Spring is springing in the beautiful Bay Area, and we were blessed with some rain, so grass and plants are especially green and flowers are bright with color. And on Monday evening, we commemorated Yom HaShoah with a beautiful ceremony of memory, lament and reflection on the terrible events of the Holocaust. We shared memories and stories from family and other loved ones who were murdered and others who survived – not only about their deaths but also about their lives.
This coexistence can be both beautiful and confusing. As a child, I used to wonder if there was sunshine and green grass in the concentration camps. When I eventually visited some of them, I of course confirmed that there was. The camps existed on the same planet where we live, and so yes, the sun came up there too.
The Torah reading this week, Tazria-Metzora, focuses at length on the skin disease usually translated as leprosy. Rachel Scheinerman writes, “tzaraat is not really a disease in the medical sense, though it produces physical symptoms. Instead, it’s a kind of spiritual ailment with physical manifestations. Tzaraat is hard to understand in part because there is no precise modern parallel. But arguably the best one we have is the experience of loss and grief.”
As in the Torah’s description of how to address tzaraat [usually translated as leprosy], in which people are isolated from their community during the course of the disease, when a loved one dies, we may feel we are out of step with the rest of the world, or that beauty and other parts of life which feel positive seem out of step with our grief. All of that is okay, but it would also be helpful if our “regular” lives left more room for the understanding that grief of all kinds is regular too.
I look forward to seeing many of you this Friday for Shabbat Together. As we celebrate beauty and all that we are grateful for, let’s allow ourselves and others to acknowledge the fullness of the range of our experiences, sometimes talking about the hard parts, or just knowing that we do not have to carry them alone.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Julie Saxe-Taller
Tazria-Metzora (Leviticus 12:1-15:33) Torah Reading April 18, 2026: Room for the Range of Our Experiences
April 15, 2026 by Rabbi Julie Saxe-Taller • D'var Torah
Spring is springing in the beautiful Bay Area, and we were blessed with some rain, so grass and plants are especially green and flowers are bright with color. And on Monday evening, we commemorated Yom HaShoah with a beautiful ceremony of memory, lament and reflection on the terrible events of the Holocaust. We shared memories and stories from family and other loved ones who were murdered and others who survived – not only about their deaths but also about their lives.
This coexistence can be both beautiful and confusing. As a child, I used to wonder if there was sunshine and green grass in the concentration camps. When I eventually visited some of them, I of course confirmed that there was. The camps existed on the same planet where we live, and so yes, the sun came up there too.
The Torah reading this week, Tazria-Metzora, focuses at length on the skin disease usually translated as leprosy. Rachel Scheinerman writes, “tzaraat is not really a disease in the medical sense, though it produces physical symptoms. Instead, it’s a kind of spiritual ailment with physical manifestations. Tzaraat is hard to understand in part because there is no precise modern parallel. But arguably the best one we have is the experience of loss and grief.”
As in the Torah’s description of how to address tzaraat [usually translated as leprosy], in which people are isolated from their community during the course of the disease, when a loved one dies, we may feel we are out of step with the rest of the world, or that beauty and other parts of life which feel positive seem out of step with our grief. All of that is okay, but it would also be helpful if our “regular” lives left more room for the understanding that grief of all kinds is regular too.
I look forward to seeing many of you this Friday for Shabbat Together. As we celebrate beauty and all that we are grateful for, let’s allow ourselves and others to acknowledge the fullness of the range of our experiences, sometimes talking about the hard parts, or just knowing that we do not have to carry them alone.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Julie Saxe-Taller