Parshas Tazria
At the end of last week’s parasha we learned the laws of tum’ah that pertain to animals. In this week’s parasha, the laws of tum’ah, taharah and nega’im concerning man are discussed in detail. The Medrash offers a reason for this sequence: Just as in Creation, first the animals were created and then man, so too, first the laws of tum’ah that pertain to animals were taught, and afterwards those that pertain to man (Vayikra Rabba 14).
This Medrash deserves study, as it connects what seem like two unrelated ideas. Why should the order in which animals and man were created have any bearing on the order in which their dinim of tum’ah and tahara are presented?
Now, there is a reason for man’s being created after the animals — the Sages state (Sanhedrin 38a) that man, as the tachlis of creation, was only brought onto the scene after the entire stage had been prepared. Still, however, why should the sequence of creation have any bearing on the teaching of the laws of tum’ah and tahara?
In Be’er HaTorah, Harav Yosef Ben Amram offers an answer: After first learning the laws of tum’ah of an animal, when one goes on to learn the laws of tum’ah of man, the contrast speaks for itself: Man has many laws of tumah and tahara, both when alive and dead, and each has its complex body of halacha, whereas animals have very few laws of tum’ah, with none of the complexities, and they apply only after they die (tumas neveilah).
Why is it that man’s laws of tum’ah and tahara are so complex and far-reaching? Clearly, it is because our spiritual level is so potentially great, that every little flaw makes its mark. This is what the Medrash is explaining, that just as in creation man came last because of his gadlus, so too here, his dinim of tum’ah and tahara are written last, after those of the animals, to highlight that his much more complex laws stem from his gadlus.
The Ramban (13:47) notes in this week’s parasha that the laws of nega’im apply only to Jews, explaining that this is because of their great kedusha. The purpose of nega’im is to point out to the Jew that he has sinned and therefore marred his kedusha. The Alshich adds that becausenega’im only are visited upon people of great kedusha, this is why they do not occur nowadays because the general level of kedusha today is much lower.
Just as an exquisite diamond or pearl can plummet in value due to the slightest scratch or defect, so too man, as a being capable of reaching the highest levels of kedusha, will suffer spiritually because of the slightest flaw in his state of taharah.
This principle sheds light on many episodes related by Chazal that show how careful they were in avoiding any potentially harmful influences. In Pirkei Avos (6:9), Yossi ben Kisma relates that he was asked by people of a certain town to come and live with them, and he answered that for all the gold and silver in the world, he would not live anywhere except in a makom Torah.
Even a holy sage of the Mishnaic era could not place himself at risk of negative influences, and the Rambam states this as halacha lemaaseh in Hilchos Dei’os 6:1, that when the behavior of an area is improper, one should not live there, and if he is already there, he should move away, and if there is no other place, he should go out to live in a wilderness. No wonder that thegedolim of our generation are so concerned about the harmful effects of the many gadgets we have today that expose us to the most potent forms of tum’ah, chalilah.
Another Tanna, Nachum Ish Gamzu, offers a striking example of how sensitive a holy person is to even the slightest imperfection, viewing it as a negation of his spiritual level.
Talmidim of the Tanna, Nachum Ish Gamzu, once came to his home and found their rebbe in a horrific state. Physically, almost nothing remained of him—he was now without arms and legs, he could no longer see and what remained of his body was covered with painful, disfiguring boils.
“Rebbe, you are such a great tzaddik; why did this happen to you?” they asked.
He related to them that he had been traveling to his father-in-law, bringing with him wagons laden with food and drink. A poor man came up to him and asked for some food.
“I told him to wait until I unloaded the donkey, but before I did this he died. I fell upon my face and said: ‘My eyes, which did not have pity upon your eyes, may they become blind. My hands, which did not have pity upon your hands, may they be cut off. My legs, which did not have pity on your legs, may they be amputated.’ And I was not at peace with myself until I said, ‘May my whole body be covered with boils’.” (Taanis 21).
Now, let’s ask: What could Nachum Ish Gamzu have done differently? At best, he could have been a tiny bit more energetic in racing over to the man with some food. But this is precisely the point: Nachum Ish Gamzu was sensitive to the fact that any act he did, great or small, had a profound impact on his spiritual level. His having failed to help the poor man with the greatest degree of alacrity humanly possible pained him to the extent that even after losing his limbs and his sight, he still did not feel that he had reached a fitting tikun, and asked that what was left of his body be afflicted as well.
We may be light-years away from Nachum Ish Gamzu’s spiritual level, but we can still learn from him that the slightest imperfection of our character infiltrates every part of us and cannot be ignored. We surely will not do the sort of tikun that Nachum Ish Gamzu did, but our flaws must nevertheless be cleansed and corrected.
In our world as well, I myself saw how seriously my father viewed any slight imperfection inmiddos or actions. He was extremely careful never to become angry, not even a state of “kaas belev” (not to feel even an inward trace of anger). He always worked on his anava; that he should never feel even a trace of superiority, no matter with whom he was speaking. In the realm of actions, for example, he was very careful in shemiras einayim, saying that just one wrong look was a sin too enormous to bear. If he had to go to the central bus station, his attitude was, “could there be worse than that?”
Indeed, the Gemara (Pesachim 66b) states that when a person gets angry or feels a sense ofgaavah, if he’s a chacham, his chachmah disappears, and if he’s a navi, his nevuah disappears — so easy it is for even the greatest Jew’s level to fall due to even slight, imperceptible flaws of character! In short, a Jew is very holy, and even what seems like an insignificant negative trait should in fact be of major concern to us.
May we be able to discern our spiritual imperfections, correct them and maintain our great level of kedushah!