Theologian Margaret Miles writes that moderns would do well to see the value of asceticism, the religious ideal that one should refrain from worldly pleasures in pursuit of loftier spiritual goals. In fact, in an age of overwhelming wealth and privilege, alongside an ever-present danger of crass materialism, Miles argues that we may need a “new asceticism” now more than ever. She writes:
“...Scriptural language...sets the human being either in the perspective of connection to the source of life and being, or in that of the disorientation caused by clutching at objects of immediate pleasure and enjoyment. Such objects, good in themselves, become “too dear” in that the person becomes attached to them instead of to the source of life and being. They become addictive. Because they are created thing that owe their being to the generosity of the Creator, they cannot provide the infinite life and satisfaction for which human beings long. We are addicted when we refuse to recognize that we demand of these objects what they cannot provide. We need to recognize that forcing them beyond their capacity to give devalues them, and that we must continually be frustrated by their inability to give us greater life” (Margaret R. Miles, Fullness of Life: Historical Foundations of a New Asceticism, 157-158).
According to MIles, the things about which the average human being obsesses, namely material possessions, wealth, and status, are the things that we actually need the least, and, according to Miles, most take away the individual from the pursuit of God. In contrast, a life of controlling one’s desires, a life where abstention is considered a virtue, is a life Miles is says is most worthy living today.
Parashat Naso describes the Torah’s model of an ascetic, the nazir. According to our parasha, the nazir, “shall abstain from wine and strong drink: he shall drink no vinegar of wine, or vinegar of strong drink, neither shall he drink any liquor of grapes, nor eat fresh grapes or dried” (Bemidbar 6:3). While Jews are no longer able to take a vow of nezirut today, our commentators sought to understand what universal messages we might draw from the specific prohibitions observed by the nazir. Attempting to draw a distinction between what the Nazir must do and not do in order to demonstrate their devotion to God, Obadiah Seforno argues that the Torah wants to make clear that the Nazir devotes his life to God by way of abstaining from certain worldly pleasures, as opposed to physically harming himself. Seforno states:
“...he is not to flagellate himself, or practice fasting, but only to abstain from wine and intoxicating liquids. The former methods of self-denial would result in a diminished ability to serve the Lord with all one’s faculties. Flagellation, a common practice among certain types of monks and “holy men,” is not allowed, but becoming a teetotaler does reduce the urge to let oneself go and engage in demeaning activities due to drunkenness” (Seforno on Bemidbar 6:3).
According to Seforno, it is foolish and dangerous to assume that one can show devotion to God by making their body unable to function. Instead, Seforno argues that one can show devotion to God by demonstrating that one does not need all worldly pleasures to achieve satisfaction in this world, and abstaining from these behaviors will ultimately lead to rewards in the next world.
Taking a similar approach to Seforno, while emphasizing the lesson that non-Nazirites can learn from the laws of the Nazir, Abraham Ibn Ezra argues that the Torah tells us that the laws of the Nazi place so much emphasis on the head to symbolize the spiritual kingship of one who chooses to take on these obligations. Ibn Ezra states:
“Hair set apart for his God is upon his head”: Some say that “nazirite” is related to nezer, “headdress,” and since our phrase literally says, “the nezer of his God is upon his head,” that is not at all implausible. Know that all human beings are slaves to worldly appetites. But the truth king, who wears the kingly crown of nezer upon his head, is he who is free of appetite” (Ibn Ezra on Bemidbar 6:7).
Ibn Ezra argues that the abstentions observed by the nazir reflect an ideal state of living for all human beings, where every person is able to restrict his or her appetites, putting aside trivial things in pursuit of godly devotion. As a result, the nazir is not only an individual who made a choice to pursue the true path of divine devotion, but a paradigm for how all of humanity can serve God.
Finally, in the modern day, Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, one of the leading thinkers in Modern Orthodox Judaism in the twentieth-century, writes that the entire goal of religious observance is reflected in the life chosen by the nazir, a life where one attains highest levels of sanctity by way of asceticism and abstinence. Rav Soloveitchik writes:
“The aspiration to achieve a state of ecstatic transcendentalism, the negation of life and this mortal world, the annihilation of existence and reality, the reaching out of the religious personality to the ethereal world that stretches beyond the confines of tangible existence is embodied in many of the systems of conduct involving asceticism, vows of abstinence and withdrawal from society. The religious personality sometimes imagines that afflictions, suffering, fasts and solitude constitute the media bringing immortal happiness to man...According to his outlook, the man who withdraws from the world and forgoes earthly and ephemeral pleasures is rewarded with eternal life and a sublime, spiritual existence” (Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, “The Halakhic Personality,” WZO Department for Torah Education, Jerusalem, 5739).
For Rav Soloveitchik, Judaism is a spiritual discipline, an opportunity for everyday actions of abstention to pursue a sanctified spiritual existencce. Furthermore, Soloveitchik argues that when religious people make the choice to give up something pleasurable to them, those individuals are defining what “pleasure” means in a radically different way, for pleasure, to the religious mind, is found in moments of divine connection, rather than earthly desire.
While Judaism always places emphasis on the importance of expressing gratitude for good fortune, our parasha reminds us that there is value in resisting the temptation to only want and take more, and that the nazir develops a unique connection to God by way of learning what they can live without. This week, ask yourselves how you are teaching your children the value of holding back from their desires, and seeing the immense personal value that can come from resisting their urges. If we can teach our children to ask what they can live without, we will take one small towards a life of genuine abundance, pleasure and holiness.
Shabbat Shalom!
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