Nasso 5774
In this week’s parsha we learn about a unique opportunity that is available to every Jew — becoming a nazir. All it takes is to resolve to abstain at least one month from wine and grapes, not to shave or to be metamei to meisim.
Of note is the fact that when a Jew takes on a vow of nezirus, the Torah refers to him as “kadosh.” His overgrown hair is referred to as a “nezer,” meaning a crown, thus likening a nazir to a king (Ibn Ezra 6:7). Moreover, a nazir cannot be metamei even to close relatives who pass away, placing him on the same level as a kohen gadol. The Baal Haturim adds that he may not be metamei to meisim because he is elevated to the status of a navi, and people may therefore suspect that his nevuah comes from the power of tumah of meisim.
“Kadosh,” a “king” a “navi,” like a “kohen gadol?” Don’t these titles seem a bit much to attribute to someone who simply resolves not to drink wine, shave or go to cemeteries for 30 days?
Moreover, the Torah credits the nazir with these illustrious titles even at the very beginning of his nezirus. Apparently, even at the outset a nazir has already done something remarkable. Indeed, as the Ibn Ezra infers from the pasuk, “ish ki yafli lindor…” that simply by making the neder of nezirus a nazir automatically becomes a “peleh,” his entire being is a “wonder.” What is the nature of this great peleh and how does a nazir reach it even at the very beginning of his nezirus?
The peleh is that he is going against his nature. In an area in which he lacks self-discipline, the would-be nazir is taking a concrete step toward overcoming this base part of himself. Even the smallest step in this direction, when made decisively, is a tremendous accomplishment.
Most of us, without even realizing it, are literally enslaved to our habits and the familiar modes of behavior around us. Things we could easily do without appear to us as indisputable necessities. Our temptation may not be for wine, but for many of us, eating, sleeping, and a long list of modern-day “pastimes” (computers, trips, etc.) surely take us away from avodas Hashem at least in part. We may not feel an urgent need for a haircut, but concerns about fashion and keeping up with the Joneses are again a way the yetzer hara can lure us away from our tachlis in life.
If a person succeeds in making one small but determined step towards breaking away from his habits and norms in gashmius, this itself is a tremendous step in the direction of kedusha.
It is important that one take measured steps and not overdo it. Rav Yehoshua Heller (in Divrei Yehoshua) writes that only a great gibbur can literally change himself overnight. Most people are not on that level, and therefore should work to correct themselves day-by-day. However, after years of consistent efforts they can reach the level of the gibbur and face him as an equal. The Seforno adds that drastic steps away from gashmius, such as fasting and the like, can end up endangering one’s health. Small, consistent steps are a guarantee that progress will be long-lasting.
Another aspect of nezirus that deserves study is the fact that after completing one’s nezirus, one must bring a korban chatas. This is a question that puzzled the Rishonim: a chatas offering is brought when one sins, whereas here the nazir did a mitzvah. Why must he bring a chatas?
Rabbeinu Bechaya answers that the korban chatas is intended to remind the nazir that even though he has now completed his nezirus, he must make sure to maintain his spiritual aliya and his separation from gashmius. Yes, he may now drink wine, but if by doing so he simply goes back to his old ways and negates the aliya he had as a nazir — this is a sin!
Never should the nazir imagine that he has already “done his bit for the Ribbono Shel Olam” and may now descend back into a life of physical pleasures as before. He must remain a ben aliya. This is a message for all of us. At various times in our lives, each of us has had some sort of spiritual aliya, and it is incumbent upon us to maintain and nurture that aliya, and not revert back to our previous level.
Sadly, Rav Chatzkel Levinstein noted that even among those whose aliya had been strong for many years, many of them stopped at some point. What happened? Rav Levinstein explained that for some reason, their aliya stopped in the middle, either because they needed a rest, or the satan made some other sort of inroad. Of course, rest is essential, and a person must take care of himself, but to be meisiach daas from the goal of living as a ben aliya is inexcusable. It’s a sin. One is never “finished!”
Klal Yisrael recently lost a gadol named Rav Zundel Kreuser. One important lesson he taught us is how to turn the above ideal into reality: Well into his old age, Rav Kreuser remained the same ben aliya that he was as a young, energetic yeshiva bachur. Every day he went to sleep at 9 pm and rose at 12:30 am, at which point he began shteiging in Torah study until Shacharis. After a short breakfast he continued learning, teaching and writing his chiddushim (on all of Shas and Shulchan Aruch) throughout the day without a break! His entire life was one uninterrupted ascent in Torah and yiras Shamayim. Even if we may be far from Rav Kreuser’s level, we are nevertheless expected to make efforts to go in his ways as much as possible.
May our smalls steps toward self-discipline bear fruit and may we be zoche to remain bnei aliya!