Nazirite vows and rabbinic agendas

As someone whose path has run through both Haredi and Modern Orthodox institutions of study and worship, the annual rabbinic sermon and lay divrei torah for parashat Naso have often been painfully partisan and predictable. What message are we to take away from the phenomenon of nezirut– a vow through which a person temporarily separates from wine among other things?

VERSION A:

The Nazir is a holy individual who is choosing to go beyond the minimal self-control demanded by the Torah in order to concentrate on holiness and spirituality. Ideally this status should even continue beyond the temporary period – indeed that is why the Nazir must bring a sin offering when seeking to end this holy commitment and return to regular life.

VERSION B:

The Nazir’s abstention from worldly pleasures is unfortunate – even sinful as indicated by the sin offering that is brought at the conclusion of the term of nezirut. God created the world in order for us to live in it and enjoy His bounty. To elevate it by using it for the correct reasons. Withholding pleasures may be of temporary necessity for someone who is struggling to control their physical desires, but it is certainly far from the idea.

Very often such speeches would openly criticise and even mock rabbinic leaders and communities that did not follow whichever version was being campaigned for from the pulpit. They would be delivered with an unassailable air of confidence that implied: had the other side only been aware that the Torah’s treatment of nezirut clearly supported Version A or B, they would instantly recognise the error of their ways and recant to a radically different lifestyle.

Yet these two versions each appear to reflect the approaches of two great voices within Jewish tradition, Ramban and Rambam – both of whom are firmly based on far earlier sources from the Tannaim.

While it is expected for rabbis to emphasise certain messages and ideas that they feel will speak to or guide their communities, can it ever be legitimate to present one strand of Jewish thought as the correct position? Particularly when the opposing position dates back to universally accepted Talmudic and Tannaic sources?

One rabbi I challenged freely admitted that he considered it more important to further what he understood to be “the correct Jewish outlook” than offer his audience a fair and balanced interpretation of the Torah’s text.

Judaism Reclaimed looks to reconcile these divergent approaches that Jewish takes to nezirut. While it is true that Rambam criticises the ascetic view of Judaism, it is nevertheless simplistic to draw the conclusion that Rambam placed any inherent value upon indulging in worldly pleasures or activities. In both Mishneh Torah and Shemonah Perakim, Rambam emphasises the need for a person to strike the correct balance between extreme character traits, including the need to walk the middle path between over-indulgence and abstention. It is a repeated theme in Rambam's writings, though, that this balance is not an end in its own right; it merely serves to facilitate and enhance a person's ability to perceive and thereby connect with God. A person who forgoes a necessary amount of food and sleep, for example, will not possess a sufficiently clear mind with which to comprehend divine truths. On the other hand, someone who over-indulges in physical pleasures will be drawn into a life of thinking about and pursuing them at the expense of spiritual endeavours.

In order to achieve an ideal balance of character traits, Rambam prescribes a form of behavioural therapy which requires a person to act temporarily in a manner that counters any imbalanced tendencies. For example, a person who naturally over-indulges in worldly pleasures should temporarily deprive himself in order to train his mind towards securing the correct balance. The potential danger however, is that “the foolish ones” will see their sages depriving themselves of pleasures and wrongly imagine that asceticism and self-denial is an end in itself, and a method of achieving holiness.

For this reason the Torah associates nezirut with sin — in order to demonstrate that even where such behaviour is required as a stepping-stone towards developing a correctly balanced character, it should not be seen as an end in its own right.

By limiting Rambam's criticism of nezirut to cases in which self-denial is being pursued as a source of holiness in its own right, we can also resolve an apparent contradiction between Rambam's critical position in Shemonah Perakim and the positive stance which he takes towards nezirut elsewhere. In Moreh Nevuchim (3:48), Rambam describes the damaging consequences of over-indulging in wine, regarding nezirut as a commendable way of avoiding its potentially damaging and addictive consequences. Elsewhere, in his Mishneh Torah, Rambam goes even further, stating that

"one who takes a (Nazirite) vow in a holy manner is approved and praiseworthy, and regarding this it is said the 'crown of His God is on his head, he is holy to God', and he is likened to a by the verse to a prophet, as it states [Amos 2:11] “and I will establish your children as prophets and your youngsters as Nazirites”".

The clear implication of both these passages is that nezirut is a laudable project when approached from the correct perspective of avoiding drunkenness and debauchery. Rambam's criticism of the 'sinful' nazir’s naive and misguided pursuit of asceticism as an end in its own right does not contradict these statements.

Taking this further, a close examination of Rambam's approval of nezirut, mentioned above, reveals an important distinction between the two sources. In Moreh Nevuchim the focus is primarily on avoiding the pitfalls that accompany intoxication. The closing remarks of Hilchot Nezirut by contrast describe a holy vow of nezirut which is equated with prophecy — the ultimate level of human achievement.

