Parashat BiChukosai

Everything happens for a purpose. The Klalos of Parashat BiChukosai are terrifying and gruesome, but they are not petty. Hashem promises His chosen nation that He will never permanently abandon them, and that they will emerge atoned through their suffering.

“Then they will appease [Me] over their sins,” they shall atone over their sins through their suffering.

Rashi, VaYikra 26:41

This suffering somehow generates a shift in the sinful nation’s mentality. The Malbim explains that Klal Yisrael stray from Hashem because of their desire to act like foreign nations. When Hashem exiles His nation to these foreign lands, they expect to relinquish their former identities and assume those of their new neighbors. However, through G-d’s benevolence, the foreign nations never accept the Jews as their own. And after ages of relentless oppression, the Jews will ultimately discover and admit to their true identity, their everlasting bond to Hashem, and their innate drive towards His Bris Rishonim, the covenant of old.

But the Klalos are itself a contract of sorts. Hashem pairs His rebuke with a contrasting set of blessings, promising good for those who follow in His ways and bad for those who do not. Each man chooses every day between these two options. When he chooses well, Hashem rewards him. Conversely, poor decisions warrant disagreeable consequences. Presumably, any sensible man will choose the lifestyle of righteous acts over one of wicked deeds. The overall structure of this Tochacha reflects something much simpler than the Malbim’s elaborate description of Hashem’s master plan.

The Malbim therefore explains that Klal Yisrael does not simply disregard Hashem’s ways but also His presence. They blame their woes on G-d’s undeniable absence and wish for His return, yet they fail to recognize that He is responsible for every drop of their suffering, and their very reluctance to accept His involvement attests to their lack of desire for a true relationship. They wish only for unconditional good and neglect their obligation to do good for Hashem in return. And so the suffering continues today until Klal Yisrael regains its identity and sincerely, wholeheartedly, returns to Hashem.

And they will admit their sins and the treacherous sins of their fathers, and [they will admit] that they obstinately went [against My ways]. I too will act obstinately with them and bring them in the land of their enemies; perhaps then they will humble their blocked hearts and appease [Me] over their sins.

VaYikra 26:40-41

Although the Jews admit to their treacherous deeds, they do not fully repent, and Hashem continues to punish them. As the Malbim explains, until Klal Yisrael desire a unique bond with Hashem and dissociate from the ways of the other nations, they will continue to live with oppression and suffering under the hands of their enemies.

By the Malbim’s view, Hashem uses His Klalos to bring about repentance and a constructive change in the Jewish nation. Much like Brachos, the Klalos are a necessary impetus to yield true Avodas Hashem. Nonetheless, there is a clear distinction between Brachos and Klalos, for Brachos physically and psychologically benefit the nation while Klalos hinder them. However, this distinction is slightly blurred within Rashi’s understanding of Hashem’s Klalos:

“And I will bring them in the land of their enemies,” I myself will bring them. This is a favorable deed, for [Bnei Yisrael] should never say ‘since He has exiled us to foreign lands, let us act like them.’ I will not let you [claim this], rather I will establish my prophets and return you to Me.”

Rashi, VaYikra 26:41

By Rashi’s assessment, Hashem does not fully withhold favorable deeds from His nation while they sin. Rather, Hashem graciously calls for their repentance through His prophets. According to the Malbim, Hashem expects His nation to cling to the ways of foreign nations and then afterwards reconsider their decision. But Rashi claims that Hashem will never let them make such a mistake in the first place.

However, Rashi’s interpretation is contextually very difficult. Hashem first threatens, “I will treat you casually,” a clear indication of undesirable consequences, and then immediately promises to remain close to us even in exile. Even if Rashi can infer a favorable deed from the words “I will bring then in the land of their enemies,” how could he ever infer anything favorable from their context?

In truth, the very thought that Hashem intends Klalos to produce positive outcomes is really itself a surprising notion. In the Tochacha of Parashat Ki Savo, Moshe Rabbeinu makes no promises or guarantees that Hashem will save Klal Yisrael from the perilous consequences of their misdeeds. “And you will be sold into slavery and no one will purchase you,” thus ends the fate of the Jewish nation. Hashem promises neither mercy nor favorable deeds.

The gemara in Mesechet Megila (31b) provides a strong distinction between the two sets of Klalos. The Klalos of BiChukosai are all stated in the plural tense; therefore they affect the nation as a whole, not each and every individual. If the nation is good, then this will be their reward. If the nation is bad, then this will be their punishment. However, the Klalos of Ki Savo are written in the singular tense and framed as the consequences of an individual’s actions. If the individual is good, then such is his reward, and so on.

