Parshas HaChodesh/Parshas Tazria 5782
“I love comedy, I’ve done it most of my career. But I’m saddened that the world has lost its sense of what should not be made fun of. When a woman’s appearance, altered by disease, can be openly mocked in front of her family, thousands of friends and colleagues, and millions watching at home, society needs to look itself in the mirror. Some things need to be too sacred to joke about.”
That’s the tweet I wish Will Smith could have sent out the day after the Oscars. Instead, he had to dedicate his efforts to apologizing for his embarrassing behavior. What separated what actually happened from what should have and could have?
As we begin to clean, kasher, and shop for Pesach, there is one item that looms over every stage of preparation as public enemy number one: Chametz. It is to be utterly eradicated from our homes and replaced with its less offensive cousin, matzah. And what separates the two? Time. Cross over that fateful eighteen minute mark and that which would have been Kosher for Pesach instead becomes reviled as chametz.
The lesson is one of alacrity. As Chazal famously interpret, the Torah’s command of, “Ushmartem es hamatzos—Guard the matzos,” can be alternatively read as, “Ushmartem es hamitzvos—Guard the mitzvos.” It’s not just about matzah. Matzah is but a prism through which we should view the full breadth of our mitzvah observance. When opportunity presents itself, we shouldn’t sit around; we should move quickly to seize that opportunity before it’s too late.
But rushing is not always advisable. While we should be motivated to strike while the iron’s hot, there are indeed times when the best thing we can do is pause. As Parshas HaChodesh begins to set the tone for the spirit of matzah, Parshas Tazria provides an important counterbalance.
In describing the manner of purification a woman would undertake following childbirth, the parsha includes instructions for the karbanos she would bring as part of this process. One of these karbanos was a chatas, a sin offering, which would appear counterintuitive. What could possibly be sinful about bringing a child into the world? Of all karbanos to offer, why is a chatas appropriate after such a holy act?
This question is addressed in the Gemara in Niddah 31b by Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, who suggests that the chatas relates to what the woman undoubtedly considered at some point during the throes of childbirth. Namely, that she would never again conceive and give birth, the pain being too great to endure another time. Albeit momentary, it is this thought that must be atoned for through a sin-offering. Even the fleeting consideration of never again bringing a child into the world demands proper attention and expiation.
Rav Avigdor Nebenzahl wonders what ultimately makes a woman come around. If the institutionalization of the chatas suggests that these thoughts go through every woman’s mind at some point during childbirth, what is it that causes the change in perspective?
Rav Nebenzahl answers simply, that it’s nothing more than time. Given some time to separate herself from the physical pain of labor, the mother regains her composure and her perspective. Having a child is the blessing of a lifetime and should not be sacrificed for the pain of a few isolated minutes or even hours. At a safe distance from the pain itself, everything is viewed more clearly. Which is a powerful lesson.
How different things would have been if Will Smith could have counted to ten. With just a small cushion of time from the searing pain of his wife being publicly mocked, he likely could have regained his composure. Ten or twenty seconds after the joke ended, the crowd would have moved on—that’s how standup works—and storming the stage at that point would have been far too late to be plausible.
And as the pain and anger of the moment slowly subsided, inevitably replaced with the elation of winning his first Oscar, Smith could have woken up the next morning with better perspective. He could have crafted a critique of a joke that went too far and the culture that permits such things, all while calm and composed. He would have received sympathy and maybe even have affected some real change. Instead, what could have been the best night of his life became the most embarrassing night of his life.
The difference between what was and what could have been is nothing more than time. With the passage of time we become removed from the pain we experience and can view it in more objective and reasonable terms. When we act in the midst of the pain, we thrash around embarrassingly, saying and doing things we so often regret.
How do we know whether to act according to Parshas HaChodesh or Parshas Tazria? How do we know when to be quick, hasty, and impassioned as matzah, and when we should pause long enough to let the charge out of the moment? Pain is a good place to start. When we’re uncomfortable, angry, or distressed in some other way, we’d do well to remind ourselves that we won’t act our best, and that we’d be best served to not act at all. There are so many means at our disposal today for our voices to be heard by the masses, it is almost never the case that a reaction must occur on the spot in order to be meaningful.
How do we want to wake up the morning after? After the pain has subsided? Do we want that discomfort to be replaced by feelings of humiliation, having overreacted in the heat of the moment? Or by an opportunity to respond in a manner that’s measured and reasonable? Do we want to be remembered by thoughtful words or by embarrassing actions? The choice is ours if we’re willing to wait.