The Weekly Sedra – Metzora – Skin off Your Own Back!

The custom in our Shul is to read a short meditation each morning, upon the conclusion of services. It was the following thought, in the name of the holy Baal Shemtov, that elicited a rather fervent debate:

“Your fellow is your mirror. If your own face is clean, so will be the image you perceive. But should you look upon your fellow and see a blemish, it is your own imperfection that you are encountering – you are being shown what it is that you must correct within yourself.”

“Does this mean that we can never perceive evil or wrongdoing without implicating ourselves?” protested a thoughtful and generally soft-spoken congregant. “I find this troubling!”

“What about Osama Binladin or Achmadinidjad? Is the recognition of their brutal and inhumane conduct reflective of one’s own wickedness and terrorist propensities? With all due respect, this makes no sense to me.”


It was only a matter of moments before the entire Shul erupted in passionate discussion. In proverbial Jewish tradition arguments were flying in all directions, as multiple voices could be heard weaving in and out of each other.

“What do you think, Rabbi?” came a voice from across the room. To be honest, I was caught off guard. The man clearly had a valid point. I myself am wont to preach against passivism and the extreme liberal philosophy of moral relativism – the lack of independent right and wrong – the “I’m ok you’re ok” syndrome.

My mind filled with thoughts of Biblical figures who seemed to be judgmental at one time or another. Did not Avraham judge Lot when he urged that their camps separate, due to inappropriate conduct on the part of Lot and his shepherds? Did not Yitzchak rebuke King Avimelach? Did Yaakov not complain bitterly about his uncle Lavan, to mention just a few examples?

What about Moshe’s praying for the demise of Korach and company, as well as the many other times he chastised and punished the Israelites for their respective roles in the numerous rebellions against G-d. Then of course, there is Pinchas, the model of vigilantism, who was so highly rewarded for his zealotry. The Torah’s position on judgmentalism is confusing at best, if not outright contradictory.

The more thought I gave the matter the greater the paradox seemed to become. In Ethics of The Fathers, for example, it is stated in one place: “Do not judge your friend until you have reached his place” – been in his shoes, yet in another place it says: “Distance yourself from a bad neighbor and do not befriend the wicked.” How can there be a bad neighbor or a wicked one if we’re not supposed to judge?

Seeing no way out, I acknowledged that the man was right. His point could not be ignored. To those who argued that the Baal Shemtov said otherwise, I replied, “You’re right.” When others questioned how both could be right, I exclaimed, in good rabbinic tradition, “You too, are right!”

The issue could obviously not be resolved on one foot. But nor could it be ignored forever.
No part of Torah can be left to contradiction, especially something as fundamental as the issue at hand – a matter with very practical implications in day-to-day life. Indeed, knowing when to judge favorably, when to be critical and when not to judge at all is an ongoing struggle in the life of every conscientious human being.

Before I had a chance to revisit the subject, I received an email from the same congregant, which included the following essay (somewhat shortened) by a Psychiatrist named Dr. Emanual Tanay, of Ann Arbor, MI.:

“A man whose family was German aristocracy prior to World War ll owned a number of large industries and estates. When asked how many German people were true Nazis, the answer he gave can guide our attitude toward fanaticism.

‘Very few people were true Nazis,’ he said, ‘but many enjoyed the return of German pride, and many more were too busy to care. I was one of those who just thought the Nazis were a bunch of fools. So, the majority just sat back and let it all happen. Then, before we knew it, they owned us, and we had lost control, and the end of the world had come. My family lost everything. I ended up in a concentration camp, and the Allies destroyed my factories’. . .

The hard quantifiable fact is that the ‘peaceful majority,’ the ‘silent majority,’ is cowed and extraneous. Communist Russia was comprised of Russians who just wanted to live in peace, yet the Russian Communists were responsible for the murder of about 20 million people. The peaceful majority were irrelevant. China’s huge population was peaceful as well, but Chinese Communists managed to kill a staggering 70 million people.

The average Japanese individual prior to World War ll was not a warmongering sadist. Yet, Japan murdered and slaughtered its way across South East Asia in an orgy of killing that included the systematic murder of 12 million Chinese civilians; most killed by sword, shovel, and bayonet. And, who can forget Rwanda, which collapsed into butchery. Could it not be said that the majority of Rwandans were ‘peace loving’?