The Klalos of BiChukosai are aimed at repairing a broken nation, a nation guaranteed of salvation no matter how far they sink. In stark contrast, the Klalos of Ki Savo affect the individual, and no individual is safe from utter annihilation. Mitzrayim can sell several individuals into slavery and the nation can survive. Hashem can send His prophets to keep the masses (or maybe even the minority) along a straight path, but not every member of the nation will heed their words. Some will inevitably lose their way forever.

Perhaps according to Rashi, even this good measure is actually a curse in disguise. Obviously, for the righteous, the counsel of prophets is a welcome blessing. For those evil individuals who cling to foreign cultures and customs and do not wish to repent, the very promise that prophets will keep the nation straight is itself a curse. Hashem’s promise, aside from guaranteeing salvation, also demands change on the part of the people. And those who cannot change will simply get left behind.

The distinction between blessing and curse is not so elementary. Reward, like punishment, stimulates change, and change is all Hashem asks of His people. Even amidst the mass enslavement of His people, His prophets will guide the righteous to safety and salvation. And this itself behooves those of lesser character to change and improve, to repent as best they can. For as long as there is room for improvement, on the part of His nation, Hashem will never have reason to become fully disgusted with them.

Parashat Kedoshim

Fear your mother and father, and keep My Shabbosim, I am Hashem your G-d.

VaYikra 19:3

“And keep My Shabbosim,” [the Torah] places the observance of Shabbos next to fear of one’s father to state that although you are warned to fear your father, if he orders you to profane the Shabbos, do not listen to him. And [do listen to him when he tells you to violate] all other Mitzvos.

Rashi, VaYikra 19:3

Our parasha opens with two fundamental precepts. Rashi infers from their juxtaposition that the weight of Shabbos overwhelms one’s obligation to fear his father. But how does Rashi know which Mitzvah overwhelms the other? Perhaps the pasuk implies that one should disregard the Shabbos to fulfill his father’s command. From where does Rashi’s proof come?

The Mizrachi takes issue with Rashi’s reasoning. At the opening of Parashat VaYakheil, Moshe Rabbeinu instructs the nation to observe the Shabbos and then tells them to build the Mishkan. Rashi infers there that Moshe mentions Shmiras Shabbos before Meleches HaMishkan to express that one should not build the Mishkan on Shabbos. When confronted with a conflict between two juxtaposed Mitzvos, Rashi apparently prioritizes the former Mitzvah over the latter. (Indeed, Rashi applies this same axiom later in our parasha, 19:30, where Shmiras Shabbos precedes Meleches HaMishkan.) By this measure, when confronted with Mora Av and Shmiras Shabbos, Rashi should prioritize the former Mitzvah, Mora Av. Why does Rashi deviate from his usual axiom?

The Mizrachi challenges Rashi’s inference from an alternative angle. Rashi interprets the closing of the pasuk, “I am Hashem,” to establish a hierarchy between man, his father, and G-d. One must obey Hashem instead of his father because Hashem is also his father’s G-d. Both he and his father must obey G-d’s commandments; therefore, a father no right to tell his son to violate the Torah. Rashi here, the Mizrchi notes, seems to repeat his initial inference. Does Rashi really need two sources, a juxtaposition and a logical appeal, to derive a hierarchy between Mora Av and Shmiras Shabbos?

To answer these questions, the Mizrachi additionally notes that the disobedience of one’s father is itself a violation of the Torah. Therefore, when one’s father orders him to profane the Shabbos (or violate any other Mitzvah for that matter), he inevitably will either forgo his obligation to keep the Shabbos or his obligation to obey his father. Perhaps it is impossible to reconcile this conflict, and therefore one may choose whichever approach he deems most appropriate. Our pasuk therefore juxtaposes these two Mitzvos, thereby recognizing this conflict as having a just resolution and suggesting that one Mitzvah outright overwhelms the other. And which Mitzvah is the stronger? By closing “I am Hashem,” the pasuk logically prioritizes Shmiras Shabbos above Mora Av.

However, the Mizrachi’s approach does not sit well with me. First of all, the Mizrachi totally disregards Rashi’s axiom regarding the priority of a Mitzvah listed directly before another seemingly unrelated Mitzvah. The Mizrachi apparently does away with this axiom because the closing of the pasuk poses a strong contradiction. Nonetheless, the Mizrachi would still hold of this axiom in other instances, which leaves me to wonder why this pasuk can’t simply list Shmiras Shabbos before Mora Av and entirely do away with its closing. What more do we learn from the pasuk in its current state?

