This week’s portion, the double portion of Tazria-Metzora (Leviticus 12:1 - 15:33) provides us with a detailed list of bodily fluids, skin disease, discharges and the like that were a great cause for concern to our ancestors. These are parshiyot that wreak havoc on the unfortunate B’nai Mitzvah assigned to chant and study one of these two parshiyot. They have to slog through the descriptions of scaly rashes, labor and childbirth, mold-contaminated dwellings and other icky things and try to find some kernel of Torah worth discussing from these texts.
Pity them and pity us for coming around, once again, right after Pesach, to these chapters that require us, too, to look at them anew each year for insight and teaching. What do these laws of biblical hygiene really have to teach us, anyway?
This year, I don’t feel so ready to dismiss these ancient practices as archaic and obsolete - although I have no interest in reviving the systems set in place to manage them. However, I do feel a need to look closer - a little deeper about what the text, in laying out such specific descriptions, rules and laws for dealing with these most physical of human processes might be trying to tell us.
In both these parshiyot, we are given several examples of conditions, incidents and ailments that lead to a state of “tamay” or ritual impurity. Often poorly translated as “uncleanliness,” tamay is actually not about physical hygiene or cleanliness at all. It is really about a spiritual state of impurity that prohibits one from accessing certain rituals (like performing sacrifices in the temple) that were part and parcel of life in those days. Spiritual impurity - tamay¬ is a state of being, usually temporary, that requires ritual to correct, to bring one to a state of tahor or ritual purity. The ritual usually involved a period of separation from others and then a ritual immersion in a mikveh or pool.
Let’s look at the instances and occurrences that cause one to become tamay (from this parsha and elsewhere):
• coming into contact with a dead body or certain dead animals
• childbirth
• menstruation
• seminal emission
• a type of skin ailment (incorrectly translated as leprosy)
• contact with one who is “impure” through one of these circumstances
• contact with a vessel that has become “impure” by contact with one of the above mentioned cases
• certain molds or funguses on the inside of houses.
If we look carefully, we see that, (with the exception of the last one which I truly don’t understand), all of these instances involve contact with or being in the presence of the boundaries of life and death. A dead body was once alive, but now isn’t; a menstruating woman potentially carried a new life inside her, but now doesn’t; the same might be said for seminal emissions; childbirth involves bringing something from unlife to life.
Interestingly, the amount of time a new mother is required to remain apart from others before rejoining the community is doubled when she gives birth to a girl as opposed to a boy. While we might find this offensive if we read into it an implication of “greater impurity” by giving birth to a daughter, we may also see in it recognition of the baby’s own future potential, as a female, to give life.
Ok, so tamay, ritual impurity, has to do with standing at the liminal moments - a term sociologists like to use for “in-between.” One becomes tamay when one stands at the edges of life and death. OK - but still, what am I to make of this now, when religious life is no longer dependant on ritual practices, like sacrifice, that require one to be tahor - ritually pure?
Every once in a while, I have the opportunity in my role as rabbi, to be with someone at the end of his or her life, to be in the presence of someone who is walking along that bridge, through that liminal space between life and death. Each time, I have been awed by the overwhelming holiness, expansiveness, presence-fullness of the moment. Midwives and others who attend births report the same sense of holiness at the moment of coming-into-life. At those moments, it is as if the veils between God and the world disappear and we stand for fully aware of the preciousness, sanctity, frailty and beauty of life.
As it happens, more and more of us will have such opportunities as we age - we will more often - God-willing - spend the last minutes of our loved-ones lives with them as they cross the bridge; and some of us will be lucky to witness the births of children (grandchildren?) in this same way.
I would suggest that it is at those moments that we become tamay - unable to perform in the mundaity of life and on the human stage. And it takes time to come back to earth, to come down to the ground and reconnect. If we don’t take the time to see what is really happening, we will miss it - and it won’t mean anything at all. But if we are prepared, if we have a language and a framework, if we allow it, every moment spent standing on the edge will forever change us, transform us, shape us just as the rituals our ancestors engaged in did so long ago.
We may not follow the same patterns, but the framework of tamay and tahor, the ability to name the sacred at the edges of life is the legacy of this week’s parsha and is not something to be easily case away as too odd, quaint or archaic.
Shabbat Shalom
Posted: April 23rd, 2009 under Dvar Torah, Rabbi's Column.
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