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BEGIN WITH A GRIN

Ploni: After a cup of coffee, I can’t fall asleep!

Almoni: For me it’s exactly the opposite, after I fall asleep I can’t drink coffee.

TO ‘COME’ OR TO ‘BE BROUGHT’

Regarding the name of this week’s parsha, we find something interesting. The great Geonim and Rishonim called this week’s parsha, ‘Parshas Zos Tihyeh’ (This Shall Be), named after the opening words: “This shall be the law of the metzora.” Rabbi Saadia Gaon (in his siddur), Rashi (in his Torah commentary), Rambam in Mishneh Torah (at the end of the Seder Tefillos Col HaShana), and many other great Jewish scholars avoided the name commonly used today for the weekly parsha, Parshas Metzora and preferred to call the portion by a more positive name – ‘Zos Tihyeh.’

In many sefarim, this portion is called ‘Parshas Tahara,’ as a euphemism, in order not to call a parsha by a negative name. The Rebbe Rayatz would altogether avoid mentioning the parsha by its name, and on principle, in his writings during the week of Parshas Metzora, he would omit the name of the parsha from the date and would use only the date of the month.

Interestingly, it was precisely after the period of the Rishonim, in later generations, beginning from the time of the Shulchan Aruch, that the custom to call this parsha by the name everyone knows today – Parshas Metzora – spread. Why? Why call the parsha by such a negative name? Moreover, if the Rishonim did not want to use this name, why should we, in the later generations, use it?!

This question will be answered by first addressing another question regarding the plain meaning of the text, a question that great commentators have raised, but their answers are quite strained and require further study. The Rebbe answers this question through the lens of Chassidus, and based on this answer, he addresses the first question, and from it learns an important moral lesson for bringing Moshiach and the Geula.

The first verse of the parsha states: “This shall be the law of the metzora on the day of his purification, and he shall be brought to the kohen” (14:2). The commentators wonder: What is the Torah’s intention with the words “and he shall be brought to the kohen?” Isn’t the metzora forbidden from coming to the kohen, as he is forbidden from entering the camp! The kohen is the one who should go out to him, as explicitly stated in the next verse: “And the kohen shall go out to outside the camp,” so what is the Torah’s intention?!

Sforno and Chizkuni explain that the text means the metzora should approach the camp to minimize the kohen’s effort. But this is a very strained interpretation, because who said the metzora would initially sit far from the camp? It is much more logical to say that the metzora would prefer to stay as close as possible to the camp, in order to minimize his loneliness and disconnection from social life.

Furthermore, why does it say “and he shall be brought to the kohen” in a passive voice, as if the metzora is brought to the kohen against his will? It would be much more logical and appropriate to say: “and he shall come to the kohen,” indicating that the metzora comes by his own power and natural desire to the kohen, rather than being forced!

WELCOME HOMECOMING

When we apply the light of Chassidus, this wording teaches us the inner significance of the metzora and his direct connection to bringing the Geula. The metzora symbolizes a person who has committed the most severe sins; he began with speaking evil gossip and slander, and from gossiping about people, one quickly moves to gossiping about righteous individuals and rabbis, and if one is already speaking ill and defaming rabbis, why not speak negatively about the Torah and its ways, until eventually, one speaks about denial of the Creator and rejection of fundamental principles of faith. Regarding this metzora, the Torah decrees that he must sit ‘alone.’ Sitting ‘alone,’ outside the camp, far from any other impure person, symbolizes the metzora’s complete distance from all aspects of holiness.

We might think that for such a person, an isolated metzora, there is no hope. He is so far from holiness that he will never do teshuva. And this is exactly what the Torah wants to teach us with the words: “and he shall be brought to the kohen.” Every sinner – no matter how severe his sins – denial of God, condemnation of the Torah, defamation of rabbis – will ultimately do teshuva, will ultimately return to the camp of holiness, “to the kohen.” Even if he doesn’t do it of his own free will, he will be forced to do it against his will, “and he shall be brought to the kohen!”

Although the initial reason for the metzora’s teshuva may have been forced upon him, against his will, “and he shall be brought to the kohen,” God’s desire is that teshuva should not remain imposed on the person but should penetrate the fibers of his soul and influence his inner being. Therefore, the verse continues: “and the kohen shall go out to outside the camp” – the kohen goes out to the “place” (both the physical and spiritual state) of the metzora, wherever he is, and influences his inner being. In other words: the beginning of “purification of the metzora” comes from above, from a revelation of divine light, which is not related to the metzora’s place and spiritual state. This is a divine revelation that “forces,” as it were, the sinner to change his ways. Afterward, a second stage commences, in which the spirit of purity penetrates and reaches the “place” where the metzora stands, and it influences him internally, to change and desire connection with the Creator.

This wonderful explanation of the plain meaning of the text, which combines two stages in the purification of the metzora, also teaches us about the difference between two periods: the period of the Geonim and Rishonim, and the current period, ikvesa d’Meshicha,the ‘footsteps of Moshiach.’

In the current time, the name ‘Metzora’ expresses severe impurity, symbolizing terrible sins to the point of heresy. In the future, however, the metzora will symbolize the baal teshuva, whose entire essence has been internally transformed to holiness and purity.

In the period of the Geonim and Rishonim, when we were still far from the revelation of the future, the name ‘Metzora’ had a negative meaning, and therefore they avoided using it. They preferred to call the parsha by the name: ‘Zos Tihyeh’ in future tense, as a hint that in the future, the metzora himself will be transformed to holiness.

But now, in the period of the footsteps of Moshiach, when we are very close to the time of the Geula, to the time when the metzora will be transformed to holiness, we have been given the possibility to touch the future already now, and therefore we call the portion by the name ‘Metzora,’ because we already sense the Geula, and feel how the metzora is transformed from something negative to something positive, to a symbol of true and internal teshuva, and it is known that teshuva from love transforms even deliberate sins into merits.

TO CONCLUDE WITH A STORY

We will end with a story about returning in teshuva from the furthest possible ‘place.’

Smadar Morag was born in Israel in 1970. She grew up in Holland in a traditional home, but she saw Judaism as a heavy burden. She tried to do everything to resemble her Dutch Christian friends and not be different. She completely disconnected from Judaism and lived a very liberal student life. She even had a non-Jewish boyfriend for seven years, which led to a complete disconnection from her family who had returned to Israel.

One day, she went to an audition for the musical “Fiddler on the Roof.” She auditioned for a certain role, but the director decided to cast her as Chava, the rebellious daughter of the family who marries a non-Jew. The producers of the show knew that Smadar’s Jewish appearance and the fact that she was Jewish would add to the show and serve as an excellent marketing gimmick.

The rehearsals for the musical awakened something in Smadar’s heart. She found herself spending most of the day in modest clothes, lighting Shabbos candles as part of the show, listening to Jewish tunes, and especially being asked countless questions from her fellow non-Jewish actors who wanted help getting into the story and expected Smadar to convey the full Jewish experience to them. Before Pesach, they asked for matza and so on. They “forced” her to be an exemplary Jew.

She became a famous and successful actress, twice nominated for the Dutch Oscar and performed in front of thousands of people on large stages in Europe, but that wasn’t it.

In the end, she broke up with her non-Jewish boyfriend and found an Israeli man named Yigal. A few months after they married, Yigal began a process of returning to Judaism. At first, Smadar did not agree to the total change, but with time, and with a lot of love and mutual respect, she stopped performing on Saturdays, began to observe Shabbos herself, and she too became a baalas teshuva.

Good Shabbos!

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