I must confess, by my feeble understanding of Rashi, I cannot agree with the Mizrachi that Rashi subscribes to any such axiom in the first place. In Parashat VaYakheil, Moshe opens with three pasukim devoted to the observance of Shabbos; the rest of his speech discusses Meleches HaMishkan. Clearly, the main topic of Moshe’s speech is Meleches HaMishkan. Why then does Moshe preface his speech with a remark about Shmiras Shabbos? If the obligation to build the Mishkan overpowers the need to keep Shabbos, then there would be no need for Moshe to mention Shmiras Shabbos, especially not before addressing his primary topic. One must therefore conclude that Moshe delayed his instruction of Meleches HaMishkan on order to discuss a Mitzvah of greater priority, namely Shmiras Shabbos. However, Rashi cannot apply any such inference to the juxtaposition of our pasuk for Parashat Kedoshim does not address any single central topic. Rashi must resort to some alternative method by which to reconcile the conflicting Mitzvos.

But before one can even begin to consider Rashi’s method of reconciliation between these conflicting Mitzvos, one must identify the source of his inference. Does Rashi’s inference come from the juxtaposition within the opening of the pasuk, or does it derive from the logical hierarchy expressed afterward? Rashi comments that one should not violate any Mitzvah by his father’s command, and his comment appears in connection to the command to keep the Shabbos. Rashi’s placement of this comment implies that his primary inference, namely that Shmiras Shabbos (and other Mitzvos for that matter) overpowers the obligation of Mora Av, precedes his interpretation of “I am Hashem.” But what then is the purpose of the pasuk’s closing passage?

Stepping back for a second, one must question the relevance of Shabbos within the pasuk altogether. If Rashi infers from “ViEs Shabsosai Tishmoru” that all Mitzvos take priority over Mora Av, then there’s nothing special about the Mitzvah of Shabbos to warrant its mention in the pasuk. All things considered, Rashi should infer the importance of Shabbos from the juxtaposition and interpret “I am Hashem” as the general concept of disregarding one’s parent’s orders when they conflict any other Mitzvah. (Indeed, the Sifsei Chachamim implies towards such an understanding of Rashi’s words. However, I cannot bring myself to agree with their approach, primarily because of Rashi’s strange placement of the comment “and so too all other Mitzvos.”)

Similar difficulties emerge from a gemara in Bava Metziya:

How do we know that if one’s father forbids him from returning a lost object that he must not listen to [his father]? “Fear your mother and father, and keep My Shabbosim, I am Hashem,” you are all obligated to honor Me. Because the pasuk states “keep my Shabbosim” [this inference works]. Presumably had the pasuk not stated [“keep my Shabbosim”], I would think otherwise. But why? [Kibud Av] is [only] a Mitzvas Assei and this [other Mitzvah] is both an Assei and a Lo Sa’asei? [In reality, “keep my Shabbosim”] is needed, otherwise I would have thought that [the Torah] equates Kibud Av to Kavod Hashem (for it states “Honor your parents” in Shemos and “Honor your G-d” in Mishlei). [“Keep My Shabbosim”] therefore teaches us not to listen to one’s father [when he orders you to violate any Mitzvah in the Torah, in spite of the weight of your obligation to honor him.]

Mesechet Bava Metziya, 32a

The gemara focuses on the significance of the clause “keep My Shabbosim.” Had the pasuk not contained this clause, one would think that the obligation to honor his parents outweighs his obligation to honor Hashem. But startlingly, the gemara isn’t discussing the obligation of Shmiras Shabbos altogether; rather, the gemara focuses solely on the obligation to return lost objects (also contrary to one’s father’s orders). Why then does the gemara involve itself so closely with a clause about Shmiras Shabbos. The gemara opens with a far more versatile inference, “I am Hashem, you are all obligated to honor Me,” yet it inexplicably abandons this drasha in favor of the pasuk’s former half.

Rashi takes a curious approach to his commentary on this gemara. Regarding the drasha of “I am Hashem,” Rashi elaborates, “and if your father tells you to violate Shabbos, do not listen to him,” suggesting that the Mitzvah our gemara discusses is exclusively Shmiras Shabbos. Immediately afterward, when the gemara challenges that “this Mitzvah” is both an Assei and Lo Sa’asei, Rashi identifies these two Mitzvos as “Hasheiv Tishiveim” and “Lo Suchal LiHisaleim,” suggesting that our gemara solely discusses Hashavas Aveidah. Is Rashi inconsistent?

