Tazria Metzorah

I have read the words to the poem “Birth is a beginning and death a destination” hundreds of times. I am not sure why I never hear the poem at baby namings or a bris, I hear it sometimes at regular services, but most often at Yizkor or funerals. The poem is so striking to me because I am always thinking about how young I am, and how it must be hard for a congregation of mourners to listen to me speak about life-long lessons when I have lived such a short life compared to them. It is also striking because I long for the time in the journey when I have moved from ignorance to knowing, from foolishness to discretion. I long for the time when I know what the right words are to comfort someone, what the words are to say when there are no words.

Intellectually I understand this time will never come. What is comforting to one person is offensive to another. The only way to really be able to comfort someone is to know everything about them, to know what will bring a smile to their face and what will cause a tear to shed, and when to evoke each emotion.

The problem with our world is that it contains suffering. There has always been cruelty, sickness, and despair. In our Torah portion this week, Tazria-Metzorah, the parashah focuses on a disease that not only affects one physically but it affects how an individual looks. It is also contagious so it affects how the person can interact with others. Perhaps this is the definition of true suffering. It cannot be hidden, it affects how you feel, how you look, and how others treat you. At this time in our calendar as we approach the season of Passover we also think of suffering and liberation.

It is always surprising to me when people tell me they no longer believe in God because of a personal tragedy, because of something specific that happened to them on a certain day. While I understand, I want to ask them – was it OK when others were suffering but only when it happened to you, then you stopped believing in God?

What is remarkable about both the parashah this week and the story of the season is that both inherently command us to be concerned about those that are in pain. In Tazria-Metzorah there is a clear communal element to how we treat those who are sick.

When people tell me they no longer believe in God, it is most often in response to a hospital visit or pastoral phone call. When they say this I want to respond, “If you don’t believe in God, believe in me, believe in the community. Have faith that your friends, your family, and the relationships that you value in your life will help you and bring you comfort.”