Timeless Torah

This week’s reading introduces the Nazir, an individual who undertook - by oath and for a limited period - a unique set of restrictions: to refrain from wine and anything made from grapes, not to have his hair cut, and not to defile himself by contact with the dead.
Was this a good thing or not? Was the Nazir to be commended for his extra piety, or on the contrary, to be censured for being overly righteous? The Sages were curiously divided on the matter, as the biblical text itself seems to be. In one verse the Nazir is called, “Holy to G-d.” (Num. 6:8) Yet in another, when he completes his period of abstinence, “He is to present his [sin] offering to the L-rd.” (Num. 6: 13-14)
As to why a period of self-imposed holiness should culminate in a sin offering, Nachmanides provides a compelling answer: Until now the Nazir was separated in sanctity, and he should have remained so. Accordingly, his return to an ordinary lifestyle and the material desires of the world, require atonement. Simply put, the sin offering atoned for the individual concluding his nazir-ship, not because he undertook it in the first place.
Some of the other Sages took a markedly different view. Rabbi Eliezer Hakappar stated: From the phrase (Num. 6:11), “He shall make atonement for having sinned,” we may infer that one who denies himself the enjoyment of wine is called a sinner, all the more so one who denies himself the enjoyment of other pleasures of life. (Taanis 11a; Nedarim 10a)
Here the Nazir is seen as an ascetic, one who rejects the pleasures of the world that G-d created and called “good.” Indeed in many cultures such people were regarded as holy. But according to Rabbi Eliezer we serve G-d by enjoying life.
Clearly the argument is not merely textual. It is substantive. Specifically it is about asceticism, the life of self-denial. Every religion produced individuals who, in pursuit of spiritual purity, withdrew from the temptations of the world. They lived in monasteries, even caves. The Qumran sect known to us through the Dead Sea Scrolls was such a movement. Similarly, in the Middle Ages, a Spartan existence was the ideal as practiced by the Chassidei Ashkenaz..
So there were two views in Jewish tradition. Some approved of the Nazir’s abstinence; others criticized him. This is not unusual: disagreement is part of the texture of Judaism. What is atypical however is Maimonides' view, because he seems to take both sides of the argument.
In Hilchos Deos (3:1) he writes: A person may say, “Desire, honor and the like are bad paths to follow and remove a person from the world, therefore I will separate myself from them and go to the other extreme.” As a result, he does not eat meat, drink wine, take a wife, live in a decent house, or wear decent clothing...It is forbidden to choose this way. Whoever does so is called a sinner. Indeed G-d says about the Nazir, “The priest shall make atonement for him for having sinned.” Now if the Nazir who only abstained from wine, needs atonement, how much more does one who abstains from all legitimate pleasures. Therefore…only abstain from things forbidden by the Torah alone…as Solomon said, “Do not be overly righteous.” This is the view of Rabbi Eliezer.
Elsewhere however (Hilchos Nezirus 10:14), he argues: Whoever vows to become a Nazir, does well and is praiseworthy. Of such a person, Scripture says…“He is holy to the L-rd.” Indeed he is the equal of a prophet. This is the opposite view.
How are we to understand Maimonides? The answer is simple, yet difficult to digest. There is not one model of the virtuous life, but two: the saint (chassid) and the sage (chacham).
The saint is a person of extremes, whose conduct is in excess of what strict justice requires. For example, “If one avoids haughtiness to the utmost extent and becomes exceedingly humble, he is termed a chassid.” (Hilchos Deos 1:5)
The chacham is different. He follows the “golden mean,” the way of moderation and balance. He avoids the extreme of miserliness on the one hand, and giving all that he owns on the other, thus acquiring the virtue of generosity. The chacham knows the twin dangers of too much and too little - excess and deficiency.
These are not just two types of people, but two ways of understanding the aim of the moral life: Is its purpose to achieve personal perfection? Or to create a decent society? The answer is both. A chassid may give all his money away to the poor, but what about his own family? He may forgive all crimes committed against him, but what about justice? Saints are supremely virtuous, but you cannot build a society out of saints alone. Indeed, they have no interest in society. They have chosen a lonely, self-segregating path.
It is this that led Maimonides to his seemingly contradictory evaluations. The Nazir chose a life of extremism. He was a saint, a chassid. He adopted the path of personal perfection. That is noble, commendable, and exemplary. But it is not the way of the chacham who realizes that there are other people at stake; members of one’s own family, community, and nation. He knows he cannot leave all his commitments behind to pursue a life of solitary virtue. For we are called on by G-d to live in the world, not to escape from it. Hence, while from a personal perspective the Nazir is a saint, from a societal perspective he is, at least figuratively, a “sinner” who has to be bring an atonement offering.
Maimonides lived the life he preached. We know from his writings that he longed for seclusion. Still he recognized his responsibilities. In a famous letter, he gives an account of his typical day - in which he had to carry a double burden as a world-renowned physician and an internationally sought halachist. He worked to exhaustion, and there were times when he was almost too busy to study. Maimonides was a sage who longed to be a saint - but knew he could not be, if he was to honor his duty to his people. It may be holy to retreat from the world and its challenges - but holier still to engage with them.