Three Dimensions of Leviticus:  Purity, Preparation and Redemption,

Let us have a closer look—however uninviting that may seem at first—at the occasions for ritual purification in this week’s Torah reading, Parashat Tazria-Metzora (Leviticus 12–15). We might be inclined, given the dermatological details, to think the chapter is somehow about Bronze Age folk medicine.  A quaint manual of ancient dermatology?

Purity as Life

It is not.

The chapter is not about how to cure diseases.

It is not about how to prevent microbial contamination; it addresses conditions, such as giving birth, that are not contagious (Leviticus 12:1–8). It is about how to resolve impurities (Leviticus 13:2–59; 15:1–33) in the service of life. Impurity is about death, disintegration, and decay. Life is about maintaining structure, distinct identity rather than fading into randomness; about being ready to approach the Creator of order and life (Genesis 1:26–28).

The complexion conditions addressed in the chapter are disturbing because they resemble the complexion of corpses. In Numbers 12:12, Aaron the high priest prays of his complexion-blanched sister Miriam, “Let her not be as one dead, whose flesh is half consumed when he comes out of his mother’s womb” (Tanakh, JPS Translation). God did redeem Miriam, the woman who had earlier saved her brother Moses (Exodus 2:4–7). Miriam was perhaps being punished for disrespecting his Cushite (and darker complexioned?) wife and complaining about not having equal prophetic status with Moses himself. She led the celebrations after the crossing of the Red Sea (Exodus 15:20–21) and was herself a prophetess of Israel (Exodus 15:20). Conditions of the instruments of reproduction render a person temporarily impure when they are emanations that are not connected with the creation of new life (Leviticus 15:2–30).

Miriam is redeemed. Her merit outweighs her wrong.  T

The Jewish faith imposes high demands on human beings.  It is not a religion of quiescene; it does not urge that we seek to avoid pain by minimizing our aspirations.  The rituals of Leviticus seek to evoke the structure and goodness of God’s vision for the universe.   Yet the Jewish faith provides means of redemption when we fail.  The rituals of Leviticus provide pathways for restoring the sanctity of the Tabernacle after it has been disturbed by human error.

The Talmud repeatedly emphasizes that in weight the merit of a human life,  repetance and good deeds – even a single mitzvah – can outweigh grievous sins.  Even abstaining from sin can be a redemptive mitzvah.   If we can be righteous by abstaining from wrong, then our default condition – our inherent condition as  human beings- is that our live is a positive in the eyes of the Eternal.

There are other spiritual visions that stand in contrast to Leviticus. Some see physical life as an entrapment of the spirit. Only when the soul escapes from flawed matter does it become free and holy. Some Jewish scholars of the 18th and 19th centuries viewed physical life with suspicion, unlike the mainstream Jewish embrace of life’s sanctity. But it is not the mainstream Jewish perspective. The Creator turned a chaotic, formless world into one that is filled with life of all kinds, culminating in human life (Genesis 1:1–31). In the Jewish tradition, life is valued for its own sake, but it can reach a pinnacle when it is connected with some great purpose. Humans can make noises, but in the Jewish view, the voice is uniquely elevated when it is raised in song to the wonder of creation and the Creator (Psalms 95:1–2). Humans can reproduce like any creature, but when those powers are directed toward producing a new generation inspired by the Covenant, that is especially inspired (Deuteronomy 6:4–7).

The Tabernacle as Training Ground – the When of Leviticus

Remember when the Tabernacle is built and its rituals revealed by God. It is after the Exodus, but before the entry into the Promised Land, before Jerusalem is conquered, before the Temple is built, before the Kings of Israel arise (Exodus 40:1–38; Leviticus 1:1–27:34). Why all this ritual fussiness in the Wilderness? Why so many rules of religious practice, followed by ethical instruction by the end of Leviticus, when a community is still in between freedom in an alien land and governance of their own promised territory (Leviticus 19:1–37; 26:1–46)?

