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PARASHAT NASO

In Parashat Naso we are taught the laws of the nazir. We are told that if either a man or a woman wishes to become a nazir, he or she must abstain from wine and strong drink, cutting of hair, and exposure to dead bodies. One who behaves so is considered "holy". It is interesting that we are given no positive description of what a nazir actually does, or explanation why such a code of behavior should be followed. There is a detailed description of the ritual performed in the temple at the conclusion of the period of being a nazir, but there is no ritual performed during the time that he or she is considered holy!

The laws of a nazir are very stringent. Anything that is processed from a grape is forbidden (not just wine). As opposed to the laws concerning a Kohen, under no circumstances whatsoever may the nazir become impure by coming in contact with dead. Why are these laws so stringent? Another awkward aspect is the form in which these laws are related to us. The whole relation of these laws takes up a total of twenty-one verses. The first eight teach the basic laws, which are all negative. The last nine describe the ritual upon conclusion. In the middle, four verses discuss the laws pertaining to a nazir who, even for no fault of his own, became impure in the middle of the period of time he accepted upon himself to be a nazir. He must bring certain sacrifices, and then start again. This is awkward. Why, even before finishing the description of the normal case of a nazir, must we study the case of a nazir who does not finish successfully? Furthermore, why is the law so stringent, and presented as such in such a demonstrative manner?

We may add another question. At the conclusion of the description of the sacrificial ritual we are told that so the nazir must do, besides any additions he accepts upon himself, beyond the official rule of a nazir. The Sifri, and later, Rashi, explain that these two clauses teach us that if he accepts upon himself more sacrifices, he must bring them, however, he may not bring less. This seems obvious and unnecessary. Nowhere are we told that one may add to, but not subtract from, a specific ritual.

All these questions can be answered by a deeper consideration of the idea of a nazir. Perhaps the answer why no positive content is specified in the Torah for what a nazir does, or is, lies in the very nature of the subject. A nazir is an individual who wants to go beyond, a man or woman who wants to do something which makes him or her holy. The Torah relates to, and actually gives a structure for, the individual who finds the usual system of Halacha insufficient for his or her spiritual drive. This is a special structure for one who wants to go beyond. For this reason no positive content is given. The individual becomes a nazir because he has an urge to do something extra to, and outside of, the confines of the halachik system. Making a new system for one who wishes to go beyond would miss the point.

Instead, the Torah creates a structure. Legitimization is given, and we are told what form this spiritual expression must not take. We are told what a nazir must not do. These are not simply technical commands; these negative commandments are highly formative. A nazir must keep very far away from anything to do with strong drink - an ancient equivalent of modern-day drugs. He must have nothing whatsoever to do with the dead. We are aware today how central the idea of death was in ancient cult behavior. If these precautions are met, the nazir, who does not cut his hair, is considered holy. We are taught a very explicit ritual that the nazir must perform at the conclusion of the period of time. He may add all he wishes, but under no circumstances may he deviate by subtracting from the set structure, even in the concluding ritual. These are but guidelines. Within them, the good intentioned individual may serve God in whatever manner he or she finds fit (as long as no Halacha is broken). However, these guidelines are extremely stringent. Central to the description of the idea of a nazir is that if in any way he comes in contact with dead, he must start all over again. The Torah gives the individual, yearning for non-systemized holiness, a structure, the content of which he or she may develop, but on the condition that certain indispensable guidelines are kept with the utmost precaution.

Shlomo Dov Rosen

*****

On the holiday of Shavuot we celebrate the giving of the Torah. Something of extreme relevance in the whole conception of service of Hashem took place on this day. Our Rabbis teach that the Torah already existed before the existence of the world. This seems explicit in many verses in the eighth chapter of Mishlei. "Wisdom" speaks of itself as existing before physical reality. The first medrash in Medrah Raba relates to these verses and continues the idea. We are taught that God used the Torah as a blueprint for the creation of the world. Furthermore, the Rabbis of the medrash tell us that our forefathers kept the mitzvot of the Torah hundreds of years before it was given at Sinai. Our ancestors were spiritually "tuned-in"; they understood the secrets of the Torah without having to receive a specific command. Yet, God's giving us the Torah on Shavuot changed something fundamental about the mitzvot.

