Is the glass half-full or half-empty? Well, that really depends on the training you got. Are you the one who sees every blemish, who notices every error and is quick to recognize and attempt to fix and heal? Or maybe you have the tendency to see things in a more wholesome light, always looking at the bright side of life, recognizing good intentions, seeing the positive, interpreting things generously.
Our parsha presents these two very different states of mind: thinking of tzara’at (a disease often called leprosy that is surely not the same disease that carries that name in the modern world) brings to mind thoughts about the transgressions of lashon hara and gossip. In Jewish thought, tzara’at is the punishment for speaking ill of someone or bad-mouthing people. We are reminded to view people generously, see their virtues, and mention them in a positive context, making relationships stronger and fonder.
And then there are the kohanim. In our parsha, they have the uneasy task of looking at the blemishes, examining them, and determining—how bad is it, and what has to be done to make it heal? These two states of mind are difficult to juggle and are difficult to contain within one person.
I can share my personal experience: after the unbelievable support and unity we experienced during the kidnapping of our sons in the summer of 2014, I was overwhelmed by all the goodness and generosity of Israeli society and Jewish communities worldwide. It was truly awe-inspiring. And then, as a person who wants to give back to their own society, to contribute to its bettering, I find one needs to develop a keen eye for what is wrong, the injustice, the abuse, all that is oppressive and wrong and desperately needs to be improved. It seems like one needs a different set of mental capacities if he is going to celebrate the full half, or notice and try to fill the empty half. Each of us might have our inclination, but to some extent, we all need to be able to be both. A somewhat similar dilemma comes up in the next stage, when it is not only about what you see, but what you say. When we are deeply committed to saying nothing bad about each other, there might come the point where we are called to look closely at the affected area, to examine it, and to decide what to say and what to do. As described by the 18th-century author of Pit’chei Teshuva:
“I want to raise an uproar about the more common, and greater, reverse sin, namely, avoiding speaking up when there is a need to rescue the oppressed from the oppressor. For example, one who sees another lurking on the desert road plotting to kill his friend…would he refrain from cautioning the friend because of the prohibition to speak lashon hara? This would be too great a sin to bear, the sin of standing idly by while another’s life is threatened… How can we know the limit and say: ‘speak no more than this?’ The principle here is: follow your heart. If the desire is to harm another—this is lashon hara, but if the intention is to save or protect the other—this is a great mitzvah! How often do we witness the downfall of a friend in a web set before them by an evil person, while we hide our faces and say, ‘why should we become involved in something that is not our concern…’”
The Mashiach is described as sitting amongst the lepers, undressing his wounds. Apparently, with the wonderful virtue of appreciation and having a positive view of reality, true redemption requires us to be able to examine our wounds and lesions, uncover them and do everything we can to help them heal.
Rabbanit Rachelle Fraenkel is a yoetzet halacha and senior scholar at Nishmat, and head of hilcheta advanced Halacha studies at Matan. She is a member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau ( www.mizrachi.org/speakers ).
