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.

Rashi in a Maimonidean vision

My previous post discussed Rambam’s position on prophecy, an approach which is often regarded as radical. While the simple reading of the biblical text creates the impression that God is initiating a form of communication with prophets, Rambam interprets this process to be significantly more passive. The mind of the prophet is able to gain an insight into God’s will regarding necessary matters (Ralbag explains that the prophet can choose to concentrate on certain topics in order for the prophetic inspiration to address them).

How original though is Rambam really being with his theory of prophecy?

In Judaism Reclaimed I quote some surprising remarks from Jewish philosopher, Yeshayahu Leibowitz, who argued that a very similar approach was taken in Ashkenaz – a century earlier – by none other than Rashi!

Citing a low-key remark hidden at the end of the longest parashah in the Torah, Naso, Rashi comments on the word “midaber” which is used to describe God “speaking” to Moshe that the words “to him” really mean “to Himself”. Moshe did not hear a voice but rather gained an inner awareness of God’s meaning. This pivotal comment is described by Leibowitz as “astounding”. He adds:

“Rashi lived two generations before Maimonides, but in these few words Rashi gives Maimonides’ entire view on prophecy…”.

“We are not surprised at Maimonides, for this view of prophecy is in keeping with his entire system of faith. But Rashi, who is always considered to be of naive faith and far from philosophic thought and analysis, says the exact same thing”.

Elsewhere in his book of parashah analysis, Leibowitz asserts that those who read Rashi with a trained eye will be aware of a sophisticated philosophical comprehension of God concealed behind his customary low-profile presentation. In one instance, in his commentary to Yevamot 49a, Rashi contrasts the superior prophecy of Moshe to that of other prophets saying:

“All the prophets looked through a dark glass –and thought they saw, and our teacher Moshe looked through a clear glass and knew that he had not seen Him to His face”.

Rashi clearly understands that God’s essence is beyond comprehension and that Moshe, who experienced an enhanced level of prophecy, perceived this more acutely than other prophets. For Leibowitz, Rashi’s words foreshadow Rambam’s negative theology and his understanding (Guide 1:59) that the wisest of all sages, such as Moshe and Shlomo, are distinguished from lesser sages by the extent to which they perceive and internalise the gulf between God and His creatures.

While Judaism Reclaimed attempts to defend Rashi from allegations that he believed in a corporeal deity, Leibowitz goes much further, considering him a first-degree philosopher.

This leaves us wondering which is more radical: Rambam’s theory of prophecy or Leibowitz’s theory of Rashi?!

First posted on Facebook 15 June 2022, here.