While a spiritual elite performed the mitzvot of the Torah before they were given to the Jewish People as a whole, the mitzvot were not yet obligatory. They held a status of non-obligatory spiritual acts. We are familiar with the concept of a mitzva not being binding, yet holding great value as a voluntary act, from certain commandments that are not obligatory for women, yet may be kept. Examples include the mitzva of hearing the blowing of the Shofar on Rosh Hashana, and sitting in a Suca on Sucot. Most mitzvot that are bound by time are not obligatory for women. The Ramban explains that, according to the Rabbis of the medrash, such was the nature of our forefathers' observance of the mitzvot. They kept the mitzvot as someone who is not commanded to, but fulfils (Ramban, Bereishit 26:5). The fact that the Ramban borrows terminology from the Talmudic discussion relating to the performance non-obligatory mitzvot today, by for example women, is of great significance (see Kidushin pp29a and 31a). The Ramban is comparing the two forms of service of God. This teaches us much in relation to both the meaning of Shavuot, and what it means for women to keep mitzvot that are voluntary for them today.

The Torah existed as a spiritual ideal prior to its revelation at Mount Sinai. On Shavuot it became both revealed to the people as a whole and, perhaps more importantly, obligatory. What is the difference between the mitzvot of the Torah seen as spiritual ideals, and their status as commandments? The Ramban develops his understanding, of our forefathers' observing mitzvot as voluntary acts, in order to explain a highly problematic issue. If indeed Ya'akov Avinu kept the mitzvot of the Torah, how was it possible for him to marry two sisters? Although this was not his original plan, were he obligated by the future Torah law, this would be forbidden. The answer, according to the Ramban, lies in the mystical conception that the spiritual value of mitzvot applies in the land of Israel only. Since the mitzvot were not yet obligatory, they were kept only in Israel. Ya'akov married two sisters when in the Diaspora. Obviously, after the Torah was given to the people of Israel, it was no longer relevant only to those that live in the land of Israel. One is obligated today to observe the mitzvot wherever one is.

For the Ramban, therefore, Shavuot commemorates the point in history when the mitzvot became obligatory commandments. In becoming so, they are no longer relevant exclusively to those who live in Israel. No longer are they just acts of spiritual relevance. Mitzvot are commandments that are obligatory for a Jew wherever he or she may be. Women, still today, possess certain mitzvot that are not obligatory, but have spiritual value - perhaps because of the demands of nature in childbearing and child rearing. Fulfillment of these mitzvot is similar to our forefathers' keeping mitzvot generally. However, it is possible that even these mitzvot have a changed status today, as we know that they are relevant to women in the Diaspora, even according to the Ramban, who sees spiritual meaning in mitzvot fulfilled in Israel only.

Rav Elchanan Wasserman, in his commentary on the Talmudic discourse dealing with women's voluntary fulfillment of mitzvot that they are not commanded to observe,  (Kovetz Shiurim, Kidushin, 141-44) deals with the opinion of the Ramban. He argues that, according to the Ramban, the giving of the Torah changed the meaning of all mitzvot. In transforming the mitzvot, from spiritual ideals that preexisted physical reality, to commanded obligations, God changed their status. Since all mitzvot were given for observance in the Diaspora also, they became acts that have value wherever and for whoever. When a mitzva was given to men as an obligation, it was given to women as a voluntary mitzva. Therefore women say blessings on mitzvot that are not obligatory, even when in the Diaspora (according to the opinion, accepted in Ashkenazi circles, that women generally should say blessings on such mitzvot).

When God gave us the Torah on Shavuot, He revealed to us the hidden secrets of spiritual service; but this is not all. He also transformed these secrets, the blueprint of the world, into commandments. In doing so, He made them relevant for all, and in all circumstances. In becoming known to all they also became applicable to all.

