Parashat Metzora comes as a breath of spring air after the heartbreaking Parashat Tazria. The subject matter, tzara'at (leprosy), is the same, but the focus here is rehabilitation and purification. This year, Parashat Metzora comes just before Pesach to teach us a profound lesson about freeing our authentic selves, that we might finally come in from the cold to the springtime of our lives.
When Hashem created the world, He gave but one commandment: Don't eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Everything was beautiful and clear to Adam HaRishon (primal man), and communication with G-d was direct and undeniable. The only danger was the Sitra Achra (literally "the other side"), the alternative to harmonizing with G-d's creation. Hashem had to give us something to choose from in order to give us free will. The Sitra Achra remains with us, that we may instead choose the truth, the good, the reality of our lives and the recognition that there is purpose to it all.
After the sin of Adam, it became more difficult to distinguish right from wrong. Man is influenced by the pre-existing chaos he is born into, in some ways putting him on the wrong track even before he develops a capacity to choose. Because there is great need for teshuva all over the world, the tikkun (repair/remedy) is complicated and even the "right" path appears difficult and uncertain. We rely on our connections to Hashem to guide us.
The metzora (leper) chose a path early on that brought him to a place of tzara'at. In some way, we have each taken that path-a path that subtly spurns G-d by maintaining a cynical and judgmental attitude and a resistance to accepting one's own challenges, resources, and inner truth. But before we get guilty, let's see what Pesach has to say about this.
Commentators on the Haggadah have noted four steps to every exile: (1) How you got there; (2) what happened to you there; (3) how you responded; and (4) how G-d took you out. Perhaps we can use this template to uncover the path of the metzora, one who does not "mind his own business" because he doesn't know his business, which is himself.
1) How you got there: According to Shem MiShmuel , the metzora "has lost his precious, private nature and become an external, superficial person" who "has left his inwardly-seeking Jewish personality behind." Seeking inner truth can be difficult, particularly when the psyche protects against feelings of pain and inadequacy and therefore evades the truth, choosing instead to focus outside.
A child that doesn't feel unconditionally loved will likely come to fear rejection. The parents cared for and taught him well but wanted the child to "be normal" and to "get along" according to their perception. The child notices that others are praised for things that they have but he doesn't have, perhaps certain talents, physical characteristics, or conforming behavior. Although he is fine the way he is, he thinks that if only he were more like those others, he would be loved. Anxious to avoid rejection, he tends to shift away from himself-exactly when he should be finding himself. He develops a false persona, a sitra achra, because his psyche creates protective barriers against the truth of who he is. He focuses on the other.
(This is what happened in Egypt. A real drought forced them to Egypt. A witness to strife between brothers, Yaakov emphasized that his children get along at the expense of fully teaching them to avoid assimilation. Needless to say, the Egyptians did not make the Jews feel unconditionally loved. To be accepted, gradually Bnei Yisrael expressed their true selves less and less.)
2) What happened to you there: In avoiding himself, he focuses on other people. His inner self, desperate to express, zeros in on other people's "undesirable" traits that he himself possesses and his speech and thoughts become littered with them. As he becomes enslaved to persona, honest and humble speech - the key to relationship - fades away. The essence of life deteriorates. Relation to family, job satisfaction, and other critical life components erode due to their being built on a kind of falseness. Tzara'at develops.
(And so in Egypt: as they became externally oriented and lost their identity, the suffering of slavery wore on them-particularly as their jobs were totally unsuited to their real selves-and they lost the connection between speech and heart. "They closed up the eyes and hearts of Yisrael through the anguish of the enslavement." (Rashi, Bereishit 47:28) Kaballah relates that "speech itself was in exile." It had to be this way; Yaakov could not shield his children from everything. In every exile, Bnei Yisrael must have challenges, discern new circumstances, and make their own tikkunim in order to learn and become more purified and strengthened. And so it is with us.)
3) How you responded: He feels his life is falling apart, that he is facing spiritual death. But he doesn't give up. Eventually, he turns to prayer and study (though not necessarily Torah at first). As he begins to open up and learns a bit, he talks to a rabbi (the Kohen in this week's parasha).
(Similarly, "And the Children of Yisrael sighed…and they cried…")
4) How G-d took you out: In this case, how G-d took you in from isolation. The cure is in the sickness itself. It leads to teshuva, "return [to oneself]." And just as the recovered metzora must take sacrifices and have hyssop (representing humility) dipped in blood, so Bnei Yisrael did on the eve of redemption. The metzora, after a complex process conducted by the Kohanim, experiences a rebirth. He is literally like one "back from the dead."
"…Someday, G-d will revive the dead. When will this great thing happen? On Pesach." (Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, according to tradition)
"This ability to regenerate, even in the face of hopeless personal or national circumstances, is, as we have explained, a property peculiar to Pesach." (Shem MiShmuel)
The metzora contracted tzara'at due to speech, thoughts, and deeds that spurned his G-d- given role in the world in favor of the sitra achra. Although it seemed easier, it effectively strangles his potential and buries his real self, and his isolation outside the community is a kind of death. He must announce "impure, impure." The Torah tells us death is the ultimate impurity. His teshuva is primarily affected by the disease itself, which causes him to slowly disappear. He seeks expert help. He must isolate himself, giving him time to reflect and talk to Hashem, to do teshuva. He realizes his identity in himself rather than focusing on others. This causes his behavior to change, which halts the deterioration.
So it is with Pesach. When the Egyptians started killing our babies, the merit of the Jews in Egypt had deteriorated to the 49th level (out of 50) of impurity (Midrash). That means we were almost dead. It was the suffering that accompanied that deterioration that caused the teshuva leading to redemption. We cried out for help, effecting a reconnection between our mouths and our hearts. This was followed by a wave of chesed, kindness, between Jew and Jew-Am Yisrael looking within, realizing itself.
Sometimes we feel less than fully alive in prayer and our daily activities. We want to fit in and read the pulse of our environment. We focus on what everyone around us is saying and doing, but then we wonder how we are expressing our real selves. Hearts blocked and vitality low, our potential goes unrealized.
The cure is to open up the blocked passageway between heart and mouth, emotion and expression, by (1) expressing emotions when they come, and (2) kindling emotions when there is an opportunity to express them. It is like exercising a muscle. Welcome feelings such as joy or compassion and practice making them last. Soon you will be able to practice speaking while in the state without immediately losing the feeling.
May we be blessed in this Pesach season to open our mouth to Hashem and begin to rediscover ourselves, the self He embraces with an unconditional love. May the channel we open allow our heart to flow to our brothers and sisters in words of care and encouragement, and the humble truth of who we are and the glorious hope of what we hope to become.