As mentioned yesterday, the Torah in Parashat Naso devotes a section to the laws of a nazir – a man or woman who vows to abide by the nazirite code, which requires abstaining from wine, refraining from haircutting, and avoiding contact with human corpses.
One might inquire as to the common thread that is shared by these three restrictions. The term “nazir” is generally interpreted to mean “abstention” or “separation,” and a nazir is thus somebody who has chosen to “abstain.” Interestingly, however, his “abstention” relates only to wine, haircutting and tum’at meit (the ritual impurity caused by contact with a human corpse). The Torah imposes no special restrictions upon a nazir with regard to common areas of physical activity such as food, drinks (other than wine), marital relations, fine clothing, and so on. The “abstention” of nezirut differs starkly from the observance of Yom Kippur, for example, when we are called upon to eliminate physical comforts and pleasures. Why, then, does the Torah refer to the nazir as “one who abstains,” if he must only abstain from three very specific – and seemingly unrelated – activities?
We might suggest that the three restrictions imposed upon the nazir represent three areas of life that pose spiritual danger to a person: festivity, tragedy, and social pressure. Excessive festivity can lead a person to reckless, uncalculated behavior, and to focus his attention on enjoyment and indulgence rather than on personal responsibility. On the opposite side of the spectrum, the experience of tragedy and loss of life could cause one to question divine justice, and to despair from pursuing a rich, meaningful life. Finally, the quest for social acceptance and the admiration of one’s peers often blinds a person’s judgment, as he determines his courses of action based on what pleases other people rather than his objective reasoning and deeply held values.
Perhaps, then, nezirut means abstaining from life’s religious challenges by avoiding these three areas. The prohibition against drinking wine requires the nazir to avoid festive celebrations, and he must likewise avoid funerals due to the prohibition of tum’at meit. Finally, he is barred from grooming himself and tending to his appearance, and must appear unkempt and disheveled. By avoiding situations of festivity and tragedy and ignoring socially acceptable standards of appearance, the nazir temporarily protects himself from these three areas of religious challenge.
Among the sacrifices required of a nazir upon completing his term of nezirut is a female sheep brought as a sin offering (6:14), and several different approaches have been taken to explain why the nazir would require atonement. The Meshekh Chokhma suggests that although a nazir acted nobly by undertaking these strict measures which he deemed temporarily necessary, he must atone for the mitzvot that he forfeited as a result. He was unable, for example, to attend funerals, even upon the passing of relatives, and could not recite kiddush or havdala over a cup of wine. We might also add the fact that his disheveled appearance likely erected certain social barriers which prevented his involvement in important communal affairs and meaningful social functions. Therefore, even if his undertaking was justifiable in light of his sensing the need for spiritual fortification, it came at the expense of several important mitzvot, a price for which he must atone through a sin offering.
The ambivalence expressed by Chazal toward the nazir thus reflects the tension that exists between protecting oneself from the complexities of the world and the value in confronting them. The period of nezirut creates a temporary safe haven of sorts, but also denies the nazir a number of valuable opportunities. The fact that the Torah sanctioned the institution of nezirut, but at the same time required a sin offering, likely signifies the ambivalence with which we should approach this tension between isolation and engagement. Ideally, the Torah bids us to confront the world, even with its lurking dangers, in an effort to build and improve it. On some occasions, however, it may become necessary to withdraw in the interest of self-protection. But even when such measures are warranted, one must remain aware of the sacrifices entailed, and the need to “atone” for the valuable opportunities forfeited by his decision to withdraw.