Torah reading: Leviticus chapters 14 and 15.
Haftarah reading: Second Kings 7: 3-20.
This week's Torah reading continues to lay out the Biblical laws regarding "leprosy": how it was diagnosed, how those afflicted with leprosy were to be treated and the offerings that must be made when a leprosy sufferer was cured. In the Haftarah, we see a story featuring some unlikely heroes -- four men with leprosy who help to save Samaria's people from utter starvation. I'll begin by trying to shed some light on the leprosy laws and then take a look at the Haftarah, finally drawing some conclusions for our lives today.
1) Leprosy in Leviticus
Of all the Jewish laws, I think most people find the ones regarding leprosy the hardest to understand -- particularly when viewed from a modern scientific mindset. Certainly I did. It doesn't help that (according to various online sources) we really have no clue what affliction the word "leprosy" refers to; all we know for sure is that it's probably not the modern disease we call by that name, since the Bible makes no mention of its most dramatic symptoms (loss of sensation, fingers and toes falling off, and so on.) Most commentators seem to think Biblical "leprosy" was some sort of contagious fungal or bacterial infection.
However, there seems to be widespread agreement about leprosy's significance. As the Jewish Encyclopedia states: "There is much reason to believe that the segregation of lepers was regarded…more in the light of a religious ceremonial than as a hygienic restriction. Ẓara'at ["leprosy"] was looked upon as a disease inflicted by God upon those who transgressed His laws, a divine visitation for evil thoughts and evil deeds. Every leper mentioned in the Old Testament was afflicted because of some transgression." In this model, leprosy was merely the outward manifestation of an inward spiritual sickness; in fact, houses and clothing could also become "contaminated" and display the symptoms. Lepers were required to remain apart from others, not out of concern for disease transmission, but to avoid moral contamination of society. Those who truly repented and performed the necessary rituals would be cleansed of their leprosy. Those that were never cured were obviously morally incorrigible. Later, leprosy came to be specifically seen as a punishment for "lashon hara" -- slander, libel and other harmful gossip.
It's tempting to dismiss all this as primitive and unscientific. However, given that no culture of the time had an accurate theory of contagion and disease, there are some things to be said for what I'll call the Moral Contagion Model. Firstly, it does recognize that quarantine is an effective way to prevent contagion -- even if the causal mechanism is a bit fuzzy. Secondly, it makes some fairly sophisticated medical observations regarding the type and extent of various infections: not every skin rash was thought to be leprous, only ones displaying precise characteristics. Finally, there might be something to the idea of "moral contagion", particularly regarding gossip -- generally, I'm never tempted to gossip unless I'm in a group situation where others are already gossiping. (This is pure speculation, but I wonder if this might also reflect a causal link between gossiping and physical contagion: generally, if you're close enough to gossip with someone, you're close enough to touch them or cough on them!)
It's also hard not to sympathize with the Biblical writers, who clearly yearned for a more transparent and just world. Imagine a society where it was clear, with a single glance, who was guilty and who was innocent; who was truthful and who would spread malicious slander. Where people would instantly know they'd done wrong and would eagerly repent and undertake the rituals necessary for spiritual and physical healing. Where the hopelessly evil could be easily identified and permanently expelled from society. What a simple, appealing, even utopian vision! (One can't help but feel some regret that neither reality nor human nature is so obliging.)
2) The Outcasts Save the Day
By the time of 2 Kings, it's fairly clear that the Moral Contagion Model isn't working. The United Monarchy of David is a distant memory, long since fractured through civil war. Samaria, the northern kingdom, has been ruled by a series of corrupt, warlike kings who care more for international intrigue than peace or justice. (So why don't they get leprosy, then?) This leads to disaster in Chapter 6 and 7; Samaria is besieged twice by the army of Aram. The first time, God blinds the invaders and Elisha the prophet cleverly leads them into a trap. However, the army soon returns and Samaria begins to run out of food. The situation becomes so dire that a donkey's head and doves' dung are valuable commodities and -- to the king's horror -- two women turn to cannibalism, eating their sons to survive. Enraged at God's inaction, the king rushes to Elisha's house, only to be told that "about this time tomorrow, 12 pounds of the finest flour will sell for a shekel and 24 pounds of barley for a shekel at the gate of Samaria." But how can this possibly happen?
The story then turns from God's prophet and the King of Israel to…four nobodies. Lepers sitting at the entrance to the city gate. Presumably in better times they would have begged for food or scavenged, but now there's nothing to be had even for the wealthy, and the lepers are starving. In desperation they decide to go to the Arameans' camp and surrender; if the invading army kills them, well, at least it's a quick death, and they're certain to die anyway if they remain in the gate or enter the besieged city.
They arrive at the Aramean camp, only to find…nobody at all. Struck by a mysterious panic, the entire invading army has gotten up and fled in the night, leaving behind tents, food, clothing and even, ironically, their most effective means of transportation (horses and donkeys). Delighted, the four lepers rush into the nearest tent, begin feasting and even indulge in some looting.
However, conscience quickly catches up to them. "What we're doing is not right," they exclaim. "This is a day of good news, and we're keeping it to ourselves!" Hurriedly, they run back to the city and tell the gatekeepers, who are rather reluctant to believe their story at first. Soon, however, some Israelite scouts (nearly as desperate as the lepers were) arrive at the camp and confirm that the Arameans have vanished. The siege is lifted, the "floodgates of heaven" are opened and Elisha's prophecy is fulfilled.
Who are the heroes of this story? Not the King of Israel, not the gatekeepers or the Israelite army or even Elisha the prophet. No, it's the nobodies, the outcasts, the "morally incorrigible": those who are so desperate that they have nothing to lose. And far from keeping their discovery to themselves, after a moment of giddy celebration, they run back to the city to give them the "good news." The ones thought to be slanderous, untrustworthy liars bring Samaria's starving citizens the truthful report that saves their lives. What a reversal!
3) …And "Lepers" in the 21st Century?
Today, of course, we no longer believe that leprosy (or any other infectious disease) is a divine punishment for bad behaviour. Quarantine may still be a useful method of preventing highly contagious diseases from spreading, but there's no suggestion of blame or moral contamination. However, I wonder if we've really come so far as we think. Are there still "lepers" in our society?
One category that immediately springs to mind are the homeless. "Street people" are ignored, shunned, and treated as invisible. There's an odd societal sense of possible contagion -- as though interacting with a homeless person, even making eye contact, could somehow put one at risk of "becoming like them". Most people tend to unconsciously assume that the homeless somehow deserve their fate. They "made bad choices", "hung out with the wrong crowd". They're "lazy". They're "druggies". They "don't really want to get off the streets", because if they did, they wouldn't be there.
Sadly, the Moral Contagion Model is alive and well when it comes to economic "illness". Perhaps it's because we, ourselves, don't want to admit that we're susceptible to financial tragedy -- just like the ancient Israelites undoubtedly wanted to believe that "good people can't get leprosy." "That could never happen to me," we think. It's a simple, tidy way to view the world. It's reassuring on a personal level -- at least, until tragedy strikes. But it doesn't fit with the facts.
I challenge everyone here to identify and rethink our own Moral Contagion Models. What sort of people do I dismiss as worthless, evil, pathetic, or just beneath my notice? When do I say, when confronted with a victim of crime, disease, childhood neglect, exploitation, economic disaster, or the like, "They asked for it?" Who do I avoid, shun, or ignore, for fear their situation might "rub off" on me?
Who are the lepers in my worldview?