In an interview with Stephen Colbert, Billy Crystal has joked that his bar mitzvah portion was the “leper” parsha. Despite what Billy Crystal believed about his Bar Mitzvah portion, Tazria-Metzora does not talk about leprosy. Though frequently translated that way, tzora’as is a spiritual affliction that doesn’t cause disfigurement, muscle weakness, or any of the other advanced symptoms of leprosy. Nonetheless, they both share white discoloration of the body, which left untreated do become an embarrassing marking that is difficult to hide. Needless to say, these lead to shame and, for tzora’as, mandatory isolation. 

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But where embarrassment and ostracization are terrible and damaging for a medical condition, the affliction of tzora’as, the Torah instructs, is actually a good thing. 

The Talmud lists many causes of tzora’as, but the most prominent one is lashon hara (usually translated as gossip, but really means using your speech to defame anyone). But the root of someone speaking lashon hara is ultimately arrogance. Specifically putting others down to prop yourself up. It is because of this arrogance that this spiritual affliction comes to knock someone down a few pegs. 

The person with tzora’as skin-eruption must tear his garments, his hair must grow long, and he must cover his head down to his upper lip and call out tamei tamei. (Vayikra 13:45)

So the afflicted goes through this ritual which seems rather dehumanizing as they must relocate outside the camp into isolation. But as they are doing this they have to announce “tamei tamei!” Tamei is usually translated as impure, unclean, or defiled. Perhaps the best translation without delving into the nature of tumah would be “spiritual affliction.” But where a physical disease may or may not be an individual fault, a spiritual affliction more likely is. 

Does shaming someone publicly work? I don’t know. I don’t think so, and Judaism actually has a strict prohibition of publicly embarrassing anyone. That is on an individual level. You don’t have the right to take justice into your own hands and embarrass someone. 

But what if this pronouncement of “tamei tamei” isn’t about shame at all? What if it is actually a cry for help? 

According to Rabbi Dovid Kaplan, the reason the person must announce their affliction is so others will pray for their healing.

It’s quite common for people to want to keep their ailments private. Your health is private and no one wants to feel pity or be treated as less than. We may not want to worry others and we certainly don’t want to open ourselves up to discrimination. And we may want to avoid becoming like people on the other end of the spectrum who make their ailments their whole identity, who demand special treatment. 

But at a certain point we all need help. I once worked in a great restaurant and their policy was, “Ask for help before it’s too late.” The other servers viewed your success as their success because happy customers come back. Then I worked at a bad restaurant and if you asked for help there, the other servers told the management you couldn’t handle your section and used it to take your tables away. 

For many of us, we feel like we’re working at the second restaurant. Our pride insists we maintain the facade that we’ve got everything under control and we’re afraid to ask for help. That’s arrogance. 

One of the most impactful ways to connect with other people is to expose your  vulnerabilities. It’s humanizing. It’s why heroes in movies need a flaw to overcome. Our way to connect with the character is through their struggles. 

So when the person with tzora’as is forced to declare, “tamei tamei” it’s really a cry for help. 

I recently got a message on Facebook. It was a group chat with a bunch of people from college. People I hadn’t spoken to in over a decade. The person composing the message was letting us know a classmate, Kristi had passed away after a struggle with cancer. Kristi? She roomed with me in a house one summer! She and I stumbled home drunk from a midnight play making jokes. I didn’t even know she was fighting cancer! 

Would my prayers have cured her? I doubt it. But they would have helped in some way. I would have at least liked to have talked to her. Let her know she was one of the few people at my college who actually got my jokes. Let her know how much respect I had for her talents. I wish I had known about her pain and I wish I could have done something before it was too late.

A Rabbi I know likes to say that tzora’as was actually closer to cancer than it was to leprosy. The way cells replicate themselves in a mutated way, and you have to get an expert to assess whether the growth is benign or malignant. But where cancer is nothing to be ashamed of, tzora’as is specifically about lowering yourself so you can reintegrate into society in a more sensitive and connected way. 

In a Torah society where the nation was worthy of a divine intervention (even difficult ones), mistakes and falling short weren’t to be stigmatized. You suffered the consequences, but then you were ruled tahor (pure, healed, clean), and you brought an offering to Hashem. Then you were back with a deeper understanding of who you were. It’s unfortunate that today, we live in a world where seeking help for things like mental health, financial support, infertility, or learning disabilities do have a stigma. That making mistakes are viewed as a sign of incompetence instead of a chance for growth and redemption. That’s the real shame. Because there is no shame in asking for help and letting people know you’re human.