Before soldiers go into combat, they are—ideally—rigorously trained. Some of the exercises seem needlessly fussy. Why have soldiers drill, carry out choreographed routines with their arms, march in precise synchronization? Even if the skills and attitudes required are not directly used on the battlefield, we believe that parade ground drills build values, such as resilience and determination, on the part of the soldiers who must stand up to the demands of their officers and peers before facing their adversaries; conviction that you belong to a group, rather than being an isolated individual; the habit of staying organized and self-controlled even under stress. Similarly, the Tabernacle’s rituals—such as the meticulous purification processes for complexion conditions or the precise offerings for childbirth—trained the Israelites in discipline, reinforcing their commitment to holiness and communal unity (Leviticus 13:45–46; 12:6–8). These practices instilled a sense of shared responsibility, ensuring that each individual’s spiritual state contributed to the collective sanctity of the nation (Babylonian Talmud, Yoma 85b). Why reveal Leviticus in the Wilderness? Because the Israelites are preparing themselves for reentry into the Holy Land, to begin earning their own living—not living off manna—to govern themselves and to persist in the Covenant, despite all their human weaknesses and even after they have lapsed and suffered.

The rituals of the Tabernacle promoted holiness of a particular kind. It was one that believed that the life of all living creatures is to be respected, especially human life (Leviticus 17:11–14). It taught that all of Israel was responsible for each other; a spiritual impurity from one quarter could affect the rest, and there were ceremonies, like Yom Kippur, where the impurities of the whole community were symbolically cleansed (Leviticus 16:15–22). The rituals of the Temple are a model for a vision in which life in communion with the Creator is the aspiration, and after backsliding, there is always the hope of a return to grace and renewed vitality. The Tabernacle world is a cyclical one. God designs and consecrates the Tabernacle, rituals are repeated in daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly cycles, and the response to disorder is to return to the regular and repeating order.

Redemption in the Ritual Cycle, Redemption in Historical Progress.

The history of the Israelites, however, is a story of progress—of bursting out of endless repetition and instead learning and growing in the crucible of history. A people is enslaved, is liberated, and then receives the moral and ritual instructions from God. They are never the same after that. Through its history, this people must aspire for further progress—even after it has made mistakes, even after foreign conquerors have vanquished them. After the wilderness, the Israelites must reenter the Promised Land, secure it for themselves, and do their part to make it a land of milk and honey. They will at times fall into sin, division, weakness, and defeat. But with remorse and rededication, they can return, chastened and wiser. The ultimate progress is to arrive at the messianic era. This is not a repeat of the original pattern, a return to Eden. It is progress to a state in which all the lessons of history have been learned, and communion is achieved among all peoples and with the Creator. God promises to the people of Israel that even when they stray, even when they fall into sin, as long as they are willing to repent and learn, they will be restored in their path to their ultimate destiny. A commonality between the cyclical model of the Tabernacle and the progressive model of human history is this: that human beings, who can be defiant rather than loyal, who can be sinful as well as righteous—human beings have in God a partner who leaves open the path to redemption. In the Messianic time, the Temple will be rebuilt, the rituals will be practiced with perfection, and the peoples of the world will act in harmony with each other and with their Creator. In the Wilderness, in the Tabernacle, the Israelites took a break from having history imposed upon them or making it themselves. They were learning, however, the discipline, cohesion, self-confidence, and vitality they would need to embark on the next stage in their mission, despite all their flaws, despite all their humanity, despite all their propensity to lapse, forget, and fall to the wayside. God did not encourage them to think of themselves—or anyone—as God. They were instead given the highest of aspirations, the potential to achieve them, and the assurance that, as fallible human beings, they could not only fall, but stand back up again and rise to new heights.

This passage, part of the Daf Yomi cycle for the same week as Parashat Tazria-Metzora, illustrates this hope for redemption. In Makkot 24b, Rabbi Akiva sees hope in the Temple’s ruins, proving restoration will follow, mirroring redemption in Leviticus’s rituals and Israel’s history.

Makkot 24b

Hebrew/Aramaic Text:

