As the youngest of five brothers, Gordon spent his life watching his older siblings get privileges for which he would have to wait. “It’s not fair” was Gordon’s favorite phrase (but not for anyone else in the family, for obvious reasons) and he used it multiple times a day. And no, Gordon did not care that his siblings had more responsibilities than he did, thanks for asking. Neither was Gordon calmed by the knowledge that he got to do things at a younger age than his older siblings did. The bottom line is that Gordon wanted more freedoms and responsibilities than were appropriate for him, which is to say, he was a classic youngest child.
When Gordon reached sixth grade; his parents began to give him more freedom over his schoolwork. Maybe they thought he was responsible enough to manage his homework assignments and studying, or maybe they knew he wouldn’t give them a choice. Either way, Gordon was given control over where and when he did his homework, how he prepared for tests, and for how long he studied. As long as Gordon kept his average at B+ or higher, and as long he didn’t earn any Cs, Gordon was allowed his space.
For the most part, Gordon earned his parents’ trust. He kept his grades up, made smart decisions, and usually slept well. He failed one science test and almost failed a math assessment, but his actual grades never dipped below the limit. As great as this was, there was one downside: Gordon started to get a bit overconfident. If he could manage his own workload, why couldn’t he bake a cake without a recipe? If he could study on his own, why did he need his dad’s help picking out what to wear on Shabbat? If he didn’t need his parents for school, why did he need them to teach him how to use the treadmill?
A batch of rock-hard brownies, an outfit with white socks and black shoes, and a Gordon-shaped hole in the basement wall later, Gordon was still riding high with confidence. He blamed the “broken” oven for the brownies, his dark room for the mismatched footwear, and the “weak wall” for the damage. Would anything prove to Gordon that he should ask for help making decisions? (Yes, that is what’s coming next in the story.)
As Gordon’s first year of middle school was coming to a close, his teachers first uttered that dreadful and frightening word “finals.” Even worse, this word was often followed by an even scarier word, “cumulative.” This meant that everything Gordon’s classes learned all year would be on the final tests.
Gordon, of course, was not phased. As always, he would figure out how to study for his finals without a problem. If he could figure it out up until now, why should the end of the year be any different? In fact, it should be easier with a year of practice gone by. However, the night the finals calendar was sent out, Gordon learned that his parents had a different plan in mind.
At 8 that evening, Gordon’s father came into his room and asked him to remove the AirPods from his ears. “Hey buddy. We just got your finals schedule. Can we discuss making a plan to study?” Gordon rolled his eyes. “C’mon dad, I’m all good. I’ve been perfect all year.” His dad moved to interrupt, so Gordon adjusted his statement. “OK, maybe not perfect, but I’ve definitely been doing really well. I don’t need your help. I’ve got this.”
Gordon’s father was not moved. “Gordy, I’m definitely proud of all the work you’ve done. But finals is a totally different situation. You’re going to have to review stuff from way back in September.” Now Gordon was getting impatient. “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! I’m fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!” Gordon’s father could tell this wasn’t going anywhere. “This isn’t going anywhere.” (See!) “However, you should know I’m not giving you a choice. I’ll be back later on.”
So, as promised, Dad popped back in around 10 o’clock and brought backup—Mom. After a few minutes of discussion, they decided on a compromise. Of his four finals, Gordon would choose two to study his way, and he would prepare his parents’ way for the other two. And so it went; for science and Chumash, Gordon was on his own, but for social studies and math, his parents worked with him to create a schedule. We could go into detail about the differences between the two, but let’s just leave it like this: Gordon studied for science and Chumash whenever he felt like it, and with whatever music or show running in the background. For social studies and math, he had every minute of studying planned out using a desk calendar, and he used color-coded review notes.
We can all guess how this went. Gordon did OK on his science and Chumash finals, earning an 87 and 89, respectively (with a five-point curve on each). However, he aced his other two tests—97 on social studies and 96 on his math final (no curve needed for either).
After getting all of his grades back, Gordon went to his parents feeling a little embarrassed, but also curious. “Mom and Dad, how did you guys know I would need your help for finals, even though I didn’t really need it during the year?” Mom took this one. “Well, Gordon, it just has to do with what you are ready for. We’ve watched you grow as a student the past few years, and we knew you were ready to take on responsibility for your regular work. But finals are completely different. Studying for a year’s worth of material is something you know nothing about and you’ve never experienced. It’s good to let people who have experienced things be your guide before you go off on your own.”
Parshat Metzora describes the laws of tzara’at in intense detail. We are told about the different colors, locations and time periods for tzara’at, and how these factors affect whether someone is declared to be tamei or tahor. Additionally, an individual cannot diagnose tzara’at for himself or herself—that must be decided by a kohen. Plenty of our mitzvot aren’t described in such detail in the Torah itself—we know these specifics from tradition. What is it about tzara’at that requires such a detailed explanation in the Torah?
One possibility is that tzara’at is not something we can ever truly understand. Although the Torah hints to possible reasons someone might get tzara’at, the Torah never says so outright. We have no real starting point to understand these random spots that appear on the skin. Therefore, we must step back and let the experts take over. The details provided by the Torah achieve this goal; fewer details means it’s up to us, and more details mean there is no room for our interpretation.
By providing intense detail, Hashem is telling us to let Him decide for us what to do. This is also why we must go to a kohen. Even if we understand the details, we still need an official expert to tell us what to do. Let us all take the lesson to heart. None of us always knows what to do, so don’t be afraid to look to others for help.
Yair Daar is the middle school dean of students at Yeshivat He’Atid. He can be reached at [email protected].
