Learning from our Prophets — Kendell Pinkney
Between this week’s double-parasha, Tazria-Metzora, and its connected haftarah, II Samuel 7:3-20, we find an interesting legal-narrative juxtaposition that I stumbled upon for the first time only this year. These parashiyot (plural for parasha since we have two portions, Tazria and Metzora, that we read this year) are arguably fairly well-known: they recount the often boring and possibly upsetting ritual purity laws of childbirth (which, frustratingly, vary depending on whether one gives birth to a male-sexed baby, or a female-sexed baby), menstruation, nocturnal emissions, and those people who have tzara’at. It was long thought that tzara’at was leprosy, but in recent decades scholars have posited that it may have been anything ranging from vitiligo to skin lesions to psoriasis. In any case, one can easily count the ways in which certain gendered bodies (i.e. women), bodily fluids, and those with unexpected skin “disruptions” are “othered” in a long litany of laws and commandments. What is instructive about this week’s parasha, however, is the juxtaposed narrative of the haftarah, which presents us a very different picture in contrast to the seeming inflexibility of Leviticus.
In the haftarah for this week, we encounter four men who have tzara’at sitting outside the gates of their city (being banished to the outskirts of the camp/city was one of the trials that those with tzara’at were forced to endure), which is currently in the midst of a famine. They decide to go to the camp of a local Aramean garrison in search of food, consigned to whatever fate might befall them. As they travel toward the camp, Hashem scares the Arameans away, leaving the 4 men stunned when they later arrive at an empty camp full of supplies. So what do these individuals do? They go into the tents of this enemy army, feasting on food and drink, and securing much silver and gold. In the midst of their enjoyment, however, they remember the suffering of their fellow citizens, saying to one another (II Kings 7:9):
לֹֽא־כֵ֣ן ׀ אֲנַ֣חְנוּ עֹשִׂ֗ים הַיּ֤וֹם הַזֶּה֙ יוֹם־בְּשֹׂרָ֣ה ה֔וּא וַאֲנַ֣חְנוּ מַחְשִׁ֗ים וְחִכִּ֛ינוּ עַד־א֥וֹר הַבֹּ֖קֶר וּמְצָאָ֣נוּ עָו֑וֹן וְעַתָּה֙ לְכ֣וּ וְנָבֹ֔אָה וְנַגִּ֖ידָה בֵּ֥ית הַמֶּֽלֶךְ׃
“We are not doing right. This is a day of good news, and we are keeping silent! If we wait until the light of morning, we shall incur guilt. Come, let us go and inform the king’s palace.”
This moment is really astounding. The very people who are pushed to the outskirts of society due to some kind of “skin affliction” that the Levitical priests associate with ritual impurity have a deeply ethical response where they consider the well-being of the very society that has more or less exiled them. The story ends with them relaying the message to the king, and thus saving the people of their city.
Between these two texts is an interesting lesson. Whereas the former is all about clearly defining the boundaries of individual, familial, and communal ritual purity, the latter text demonstrates the complexity of social boundaries and relationships. What is more, by Hashem deciding to scare the Arameans away, the text foregrounds the 4 men with tzara’at as heroes (along with the prophet Elisha who predicts this great bounty at the beginning of the chapter). Now, I don’t want to be too pollyannaish here; once the excitement of survival wore off, things probably went back to normal, reinforcing the same social stratification. Nevertheless, the fact that Hashem employs the 4 men with tzara’at in order to fulfill a prophecy compels us to consider the ways in which we have written people off just because they do not fit within some prescriptive box. Who are the ones in our lives who we have deemed “non-kosher” or “impure” just because the prevailing norms of society have conditioned us to believe that they are such? Who are the people that we have regularly disregarded that, in actuality, might be the very prophets we need in order to fashion the world we want to see? I know for myself, that I regularly have to wrestle with and deconstruct the ever present classism that took root in the respectability politics of my childhood; such self-reflection/self-confrontation isn’t easy, nor does it lead to easy, simple conclusions. Still, between the legal driven emphasis of Tazria-Metzora and the nuanced narrative of II Kings, there is the space to sit with ourselves and consider new paradigms that might lead to the mutual flourishing of all people. My hope and prayer for us all is that we might create a little bit of separate peace this Shabbat to consider how we might take that first step (or thousandth step!) in our own lives.
Kendell Pinkney is the Rabbinic Fellow at Ammud: The Jews of Color Torah Academy
