, however, there is only one pasuk that deals with symptoms, and that pasuk is out of order! The pasuk describes the walls’ symptoms as “Skika’aruruot Yirakrakot O’ Adamdamot U’Mareihen Shafal Min HaKir.” Rashi explains Skika’arurot to mean “sunken,” prompting the Malbim to ask why the pasuk has to repeat this idea of sunkenness when it says “U’Mareihen Shafal Min HaKir.” The Malbim answers that the first term refers to a physical sunkenness into the thickness of the wall while the second is a visual lowness, like the appearance of sunlight against shade. One would then expect to the Kohein to check for physical sunkenness by peeling away at the wall and seeing what is underneath, but the Kohein would never bother checking for Shikuah first. What if the surfaces’ color is not Shafal? The pasuk must be out of order; amazingly, it avoids the description of process. It treats the symptoms of the Nega as a given, not a possibility. Why then do we stress the need to say “KiNega” by the house’s Tzara’as; it seems like the least plausible place for the patient to stress his uncertainty and humility!
But we are still avoiding the most apparent contrast: When the Kohein is confronted with any form of Tzara’as in Parashat Sazria, he first quarantines the object until he decides it is Tamei, and then he either destroys it or exiles him. Immediately. When the Kohein is confronted with Nega’ei Batim, however, the house is declared Tamei the moment it is quarantined. The next two to three weeks are to see whether the Tumah will disappear. The Tamei house is never destroyed immediately or even after one week, no matter how severe the affliction is. In short, we could propose that the Kohein’s role in Parashat Sazria is to search for Tumah while the Kohein’s role in Metzorah is to search for Tahara. This explains why Nega’ei Batim is paired with Tahara process of a Metzorah instead of with Nega’ei Begadim or Baheres.
Which leads us to the most startling contrast between Nega’ei Batim and all other forms: The pasuk says “ViYatza HaKohein Min HaBayis El Pesach HaBayis, ViHisgir Es HaBayis Shivas Yamim,” the Kohein first leaves the house and then declares it Tamei. The reason for this is relatively obvious. If the Kohein declares it Tamei while he’s standing inside, he would become Tamei as well; it makes sense for the Kohein to just stand outside and avoid the Tumah. We see that the general case of Tzara’as HaBayis is that the Nega grows on the inside of the house, not the façade. This point is restated in pasuk 41, which commands the house to be patched “MiBayis Saviv,” all around on the inside. Therefore, when the Kohein comes back seven days later to inspect the Nega, he has no choice but to enter the house and become Tamei (or at least risk becoming Tamei, for he must remain inside Kidei Achilas Pras to become Tamei. Unlikely though that he could scrape away the plaster and sufficiently check both the Nega’s surface and underneath in such a short time span). By other forms of Tzara’as, the Kohein never seems to risk Tumah. Even when the Kohein becomes Tamei by Parah Adumah, it serves a productive purpose. Here, there’s always the potential that the Kohein will become Tamei for no reason; he will visit to try and be Mitaheir the house only to discover the futility of his visit.
Perhaps this is why the Mishna in Nega’im (13:1) says a house that is cured from Tzara’as in one week requires no Korban, but a house whose Nega remains for one week, then is quarantined for a second week, and then disappears, does require a Korban. If the Kohein returns to a Tahor house after one week, his visit is not only beneficial, but he doesn’t become Tamei upon entry into the house. But if the Nega lasts two weeks, the Kohein does become Tamei when he enters to inspect after the first week, and to atone for causing this Kohein to needlessly be Mitamei himself, the homeowner must bring a Korban.
Nega’ei Batim really forces us consider the relationship between the Kohein and his patient. The Kohein doesn’t just show up and declare the house Tahor or Tamei, he doesn’t just determine whether his patient has done sufficient Teshuva. Instead, he inspires and motivates his patient to come clean, he expresses his confidence that the homeowner has done Teshuva and there will be no negative consequences to his entry into the house and inspection of the Nega. In effect, the patient feels he owes it to the Kohein to do Teshuva. If someone could have so much faith in him, the least he could do is try and repent. And if the Kohein ever emerges as a Rishon LiTumah with bad news, it deeply disappoints the patient; and if he ever does eventually do Teshuva, he brings a Korban to express how truly sorry he is for taking a week or two too long to fix his ways.
Of course the Kohein has to eventually give up on this individual. Rashi notes that even if the Nega doesn’t spread either of the first two weeks, the Kohein still orders the wall to be breached and patched. At this point, the Kohein does everything in his power to avoid a Chazaka of futile attempts at curing both the house and its owner; he therefore takes forceful action and gets rid of the Nega himself. And if it returns the next week, the Kohein’s endeavor is considered totally futile, the house is demolished, and the Kohein stops risking his state of Tahara for this man’s sake. The next time the patient gets Tzara’as, it will be on his clothing. The Kohein will say, “I’m no longer here to inspire you to do Teshuva; I’m only here to declare that you still haven’t atoned and then burn your possessions. I tried my best to help, but now it’s up to you to repent.”