Let’s summarize Rashi’s assessment. From the words “I am Hashem,” we infer that a parent cannot order his son to violate Shabbos. From the words, “keep My Shabbosim,” we infer that a parent cannot order his son to violate any other Mitzvah in the Torah. This itself is an outright difficulty, for if any clause in our pasuk involves the laws of Shrimas Shabbos, it is “keep My Shabbosim!”

I would like to propose a radical resolution to Rashi’s approach. The Mitzvah of Shmiras Shabbos differs from all other Mitzvos in that it directly acknowledges Hashem’s creation of and interaction with the world. Therefore, Shmiras Shabbos, more than any other mitzvah, expresses Kavod to Hashem. Therefore, if one is obligated to both “Honor [his] parents” and “Honor [his] G-d,” he will only be confronted with a dilemma when his parents order him to forgo the honor he shows G-d. In other words, if one’s father ordered him to violate Shabbos, he would not know who’s Kavod takes precedence, and therefore he would not know what to do. Our pasuk “I am Hashem,” presumably comes along to establish the hierarchy between the Kavod one expresses for his G-d and for his father. Even the father owes respect to Hashem; therefore, one’s father may not order him to violate Shabbos.

The performance of other mitzvos, however, does not express Kavod to Hashem. Presumably, one’s father could then order him to violate these mitzvos because the Torah equates Kibud Av to Kavod Shamayim. How does our pasuk contest this assumption? Had the pasuk stated “Fear your mother and father, I am Hashem,” one would have known to listen to his father’s orders so long as they did not interfere with Kavod Shamayim. In other words, even of the pasuk did not explicitly state Shmiras Shabbos, one would know to keep Shabbos in spite of his parents’ contrary orders. Why then must the pasuk explicitly state “keep My Shabbosim?” Perhaps we infer from this extraneous clause that one’s obligation to keep Shabbos in spite of his parents’ contrary wishes surpasses his need to show Kavod to Hashem. Instead, the mitzvah of Shmiras Shabbos is a mitzvah like any other mitzvah stated in the Torah, and any mitzvah written in the Torah stands in strong opposition to Mora Av.

We can now understand the gemara in Bava Metziya. Without the explicit declaration, “keep My Shabbosim,” one would never equate Shmiras Shabbos to all other Mitzvos and would assume that only Shmiras Shabbos supersedes the contrary orders of one’s parents because of the Kavod Shamayim it expresses. Once the pasuk states both “keep My Shabbosim” and “I am Hashem,” we infer that when we weigh the obligation of Shmiras Shabbos against Mora Av, we must consider more than the Kavod Shamayim involved. We must also consider its nature as a Mitzvah, in spite of one’s obligation to honor his parents. Therefore, “all other Mitzvos” too outweigh Kibud Av (for if one’s priority were the reverse, there would be no point in mentioning Shmiras Shabbos in our pasuk).

And why should these “other Mitzvos” outweigh the Mitzvah of Kibud Av? Perhaps we can infer a third fundamental precept from this opening pasuk. Perhaps when one’s father commands him to violate any Mitzvah, one can no longer consider his fulfillment of his father’s wishes to itself constitute a Mitzvah. No circumstance can transform an Aveirah into a Mitzvah. In a way, our drasha concludes that there is no conflict between Mitzvos in our pasuk. Rather, the only Mitzvah that exists is the upholding of Hashem’s Torah, to the contrary of one’s father’s orders.

Parashat Sazria

There are several differences between the Tzara’as that appears on people and the Tzara’as that appears on clothing. On people, the Tzara’as must be white; on clothing, it must be either bright red or bright green. A spot of healthy skin encircled by Tzara’as signifies impurity, whereas a spot of clean fabric encircled by Tzara’as signifies nothing. People with Tzara’as are exiled from their homes, whereas clothing with Tzara’as is burned. These three basic examples illustrate how the Tzara’as of people and of clothing differ in terms of their inherent characteristics, their Simanim, and their subsequent treatment.

