The Death and Rebirth of Compassion
Dear friends,
One of the great mysteries of our time is the ability of enormous numbers of people to shut down their own capacity to feel compassion. Compassion is a natural human feature, an automatic built-in function. And yet, through a variety of political, intellectual and educational techniques people manage to turn off that feature when it comes to certain groups, ethnicities or nationalities. My brain registers the reasons people might do this, but my heart has trouble computing such anti-human behavior.
Activists worldwide are constantly searching for ways to break through that wall of unfeeling. Yesterday I had the privilege of meeting Rabbi Ruti Baidatz, an Israeli who spent six months in a hunger strike in front of the Knesset demanding a deal to end the war and bring the hostages home. She thought a hunger strike might be a way to break through to the hearts of three or four Members of Knesset whose vote would be enough to force the government to make a deal. But their wall remained intact.
Still, moments that give birth to compassion do happen, rare though they may be. I’ve met former West Bank settlers at protests against evicting Palestinians from their homes. I know Vietnam vets who have devoted their lives to peace, and former soldiers who use their military know how to protect people from soldiers.
A kabbalistic approach to this week’s parashah offers reflection on such transformations. Our Thursday afternoon Torah study (which you’re welcome to join!) has been devoted to the commentary of Moroccan Kabbalist Ohr Hachayim, through whom we’re learning to see the simple meaning of the words of the Torah as a portal into a vast landscape of symbols, associations and dreams. He tells us, for example that when in this week’s parashah the Torah speaks of “a growth in the walls of the house,” normally understood as mold, we are really speaking about “the evil urges...that have penetrated the body.” The “house” is a person’s body, in which, sometimes a growth of bad behavior appears. What seems like a mold inspection becomes a description of the steps to take when non-compassionate behaviors appear.
The segment describes a person who notices some discoloring in the walls of his house, which he suspects are a bad growth. He calls the priest to examine it.
וְרָאָ֣ה אֶת־הַנֶּ֗גַע וְהִנֵּ֤ה הַנֶּ֙גַע֙ בְּקִירֹ֣ת הַבַּ֔יִת שְׁקַֽעֲרוּרֹת֙ יְרַקְרַקֹּ֔ת א֖וֹ אֲדַמְדַּמֹּ֑ת וּמַרְאֵיהֶ֥ן שָׁפָ֖ל מִן־הַקִּֽיר׃
“When he examines the growth in the walls of the house, he finds it consists of greenish or reddish streaks that appear to go deep into the wall.”
Ohr Hachayim’s understanding of this segment goes like this: a person is confronted with the possibility that they are plagued with bad behavior, lacking entirely in compassion. In a moment of self-reflection they ask God whether it is true. God takes a look and finds that unfeeling has settled deep into the person’s body. God observes streaks of green, indicative of transgressions of wickedness, and streaks of red, indicative of shedding blood.
In a colorful move, Ohr Hachayim takes the Torah’s word for streaks, Shek’arurot, שְׁקַֽעֲרוּרֹת, and breaks it into two words: שְׁקַֽעֲ - ארוּרֹת. Sheka means to settle deep into something. Arurot means curses. Taken together they mean that the curses that come with a lack of compassion have settled deep into the person in question.
The Torah instructs that the greenish and red bricks carrying the disease be removed, thrown outside of the camp and replaced with new, healthy ones. Ohr Hachayim writes:
“If the person so afflicted becomes aware of what is happening to him and why, well and good; if not, the priest i.e. G'd, will subject this person to sufferings. If that does not help either, He will eventually order the destruction of the house, i.e. the body which the soul in question inhabits.”
Lack of compassion, which leads to behavior filled with wickedness and bloodshed, this 19th century rabbis posits, is not normal. It is a disease that can bring about suffering, and in certain cases death. While Ohr Hachayim calls it God, it is clear to me that what he means by that curing agent is self-examination. “If you’re suffering,” the rabbis taught, “sift through your actions.” Again and again we are given opportunities to correct our behavior, to come back to balance. We have to take those opportunities to renew our compassion.
Let us make an effort to become aware of the spots in our personhood where compassion has turned into unfeeling. Let us continue to try to confront those lacking in compassion in the face of incredible suffering with their sad abnormality. And let us remind all the Jews of the words of the Talmud:
“Whoever does not have compassion for God’s creations it is well known that he is not a descendant of our father, Abraham.”
“כל מי שאינו מרחם על הבריות בידוע שאינו מזרעו של אברהם אבינו”
Shabbat shalom,
PS. I'm proud to say that The Shul was signed on a public letter that was part of the successful campaign to free Mohsen Mahdawi from his detention by ICE!
Rabbi Misha