Nasó 5775 - English

Rabbi Guido Cohen

In this week’s Parashah, we are told, among other things, about an ancient tradition of our people called “the Nazirite Vow” (in Hebrew Neder Nazir).  It consisted of a promise made by someone to not cut their hair, to not drink wine and to not go near a dead body.  The Nazirite Vow was an attempt by some to reach a higher level of holiness through ascetic practices that separated them from mundane things.

This practice received adverse and contradictory responses throughout Jewish thought.  Some, like Nahmanides (Catalunya, XIII Century) follow the position set in the Talmud by Rabbi Eliezer and Shmuel in favor of the Nazir.  According to these sages, the Nazir is a role model, which we should follow not only to fulfill a promise, but to reach a higher level of holiness throughout our lives.  On the other hand, Maimonides follows the Talmudic opinion of Rabbi Eliezer HaKapar, who believed that in many cases a Nazir became a transgressor as an extremist alienating himself from the Community.  This controversy regarding the Nazir continued all the way through the centuries, and among those who also opposed this practice we find some of the Hassidic sages.  

When a Nazir finished his promise, he had to offer three sacrifices.  One of these was the Korban Hatat, a sacrifice presented as atonement for a transgression.  The verse that explains this says that he who takes upon himself a Nazirite Vow has “sinned against the Nefesh (soul)”.  According to Menahem Nahum of Chernobyl, author of the book Maor Einaim, the person that separates himself from mundane things -like the Nazir- sins against his soul because he does not recognize the vitality of divine energy that flows in all aspects of life.  

By citing a well-known expression from his Master Baal Shem Tov on the verse from the book of proverbs that says “in all your ways, acknowledge him”, Reb Menahem Nahum explains that he who expects to contact the Divine by denying the earthly world, only misses the divine spark in all aspects of the universe.  In other words, this wise man teaches us that it is not about making an incursion into ascetic practices away from the world in order to find God, but that the main challenge is finding God in our daily and apparently trivial practices, such as doing business, eating or drinking.  

There are also other sources that present positive experiences regarding the Nazir.  Shimon HaTzadik states in the Talmud (Nedarim 9b) that only once did he accept to eat the offering of a Nazir.  This High Priest tells us that a Nazir with beautiful hair came to see him.  Very close to the Greek myth of Narcissus, the Nazir told Shimon HaTzadik that while was herding his father’s sheep one day, he saw his face reflected in a mirror of water and felt vain.  To avoid falling into the temptation of vanity, the young man made a Nazirite Vow, which would force him to cut his beautiful hair at the end of his promise.  In this case, the Nazirite Vow was not about asceticism or alienating the world, but as a preventative measure to avoid falling into the temptation of idolizing earthliness and staying only in that dimension.  Contrary to the Greek Narcissus, our character does not drown because of his vanity, but he learns in time and takes advantage of this Halachic concept to contain that attribute of his self-esteem that in a state of hypertrophy could become the defect of vanity.  

The balance between both visions becomes an inspiring challenge.  The task of finding God in everything we do, of witnessing His magnificent presence even in those contexts that seem separate from all spirituality, is perhaps the most wonderful opportunity presented to postmodern man.  Those who deprive themselves of a spiritual life are depriving their soul of drinking from a nurturing and elevating spring.  Those that fall into the temptation of believing everything is about aesthetics and appearances run the risk of drowning in their own vanity like poor Narcissus.  Then again, those who sacrifice their earthly life for a spiritual ideal, not only deprive themselves of being in contact with their surroundings, but they eliminate the possibility of contemplating and perceiving the divine presence in those places where it is hidden behind appearances.  

The balance between both visions of the world is what allows us to grow with aesthetic sensibility to care about what is seen but with a spiritual conscience to understand that what we see is only a small part of what it is.  

May we broaden our souls by searching for the Eternal in all the paths we travel every day, so that we may bear witness of the marvelous presence of the living God. 

Shabbat Shalom