Parashat Naso: The Middle Way

Then the Lord spoke to Moshe, “Speak to the Israelites.  Say, “When a man or a woman takes a special vow, the vow of the Nazarite, to separate him or herself to the Lord, he must separate himself from wine and strong drink.  He must drink neither vinegar made from wine or vinegar made from any other strong drink, nor may he drink any juice made with grapes, nor eat fresh grapes or raisins.  All the days of his separation he must not eat anything that comes from the grapevine, from seed to skin. 

All the days of his separation vow, no razor shall touch his head.  Until the completion of the time for which he separated himself to the Lord, he shall be holy and must let the locks of his hair grow long.  All the days of his separation, he must not come near a dead body” (which includes those of his close relatives).  All the days of his separation he is holy to the Lord.”” (Numbers 6.1-8)

Parashat Naso describes the laws of the Nazir or Nazirite as he is termed in English.

If a man or woman felt the need to attain a higher level of holiness and consecrate themselves to Gd, they could do this by taking upon themselves three vows.

1.    To refrain from partaking of any grape based product.  This symbolised a desire to reject the pleasures and excesses of ordinary life of which wine and grapes are key constituents.

2.    To demonstrate their commitment to their new lifestyle by significantly altering their appearance through not cutting their hair or shaving their beard.

3.    To avoid any contact whatsoever with a dead body, even to the extent that they wouldn’t be able to attend the funerals of their nearest and dearest relatives.  This ensured that they were able to remain in a state of absolute spiritual purity throughout their nezirut (the period of time that they were permitted to be a Nazirite).

I should point out that although these laws referred to all Nazirites, in this Drasha, I will be focussing on those individuals who chose to take the Nazarite vow as opposed to those like the Prophet Samuel or Samson (the subject of this week’s Haftarah) who were born into this status and spent their entire lives as Nazarites.

Although the idea of a Nazirite and the restrictions they choose to put themselves under seem strange to modern day audiences, they aren’t as unusual as we might consider them to be. 

Do you know someone who has participated in the annual Dry January campaign initiated by Alcohol Change UK?  Doesn’t that tick a similar box to the Nazirite’s first challenge?

What about Movember, the awareness campaign for men’s health (focusing on areas such as prostate cancer or suicide prevention) where gentlemen refrain from shaving their moustaches throughout the month of November (hence the name)?

The idea of giving up ‘something’ for a greater cause is not that unusual.  Beyond our own religion, it is common for many Christians to abstain from some of their favourite food products over the period of Lent.

Back to our Nazirite.

Most adhered to their vows for a month before going through the process of reintegrating into society by bringing a young sheep as an elevation offering, a ewe as a sin offering, a ram as a peace offering, a basket of unleavened bread and other items.  They would shave their head and burn their newly cut hair in the fire beneath the sacrifices (see Verses 13-20 for a full description).

On the surface, the lifestyle espoused by the Nazirite is very commendable.  Who wouldn’t want to take on an existence that was more aesthetic in nature?  That is for one small wrinkle in the process the Nazirite goes through as part of their reemergence into society.  Have you asked yourself why the Nazirite was required to bring a sin offering?

Surely, taking on such a holy existence could not warrant the need to atone for anything, could it?

Rabbi Sacks ztl quotes a disagreement between the Sages spanning the Mishnaic, Talmudic and Medieval Ages and I will be referencing his masterful Dvar Torah, ‘Naso: Two Versions of the Moral Life’ in his ‘Essays on Ethics’ (pp 221-225, Maggid, 2016). 

Rabbi Elazar and the Rambam viewed the Nazirite as being praiseworthy precisely because he had chosen to take on a higher level of holiness but in leaving this behind was now guilty of the sins inherent in returning to his pre-Nazarite state.

Rabbi Eliezer HaKappar and Shmuel took a different approach.  Where our protagonist had sinned, lay not in changing status from being a Nazirite to a non-Nazirite but in taking on the vow in the first place.  In doing so, Rabbi Eliezer states, “From this we may infer that if one denies himself the enjoyment of wine is called a sinner, all the more so, one who denies himself the enjoyment of other pleasures of life” (Tannit 11a; Nedarim 10a).

Their viewpoint was that this world and its pleasures which have been created by Gd must be appreciated and not denied by anyone.  It is an affront to the gifts we receive on a daily basis from the Almighty.

