This week’s double Torah portion, Tazria–Metzora, seems far removed from modern Israeli life. It deals with ancient concepts of ritual purity, skin conditions, and quarantine outside the camp. And yet, read alongside Israel’s Independence Day, it offers a striking reflection on our national journey – from exile to sovereignty, from silence to voice.

At the heart of the Torah portion is the metzora, a person afflicted with tzara’at, a condition traditionally linked to moral or spiritual imbalance – especially harmful speech, gossip, or slander. The person suffering from this affliction is sent into isolation, and while there, the Torah requires them to call out:

“Tamei, tamei!” – “Impure, impure!” (Leviticus 13:45).

Why this public declaration? Isn’t the condition visible enough? The ancient sages say it was to warn others to keep away. But on a deeper level, this strange requirement forces the afflicted person to confront their brokenness through speech – the very thing that caused the damage in the first place.

In other words, the metzora loses their voice not physically, but morally. Once, their words may have hurt others. Now, they must use their voice to confess their own vulnerability.

(credit: INGIMAGE)
(credit: INGIMAGE)
This loss of voice – and its eventual restoration – is not just personal. It echoes the national journey of the Jewish people.

A nation without a voice

For centuries, the Jewish people lived in exile, dispersed across the globe. We built communities, created learning centers, and contributed to the cultures we lived among. But we were stateless and powerless – and often voiceless.

In many countries, Jews were forbidden to hold public office or express themselves freely. In others, we were mocked, silenced, or ignored. Even in times of relative peace, we lacked agency on the world stage. Our pain went unacknowledged, our values unspoken in the broader conversation.

We were, metaphorically, outside the camp. Like the metzora, we called out – but few listened.

May 1948: The voice returns

And then, something changed.

On the 5th of Iyar, 5708 – May 14, 1948 – the Jewish voice returned. When David Ben-Gurion read the Declaration of Independence in Tel Aviv, it wasn’t just a political act. It was a cultural and spiritual turning point. After two thousand years, the Jewish people were no longer silent. We had a state, a platform, and a voice.

That voice was not just Hebrew – it was ours. For the first time in millennia, Jews were not speaking for survival. We were speaking with confidence, clarity, and vision.

In that moment, the cry of “Tamei, tamei!” was replaced by something new: a declaration of renewal. The shame and isolation of exile were being replaced by presence, dignity, and purpose.

What do we do with that voice?

But regaining a voice is only the beginning. The harder question is: What do we say with it?

The metzora doesn’t just re-enter society. They bring offerings, symbols of repair and reintegration. They must learn to speak again – not with arrogance or harm, but with humility and care.

So too with Israel. Having regained a voice, we must now ask ourselves how should we use it?

In a country as vocal as ours, speech is everywhere–on buses and billboards, in cafés and Knesset debates. But the line between meaningful speech and destructive speech remains thin. Political discourse often turns toxic. Public debate can feel like shouting matches rather than conversations.

And yet, the potential is vast. Israel is a society of speakers – of poets, prophets, journalists, educators, and soldiers. The return of Jewish sovereignty must also be the return of Jewish moral voice.

Prophetic speech: The highest form

In Jewish tradition, the highest use of speech is prophecy – not to predict the future, but to speak truth to power, to call for justice and compassion.

The prophets of Israel didn’t flatter kings or please crowds. They challenged the people to live by their ideals. They reminded us that having a land, a Temple, or power means little if we don’t use them ethically.

Israeli Independence Day (Yom HaAtzmaut) reminds us that sovereignty isn’t the end of the journey. It’s the beginning of a new challenge: Can we use our voice to build a society rooted in values?

As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks once wrote:

“To be a Jew is to be an agent of hope in a world serially threatened by despair.”

That hope must be expressed in words – in how we speak about ourselves, our country, and our future.

Healing through language

The metzora eventually returns to the camp. But only after going through a process of reflection, humility, and symbolic purification. Their healing is not just physical – it’s relational and social.

Our national journey has echoes of that path. After centuries of isolation, we have come home. But we are still in the process of healing – still figuring out how to live together, how to speak across divisions, how to shape a shared vision.

The creation of the State of Israel was a miracle of return. But what we do with it – how we speak, how we argue, how we dream–that is the ongoing challenge.

A voice worth hearing?

Yom HaAtzmaut is a celebration of independence – but it’s also a reminder of responsibility.

We are no longer silent. The world hears us. But are we saying something worth listening to?

The Torah teaches that speech shapes identity. A society that speaks with respect, creativity, and moral clarity becomes a society of vision. A society that speaks with cruelty or cynicism loses its inner compass.

Let us be a nation whose voice brings healing – not only to ourselves, but to a world desperately in need of justice and hope.

Chag Atzmaut Sameach – Happy Independence Day – may we celebrate not only our independence, but the opportunity to use our voice to shape a better future.

The writer is a rabbi and physician who lives in Ramat Poleg, Netanya. He is a co-founder of Techelet-Inspiring Judaism.