Parshat Metzora continues the Torah’s discussion of tzaraat ha’guf, an infection of the body commonly understood to be leprosy, that began in last week’s parsha, Tazria. Our parsha describes a series of purification rituals for one suffering from that form of tzaraat, as well as from tzaraat ha’beged (an affliction of garments) and tzaraat ha’bayit (an affliction of homes). It also describes the restrictions that apply to the metzora (the afflicted one) in the week between being declared free of tzaraat and undergoing the final purification ritual. After an initial purification ritual, the metzora must bathe, shave off all hair, and remain outside of his tent for seven days before he can be fully reintegrated into the community.

In these restrictions, we see that the metzora is utterly alone in his suffering. While he can re-enter the camp once his condition has cleared up, his status as a metzora prohibits him from having human connection. The Gemara in Chullin 141a reads the line “v’yashav mi’chutz l’ohalo—and he shall dwell outside of his tent” (Vayikra 14:8), as indication that he cannot even participate in family life. In almost all ways, recovering from tzaraat is a lonely experience.

There is one group of people who are not only permitted, but in fact required, to come into contact with the metzora: the priests. When a metzora recovers from tzaraat and is ready to begin the purification process, it is the priests who are responsible for going outside of the camp to confirm that the metzora is healed and then to perform the initial purification ritual, a korban, sacrifice. It seems odd that, in a case where someone is prohibited from living in their own home and having contact with their family due to tumah (impurity), that the priests would then be in frequent, close contact with them. After all, so much of the focus of the book of Vayikra is avoiding tumah, including the laws for the priests in particular.

What’s even more strange is that in last week’s parsha, Tazria, we learned that Aharon, the high priest himself, can examine and diagnose a potential case of tzaraat. If, like me, you’ve spent the last six months learning hilchot aveilut—the laws of mourning—you might be confused how it is that the high priest can be in close contact with someone suspected of carrying tumat tzaraat, when he is otherwise subject to extreme restrictions meant to avoid the possibility of contracting tumah.

In parshat Emor, Hashem tells Moshe the following:

V’hacohen ha’gadol me’ekhav asher yutzak al rosh’o shemen ha’mishkha  u’milei et yado lilbosh et ha’bigadim et ro’sho lo yifra, u bi’gadav lo yifram; v’al nafshot met lo yavo l’aviv ul’emo lo yitamah.

“The priest who is greater than his fellows, on whose head the anointing oil has been poured and who has been ordained to wear the priestly garments, he shall not bare his head or tear his garments/he shall not come into where there is any dead body; he shall not become impure even for his father and mother” (Vayikra 21:10-11).

The prohibition against the high priest’s contracting tumat met—the impurity contracted through contact with a dead body—is so strong that he is not even allowed to fulfill the mitzvah of burying his dead parents. How can it be, then, that he is permitted to have contact with the metzora?

The Gemara in Moed Katan expands upon this unexpected connection between the high priest and the metzora in its discussion of whether certain categories of individuals—mourners, those afflicted with tzaraat, and those who are ostracized from the community—are obligated in the positive mitzvah of rejoicing on the festivals. Rava brings the following:

Rava said: “Come and hear [from a Beraita]: ‘And the metzora’—this comes to include the high priest. And the status of the high priest year-round is like that of everyone else during the festival, as  we learned in a mishna: The high priest sacrifices while in aninut but does not eat. Learn from this that the metzora observes all the restrictions during the festival” (Moed Katan 14b).

We learn that the high priest is still responsible for offering sacrifices during his period of aninut, the acute stage of mourning between death and burial during which the deceased’s relatives are prohibited from observing mitzvot. In contrast to the metzora, who must withdraw from community life entirely to fulfill his personal obligations, the high priest instead must sublimate his filial obligations in order to serve the community. At the intersection of these undoubtedly painful and alienating experiences, the high priest and the metzora are able to connect with each other across their differences.

Weaving together themes of difference and connection, parshat Metzora reflects the opportunities and challenges of spiritual leadership. The high priest’s obligations to the community take precedence over his own personal, individual obligations. With all of its power and prestige, the high priest’s position is a profoundly lonely one. While he has the honor of serving his community in the highest position of leadership, that honor carries with it a strict prohibition against burying his own parents, a final act of love and devotion that represents an important lifecycle touchstone for the rest of the Jewish people. In this way, his role as a community leader causes him to be alienated from his family and his wider community, paralleling the experience of the metzora who can only observe family and community life during his seven-day waiting period.

We could read the high priest’s dilemma as an example for modern spiritual leaders of the challenges of balancing family and communal obligations. On the other hand, the high priest’s isolation also creates opportunities to connect with marginalized figures like the metzora, who share the experience of being outside of the community in some way. While the burden of leadership can run the risk of alienating one from those closest to them, it also offers the possibility of bringing comfort and solidarity to those who may need it most.