I wanted to share something that’s been on my mind this week: a story I didn’t expect to stick with me as much as it has. I recently watched Rental Family, mostly because I’ve always been a huge Brendan Fraser fan. Seeing his career shift from those early action roles to the kind of emotional depth he’s showing now is incredible, and he really pulled me in again. Beyond the acting, though, it was the actual concept of the movie that got to me.
In Japan, there’s this real-life phenomenon where people actually “rent” families. You can hire an actor to play your spouse, your parent, or a friend at a wedding just to save face or, more heartbreakingly, just to feel less lonely. It is “connection” as a service. At first, it feels totally foreign. But the more I thought about it, the more it felt like a deeply human response to a lot of pain. In a culture where vulnerability is often hidden or mental health carries a heavy stigma, people are finding these alternative ways to cope with isolation. It’s presence without a real relationship; it is a script without a covenant.
It made me wonder: what happens when we start substituting appearance for authenticity? What do we lose when we choose the “illusion” of being known because the risk of actually being seen feels too high? That question feels especially heavy as we head into this week’s double Torah portion, Tazria–M’tzora. These are some of the toughest chapters in the Torah, full of skin afflictions and rules about isolation. But at their core, they aren’t really about a medical diagnosis. They’re about disconnection. The m’tzora is someone forced to live “outside the camp,” separated from the group. Our tradition teaches that this isn’t just a physical condition; it’s a spiritual and relational one. It’s what happens when our ways of speaking and showing up for each other break down.
The hopeful part, though, is that the Torah doesn’t leave the m’tzora out there forever. There is a specific path back, a process of healing that isn’t just about the individual getting “better,” but about the community bringing them back in. Tazria–M’tzora reminds us that while isolation happens, it isn’t meant to be the end of the story. Healing doesn’t happen through a performance; it happens through reconnection. The idea of “rental families” is a sharp contrast to this. It tries to fill a hole, but it can’t ever truly restore what’s missing. It’s a reminder of how much we actually need genuine relationships, and how fragile those bonds get when we’re afraid to be vulnerable.
If I’m being honest, I see a bit of myself in that struggle. Vulnerability doesn’t always come easy to me. It’s usually much simpler to stay on the surface, play the role, and just say I’m “fine.” But the Torah calls us to something harder and better. It asks us to risk being known, to move toward each other even when it’s awkward, and to build a community where no one feels like they have to “rent” a sense of belonging. This Shabbat, let’s try to take a step toward that. Maybe reach out to someone who’s been a bit distant lately. Maybe let yourself be seen as you actually are, not just how you want to appear. Let’s keep doing the work of making our community a place of real presence and real healing.
Shabbat Shalom,
Danny Glassman