A Mandatory Remodel

Today I heard a fantastic podcast which contained many insights, but one of the key ones I am taking away is that my soul has already learned and knows Torah.  Therefore, Torah study is not just an intellectual exercise but a literal journey in self-(re)discovery - a discovery of the essence of the soul.  I suppose in some ways it sounds selfish - of course, I also study to draw closer to H' - but perhaps this constant self-discovery is why I love Torah study so much and find it so pleasurable.

So pleasurable, in fact, that there is something deeply insightful and downright humorous (and, by the way, I'm not saying to be humored is at all an appropriate reaction), to the nonchalantness with which the Torah describes tza'raat of the house.  Basically, just like with clothing, if deep red or deep green marks are found in the walls, all the possessions have to be moved outside for a seven-day quarantine, essentially no one (perhaps save the kohen) can enter without becoming immediately contaminated, and if the tza'raat has spread, the offending stones are removed and the entire house scraped, with both the stones and the "dust" being moved to a tamei place outside the city.  After the quarantine, the house is then re-inspected and if it has not spread, the stones are replaced and re-plastered.  But if the tza'raat appears again, the entire house is simply demolished.

Without being intentionally facetious, having moved many times and having completed some medium-scale renovations, the demands put on the homeowner during the process seem astronomical.  How easy is it to move everything from the house and find another place to live, much less find the financing and labor to remove entire stones from houses (without destroying the entire house) and then replacing and re-sealing those stones?  I once got an estimate to replace a single wall in my small home that made my eyeballs pop out.  How were people in Torah times able to regularly afford such an undertaking?  

And more gravely, the utter casualness of the Torah in commanding that if the tza'raat reappears, the entire house - including all its framing - must be completely destroyed - is mind-boggling.  How was anyone supposed to re-build?  Was there tza'raat insurance?  What was the family supposed to do in the meantime - what neighbor would want to house such a family whose house had to be destroyed due to their misdeeds?

Two thoughts come to mind.  The first was assisted by a commentary in my Torah, which is that all of this - up to and including the complete destruction of a house - comes to teach us that every material possession, even our very homes (which in modern times are so completely tied to an individual's self-identity and notion of self-worth) - are not our own.  They can be "given" (or at least the means to buy or purchase such a home can) or taken in an instant.  While certainly a house should keep us safe and comfortable, they - like our bodies - merely house the soul as it goes about its divine work.

The second - and this is complete conjecture based upon nothing overt in the Torah, at least not in this parasha - is that "G-d provides the remedy before even providing catastrophe."  My anxious human brain reads this aliyah and can only think, in shocked bemusement - what if, what if, what if?  If my house has tza'raat, how will I ever get my possessions out?  Where will my family stay?  How will I afford and endure an intense "renovation"?  And if it must be destroyed, how will I find the money and people to re-build and where will I live in the meantime?

One gets the sense that, as with many other parts of Torah, the utter straightforwardness with which these verses are delivered points to a much higher level of faith that those who lived in the times of potential tza'raat, even tza'raat of the house, had.  And here's where the conjecture comes in - that if G-d was to require something as drastic as the home's entire destruction, then surely G-d will provide the way to move forward.  Don't forget that even as H' kicked Adam and Eve out of the Garden, G-d clothed them and essentially ensured their continued survival.  The same type of feeling emerges here.

Perhaps such comfort is provided to those who not only have such faith but, more importantly, those who engaged in the repentance and return process at all, immediately bringing in the kohen into the home even though it could potentially lead to its destruction.  And that even taking this small step is a surefire way of moving forward, growing, and continuing to live a holy life - with G-d protecting and blessing us the whole way.    

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