For Whom the Bells Toll – Parashat Tazria-Metzora
The airplane rocked and bounced. Below us rested a thick layer of clouds, and above us stretched clear, pure skies. Occasionally, the captain would again ask passengers to return to their seats and fasten their safety belts. I was on my way to New York from Israel, returning from my niece's bat mitzvah celebrations that were held in the heart of a divided and painful land.
The Torah portions of Tazria and Metzora are read as a single portion in non-leap years and deal mostly with the disease of leprosy. Despite being portions that deal with impurity and illness, Parashat Tazria opens with the purification ritual for a woman who has given birth, an event of renewal and birth. A surprising opening that suggests perhaps within the heart of illness, difficulty, and pain, the key to renewal can also be found.
The fear and concern of contagion leads to the leper being removed from society. This is despite the fact that throughout generations, Jewish sages understood it not only as a physical disease but as evidence of a spiritual flaw. According to their understanding, seven afflictions led to leprosy: defamation, bloodshed, false oaths, sexual immorality, arrogance, theft, and jealousy. Perhaps this is why the Torah suggests it be healed by the High Priest, a spiritual man, rather than a physician.
The Talmud answers us on the question of whether the sorrow and distress brought by the disease are also a call for personal and collective reflection and overcoming fear of any kind, sending us to look for the Messiah: "And where does he sit? At the entrance of the city. And what is his sign? He sits among the poor who suffer from illnesses, all of them untying and retying their bandages at once, while he unties one and ties one. He says: 'Perhaps I will be needed and I should not be delayed.'" The savior, according to the Talmud, will be revealed through his actions. Unlike others around him, he treats only one wound at a time so as to be ready for the moment when he is called to return and save his people.
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In contrast, and perhaps inspired by them, S.Y. Agnon in his story "Shira" finds the voice calling for renewal and transformation not in the leper himself but in the bell hanging on his neck, testifing and warning about the sick person. "More sad and terrible than it is the bell that rings and warns people to stay away from the leper. A great artist was that painter who saw in the bell as if all the afflictions came from it," writes Agnon about the painting "The Fight Between Carnival and Lent" painted by the Flemish painter Pieter Bruegel the Elder in 1559. The painting depicts a bustling Flemish town at the moment between the end of the forty days of fasting before Easter and the beginning of the holiday carnival. Bruegel the Elder depicts the life of the city with great vitality and precision and also paints in great detail the lepers and the sick sitting at its gates. The sound of the bell, according to Agnon, is not under our control and therefore calls us to action, asks us to overcome fear and rejection, to look around us and within us in order to bring about change.
This is the same bell about which John Donne, an English poet and scholar of the 16th century, wrote in his essay "Meditations," which inspired the title of Ernest Hemingway's book "For Whom the Bell Tolls," which he wrote about the Spanish Civil War: "Perhaps the man for whom the bell tolls is so sick that he does not understand that the bell is for him. And perhaps I too think I am healthier than I really am, and those around me, who know my condition better than I do, are the ones who brought about the ringing of the bell – and I am not aware of it at all… Therefore do not ask for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for you."
These are the same town bells about which Yehuda Amichai listens to in his poem "Jerusalem”, itself a city that has struggled all its life between carnival and lent: "And in the heart of the Old City / everything is compressed together, not too intense: / calls and shouts and the tumult of commerce / church bells and the voices of muezzins / like captains commanding their ship / to sink pleasantly."
These are the bells about which Leah Goldberg dreams and longs for as she looks into the night sky: "The stars are very beautiful – small bells on the necks of the firmament."
And perhaps most of all, these are the bells of the hour, calling for us with their wise sound and precise heart to turn the affliction that has clung to us and our country into the pleasure we dreamed of. Calling us to gift again the infant, whom we birthed and raised with such great effort, with a great rectification.
We approached landing, the skyline of the city looked at me from my left, behind it, far on the eastern horizon a blue and white flag descended with a siren to half-mast, longing for the bells of independence.
Written by Ran Oron is an Israeli architect who has lived in NY for over 20 years.