I would like to focus on one particular difference. When a Nega first appears on a person’s skin and does not bear any of the requisite Simanim (namely that it turns two hairs white, spreads, or encircles healthy skin) by which the Kohein can pronounce it Tamei, the Kohein quarantines the person for up to two weeks. If after two weeks the Nega remains unchanged and does not develop Simanim, the Kohein declares the man Tahor and removes him from quarantine. Similarly, the inherent green or red blotch on clothing does not itself constitute Tzara’as; rather, the Kohein quarantines the clothing for two weeks while he waits for the Nega to spread. However, in the case of clothing, should the Nega remain unchanged after two weeks, the Kohein must declare the entire garment Tamei and burn it.

And the Kohein sees after the Nega is laundered [one week earlier], and behold, the Nega has not changed its appearance nor has the Nega spread. It is Tamei, burn it in the fire, [for] it is a Pichesses in either his new garments or old garments.

VaYikra 13:55

The pasuk is very clear about one fact; if the Nega does not change, it is Tamei. Do keep in mind that this pasuk speaks exclusively of a Nega after two weeks of quarantine. Earlier pasukim in the parasha (13:51-54) explain that if the Nega spreads after one week of quarantine, the garment is immediately burned, otherwise the garment is laundered and put away for a second week. (Presumably, if the Nega fades or disappears after one week, the garment would not require further quarantine, but those laws are only implied by these pasukim.)

But this pasuk is also very vague, for it fails to explicitly define what “change” the Nega doesn’t undergo. Many commentaries understand this “change” as the Nega’s magical transformation of color, either from red to green or vice versa. The pasuk also fails to instruct what the Kohein must do should the Nega change after a second week of quarantine. All in all, these pasukim are rather unclear, so Rashi, loosely quoting the Sifra, fills in a few details.

“The Nega has not changed its appearance,” [meaning] the Nega has not dimmed.

“Nor has the Nega spread.” We hear that a Nega that does not change or spread is Tamei, all the more so [a Nega that] does not change and does spread [is Tamei]. [But] I do not know what [the Kohein should] do if [the Nega] changes and does not spread. Therefore, the pasuk states “And he quarantines the Nega,” [implying that the Nega must be quarantined] nonetheless. So says Rabbi Yehuda. The Chachamim say… as is stated in Toras Kohanim, and I hint to it here so as to resolve the pasuk to its simple meaning.

Rashi, VaYikra 13:55

Rashi, for starters, does not interpret the Nega’s change in appearance as a sudden transformation of color. According to Rashi, this pasuk has nothing to do with such a scenario but rather deals with the more basic issue of a Nega that does or does not fade. Rashi’s interpretation of “changing” as dimming carries over to his interpretation of the Breissa in Toras Kohanim; therefore, the Breisa too avoids any discussion of complicated scenarios where the Nega changes color and instead focuses on the more fundamental issues of spreading and dimming, the size and brightness of the Nega. It’s no surprise Rashi claims to resolve this pasuk to its simple meaning.

However, there are several glaring difficulties with Rashi’s resolution to the pasuk. Most notably, the very next pasuk in the parasha (13:56) explicitly instructs the Kohein to rip the afflicted fabric off of the garment should the Nega dim after two weeks. If the term “change” in pasuk 55 refers to this act of dimming, how then can Rabbi Yehuda and the Chachamim debate what the Kohein should do when the Nega changes? The halacha should be clear! And yet, neither Rabbi Yehuda nor the Chachamim instruct to tear the garment. Rabbi Yehuda says to quarantine it and the Chachamim say to burn it. How then does Rashi understand this Machlokes in light of pasuk 56?

Rashi claims to “hint to” the Breissa in Toras Kohanim, but not quote it, perhaps for two reasons. First of all, he does not quote the Chachamim’s opinion along with Rabbi Yehuda’s. Second, he adds in a few thoughts of his own. The Breissa never mentions “all the more so [a Nega that] does not change and does spread [is Tamei];” this is purely commentary. What does Rashi gain by amending to the Breissa, especially if he admits that his own comments are obvious and known through Kal ViChomer? Indeed, Rashi’s Kal ViChomer is an odd albeit welcome clarification to our vague pasuk, but once Rashi is willing to comment on this case, why does he only comment on the more obvious of two unknown cases? Neither the pasuk nor the Breissa says a word about a Nega that both spreads and dims, and Rashi leaves us without even the tools to determine the halacha in such a case.

