When Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, Rabbi Judah the Prince, organized the sections of the Oral Law in the Mishna, he arranged it so that the tractate of Nazir, which deals with the vows and laws of the Nazirite who refrains from wine, cutting his hair, or acquiring a status of impurity through exposure to the dead, would be immediately after the tractate of Ketubot, which also deals with vows taken by one spouse that may affect the other.
After the tractate of Nazir, he decided that the laws of Sotah, the wayward wife who secludes herself with a man who is not her husband, should be studied and recited. “Why?” the Talmud wonders.
In point of fact, the close connection between the Sotah and the Nazir is to be found in our parsha, though the order is reversed. Here, the wayward wife and the ritual ordeal she must endure immediately precedes the laws of the Nazirite. This is so, Rashi says, citing the Talmud, because there is a tight connection between these two seemingly disparate topics.
“Any one who sees the Sotah in her disgraced state will vow to distance himself from wine, as it leads to lewdness.”
The disgrace and disarray – so public – of the Sotah can be life changing. So much so, that the people who see her cannot drink anymore. They’ve seen too much of the work of wine.
Yet we ought not expect everyone to become a Nazir. Rabbi Yaakov Kaminetzky makes an insightful comment in his Emet Le’Ya’akov, his studies on the Torah. He reminds us that there are two groups that must refrain from acquiring a status of tumah, ritual impurity, which would preclude entry into the Temple, worshiping G-d there, and consumption of sacred foods. The first is the Nazir, as we see here:
For his father or mother, or for his brother or sister, he must not become tameh, impure, should they die, because the consecration to G-d is upon his head.
The second group, of course, is the Kohanim, the priests who serve on our behalf in the Temple. In Vayikra we learn that only for their close relatives may they violate the injunction against impurity:
Hashem said to Moshe:
Speak to the priests, the sons of Aaron, and say to them:
None shall defile himself for any [dead] person among his kin,except for the relatives that are closest to him (his wife): his mother, his father, his son, his daughter, and his brother; also for a young sister, close to him because she has not become someone’s [wife], for her he may defile himself.
There is a remarkable difference between the two lists. The priest may only defile himself for a close relative: Wife, father, mother, sister, brother, son, daughter.
The Nazir’s list, however, includes reference to only father, mother, sister, and brother. Why leave out a reference to spouse and children?
Rabbi Kaminetzky tells us:
“It appears to me because the Nazirites were young men.” Meaning, they were most likely not married, nor was it likely that they had children who, G-d forbid, might pass.
Why is he so sure that the Torah hints at young men?
When we think on it, it is not altogether too mysterious. Who else would see the Sotah and then immediately turn their lives around? When we think of people who, in a healthy state, go through radical changes and stages, we know of whom we think, and it is not the middle aged or retirees.
As Francis Bacon writes in his short note Of Youth and Age:
“Young men are fitter to invent than to judge, fitter for execution than for counsel, and fitter for new projects than for settled business…
“Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than they can hold; stir more than they can quiet…”
Or, as Longfellow beautifully put it, “A boy’s will is the wind’s will.” It may come and go, change direction or pace, and quickly so, with a light touch.
So, the Nazir, who changes his or her life on a dime, is most likely a young person. For those who have not yet been through many years at the office, difficult politics at the Thanksgiving day celebration, or sleepless nights, wine does not yet hold so much allure and change may not seem altogether too difficult. For the rest of us, we may yet keep some around.
Yet let us consider the rest of Bacon’s statement on youth and age:
“Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than they can hold; stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end… Men of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon and…content themselves with a mediocrity of success.”
Mature adults do not read the news or hear a piece of salacious gossip and change their lives. They do not go on a trip to Israel – not even for a year – and with a passionate fire in their bellies rant at length about the importance of Israel, the army, Torah study, prayer and the relative unimportance of material possessions, fascinating trips and vacations, and creature comforts.
We simply do not do those things. On the one hand, that is healthy and good, normal and mature, befitting a stable and good life. On the other hand, perhaps a little botox of the soul might do us good. Perhaps we can see ourselves as young, flexible, energetic, open, passionate, and, frankly, alive in a way that only those lucky people who get to go to Israel for the year are.
We come back to Longfellow, in his reminiscence of the town and times of his youth:
And Deering’s Woods are fresh and fair,
And with joy that is almost pain
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.
And the strange and beautiful song,
The groves are repeating it still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
Let our thoughts not be short. Let us set our sights high, stretch our attempted grasps, and pursue great ambitions. The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. They hold so much future in them. So much excitement follows in their wake. If that is at the heart of youth, then let us stay young a little longer.