By now, it should be obvious why the pasuk so forcefully discourages the patient from calling the spot on his house a Nega; the relationship this man is supposed to build with the Kohein is one where he bears concern for the Kohein’s Tahara, he hopes to never place the Kohein in a position susceptible to the contraction of Tumah. Even if the man is a Talmid Chacham, it would be the greatest Chutzpa in the world to call over a Kohein and insist that he enter to inspect a Nega! Instead, the person must humbly implore, “I hope this doesn’t inconvenience you, but I might have something that’s like a Nega on my house’s walls. I’m sure it’s nothing, but could you take a look at it for me?” The Kohein, too, plays his part right off the Torah’s script. He replies, “I don’t mind at all if it’s a Nega because I’m so certain you’ll do Teshuva if it is. In fact, I’m so excited to help you through this difficult time that I want you to clean your house out before I even arrive, just to prove to you how little I mind the potential inconvenience.” And thus is the patient inspired through positive reinforcement and positive attitude.
Ultimately, we come to recognize through this most peculiar dialogue the incredible relationship established between the Kohein and his patient. Like the pasuk says, “LiHoros BiYom HaTamei U’BiYom HaTahor, Zos Toras HaTzara’as.” These laws of Tzara’as are not the Kohein’s to merely declare; they are his tools to teach by example, and if the Kohein succeeds at inspecting houses, then he succeeds at keeping Bnei Yisrael out of Galus.
Good Shabbos.
Here’s one difference: Regarding the process of declaring Nega’ei Batim, the pasuk says “U’Va Asher Lo HaBayis ViHigid LaKohein, KiNega Nirah Li BaBayis.” Until now, by the Tzara’as of the body and clothing, the person would bring the Nega to the Kohein without a declaration; he never had to say anything. But all of a sudden, the Torah gets very particular about the exact phrasing this man should use when addressing the Kohein.
More to the point, the pasuk insists that the man not pronounce the spot on his walls an actual Nega; rather, he should say it looks like a Nega and leave it to the Kohein to decide for sure, no matter how certain he is. Rashi comments, even if the man is a Talmid Chacham and he knows for sure, he shouldn’t paskin with words of certainty. The Mifarshim are very bothered by this comment. We all know that Nega’im are only Tamei once the Kohein pronounces them Tamei, and even the greatest Talmid Chacham hasn’t the ability to execute psak on his own. Why then should the Torah care at all what the Talmid Cacham, or any other individual for that matter, says about the Nega?! The Mizrachi explains that Rashi didn’t intend us to think the Chacham could paskin the case on his own; rather, Rashi meant that it’s not proper Derech Eretz for the Chacham to talk with such certainty; it would be arrogant of him to declare a ruling if he is not in position to execute that ruling himself.
However, there is a severe problem with our understanding of the Mizrachi’s explanation. Rashi seems so concerned for the words that the homeowner uses regarding the Nega, yet the Kohein himself, before he even goes to visit the house, tells the homeowner to clean out all of his possessions so they do not become Tamei. Shouldn’t the Kohein first take a look at the house, and then tell the man to clean it out immediately before declaring “Tamei Hu?” Yet he instead says right away, “go clean out your house, I’m sure it’s a Nega.” What happened to stressing “KiNega Nirah Li BaBayis?!”
There seems to be a much more significant difference in the way the Torah goes about describing Nega’ei Batim: Until now, the Torah spent a great deal of time discussing the process behind declaring Nega’im to be Tamei. What if it’s not deep enough, what if it has two hairs, what if it it’s not bright enough, et cetera. When it comes to Nega’ei Batim, however, there is only one pasuk that deals with symptoms, and that pasuk is out of order! The pasuk describes the walls’ symptoms as “Skika’aruruot Yirakrakot O’ Adamdamot U’Mareihen Shafal Min HaKir.” Rashi explains Skika’arurot to mean “sunken,” prompting the Malbim to ask why the pasuk has to repeat this idea of sunkenness when it says “U’Mareihen Shafal Min HaKir.” The Malbim answers that the first term refers to a physical sunkenness into the thickness of the wall while the second is a visual lowness, like the appearance of sunlight against shade. One would then expect to the Kohein to check for physical sunkenness by peeling away at the wall and seeing what is underneath, but the Kohein would never bother checking for Shikuah first. What if the surfaces’ color is not Shafal? The pasuk must be out of order; amazingly, it avoids the description of process. It treats the symptoms of the Nega as a given, not a possibility. Why then do we stress the need to say “KiNega” by the house’s Tzara’as; it seems like the least plausible place for the patient to stress his uncertainty and humility!
But we are still avoiding the most apparent contrast: When the Kohein is confronted with any form of Tzara’as in Parashat Sazria, he first quarantines the object until he decides it is Tamei, and then he either destroys it or exiles him. Immediately. When the Kohein is confronted with Nega’ei Batim, however, the house is declared Tamei the moment it is quarantined. The next two to three weeks are to see whether the Tumah will disappear. The Tamei house is never destroyed immediately or even after one week, no matter how severe the affliction is. In short, we could propose that the Kohein’s role in Parashat Sazria is to search for Tumah while the Kohein’s role in Metzorah is to search for Tahara. This explains why Nega’ei Batim is paired with Tahara process of a Metzorah instead of with Nega’ei Begadim or Baheres.