Shlomo Dov Rosen

*****

Mitzvot are not just obligatory ritual acts. They preexisted reality, and may be understood as a blueprint for the physical world. Yesterday, we discussed how the giving of the Torah on Shavuot changed these inherently valuable acts in two ways. Firstly, they were revealed to all the Jewish people, and became codified in the Torah. Secondly, they became obligatory commandments. If mitzvot were fulfilled by our forefathers before the Torah was given at Sinai, as indeed the medrash informs us, it is clear that they contain intrinsic spiritual value. This may be appreciated if we consider that they are the blueprint of existence. Yet, we find particular cases in which our ancestors deviated from what is today Jewish law. Particularly puzzling is Ya'akov Avinu's marrying of two sisters. While this was not his original plan, it is hard to understand how it could be possible for him to do so, in light of the explicit prohibition in the Torah. We discussed yesterday the opinion of the Ramban, that mitzvot hold intrinsic spiritual value only in the land of Israel. The Ramban explains that, prior to their revelation at Sinai, mitzvot had only spiritual meaning. Since they were not obligatory commandments, they were observed, even by the select few that knew of them, in the land of Israel only. Ya'akov Avinu married two sisters in the Diaspora. We saw how, according to the Ramban, the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai transformed the mitzvot into ritual acts that have meaning everywhere, and for all. In becoming obligatory forms of service they received autonomous meaning, irrelevant of varying spiritual value in differing conditions.

We shall now consider another major aspect of the change in the mitzvot, from spiritually meaningful acts to obligatory commandments. Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, in his famous work, the Nefesh Hachaim, discusses the change that the mitzvot went through at Sinai. He explains that, while our forefathers did observe the mitzvot, this was purely in regard of their intrinsic spiritual value. A keen understanding of the way in which the spiritual world functions gave our ancestors an appreciation of the necessity of the performance of the mitzvot, although they were, as yet, not obligatory (Nefesh Hachaim, part 1, chapter 21). A mystical theory, connecting the acts of the individual with the functioning of the world generally, helps us appreciate how almost irrelevant it is whether the mitzvot are actually commanded in an official manner, or left to the "tuned-in" innovative spiritualist. However, there is one major difference between the mitzvot as commandments and as spiritually powerful acts. It is, whether one may make exceptions in particular cases. Rabbi Chaim explains that, while the mitzvot are indeed a spiritual necessity for the world, this does not mean that there cannot be rare exceptions in which it would theoretically be preferable to depart from them. No such license exists today. Once the Torah was given at Sinai, these spiritually meaningful acts became obligatory law. As commandments from God, they are always binding, and no deviation or exception can be made. However, prior to the transformation of these spiritual acts into commandments, they had only intrinsic spiritual meaning. Therefore, a keen spiritualist who was both, able to "tune-in" to the system of the mitzvot and, at the same time, appreciate clashing spiritual values, could assess each situation in it own light. On rare occasions, it could prove preferable to deviate from the, as yet, non-obligatory system of mitzvot. Therefore, Ya'akov Avinu married Rachel after he had already married her older sister Leah, in a similar manner to the sons of Adam obviously marrying their sisters. Since no prohibition existed at the time, they were permitted to deviate from the future law of the Torah. They did so when they assessed the conflicting possibility of greater spiritual value in the particular case at hand (Nefesh Hachaim, part 1, chapters 21-2).

According to this idea, the holiday of Shavuot is a celebration of the transformation of the Torah from a non-binding spiritual system, into a code of law. Subjectivity remains, but it must be channeled. One must find one's own personal way within the mitzvot of the Torah. This saves the individual from falling prey to untrained and immature spiritual desires and misunderstandings. Together with the Torah's becoming revealed to the people as a whole (it was previously known by only a spiritual elite), it was given a different status. It became a way of life, within which one creates a personal path.

*****

The Torah existed prior to the world. In the eighth chapter of Mishlei, "wisdom", which may be identified as "Torah", speaks of itself as being 'there' before physical reality. However, it is not directly obvious what the form or the content of this wisdom is. It seems likely that the form is not identical to that which we were given at Sinai, on Shavuot. What was the content of this "wisdom"?

