· As Hebrew is the Holy
Tongue, a language presented by G-d in full, not subject to the haphazard
development of other languages, we should expect no redundancy. Two different
words that may seem to have similar meanings should be understood as being
slightly nuanced, each term conveying a slightly different idea from the other.
This is the case with two Hebrew words which could both be translated as “man,”
namely, “adam,” and “ish.” Both refer to a human being, but
the term “adam,” also being the
proper name of the very first man, connotes man’s elevation over the rest of
creation. If “ish” refers to a human
being, “adam,” speaks of the human
being in a refined state.
· With this in mind, we should
be troubled by the Torah’s introduction to the topic of tzara’at, the affliction discussed at length in the parshiot of
Tazria and Metzora. Tzara’t is not an
ordinary disease; it is an ailment that arises as a physical manifestation of a
deeper spiritual problem. A soul that became marred by improper speech—slander,
gossip, and the like—would become affected by tzara’at. The Torah introduces us to this discussion with the
following words: “When an adam shall
have upon his flesh a mark of tzara’at…”
If tzara’at is a physical reflection
of a blemish that actually exists on a person’s soul, why would the Torah
introduce us to such a person with the title of “adam,” a term that connotes man’s refinement and exalted status?
· Rabbi Nisson Alpert explained
that the answer to this question lies in the very same verse. The Torah
continues, “and he shall be brought to the Aaron the kohen, or to one of his children, the kohanim.” The Torah describes not an individual who has an
affliction on both body and soul and wishes to remain that way. He is, rather,
someone who approaches the kohen, the
priest who can diagnose the blemish, and serve as counsel to set him on a
proper course of rehabilitation. The person we meet is not someone who resigned
to live with his flaws, he is someone who wants to correct that flaw and to
achieve more than he already has. An “adam,”
the refined human being is not defined as one who is perfect, one who is
flawless. The refined human being is one who is aware of his flaws and wishes to
correct them.
· This was a lesson that Rabbi
Alpert learned first hand, from one of the greatest teachers imaginable. Rabbi
Alpert had the distinction of being one of the foremost students of Rabbi Moshe
Feinstein, on of the greatest scholars and leaders of the past generation. In
his personal life, Rabbi Feinstein shunned materialism, feeling that the “finer
things in life” would only serve as a distraction from his Torah study, his
duties to the community, and his relationship with G-d. There was, however, one
luxury item that he allowed himself: a “Shulsinger Shas.” This was a full set
of the Babylonian Talmud published by the Shulsinger Brothers Publishing
Company. Compared to all other editions of the Talmud available at the time,
the Shulsinger edition was far more legible and sturdy. Though more expensive
than any other edition, when Rabbi Feinstein was presented with it is a gift,
he accepted it graciously, believing that it would serve as a great aid to his
study. The set of books quickly become his most beloved earthly possession. One
day, a student was meeting with Rabbi Feinstein in his office, when the rabbi
had to step out for a moment to speak with someone who had come to see him. The
curiosity getting the better of him, the student tiptoed around to the other
side of the desk to take a look at Rabbi Feinstein’s Talmud. What notes and
comments must be inscribed in the margins of the book used by the foremost
rabbinic authority on earth! As the student hovered over the book, his arm
brushed against a bottle of blue ink sitting on the rabbi’s desk, and the next
thing he knew, Rabbi Feinstein’s precious book was covered in ink. When Rabbi
Feinstein came back into the room, he found the student sitting back in his
chair, head buried in his hands, and an ink soaked volume of his Shulsinger
Shas sitting on the desk. Sizing up the situation, Rabbi Feinstein smiled and
said simply, “Doesn’t the Talmud look so beautiful in blue!” Immediately, the
story spread around the yeshiva like wild fire and it wasn’t long before Rabbi
Feinstein overheard a student who reacted to it by saying, “If only I was born
with that kind of patience.” Rabbi Feinstein interrupted the conversation and
thundered, “Born with that kind of patience? It took me my whole life to learn how
to do that!”
· The student in the story was
none other than Rabbi Nisson Alpert. He understood all too well that to be an “adam,” a refined and distinguished human
being is not to be born with flaws and imperfections. It is to spend one’s
entire life dedicating himself to removing them.
No comments:
Post a Comment