History lessons are often incredibly simple and blunt, yet for all our powers of reason we often miss the most basic and uncomplicated of points:

Peace-loving Muslims have been made irrelevant by their silence. Peace-loving Muslims will become our enemy if they don’t speak up, because like my friend from Germany, they will awaken one day and find that the fanatics own them, and the end of their world will have begun. Peace-loving Germans, Japanese, Chinese, Russians, Rwandans, Serbs, Afghanis, Iraqis, Palestinians, Somalis, Nigerians, Algerians, and many others have died because the peaceful majority did not speak up until it was too late. . .”

So, I ask you Rabbi, concludes the writer, how do you reconcile the flowery notion of nonjudgmentalism with the above stated facts? True, these horrific examples were all national tragedies – resulting from national apathy and gullibility – still, how different is it on the interpersonal level?

Time has elapsed; still, I’ve not been able to resolve this conundrum. However, upon reading the commentary on this week’s Parsha, new insight seems to have emerged.

In prescribing the remedy for Tzara’as – a leprosy-like malady brought-on by spiritual deficiency – the Torah states: The Kohen shall command and for the person being purified there shall be taken . . . עֵץ אֶרֶז – a stick of cedar wood and שְׁנִי תוֹלַעַת – tongue-like strip of wool dyed crimson, and Hyssop. – Vayikra 14: 4.

Upon explaining the significance of the particular objects Rashi states: Because lesions of Tzara’as manifest itself as a result of haughtiness – symbolized by the tall cedar – he must therefore, as a healing remedy, humble himself from his haughtiness. This is symbolized by the תּוֹלַעַת“”– Tola’as (lit., ”a worm,” which infested the berries from which the crimson dye was extracted to color the wool) as well as the lowly hyssop.

According to Rashi, the cedar wood symbolizes the state in which the Leper found himself before the infliction – haughtiness, while the other two objects represent the state of cure – humility. Other commentaries find this view inconsistent. Since the objects are mentioned together, they aught to all represent the same phenomenon, either the malady – haughtiness, or the state of cure – humility.

An alternative interpretation is hence presented which indeed defines the symbolism of the cedar as part of the curing formula. According to this explanation, the cedar signifies the sense of determination and steadfastness one most develop on behalf of morality, justice and Divine will, as a cure for Tzara’as.

In other words, it is not enough for the Leper to humble himself like the Tola’as and the hyssop. He must also retain a strong backbone and sense of resolve like the cedar.
Passivism and humility are great virtues; assert the commentaries, when they’re directed towards one’s own will and ego; something the Leper must indeed come to understand. However, he must also be aware that humility and passivism have their time and place.

Humility that comes at someone else’s expense is no virtue at all; it is in fact a disgrace. This is certainly the case when Divine will and values are at stake. In such instances one must resort to the “cedar” quality within oneself – he must stand tall for what is right.

In the above light, we can also understand the teaching of the Baal Shemtov. If one sees fault in another because that person’s actions irritate his own ego, the other person is indeed a mirror – a reflection of his own flaws and faults. However, when one finds himself disturbed by a person’s offensive conduct towards another human being or the G-dly way of life, (providing that it is not his ego again) it is the wrong time for humility and passivism.

This message is highly apropos in our modern day and age when many, in the name of open mindedness, have a tendency of being extremely flexible and passive with regards to issues of morality and values.

Their progressive self is expressed in various forms of leniency regarding the sanctity of human life and other forms of higher Divine principles. They seem to have all the give when the skin, as it were, is off G-d’s back, yet, when “the skin is off their back” – when someone steps on their toes, or crosses their will – all hell brakes loose. Gone is the generosity, flexibility and open-mindedness. They are as intransigent and unforgiving as ever.

This perhaps explains the mystery of why our progressive and open-minded society is so permeated with divorce, road rage and abuse of all sorts.

We aught to take to heart the lesson offered to the Mitzorah in our Parsha: Humility begins (and ends) with ourselves. Flexibility and passivism are virtuous when they come at our own expense – the sacrifice of our own will and desires – they are meaningless and disgraceful when they come at someone else’s, especially when that someone else happens to be G-d.

The author welcomes your input and feedback: rabbi@chabadjacksonville.org