We find an insight into the content of this 'wisdom' in a medrash in Bereishit Raba (17:5). The medrash draws analogies between various temporal and spiritual phenomena. Three pairs of parallel phenomena are mentioned: death and sleep, prophesy and dreams, and the world to come and Shabbat. Then, another two pairs are added: the relationship between heavenly light and the sun, and between heavenly wisdom and the Torah. The medrash says that in all these cases the latter is like an unripe fruit in relation to the former. In order to understand what this means, for any one of the cases, we should compare it to the others.

Death, prophesy and the world to come, are ultimate spiritual categories, of which sleep, dreams and the Shabbat are temporal, "unripe", versions. These pairs may be compared. Shabbat is similar to the spiritual existence of the world to come, in the same way that sleep is similar to death, or dreams may be compared to prophesy. In the second group of pairs we saw comparisons between the heavenly light and the sun, and between heavenly wisdom and the Torah. This group is harder to understand, since we do not know what heavenly light and heavenly wisdom are. However, we can deduce that, whatever is meant, there is a relationship between them and their pairs which is similar to the relationship we saw above, between, for example, prophesy and dreams. The light of the sun is an earthly version of the heavenly light, which we can only understand by an appreciation of the comparison. In the same manner that there is a spiritual and ultimate version of dreams: prophesy, there is a spiritual and ultimate version of the light of the sun: heavenly light. If we now move on to the last pair, heavenly wisdom and the Torah, we understand that the medrash is teaching us that there is an absolutely spiritual and ultimate form of the Torah. Heavenly wisdom seems to be an absolutely spiritual wisdom, to which the Torah that God gave us is like an unripe fruit. What does this mean?

The Zohar (Bamidbar 152a) teaches that behind the obvious meaning of the Torah lies a hidden, absolutely spiritual, meaning. The Zohar compares this to how angels, which are actually spiritual beings, are seen to possess physical bodies when sent into our physical world. Similarly, the Torah, becoming revealed in our physical reality, needed to be translated by God into physical terms. Otherwise the world would not be able to withstand its spiritual power. We now appreciate the meaning of heavenly wisdom, and wisdom which existed before the world was created. The Torah is a physical translation of ultimate spiritual wisdom, which we, as mortals, are unable to experience. However, in its physical clothing, we may not just appreciate but take part in it. These are the mitzvot.

*****

At the center of this week's reading, Parashat Naso, God commands Moshe to tell Aharon and his sons how to bless the Jewish People. This is birchat Kohanim, in which the Kohanim (plural of Kohen) bless the congregation publicly. In the Diaspora it is customary to do this on festivals only, and in most parts of Israel it is recited daily. After the specified wording of the blessing is taught we read, "And they shall place my name upon the Children of Israel, and I shall bless them" (Bamidbar 6:27). It is unclear to whom the end of this sentence refers.

In Gemara Chulin (49a) a dispute is recorded between Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva concerning the meaning of this phrase. According to Rabbi Yishmael, God tells us here that when the Kohanim bless the people, He blesses the Kohanim. However, according to Rabbi Akiva, it is clear that the Kohanim, in blessing the congregation, would be blessed by God, since God said to Abraham, "I shall bless those that bless you" (Bereishit 12:3), which presumably relates to any Jew after him. He, therefore, says that the blessing that the Kohanim recite, "May God Bless etc", does not automatically in itself mean that God would bless. God tells Moses that if the Kohanim do bless us, so will God. Ultimately this is a blessing from another human being and does not constitute a divine blessing. But God will hear the voice of the Kohanim and bless us. Tosaphot explains that Rabbi Yishmael considered this obvious. If God commands that the Kohanim should say that God should bless us, then obviously God will do so. But if this is all so clear, why did God command the Kohanim to bless the people?

