Metzora: On neglecting morals, ritual obligations Facebook Twitter Email SMS WhatsApp Share By J. Correspondent | April 18, 1997 Sign up for Weekday J and get the latest on what's happening in the Jewish Bay Area. Metzorah Leviticus 14:1-15:33 Malachi 3:4-24 The man God called "my messenger" (Malachi) experienced a disquieting vision. The people in his vision said, "It is pointless to serve God" (Malachi 3:14). They considered worship a waste of time. Maybe something that you might do, if you have a penchant for that sort of thing. At best, a sort of harmless hobby. At worst, well, a burden. And they did not seem to notice anything unusual happening. They saw nothing like, say, clouds gathering for Noah's flood. Even if the rituals seemed pointless, the people in his vision followed them pretty well. As well as they had to. But they did not get any joy out of their religious observances. They felt sorry for themselves, whining, "What profit have we gained for keeping His obligations? We have walked around mournfully because of God!" (3:14). Secretly, maybe not so secretly, they envied scoffers and criminals. After all, some people scorn prayer and ritual and even human decency, "and get away with it" (3:15). Back then, decent people enjoyed stories about brave outlaws. They did not feel impending doom. They did not smell fire and brimstone. Nothing like the overthrow of Sodom and Gomorrah. Even so, these people did not become frank wrongdoers. They upheld basic standards of decency most of the time. Some of the people indulged in a little witchcraft or occasional adultery or a few false oaths; some of them, well, if you worked for them, you could not count on getting paid on time, or getting your full salary. Apart from that, they would deal with you honestly, reliably, unless you were really not in an equal position with them, like one of those widows, or orphans, or an immigrant (3:5). Otherwise, they would not take advantage of you, although they might stint on their ritual payments to support the Kohen (3:9). And these folks, basically decent but for a few opportunistic shortcomings, thought of themselves as living stable lives, in stable times. They did not perceive approaching cataclysms, upheavals in their future like the 10 plagues of Egypt. Just more normalcy. But in the Messenger's vision, that normalcy would not last. The day would come when all would burn, or wash away, like the cities of the Plain in fire and brimstone, like the antediluvian world in the great Flood, like Pharaoh's army in the waters of the sea. A few God-fearing people would deserve to escape this cleansing destruction (3:16). Some others might take advantage of the divine offer, "Turn to me, and I will return to you" (3:8). And, before that terrible day, God would send us Elijah the prophet, to give us one more chance to turn our hearts, some to follow the example of their pious parents, others of their newly faithful children (3:23-24). Now, some people say that mystically, mysteriously, absolute justice reigns in this world, despite all appearances. They say that you can see the consequences of your own actions in the working out of your fate. Others, looking at the distress of the seemingly innocent, assert that "there is no reward in this world." Religious thinkers, perceiving injustice, declare this world an illusion and locate true justice elsewhere, perhaps in a future world, perhaps on another plane of existence. Secular thinkers, perceiving injustice, declare the universe uncaring and consider justice an artificial construct, a fairy tale. Malachi, in his disturbing vision, saw another pattern of justice. When people neglect their ritual and moral obligations, the situation continues and persists as if it could last indefinitely. And then one day, "the great and terrible day of the Lord" (3:23), the dam breaks, the forces of restraint give out and the evil society washes away. Which explains, I think, why we read the vision of Malachi on the Shabbat before Passover, recalling when Egypt experienced its "great and terrible day." And why, I think, we call this Shabbat "the great." And why, finally, we anticipate a visit from Elijah the prophet at the seder: not to drink the wine but "to turn the heart of parents to children and the heart of children to parents" (3:24). J. Correspondent Also On J. Bay Area Israeli professors at UC Berkeley reflect on a tumultuous year Books ‘The Scream’ exposes Israeli pain through poetry, art, prose Local Voice One year after Oct. 7, how do we maintain Zionist unity? Art Local tattoo artists offer Oct. 7 survivors ‘healing ink’ Subscribe to our Newsletter I would like to receive the following newsletters: Weekday J From Our Sponsors (helps fund our journalism) Your Sunday J Holiday Bytes