This Torah portion is near and dear to my heart, having given birth on Shabbat Tazria/Metsora 11 years ago. While most people joke that they avoid this week's reading like the plague, I have come to understand it quite differently. Nonetheless, how on earth does one create a menu that speaks of skin diseases-- swelling, discolouration, blistering and scales, let alone fire and sacrifices?
It's funny how sometimes we are guided by forces greater than ourselves. Allow me a moment to share what I mean.
Lately, probably since Pesach, I have been considering the ways in which our actions or words might affect our health. Surely in a pandemic this is common-- we have become more accustomed to wearing masks, keeping physical distance, washing hands, using hand sanitizer, etc. But I am speaking on a larger scale. Years ago I began to understand cleaning for Passover as a spiritual pursuit as much as a physical one. We are encouraged to check our egos and seek a path of greater humility, understood as those puffed up versions of self-importance versus the plainer, more accessible, rudimentary aspects of our beings. So too, I began to pay more attention to the way we hold on to anger and grudges, even use our words and consider if these create toxicity within our beings. I am in no way insinuating that cancer or any illness comes as a direct result of our behaviour. Rather I am examining within myself where negative energy goes or expresses itself within me. In desperate need of a massage, known to release toxins, this week I cannot help but wonder if, like hametz on Pesach, some of the blisters and rawness of the Torah portion might be understood metaphorically.
As I roasted peppers for matbucha this morning, my daughter asked, where the white comes from. I turned to look and laughed aloud, realizing that indeed here was the parasha before my eyes! In Leviticus Chapter 13, the Torah describes a series of skin afflictions, scalls-- scabs or scales, that use the imagery of red, green, white and blisters.
But if the undiscoloured flesh again turns white, he shall come to the priest, and the priest shall examine him: if the affection has turned white, the priest shall pronounce the affected person clean; he is clean. When an inflammation appears on the skin of one’s body and it heals, and a white swelling or a white discolouration streaked with red develops where the inflammation was, he shall present himself to the priest.... When the skin of one’s body sustains a burn by fire, and the patch from the burn is a discolouration, either white streaked with red, or white, the priest shall examine it.
Here I was with red peppers-- often a red/green mix, blistering the skin to white. Even more so was what led me to make matbucha.... After a person is healed from his or her ailments, and after a week or more of physical isolation to ensure that the diseases were not being transferred from person to person, the priest would offer a sacrifice. In a sense this ritual was no different than how we understand lighting Shabbat candles, or any other ritual. It was an opportunity to tangibly say, "Thank God!" The ritual provided a benchmark, framing what was while opening a door to what would be. Ritual imbues moments with meaning... we can let them pass us by or pause to reflect and deem them holy. (On an aside I want to point everyone to the page on our website with blessings intended for the momentous occasion of receiving the COVID 19 vaccine. Click here to be guided to the page.)
It happens that in the Torah, this particular ritual included birds, cedar wood, crimson stuff and hyssop (see Leviticus 14:4 for example). Curious about hyssop I learned that it is traditionally the key ingredient in za'atar-- the Israeli herb combination that I put on hummus, labneh, and on grilled pita amongst other things. That said, within my research, a number of sites claim that the true key ingredient to this spice blend is actually sumac. Sumac has a red, crimson appearance and is a spice that I have in my pantry thanks to an Israeli shlichah who once came for dinner, and yet never know what to do with it!
Inspired by Yom Ha'atzma'ut and always wanting to introduce our girls to Israeli culture albeit too often from afar, I made labneh for breakfast the other day. I realized that I could top it with za'atar to connect with the parasha and these thanksgiving offerings and was planning on sprinkling a bit of saffron for the "crimson stuff (שְׁנִ֥י תוֹלַ֖עַת)". Now I know what to use the sumac for and cannot help but wonder if this wasn't part of the Torah's plan all along. To go alongside the labneh, I then was motivated to make the matbucha (roasted peppers cooked down with tomatoes, garlic, a sprinkle of sugar, paprika and salt) which only rounded out the connection. Of course there are other offerings to follow that include animals, flour and oil. All of this to say-- if you have not already made Shabbat dinner, consider strengthening your commitment to Israel and the Torah with a good old Israeli -style barbecue and delight in the intersectionality between the two! And perhaps as we smile and rejoice over the tantalizing smells, colours, and tastes, this will be enough to release the toxins and give way to elevating ourselves as the offering was intended originally.
Shabbat shalom and b'tayavon!
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