Metzora: The True Meaning of Impurity

Parshat Metzora continues discussing various halachot related to the topic of purity and impurity. The way in which the Torah describes the process of purification as well as the method itself convey to us deep messages of what purity is. 

The first striking feature of the pesukim is that when outlining the process of purification, the Torah does not refer to the one undergoing the process as “impure.” Although the entire purpose of the process is to change their status from tamei to tahor, the Torah does not use the word tamei. In fact the Torah calls the impure person a “mitaher” which means “One who is becoming pure.” This single word captures such a powerful message for us all. We are so hesitant to label another Jew as impure. We rather call them a Jew who is on the path to purity. 

The Gemara in Pesachim 3a tells us:

דְּאָמַר רַבִּי יְהוֹשֻׁעַ בֶּן לֵוִי: לְעוֹלָם אַל יוֹצִיא אָדָם דָּבָר מְגוּנֶּה מִפִּיו

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says “A person should never let a derogatory word escape from his mouth.” The Torah is extremely careful not to unnecessarily use negative language. In fact, the Gemara brings a proof from Parshat Noach when Noach was commanded to bring in the kosher and non-kosher animals into the teiva. The Torah describes the animals as “tahor” or “einenu tahor,” as “pure status” or “not pure status.” The pasuk could have easily saved on space and labelled those animals as tamei, impure. But even with animals, the pesukim of the Torah will not say the word impure unless it is absolutely necessary.

The Gemara applies this principle to a pasuk from last week’s parsha. The pasuk describes a form of impurity which can be transmitted from the person to an object. When the Torah describes the person riding on a horse (an act which could transfer impurity via the saddle), it changes the verb depending on the gender. While it uses the word “merkav” meaning “riding” for a man, it uses “moshav” meaning “seated” for a woman, so as not to conjure an undignified image of the way a woman would ride a horse. Refinement of language is woven into the halachot of ritual purity. 

Looking at our fellow Jew as one who is “mitaher,” in the process of becoming pure takes the eyes of Aharon HaKohen. Yet, it is a mission we are all tasked with, as the women of our own homes. Particularly, over Pesach, we could choose to look at others as not careful enough or even overly righteous or stringent. But if we look at the minhagim of all those around us as “mitaher” we will feel truly privileged to belong to the nation which is constantly ascending in purity.

The purification processes discussed in this week’s parsha, the diagnosis of tzaraas as well as the para aduma, the Red Heifer, are led by the Kohen. Incredibly, in order to pronounce a Jew pure or impure, the Kohen can be of any age. We may have thought that the Kohen would have required some kind of qualification, an intricate understanding of the nuanced laws of purity and impurity. Yet, even a child could do the job. Rav Aharon Walkin writes that the only qualification needed to take a Jew through the process of purification is to be like Aharon Hakohein, a tzaddik who loved each member of the Jewish people. 

In the Mishna, Aharon is called “oheiv shalom vrodef shalom,” a lover of peace and a pursuer of peace. A Kohen of any age who had inherited these spiritual traits is the only one who can pronounce a Jew pure or impure, a Jew with no malice and only love and desire for shalom.

Looking at our fellow Jew as one who is “mitaher,” in the process of becoming pure takes the eyes of Aharon HaKohen. Yet, it is a mission we are all tasked with, as the women of our own homes. Particularly, over Pesach, we could choose to look at others as not careful enough or even overly righteous or stringent. But if we look at the minhagim of all those around us as “mitaher” we will feel truly privileged to belong to the nation which is constantly ascending in purity.

I will conclude with the following story (told by Rav Shraga Simmons) which illustrates this concept so perfectly:

It was the day before Pesach and Rav Levi Yitzchak, an 18th century Rav from the Russian village of Berditchev, called his students together. He instructed them as follows: “Go around to each Jewish home in Berditchev and bring me all the Turkish tobacco and Austrian silk that you can find.”

“But Rabbi,” they protested. “Everyone knows that Russia is at war with Turkey and Austria – and possession of tobacco and silk is strictly forbidden!”

Still, the rabbi insisted and the students went looking for tobacco and silk.

Later that evening, the students returned to Rav Levi Yitzchak, carrying various containers of Turkish tobacco and rolls of Austrian silk. 

Rav Levi Yitzchak sent them out again and asked them to bring back some bread and rolls.

His students returned empty handed, for there was not a crumb of chametz to be found.

Rav Levi Yitzchak looked heavenward and said, “Hashem! The Russian Czar has his army stationed at the borders and in the towns – a million armed soldiers ready to arrest anyone who violates the decree of possessing this contraband. While You, Hashem have nine holy words in the Torah commanding us to remove bread from the house on Pesach. “How righteous are Your people Israel, who faithfully observe Your mitzvot!”