Gravity and Toys

One of the main sections of this week’s Parsha is the Mitzvah of Nazir. Although the concept of a Nazir is not something that is very much applicable in our times, we can still find meaning and lessons within the Torah’s discussion of the subject.

Meforshim explain that the word “Nazir” comes from the word “Nezer”, or crown. We know that generally a crown is worn by a King or Queen, and serves as way to denote their special stature as a monarch. The implication of the word Nazir then is that because of his commitment to separate himself from the pleasures of this world, the Nazir is of a higher stature, and his Nizirus is the crown that he wears to demonstrate this fact.

It is interesting to note that the Nazir gets his title at the time that he accepts this commitment upon himself. All he has done is vow that he will not drink wine, cut his hair or become Tamei to a Mes. He hasn’t yet actually accomplished any of those goals, nor has he undertaken any other action.

If the word Nazir refers to his special status as a result of his Prishus, it would follow that he should not receive this “crown” until he actually fulfils his vow? Why is he immediately referred to as a Nazir?

In addition, Nizirus is generally accepted for a limited term: the Gemarah tells us that “Stam Nezirus Shloshim Yom: General acceptance of Nezirus is for a thirty-day term, unless otherwise specified.” If so, while his intention and commitment are certainly noble, why does he gain this extra “crown” if he can, and most probably will, return to regular life following the end of his Nezirus?

R’ Shimshon Pinkus zt”l, discusses the crown of the Nazir, and relates a Mashal which might be instructive to us.

If a person jumps, he can get off the ground to a certain extent, but will immediately return to the floor. If one jumps a thousand times, he does not get any higher—he will reach the same height each time and return to the ground each time. Because of this, numerous leaps don’t add up: if a person jumps one foot off the ground 10 times, he has not jumped 100 feet. We know that the reason for this is that gravity holds him back and prevents him from rising above that low height.

If one exits the gravitational pull of earth, though, he has broken free of those bounds and can jump much higher. In fact, if he continuously propels himself, he can build upon each leap, soaring to unlimited heights, because nothing is holding him back.

R’ Shimson explains that when a person decides to grow, even when he makes a sincere commitment to do so, he is often held back in some way. Sometimes it is by a specific Aveirah or Taivah, sometimes by pride or a desire to “fit in.” Those hang-ups are like gravity: they hold him back and prevent him from soaring.

If a person breaks free of his own personal gravity, though, he can grow in ways that are without limit, like an astronaut bounding across the surface of the moon.

Anyone who has spent time in a Yeshiva has witnessed this phenomenon. There are always those who sincerely wish to grow, but because they cannot let go of certain habits, interests or passions are unable to reach their full potential.

My Rosh HaYeshiva, R’ Moshe Meisleman, refers to these inhibiting factors as “toys.” He constantly exhorts his talmidim to let go of the “toys” of their youth so that they can truly grow.

This is the achievement of the Nazir. From the moment that a person accepts his Nizirus upon himself, he shows that he is ready to do whatever it takes to achieve growth. He is willing to sacrifice his own comfort and indulgences in order to grow and be closer to Hashem.

I think this is why he gets the title of Nazir, the crown of Nezirus, from the moment he makes his Neder: because the initial step is the hardest, but with that step he breaks free of his own personal gravity, he lets go of his toys, and he can therefore achieve true growth. This is not something that comes easily or naturally, and his willingness to do so is therefore an achievement worthy of a crown.

There is an additional aspect of Nezirus that may also help us understand why a Nazir gets his title at the outset of his commitment.

The Gemarah, quoted here by Rashi, tells us that the Parsha of Nazir is written after the Parsha of Sotah because “HaRoeh Sotah B’kilkulah, Yazir Atzmo Min HaYayin: one who witnesses the destruction of a Sotah should become a Nazir.” The Pashut understanding of this Chazal is that since drinking wine can lead one to do Aveiros, when the Nazir sees the result of the terrible Aveirah that the Sotah did he should refrain from drinking wine so as not to fall into the same trap.

This raises a question: the Gemarah tells of the horrible punishment that befalls the Sotah, which is both graphic and public. If so, one would imagine that a person who witnesses a Sotah during her destruction would be moved to avoid Aveiros from fear of punishment alone. Imagine the Teshuva movement that would take place if everyone could see the results of their Aveiros, and the punishment they deserve! Why then does one who sees this sight require a vow of Nezirus to prevent him from Aveirah?

Chazal tell us that a person does not engage in the behavior that the Sotah did unless they are seized by a “Ruach Shtus.” A Sotah was not necessarily an evil person, she may have ended up in a compromised situation—possibly because of her own doing—but her actual Aveirah came about because of this Ruach Shtus.

When a person witnesses the destruction of a Sotah, he must be cognizant of this fact. While he may be inspired to avoid Aveira because of what he saw, he cannot be confident that he will be immune to a Ruach Shtus, so he must take whatever measures possible to avoid ending up in a situation that would make him vulnerable.

This is perhaps another reason that the Nazir receives his title immediately.

Human nature is that when we see something happen to someone else, we say “that couldn’t be me.” We are rarely, if ever, stirred to change ourselves because of what we see happening to others. Even when we are affected by that which we witness—a tragedy or historic event—and we are stirred to Cheshbon Hanefesh or to examine our own shortcomings, the resulting inspiration or self-improvement is usually short-lived.

The Nazir rises above that.

The Nazir sees the punishment of the Sotah, and he understands that in order to avoid Aveirah, he must not only be inspired, but take concrete steps to avoid putting himself in the same situation. He is no better than the Sotah was, he is just as vulnerable to a Ruach Shtus, and he must therefore make specific Kabalos to put himself in a more secure situation.

This being the case, it is understandable why the Nazir is crowned upon accepting his Nezirus: he has taken a very significant step in facing his own humanity and susceptibility to the Yetzer Harah and Ruach Shtus.

I think that this also helps explains why the Kabala of the Nazir is considered so special although it is for a limited term. The Nazir undertakes his Nezirus with the understanding that it is the beginning of a journey. The Nezirus itself is a necessary part of his long-term growth; it allows him to leave the gravitational pull of Olam HaZeh and reach new heights in his Avodas Hashem. Though he may one day return to his previous state in terms of Nezirus, he will surely be a different person because he has worn that special crown, if even for a short time. His growth with no doubt be long-term, even as his Nezirus is not.

As we approach Shavuos, and Kabalas HaTorah we can take the lessons of the Nazir to heart and seek true growth in Torah and Avodah.

Each person, in his own life, can try to identify that which is inhibiting his growth—what his “toys” are. If we can abandon those toys, we can take steps toward real sustained growth, and protect ourselves from the Ruach Shtus that stalks us on a daily basis.