Houses and Holiness

I've been keenly aware that I haven't posted anything in a while. I'd like simply to say that I have been busy, but that is all too common of an excuse. This afternoon, though, I have made a little time to post. Hopefully, it will continue more regularly in the near future. Besides being busy - I'll get to that in a minute - it's also harder to motivate myself to write when I give thought to the weekly parashah. A few weeks ago we began reading Vayikra, the book of Leviticus. If you know anything about Torah, you probably know that Leviticus is filled with sacrificial laws, ones that often seem far removed from a modern Jewish life.

I knew this week's Torah portion was Metzora, typically the second half of a double portion with Tazria. But this being a leap year in the Jewish calendar, it gets a week all to itself. In the midst of the Torah portion are the laws that tell you how to deal with an eruptive plague in your house (Lev. 14:34). The text tells us that if a plague breaks out in our house, the owner is instructed to go to the priest who will examine the house. After examining it, the priest will leave it alone for a week and return to see if the plague has spread. If it has spread, then the affected stones will be removed, replaced, and plaster will be added. This gets repeated again if the plague has spread, hopefully not resulting in needing to tear down the house. Ultimately, when the plague has been overcome, a sacrifice is offered. It involves the use of two birds, one that is sacrificed and a second that is set free.

So, how could all of this possibly be relevant? Well, my house is on the market as I prepare to leave Minneapolis and begin my tenure in Portland, Maine. There is a part of me, in reading the laws about a potentially afflicted house, that makes me cringe. Fortunately, my house is in great shape, passed the Truth in Housing inspection (not by a priest, but by a certified inspector!), and will make a lovely home for its next owner (sooner rather than later, I hope). On the other hand, the text gives me a sense of hope. There were systems in place as far back as before our arrival in the Promised Land to make sure that our houses were more than just structures, but homes that are defined by holiness. My house has certainly been that - a home, a holy place, a mikdash m'at, a miniature sanctuary. I hope it will soon be that for its next resident, too.