It seems as if every type of tumah, spiritual contamination, has some form of tikkun, spiritual repair, some way to correct what has been “broken,” to fix what has been put into spiritual dysfunction – everything but tzaraas ha’bayis, a house that manifests a plague. The house must be dismantled – every component connected to the house, wood, stone, even the earth upon which it is built – must be removed. Is this not a bit extreme?
Every creation has a spiritual dimension to it or else it would cease to exist: domeim, inanimate; tzomeach, growing vegetation; chai, living creations; medaber, creatures who are able to speak – human beings. All exist as a result of the ratzon Hashem, will of G-d, which grants them existence. Otherwise, they would simply disappear. Our Sages speak about inanimate objects as if they have an aspect of life to them. The “walls” have ears. Indeed, a well-known passage in the Talmud Yoma 47a observes that Kimchis (a righteous woman) was blessed with seven sons, each of whom achieved the exemplary distinction of becoming Kohanim Gedolim. The Sages asked her, “What did you do that catalyzed the merit for such blessing?” She replied, “The walls of my house never saw my (uncovered) hair.” Apparently, walls have some sort of vision.
Horav Lazer Brody, Shlita, derives from here an insightful lesson concerning the influence of the “home” on a Jewish child’s education. Kimchis’ house never viewed anything morally inappropriate, and, therefore, seven Kohanim Gedolim were products of this home. A home that is morally pure, free of any spiritual flaw, assimilates these qualities into the “virtual” fabric of the home. In turn, the home leaves its lasting effect on its inhabitants.
The story is told concerning a certain gadol, Torah luminary, who, for many years, studied Torah in his home, employing a loud voice as he reviewed the Gemorah. After he died, the house passed hands, and it was eventually sold to a non-observant family. After a short while, the family was compelled to move out of the house. When pressed for a reason, they replied that, for some reason, they felt uncomfortable in the home. They had no idea why this was so, but, whenever they were in the house, they seemed “pressured” to leave. They had no clue concerning the source of the pressure, although they felt it to be palpable. The explanation: The house was holy, having been sanctified through the sounds of Torah which once filled its cavity. Rav Brody likened this to a forty-watt bulb which is placed in a socket made for two hundred watts of electricity. When the “juice” comes through, it explodes the bulb. It has no way of maintaining such extreme electrical pressure.