These contrasting descriptions suggest that Rambam understands there to be two distinct types of nezirut (a framework adopted by both Ohr HaChaim and the Netziv in their commentaries). On a basic level, the nazir shuns wine in order to avoid sinful behaviour and regain control over a wayward lifestyle. But there exists also a more elevated concept of nezirut ("the crown of His God is on his head, he is holy to God") which involves a period of dedication of one's energy and thoughts to contemplation of God and His Torah. As Rambam explains, one of the pre-requisites for achieving prophecy is a separation from the vanities and values prevalent in wider society. With this in mind we can suggest that the 'elevated' level of nezirut is closely related to prophecy, and may even be viewed as a stepping-stone towards it. This leads into the Hirschian approach to nezirut which will be left for another time.

First posted on Facebook 7 June 2022, here.

Hair today, gone tomorrow: Nazirites and hairstyle symbolism

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Naso focuses on nezirut, a voluntary vow which requires a person to abstain from contact with the dead, drinking wine, and taking a haircut. We contrast the approaches of Ramban – who understands the sin offering at the conclusion of nezirut to be indicative of the nazir’s prior commendable abstention from ‘worldly contamination’ – with that of Rambam who is critical of the nazir for forgoing such pleasures.

It is a mistake, however, to suggest that Rambam places any inherent value upon indulging in worldly pleasures or activities. Rather he emphasizes the need for a person to strike the correct balance between extreme character traits, including the need to walk the middle path between overindulgence and abstinence. It is a repeated theme in Rambam’s writings, though, that this balance is not an end in its own right; it merely serves to facilitate and enhance the person’s ability to perceive and thereby connect with God.

Passages are explored from several of Rambam’s writings and his position is shown to be nuanced: a person who naturally overindulges in worldly pleasures should temporarily deprive himself in order to train himself towards the correct balance. The potential danger, however, is that “the foolish ones” will see their sages depriving themselves of pleasures and wrongly imagine that asceticism and self-denial is an end in itself and a method of achieving holiness. It follows that the Torah associates nezirut with sin in order to demonstrate that such behaviour does not represent an ideal state of being. As we proceed to show, Rambam in certain places registers his strong approval of vows and nezirut when “taken in a holy manner”, even going so far as to liken the nazir to a prophet – the highest rung on the ladder of human achievement.

Particularly fascinating is Rabbi S. R. Hirsch’s approach to nezirut. Employing his trademark technique of analysing the halachic details before constructing a symbolic framework, R’ Hirsch demonstrates the existence of a close parallel between the nazir’s prohibitions and the restrictions placed on all people who seek to approach God’s Mikdash. The key to nazir, meaning “separation,” is not abstinence and separation from the physical but rather a temporary spiritual separation for the purpose of focusing on God and spiritual development. By becoming a nazir, one dedicates his or her mind to spiritual pursuits and gains a status of permanent presence in the Mikdash.

Hair growth is explained to represent temporary insulation and separation of the intellect from the rest of society (the metzora, by contrast, must shave his hair, an act that represents the requirement that he must become more socially aware and sensitive). At the conclusion of nezirut, the nazir’s hair is cut—representing the end of his intellectual separation from society. The nazir, having been elevated and inspired by his period of social distancing and insulated contemplation, is now ready to approach the Jewish ideal of participating in and elevating the physical world.

R' Hirsch’s understanding of the profound symbolism underlying the presence and removal of hair may lend additional meaning to the passages dealing with the prophets Eliyahu and Elisha in the book of Melachim. In his superb two-volume analysis of Melachim, R’ Alex Israel highlights the deeply contrasting prophetic styles of the fiery and reclusive Eliyahu on the one hand, and the socially-sensitive and engaged Elisha on the other, tracing these respective traits throughout their respective careers. In one uncharacteristic scene however, Elisha reacts strongly to youths taunting him “Go up Baldhead, Go up Baldhead!”, his curse inciting severe divine retribution.

In examining what might have provoked Elisha to this uncharacteristic response, R’ Alex draws upon sources which contrast Elisha’s baldness with Eliyahu’s hairy disposition (“Ish ba’al se’or”). “Go up Baldhead” could be understood as a mockery of Elisha’s inadequacy when equated with his hairy predecessor. Combining this with R’ Hirsch’s nazirite analysis above, we can add an additional dimension: that the youths were rejecting Elisha’s socially-sensitive prophetic leadership style (symbolised by a lack of hair), respecting only the harsher and stricter style of Eliyahu – whose socially-distant approach indicated by his hairy disposition.

Before concluding, as a matter of hakarat hatov, I would like to thank R’ Alex for his examination of the book of Melachim which I draw upon in this post and which has guided me in my approach to studying Tanach. His analysis not only offers profound insights into the biblical narratives, but even more valuably for me it strikes a difficult balance between introducing ideas and techniques from modern scholarship while remaining fully respectful and loyal to traditional commentaries and other sources. I highly recommend his books to anyone looking to undertake a serious study of the prophetic works.

First posted to Facebook 24 May 2020, here.