Which leads us to the most startling contrast between Nega’ei Batim and all other forms: The pasuk says “ViYatza HaKohein Min HaBayis El Pesach HaBayis, ViHisgir Es HaBayis Shivas Yamim,” the Kohein first leaves the house and then declares it Tamei. The reason for this is relatively obvious. If the Kohein declares it Tamei while he’s standing inside, he would become Tamei as well; it makes sense for the Kohein to just stand outside and avoid the Tumah. We see that the general case of Tzara’as HaBayis is that the Nega grows on the inside of the house, not the façade. This point is restated in pasuk 41, which commands the house to be patched “MiBayis Saviv,” all around on the inside. Therefore, when the Kohein comes back seven days later to inspect the Nega, he has no choice but to enter the house and become Tamei (or at least risk becoming Tamei, for he must remain inside Kidei Achilas Pras to become Tamei. Unlikely though that he could scrape away the plaster and sufficiently check both the Nega’s surface and underneath in such a short time span). By other forms of Tzara’as, the Kohein never seems to risk Tumah. Even when the Kohein becomes Tamei by Parah Adumah, it serves a productive purpose. Here, there’s always the potential that the Kohein will become Tamei for no reason; he will visit to try and be Mitaheir the house only to discover the futility of his visit.
Perhaps this is why the Mishna in Nega’im (13:1) says a house that is cured from Tzara’as in one week requires no Korban, but a house whose Nega remains for one week, then is quarantined for a second week, and then disappears, does require a Korban. If the Kohein returns to a Tahor house after one week, his visit is not only beneficial, but he doesn’t become Tamei upon entry into the house. But if the Nega lasts two weeks, the Kohein does become Tamei when he enters to inspect after the first week, and to atone for causing this Kohein to needlessly be Mitamei himself, the homeowner must bring a Korban.
Nega’ei Batim really forces us consider the relationship between the Kohein and his patient. The Kohein doesn’t just show up and declare the house Tahor or Tamei, he doesn’t just determine whether his patient has done sufficient Teshuva. Instead, he inspires and motivates his patient to come clean, he expresses his confidence that the homeowner has done Teshuva and there will be no negative consequences to his entry into the house and inspection of the Nega. In effect, the patient feels he owes it to the Kohein to do Teshuva. If someone could have so much faith in him, the least he could do is try and repent. And if the Kohein ever emerges as a Rishon LiTumah with bad news, it deeply disappoints the patient; and if he ever does eventually do Teshuva, he brings a Korban to express how truly sorry he is for taking a week or two too long to fix his ways.
Of course the Kohein has to eventually give up on this individual. Rashi notes that even if the Nega doesn’t spread either of the first two weeks, the Kohein still orders the wall to be breached and patched. At this point, the Kohein does everything in his power to avoid a Chazaka of futile attempts at curing both the house and its owner; he therefore takes forceful action and gets rid of the Nega himself. And if it returns the next week, the Kohein’s endeavor is considered totally futile, the house is demolished, and the Kohein stops risking his state of Tahara for this man’s sake. The next time the patient gets Tzara’as, it will be on his clothing. The Kohein will say, “I’m no longer here to inspire you to do Teshuva; I’m only here to declare that you still haven’t atoned and then burn your possessions. I tried my best to help, but now it’s up to you to repent.”
By now, it should be obvious why the pasuk so forcefully discourages the patient from calling the spot on his house a Nega; the relationship this man is supposed to build with the Kohein is one where he bears concern for the Kohein’s Tahara, he hopes to never place the Kohein in a position susceptible to the contraction of Tumah. Even if the man is a Talmid Chacham, it would be the greatest Chutzpa in the world to call over a Kohein and insist that he enter to inspect a Nega! Instead, the person must humbly implore, “I hope this doesn’t inconvenience you, but I might have something that’s like a Nega on my house’s walls. I’m sure it’s nothing, but could you take a look at it for me?” The Kohein, too, plays his part right off the Torah’s script. He replies, “I don’t mind at all if it’s a Nega because I’m so certain you’ll do Teshuva if it is. In fact, I’m so excited to help you through this difficult time that I want you to clean your house out before I even arrive, just to prove to you how little I mind the potential inconvenience.” And thus is the patient inspired through positive reinforcement and positive attitude.
Ultimately, we come to recognize through this most peculiar dialogue the incredible relationship established between the Kohein and his patient. Like the pasuk says, “LiHoros BiYom HaTamei U’BiYom HaTahor, Zos Toras HaTzara’as.” These laws of Tzara’as are not the Kohein’s to merely declare; they are his tools to teach by example, and if the Kohein succeeds at inspecting houses, then he succeeds at keeping Bnei Yisrael out of Galus.
Good Shabbos.
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