We may answer this question in two different ways. Firstly, we can relate this blessing to the whole issue of human action in the world. Why must I pray, or recite blessings, if God does what is good? The usual assumption is that God waits for the human being to ask. In some sense, God withholds Himself from acting in order to give the human the chance to bring good into the world. This is related to Kabbalistic understandings that consider human action pivotal in opening the heavenly sources of blessing, and understand in this manner the word "baruch" in all blessings. (See Rabbeinu Bechaye, in his commentary on Devarim 8:10, concerning birchat hamazon.) In blessing we, in some sense, 'enable' the world to be blessed; we open a source of blessing by blessing God. Therefore, it is necessary for a human being to bless another. God waits for us to do it.

*****

In Jewish thought, throughout the ages, there has been much debate concerning the question of abstention from physical pleasure. Is it positive to hold oneself back from physical enjoyment where it does not clash with any religious obligation? Should we consider such a move unnecessary and a form of misled piety, or on the contrary, a non-requisite leap towards a more spiritual existence?

The Gemara (Ta'anit 11a) records a dispute concerning this issue which centers round conflicting understandings of the case of the nazir. As we discussed on Motzaei Shabbat, a nazir is one who takes upon him or herself not to drink wine, have a haircut, or come in contact with dead bodies, for a given period of time. This is a spiritually meaningful act. If such a voluntary move is sanctioned, it would seem that there is a value to abstaining from physicality generally. Shmuel is of the opinion that if someone fasts when not obligated to do so, he is called a sinner. The nazir brings a sacrifice, and the verse tells us that it is because he sinned against the soul (Bamidbar 6:11). If abstaining from wine is considered a sin against the soul abstaining from all food and drink must be very misled. Rabbi Elazar disagrees. He points out that the nazir is called holy (Bamidbar 6:5). If one that abstains only from wine is considered holy, how much more so should one that abstains from more than just wine be considered holy. The Gemara explains that both verses can also be understood otherwise, there is therefore no undeniable proof for either position.

This debate has lived on, developing various forms, with varying middle positions. Everyone agrees that Judaism does not sanction self-affliction. Whenever it is necessary to take pleasure in something, which is not explicitly prohibited, for the purpose of one's healthy living, it is forbidden to abstain. It is also generally accepted that there is no value in physical enjoyment per se (although some Chassidic thought would disagree). However, whether or not it is preferable to abstain as much as possible from physical enjoyment, whether such behavior makes one holy and more spiritual, or is misguided, is openly debated. The Ramban at the beginning of Parashat Kedoshim argues that there is a mitzva to be holy. This commandment, he continues to explain, relates not just to not living a dissolute life, but also directs us to continue along the path of holiness, by behaving in a manner which is less physical, and more spiritual. The Rambam, however, disagrees. In the fourth chapter of his introduction to Pirkei Avot, the Rambam quotes a Gemara Yerushalmi (Nedarim 9:1) which declares, "Is what the Torah prohibited insufficient for you, that you wish to forbid other things for yourself?!". (See Rabeinu Yona on Pirkei Avot 3:17 for an alternative explanation of this source.) The Rambam argues that the very purpose of the majority of the mitzvot is to help one live a spiritual and ethical life. Taking anything to an extreme would be harmful. However, as evident from the fifth chapter of his introduction, the Rambam is also of the opinion that one should shun physical enjoyment when not for a positive purpose.

Rabbi Moshe Chaim Lutzato goes further. He argues, in the his book Derech Hashem (part one, chapter two) that the purpose of existence is that a human being, given free-choice to do 'good' or 'bad', should choose the good path. This is closeness to God, by distancing oneself from physicality, and becoming more spiritual (or, to be precise, "rational"). For Rabbi Lutzato the mitzvot are simply the path of rational spirituality, as opposed to senseless physicality. He therefore argues, in the thirteenth chapter of Mesilat Yesharim, that the ideal form of service of God shuns all physical enjoyment that is not absolutely essential.