The Gur Aryeh addresses our first question on Rashi with a very short comment. He explains that the “change” Rashi defines is specifically that the Nega “did not change at all,” that the spot “retained its brightness in full.” The Nachalas Yaakov, buiding off this comment (with support from the position of the Ra”Sh MiShantz in the eleventh perek of Meseches Negaim) suggests that there are two levels of greenness and redness: deep colors, and regular colors. Anything dimmer than a deep color is a regular color and the pasuk (13:56) calls this “dimmed.” The pasuk (13:58) defines anything dimmer than even a regular color as “removed.” But as several shades of green and red exist, several shades of deep green and deep red also exist, so the pasuk must also define a Nega that dims a little from its original brightness but not enough to constitute a “regular” colored Nega. The “change” Rashi defines is a change in shade, specifically to a dimmer shade, but the Nega remains an overall deep color.

Now we see how the halachos addressed in the Breissa are very different from the case addressed in pasuk 56. In pasuk 56, the Nega “dims,” meaning it is no longer a deep color altogether. Therefore, the Kohein does not burn the garment, nor does he quarantine it; instead, he tears out the afflicted part and the rest is pronounced Tahor. But in the Breissa, the Nega “changes,” meaning it is still a deep color and the Kohein cannot pronounce the garment Tahor.

“It is a Pichesses,” a language [suggestive] of a pit, like “in one of the potholes” (Shmuel II 17). Meaning, the Nega is [physically] sunken lower [into the garment].

Rashi, VaYikra 13:55

The act of laundering the garment after one week of quarantine won’t necessarily remove the spot, even if it’s not Tzara’as. It also won’t necessarily dim the overall brightness of the spot. But laundering should at least fade the spot, even if ever so slightly. A Nega that remains in its full brightness is clearly unnatural. The Torah therefore calls it a Pichesses, meaning that the stain does not start on the surface of the garment and then work its way into the fabric but rather emanates from within the fabric; therefore, laundering the spot has no effect on the color of the stain.

This retention of color is unnatural, like the spreading of the stain. Rashi applies a Kal ViChomer to the case of a Nega that spreads but not dims because both acts are unnatural, and if one unnatural occurrence is enough to warrant that the Kohein burn the garment, then two unnatural occurrences will logically deserve the same treatment. Without stating the scenario, it is clear from Rashi’s application of reasoning here that a spot that spreads and also dims is still Tamei, for it too undergoes an unnatural process. (Such a spot is called Porachas, not Pichesses, but is equally Tamei, as described in pasuk 51).

This leaves one unresolved case. After two weeks of quarantine, if the Nega retains a deep hue but reacts naturally to the process of laundering and does not spread, then the Kohein is still as uncertain as he was a week earlier as to whether this spot is Tzara’as or not. What then should he do? Rabbi Yehuda indefinitely quarantines the garment, and the Chachamim insist on burning it. Both opinions make sense. Rabbi Yehuda refuses to burn it because he cannot warrant such recourse without a proper Siman, whereas the Chachamim view the relative brightness of the spot itself as reason enough to burn the garment (since the Torah insists on no more than two categories of redness and greenness, clearly anything that is deep red or deep green should be treated as “the same.”)

Perhaps Rashi only quotes Rabbi Yehuda’s opinion within the Machlokes because only Rabbi Yehuda’s opinion helps to elucidate the simple understanding of the pasuk. The Chachamim are forced to pair the slightly dimmed spot back into the case addressed in the pasuk, making it very difficult to really determine what whether “change” is itself a factor the Kohein must analyze when inspecting the Nega. Rabbi Yehuda, on the other hand, distinguishes the case of the “changed” Nega from the case in our pasuk; therefore, his opinion proves that “change,” whatever it is, plays a significant factor within the determination of whether the Nega is Tamei or Tahor.

In conclusion, it is clear why an unchanged Nega on a garment is Tamei, whereas the unchanged Nega on a person is Tahor. Once the Kohein launders the garment, the fact that the Nega remains unchanged is itself an unnatural occurrence and is itself a Siman for Tumah. However, blemishes on a person’s body (that might be mistaken for Tzara’as but aren’t) often emanate from underneath the skin; naturally, no matter how hard one scrubs his bruise, he would never expect it to dim in color. If anything, he would only bruise the flesh more! Therefore, the permanence of the Nega is by no means a Siman for Tumah and after two weeks the Kohein must declare the man Tahor. However, the moment the Nega spreads on his skin, turns hairs white, or encircles healthy flesh, the spot takes on a very unnatural quality, thereby proving its Tumah.

As different as the Tzara’as of clothing and people may be, we can still group them in the same category because of their unnatural origins. Whether white or red, exiled or burned, these spots and stains are markers of more than just a physical disease; they directly relay a message from above.