תָּנוּ רַבָּנָן: פַּעַם אַחַת הָיוּ עוֹלִים לִירוּשָׁלַיִם, רַבִּי גַּמְלִיאֵל, רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן עֲזַרְיָה, רַבִּי יְהוֹשֻׁעַ וְרַבִּי עֲקִיבָא, וּמָצְאוּ שׁוּעָל שֶׁיָּצָא מִבֵּית קָדְשֵׁי הַקֳּדָשִׁים. הִתְחִילוּ הֵן בּוֹכִים וְרַבִּי עֲקִיבָא מְשַׂחֵק. אָמְרוּ לוֹ: מִפְּנֵי מָה אַתָּה מְשַׂחֵק? אָמַר לָהֶם: מִפְּנֵי מָה אַתֶּם בּוֹכִים? אָמְרוּ לוֹ: מָקוֹם שֶׁכָּתוּב בּוֹ (בְּמִדְבָּר א, נא) “וְהַזָּר הַקָּרֵב יוּמָת”, וְעַכְשָׁיו שׁוּעָלִים הִלְּכוּ בּוֹ, וְלֹא נִבְכֶּה? אָמַר לָהֶם: לְכָךְ אֲנִי מְשַׂחֵק, דִּכְתִיב (יְשַׁעְיָהוּ ח, ב) “וְאָעִידָה לִּי עֵדִים נֶאֱמָנִים אֵת אוּרִיָּה הַכֹּהֵן וְאֵת זְכַרְיָה בֶּן יְבֶרֶכְיָהוּ”. וְכִי מָה עִנְיָן אוּרִיָּה אֵצֶל זְכַרְיָה? אוּרִיָּה בָּרִאשׁוֹן וּזְכַרְיָה בָּאַחֲרוֹן! אֶלָּא מְלַמֵּד שֶׁתְּלוּיָה נְבוּאַת זְכַרְיָה בִּנְבוּאַת אוּרִיָּה. בְּאוּרִיָּה כְּתִיב (מִיכָה ג, יב) “לָכֵן בִּגְלַלְכֶם צִיּוֹן שָׂדֶה תֵחָרֵשׁ וִירוּשָׁלַיִם עִיִּין תִּהְיֶה וְהַר הַבַּיִת לְבָמוֹת יָעַר”. בִּזְכַרְיָה כְּתִיב (זְכַרְיָה ח, ד) “עוֹד יֵשְׁבוּ זְקֵנִים וּזְקֵנוֹת בִּרְחֹבוֹת יְרוּשָׁלָיִם”. עַד שֶׁלֹּא נִתְקַיְּמָה נְבוּאַת אוּרִיָּה, הָיִיתִי מִתְיָרֵא שֶׁמָּא לֹא תִּתְקַיֵּם נְבוּאַת זְכַרְיָה. עַכְשָׁיו שֶׁנִּתְקַיְּמָה נְבוּאַת אוּרִיָּה, בְּיָדוּעַ שֶׁתִּתְקַיֵּם נְבוּאַת זְכַרְיָה. אָמְרוּ לוֹ: עֲקִיבָא, נִחַמְתָּנוּ! עֲקִיבָא, נִחַמְתָּנוּ!

English Translation:

Our Rabbis taught: Once, Rabbi Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, Rabbi Yehoshua, and Rabbi Akiva were ascending to Jerusalem, and they found a fox emerging from the site of the Holy of Holies. They began to weep, but Rabbi Akiva was laughing. They said to him, “Why are you laughing?” He said to them, “Why are you weeping?” They said to him, “The place about which it is written (Numbers 1:51), ‘The stranger who approaches shall be put to death,’ and now foxes walk through it—should we not weep?” He said to them, “That is why I am laughing, for it is written (Isaiah 8:2), ‘And I took for myself faithful witnesses, Uriah the priest and Zechariah son of Jeberechiah.’ Now, what connection does Uriah have with Zechariah? Uriah lived during the First Temple period, and Zechariah during the Second Temple period! Rather, it teaches that Zechariah’s prophecy is dependent on Uriah’s prophecy. In Uriah’s prophecy, it is written (Micah 3:12), ‘Therefore, because of you, Zion shall be plowed as a field, and Jerusalem shall become heaps of ruins, and the Temple Mount as forested heights.’ In Zechariah’s prophecy, it is written (Zechariah 8:4), ‘Old men and old women shall yet again sit in the streets of Jerusalem.’ As long as Uriah’s prophecy had not been fulfilled, I feared that Zechariah’s prophecy might not be fulfilled. Now that Uriah’s prophecy has been fulfilled, it is certain that Zechariah’s prophecy will be fulfilled.” They said to him, “Akiva, you have comforted us! Akiva, you have comforted us!”

Akiba has comforted us with his  cosmically cheerful confidence – despite everything – that the arc of our history, and with that human history, bends upward in the direction of Heaven.