Since the Torah is the word of God, we believe that no part of it is superfluous. Therefore, when a halachic issue reappears in the Torah, after it has already been taught, our Rabbis took pains to discover why it required repetition. Such is the case, in this weeks Parasha, with a group of verses that deal with the law concerning a thief that when caught swore falsely. When he finally chooses to repent, and admits his sin, he must bring a sacrifice to atone for his wrongdoing, and must add to the original value stolen, an additional fifth. Because this case includes the bringing of a sacrifice, it was already taught within that context at the end of Parashat Vayikra (Vayikra 5:20-26). Its reiteration in Parashat Naso (Bamidbar 5:5-10) seems both superfluous and out of place.

Our Rabbis point to two issues, which were not included in Parashat Vayikra, but are taught in the version which appears in Parashat Naso. Firstly, this halacha only applies to one who admitted his wrongdoing of his own accord. If, however, it is proven in court that he actually stole, and the defendant did not admit his guilt, he is not obligated to pay the additional fifth, or bring a sacrifice. Secondly, we are taught the halacha concerning the case of one that steals from a convert that has no children. When someone that has been harmed financially passes away before justice has been done, the guilty party must pay the person's inheritors, that is, his relatives. Therefore, since halachikally, one that converts is completely new to his surroundings, and his biological family does not inherit him, his is the only case where it is impossible to return the money to inheritors. The Torah teaches us (verse 8) that in such a case, the money must be given to the Kohanim (plural of Kohen) that are then serving in the Temple. This is an extremely exceptional law, from which we may learn many things.

We are accustomed to different types of laws within the Halacha. Those that relate to monetary disputes and cases of criminality, and those that relate to ritualistic aspects of religion. It is therefore surprising to see the Kohen made use of in this context, as one that receives the payment for a theft, where no inheritor exists. The verse says that the payment given to God is for the Kohen (verse 8). This means that God gives it to the Kohen. In effect, the thief owes this money to God. Similarly, the previous law learnt, that the person has to own up in order to be obligated, is out of the ordinary. Generally speaking, one that is indicted in court, takes the full measure of punishment irrelevant of whether he admits his guilt. If anything, owning up may lessen the punishment (the law of kefel). It is therefore interesting that in this case the thief must admit that he stole and swore untruthfully in order to be obligated to pay the extra fifth and bring the sacrifice.

Concerning this last point, the fact that here the obligation to bring a sacrifice is connected to the false oath, connects the issue of ritual even to the additional payment of a fifth. A sacrifice is brought out of one's free will. The sacrifice relates to a false oath. This is not only a monetary issue, but the use of God's name in vain. Due to the ritualistic nature of this sin and the repentive nature of the sacrifice, it is necessary to admit the sin. This is not like any other case of being accused in court.

This does not suffice to explain why one must pay the Kohen, in a case where the convert that one stole from has no inheritor. Here we appreciate that the boundary between ritual and monetary issues is generally overly stressed. Whenever one steals, one sins against God. The obligation to compensate is not only due to the violation of the rights of the other, but also because of the fact that a crime has been committed for which the perpetrator must be held accountable. You are responsible for your actions irrelevant of whether any human being is able to present a claim against you. In a case where there is no claimant, God insists that one offer the compensation to Him. In effect, the monetary compensation can be viewed as an obligation before God, which, whenever possible, is collected by the harmed party. But it is not dependent on the legal claim of that party for compensation. In any case, God expects one that has harmed another to understand that he must do something to mend the situation. This may be the difference between an ethic of rights, and one of obligations and responsibility.

There may be another issue here, which may explain why these laws are taught in the context of Parashat Naso. God takes responsibility for those members of society that are weak and vulnerable. The convert, that has left his family, is alone. Therefore, one that steals from him has affronted God, who has taken the convert into His protection.

Parashat Naso begins with the final touches of the arrangement of the camps. We are then commanded to make sure lepers are not left to move within the camp (Bamidbar 5:1-4). Later we deal with the sotah (Bamidbar 5:11-31) and the nazir (Bamidbar 6:1-21), both of which can be understood as cases of people that, either in a negative or positive way, are unable to fit into their social context (an idea for which I am indebted to my mother). Within this context we are told that, one who steals from a convert, who does not necessarily have sufficient social protection, is held responsible by God. He pays reparations to the priest in the temple because it is God that demands it of him.

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