Each of the five Books of Moses has nicknames. Exodus is referred to as the sequel to Genesis. Leviticus has been labeled the Book of Boundaries, Torah of Obligations and Zot haTorah (this is the law of Separations).
Leviticus in Hebrew is Vayikra. It’s a word that threads its way through the Book of Creation and appears again in the opening verse of the Book of Boundaries.
Literary scholars say the principal theme in ancient texts can be found at the midpoint. Leviticus is the middle book of Torah. Tazria, from the root for seed, plow, inseminate or plant, is both the shortest portion and 27th of 54 portions — another midpoint.
Tazria implies generativity, procreation and lineage. It is related to a verse in Genesis in which the Earth is described as mazriah, bringing forth life with built-in mechanisms to preserve the future of each species. Metzora, from the root for hardship or the Yiddish word tsuris (trouble), is the fifth of 10 portions in Leviticus.
For many, Leviticus no longer seems relevant, yet here it is sandwiched in between a book about leaving a narrow space and a book about a long passage through the wilderness. Each of the midpoints are a gateway to the imagination, inviting us to find the principal theme and its application in our own times. It is a daunting task as Tazria-Metzora contain all the juicy disqualifications of childbirth, bodily emissions and skin diseases.
Tazria begins, “… and God said to Moses, saying: Tell the Israelites that … when a woman has been ‘seeded’ and bears a son, she shall circumcise him on the eighth day. She will remain in seclusion for 40 days. If she has a daughter, she shall remain in seclusion for twice as long.”
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While it sounds as if boys are better than girls (Oy!), I hear the Torah of Tazria saying that when a woman’s biology predisposes her to bring forth life and the life is male, there is a responsibility to circumcise him on the eighth day. When the life she brings forth is female, her responsibility is to nourish her so that in time she, too, will bring forth life as part of an eternal promise.
After a great deal of text wrestling, I came to understand that Torah recognizes that the birth of each child requires an essential time-out for integrating a new life and reframing a family vision. The laws of confinement were different for boys and girls because communal norms and expectations were different for men and women.
Tazria teaches that when a mother delivers a baby, she is commanded to take some time to deal with the reorganization necessary in her life. Torah describes what scholars and anthropologists call ritual disqualification. She is exempt from religious duties. The evidence that boys and girls are equal in God’s eyes can be found in the identical offerings required at the end of a new mother’s confinement. The offerings reflected the awesome nature of giving birth and signaled she was now ready to follow rituals assigned to women.
What then is the difference in seclusion?
A book edited by Rabbi Eugene Borowitzz”l with advanced student responsa pertaining to child custody issues in Israel provides some insight. I was surprised to find that children under the age of 6 remained with their mothers. However, after 6, boys went with their fathers while girls remained with their mothers. According to the Talmud, we do this so that boys learn the ways of men and girls the ways of women.
Tazria is midwifing families. Each time a child enters the world, the vessel called family is shattered, and it takes time to forge a new vessel. The difference in days of confinement pertains to the cultural roles assigned to gender. Boys learned how to BE from the communal circle of men, and girls learned about Being from the interior of their courtyards, bathhouses and weaving circles.
As a midpoint, Metzora is also about ritual disqualification. The tsuris in Metzora is Tzara’at, a visible scale condition signifying spiritual transgressions requiring quarantine. It would appear on the surfaces of skin, clothing, household items and walls. Through associative word play, centuries of commentators have identified slander, narrow-mindedness, stinginess, envy and bloodshed as some of the precipitating causes of the affliction.
Nineteenth-century Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch likened it to “an inner rot that breaks out externally” requiring a period of quarantine or confinement to “instill in the affected person the awareness of their unworthiness, to recognize their guilt, and to begin the process of restoration and repentance.”
More modern commentators suggest the portion is less about separation and more about reentry and reintegration. Before returning to the camp, the Metzora was required to shave all the hair on his or her head, including eyebrows, and immerse themselves in a mikvah, emerging from this watery womb looking very much like a newborn.
No longer Metzora, he or she is transformed from the transgressions of their prior existence. They were then ritually anointed in the same manner as the Levites symbolizing renewal, purification and transformation. They were then able to fully participate in the ritual life of their community.
Tazria-Metzora will be read on the first of Iyar, the Jewish month focused on healing, self-refinement, introspection, recovery and reintegration. The language in Psalm 118 reminds us again of Mitzrayim, our own narrow place, as we live in unsettled, threatening, and constricting times.
The psalmist sings — min hametzar — from the depths of our despair, suffering and sorrow we can, as Rebbe Nachman teaches, reach upward to embrace the heavens, outward to embrace the world and inward to find the self. May we find personal paths toward sustainable hope. Shabbat Shalom.
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