Parshas Tazria-Metzora 5780
Even if you’re keeping the “first half” of Sefira, this Friday–serving as both Erev Shabbos and Erev Rosh Chodesh–affords us the opportunity for shaving and haircutting. Whatever your plans for tomorrow, I’d recommend we all take a good look in the mirror and opt for a haircut of a different sort.
Upon reentry into society, the Metzora must undergo a process that smacks of a fraternity hazing ceremony. Among other requirements, he must shave his entire body, inclusive of all facial hair, down to his very eyebrows. Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch compares this ceremony to its inverse, a time when Halacha calls not for the removal of hair, but for its growth; namely, when one accepts a vow of nezirus.
Why must the Nazir grow his hair while the once-Metzora shaves it? Rav Hirsch offers a compelling explanation: hair, as an insulator from atmospheric conditions, represents a barrier from the rest of society. A Nazir is one who seeks to retreat from society as a means of strengthening his inner world and personal character, and so must grow his hair long. The Metzora, on the other hand, reenters society, having been previously isolated during the period of his tzara’as impurity. The Metzora removes all his hair—that which insulates him from society—as a means of demonstrating outwardly his readiness to reconnect with his friends and neighbors.
I think it’s worth considering Rav Hirsch’s comment in light of the best known case of tzara’as presented in the Torah, that of Miriam’s. Miriam spoke Lashon HaRa of her brother, Moshe, and is immediately punished by contracting tzara’as. This serves as the primary source for the relationship Chazal point to between this particular sin and its corollary punishment. In this capacity, considering Miriam’s actual comments about Moshe is truly illuminating. Miriam’s sin is in comparing herself and Aharon to Moshe, following the latter’s divorcing his wife in order to be fully available for prophecy. Miriam asks:
(הֲרַ֤ק אַךְ־בְּמֹשֶׁה֙ דִּבֶּ֣ר ה׳ הֲלֹ֖א גַּם־בָּ֣נוּ דִבֵּ֑ר (במדבר יב:ב
Was it only Moshe with whom Hashem spoke? Has He not also spoken with us? (Bamidbar 12:2)
What, precisely, was Miriam’s crime? It was in comparing herself and Aharon to Moshe. She had experienced prophecy, yet was nevertheless capable of continuing on with normal family life. Why would prophecy demand that Moshe separate from his spouse if no such demand was ever made of Miriam? Perhaps, even, Miriam was not so much questioning Moshe as much she was questioning herself: if prophecy demanded that Moshe leave home, should she, as a prophetess, follow suit?
This is the mode of reasoning that often lies at the root of lashon hara. The behavior or activities of another person are disparaged because they fall short of our expectations we would have for ourselves in that same situation: “I would never be that rude, selfish, or unkind, where does he/she get off?!” The episode of Miriam’s tzara’as is a reminder—in a far more innocuous manner, at that—of the error not only of making these comments, but of submitting to the thought processes that precede them. The reality is that the other person is not me, and is in possession of a different personality, different life experiences, and different sensibilities. Am I really in position to judge them or speak ill of them?
The metzora goes into isolation for a period, removing the ability to compare others with himself. He must get to know himself apart from his friends and peers. No more ability to prop up his own ego by means of disparaging others, no more opportunity to deride others for not being more like him.
Following Rav Hirsch’s interpretation, the ceremony of shaving one’s hair upon returning to the community, is truly ingenious. One must remove the barriers between himself and others, transitioning from viewing life through only his own experience and begin to see the world through the eyes of others as well. The less I insulate myself, the more I truly connect to others, the more capable I am of understanding their side of things and of appreciating that they process life differently than I do. Rather than responding with Lashon HaRa and derision, I identify with their struggles and difficulties, and even their shortcomings. The removal of hair is a symbolic removal of the mental and emotional barrier between myself and whoever stands opposite me. The metzora is being reminded to be better tuned in to the wavelength others operate on, rather than being fixed only upon his own.
Much has been made of the similarities between the world of the metzora and the world in which we now live, our social distance mirroring the quarantine that the Torah prescribes as necessary for rehabilitation from tzara’as. But I’d like to consider the flip side of this coin.
Yes, in a very real sense, this is a time of unprecedented social isolation. But in another sense, this is a time of unprecedented social connection. Though we may not be socializing with the company we usually keep outside of our homes, for those living with other family members, we are hyper-connected in a way we have never experienced. Many of us are living in a shared space with children, spouses, and parents and are spending more daily hours together than ever before. For many, the corona epidemic has increased the number of daily hours of being connected to others, not reduced it.
What happens when we hyper-connect, but maintain the barriers of old? What happens when we are constantly sharing our space with the same small group of others, but view their behavior and actions only through the prism of our own subjective consciousness? We create a powder keg of misunderstanding and frustration just waiting to explode. The Torah’s response to connectivity is to remove barriers, to peel back the layers that insulate us from understanding the way that others think and how they operate.
Now more than ever, we must adopt that approach. If you’re living with a large family, there can be literally hundreds of situations that occur daily in which you are in direct contact with someone managing a situation differently than you would, or responding in a manner completely at odds with your sensibilities. It is critical that we not live only in our own minds, risking passing judgment on everyone around us for not living up to our own expectations, and creating an utterly toxic home environment as we do. Just as the metzora must become more receptive to the inner workings of others upon reconnecting with society, today’s unusual circumstances call on us to do the same as we seek tranquility and understanding within the micro-societies inside our very homes.
We need to follow the metzora’s lead. It’s time for a spiritual haircut.