Excerpted from Rabbi Aaron Goldscheider’s Torah United: Teachings on the Weekly Parasha from Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, and the Chassidic Masters, co-published by OU Press and Ktav Publishing House
An Antidote for Recidivism
When the metzora, someone afflicted with the special skin condition of tzara’at, concludes their quarantine, the Torah requires them to offer sacrifices before reentering society: “The Kohen shall command, and he shall take for the one to be purified two living pure birds, cedar wood, red-dyed wool, and hyssop” (Leviticus 14:4). Why these items specifically?
Rashi explained their significance based on the Midrash. The tall and mighty cedar represents the offender’s arrogance. The red-dyed wool is called sheni tola‘at, the second word meaning “worm” in Hebrew, and the hyssop has a low-lying habit. “What is his rectification so that he can heal? He should abase himself from his arrogance like a worm and hyssop.”
The second Sochatchover Rebbe, the Shem mi-Shemu’el, found Rashi’s wording curious. Has the metzora not been cured already at this point? In the previous verse, the Torah says, “The Kohen shall go outside the camp, and the Kohen shall look, and behold the tzara’at affliction has healed” (Leviticus 14:3). Moreover, why does a metzora need to remove their arrogance through the sacrifice? Didn’t they need to repent already so that the affliction would heal? The Sages state, “The affliction effects his atonement; the offerings permit him to reenter the community.” Atonement has been made!
The Rebbe resolved this by sharing an explanation from his illustrious father, Rabbi Avraham Bornsztain, known as the Avnei Nezer, one of the greatest halachists of the nineteenth century. Not every act of humbling oneself is identical. One can be humbled by external circumstances, like the crushing blow of suffering or penury. These force a person into submission and make them all too aware of their vulnerability and even mortality. Ejected from the community and disgraced for his or her sins, the metzora is humbled. How can someone remain arrogant when they must broadcast that they are impure to all who approach them? The metzora therefore does teshuvah (repentance), and it is sufficient to cure the malady.
The metzora’s rehabilitation, however, is not yet complete. Now that he is cured, the oppressive circumstances are lifted, and with the pressure eased off he is liable to return to his arrogant attitude. “What is his rectification so that he can heal” refers to a complete, spiritual healing. As the metzora enters the Temple to offer his sacrifice, he has a newfound realization of the grandeur of God and the need to humbly submit to the divine will. The symbolic ingredients of the sacrifice contribute to this personal transformation that results in true humility that comes from within rather than from without. The arrogance is eradicated rather than repressed.
In a concluding remark, the Sochatchover Rebbe added another proof to his father’s teaching. As mentioned above, the cured metzora brings two birds, one to be slaughtered and the other to be set free. What is the purpose of this? The Midrash answers: “To tell you that just as it is impossible for a slaughtered bird to return, so it is impossible for the affliction to return.” With the bringing of the sacrifice, the metzora has thoroughly repented, and the rehabilitation is complete. There is no lingering threat of recidivism.
Through this commentary on the metzora’s sacrifices, we learn two ideas about teshuvah from the Shem mi-Shemu’el and the Avnei Nezer.
First, “the Merciful One desires the heart”(רַחְמָנאָ ליִבָּא בָּעֵי). God truly wants emotional investment with a pure heart; without it, our service is much less desirable to Him. We are not supposed to go through the motions but to truly feel it.
The importance of this sincerity of the heart is beautifully captured in a classic Chassidic tale. Once Rebbe Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev held up the prayer service on Rosh Hashanah. This was the account he later gave as to why he did so:
There is a young lad in town who is a shepherd. He was orphaned at a young age, and never had the opportunity to learn how to read Hebrew. This morning, when he saw everyone streaming toward the synagogues, and upon inquiring was told that today was the solemn day of Rosh Hashanah, he felt very bad that he could not join others in prayer.
The young lad went out into the field and turned his eyes upward toward heaven. “Dear God,” he said. “I have never learned to pray like others have. All I know is the alef-bet. I will recite the letters for You, and You put them together to make proper words.” The lad began reciting alef, bet, gimel, dalet, etc.
The lad is now reciting the alef-bet, and God is busy putting the letters together to form proper words. We must delay our prayers until the lad is finished with his, at which time God can be attentive to us.
The formal prayer obligation was set aside for a few minutes to make way for prayer of the sincerest kind, a wordless outpouring of the song of the soul.
Secondly, teshuvah must not be forced by external circumstances, but by an internal movement of the heart. As we know from experience, too often the well-intentioned find themselves right back at it after having repented. Teshuvah requires sincere regret for having done wrong and a firm commitment never to repeat the wrongful act. But that is not enough, as Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, the famed addiction specialist and Chassidic scion, observed:
One must think, “How is it that I came to do this wrongful act?” One must analyze oneself to discover the character defects that made such an act a possibility, and improve on these defects, developing oneself to a level of spirituality at which such an act could not recur.
In the time of the Temple, entering its holy precincts instilled the fear of God, and the bringing of the sacrifice would effectuate the final transformation. In the absence of these aids, we need to subject ourselves to deep soul-searching. The antidote to recidivism is to tear out our sins by the roots.