Some non-Jewish nations espouse a monastic life but this is not the Jewish way of living.

Hence, the requirement for the Nazirite to bring a sin offering.  Either for taking on the said restrictions in the first place (as per Rabbi Eliezer HaKappar and Shmuel) or for leaving them behind (quoting Rabbi Elazar and the Rambam).

If these were the only two approaches, the following viewpoint would not be so intriguing.

The Rambam, whilst appearing to agree with Rabbi Elazar’s viewpoint, also veers towards Rabbi Eliezer and Shmuel’s ideas as expressed in his Mishneh Torah.  So, he holds sway with both the positive and negative arguments!

In Hilchot Deot (The Laws of Personal Development 3.1), he writes:

A person may say, “Desire, honour and the like are bad paths to follow and remove a person from the world.  Therefore, I will completely separate myself from them and go to the other extreme.” As a result, he does not eat meat or drink wine or take a wife or live in a decent house or wear decent clothing...this too is bad and it is forbidden to choose this way.

However, in Hilchot Nezirut (the Laws of the Nazirite 10.14), he rules in accordance with Rabbi Elazar’s evaluation:

Whoever vows to Gd (to become a Nazirite) by way of holiness, does well and is praiseworthy…Indeed Scripture considers him to be equal of a prophet.

How can the Rambam take both sides of the argument...all the more so in the same book?

Rabbi Sacks explains that the Rambam understands two ways that a person can live a moral life, both as a saint (which he called a Chasid) and a sage (Chacham).

The latter, the sage, follows the ‘golden mean’ or ‘the middle way’.  Life is a journey between balancing too much and too little.  Sometimes, we are courageous but this finds us placing ourselves between cowardice and recklessness.  The degree of our generosity lies between ‘over’ and ‘under’ or as Rabbi Sacks terms it ‘profligacy and miserliness’.  That is the sage, the Chacham.

The saint, or the Chasid does not follow this middle way.  They tend towards extremes.  Fasting when they should be eating moderately or embracing poverty rather than acquiring modest wealth.  They may become a saint because of a life-changing experience such as surviving a serious illness or heaven forbid, the loss of loved ones.  They respond to this by trying to improve themselves through radical means, either spiritually or via increased physical exertion.  This is the Chasid.

For the Rambam, both approaches are recognised by the Torah.  If our lives were linear in nature, the way we responded to them would also be linear.  But that’s not the case.  Each of us will probably face challenges that demand of us to be a saint or a sage.  A Chasid or a Chacham. 

If we decide to go down the saintly route (as per Rabbi Sacks), will we give more money to Tzedaka than to our families?  Will we forgive those who carry out actions that are unforgivable?  Society cannot be formed out of saints if you wish to enforce a just and fair rule of law.

It is noteworthy for a person to try to be a saint because we need good people to populate our troubled societies but we also need sages to ensure that balance exists.  Extremism must be kept to a minimum and goodness, engendered by the saintlier members of society, is shared with those who are not of the same disposition.

A look at the Rambam’s life demonstrates that he would have liked to live as a saint and he longed for the seclusion granted to a Nazarite, in his role as a saint.  But he also realised that he had to be a sage, for the sake of his family and the global community that approached him for advice.   

His adoption of the middle way meant that, whereas he appreciated the positive outcome gained through being a Nazarite, he believed that one cannot permanently remove oneself from the society in which one lives.  Not if you want to play a crucial role in the community’s development and growth.

‘Dry January’ and ‘Movember’ are effective campaigns because they allow us to take on personal restrictions that focus our minds on the target at hand over a dedicated period of time.  These constraints make our lives different precisely because we know that as of the start of February and December respectively, we return to who we were before and reclaim the lifestyle we previously led.  The only difference is that, with hindsight, we can appreciate how much we achieved in the preceding month.

Similarly, the Nazirite decided to take stringencies upon themselves in the knowledge that these would eventually be relaxed.  It was the journey they went through during the period of their abstinence that made the greatest impact on them.  As a result, they returned to society and, hopefully, played a more active and constructive part than they had before they undertook their vow.

If we all adhered to walking ‘the middle way’, this world would be a much more pleasant environment in which to live.  We can be both saints and sages as long as we ensure that moderation is that heart of our decision-making process.

Shavuah Tov.