The Kohen’s Principle
In our parshah this week (6:12) we read about the Nazir who became impure – he accidentally walked into a room where there was a dead body, or maybe he touched a meis – and he must now begin his term of nezirus all over again. But before he could restart his nezirus, he first had to bring a korban asham to the Beis Hamikdash.
Regarding this korban, the Gemara (Nazir 4b) relates a statement that Shimon Hatzaddik, a Kohen Gadol who served during the early years of the Bayis Sheini period, made to his talmidim. He said as follows: “In all my days I never ate from the asham offering of a Nazir who had become tamei.” He had a principle never to eat from that korban. He had a certain reason (see Nedarim 9b) which we won’t speak about now; what matters for us is the story related there.
The One Exception
The Gemara there says that there was one time when Shimon Hatzaddik made an exception. One day a handsome young man, a Nazir with beautiful long hair, came to the Beis Hamikdash to bring his korban, and Shimon Hatzaddik saw him and took note of the beautiful locks that were hanging over his shoulders.
You know today, if you see a man wearing long hair, what it means is that he wants to show the world that he’s a rebel; a tramp. But it was different in those days; in those days they wore long hair not because they imitated the gentiles — it was the way that people went. And so, Shimon Hatzaddik said to him, “Bni, my son; mah ra’isa l’shacheis sei’ar na’eh zeh; what reason did you have to shear off such beautiful hair? Why make a vow to become a Nazir when you knew that you would have to cut off such beautiful hair at the end of your nezirus?”
The Yetzer in the Mirror
And so this young man told Shimon Hatzaddik the following story: “I am a shepherd for my father’s sheep. One day as the sheep were drinking from a spring in the meadow, I too was thirsty so I bent over to take some water for myself. As I leaned close to the spring I noticed my reflection in the clear water; I saw my image and I noticed that I was good-looking.” This shepherd wouldn’t have known otherwise because in those days men never looked at mirrors; but it happened this one time by accident.
Now, when this shepherd saw his reflection, he felt a stirring within him: Pachaz alai yitzri – “My yetzer hara leaped upon me,” the shepherd said. It doesn’t state what the yetzer urged him to do, so we take it in its most simple explanation that it was the evil inclination of vanity. He saw that he was a handsome young man and he felt a surge of pride; and right away he understood that he was becoming conceited.
This young man understood the danger that was brewing in his heart and he said to himself, “Young man, you need a talking to”. Ordinarily, when you hear such words, somebody else is saying it to you, but in this case when there’s nobody else around to criticize you, so you have to say it to yourself.
Early Detection
And listen to his words. “Rasha! You evil person!” he said to himself, “Mipnei mah atah misga’eh b’olam she’eino shelcha? Why are you proud, so conceited with a world that does not belong to you?!” Now, to hear such words being spoken by this young man is a remarkable thing. Because the fact that he was virtuous enough to recognize in his incipient conceit that it was the work of the yetzer hara is already a madreigah.
Imagine someone tells you that you are handsome or maybe that you are wise or whatever it is and you feel a stirring of pride within you; would you think to say such a thing: “Wooah! Hold on a minute here! That’s the yetzer hara that just leaped upon me.” If you do that then you’re something special; you’re an exceptional person if you recognize that.
And not only did this young shepherd understand that this was the work of the yetzer hara, but he went a step further and he said, “Ubikesh l’tardeini min haolam – This evil inclination was attempting to drive me out of the world.” He was wise enough to realize that ‘Ga’avah rosh kol chatas,’ that arrogance is the beginning of all sins and that the yetzer was using a stratagem to lead him astray. That’s a chochom! To recognize the danger not after it had already progressed and led him astray, but at the very first stirring of conceit! The mere awareness of beautiful hair or a beautiful nose or a beautiful complexion or beautiful eyes, he recognized it as the beginning of a campaign to drive him out of this world.
The Ancient Shepherd
Now, this young man wasn’t anybody we would consider exceptional; he was nothing but an ordinary shepherd boy pasturing his father’s sheep. He wasn’t in the beis hamedrash; he was alone somewhere in the fields. But as we listen in on the words of this shepherd boy, we get a little taste of what the Jewish nation was in the early days of the Bayis Sheini; we begin to understand the greatness of our nation. It was a people that were trained in piety and yiras Shomayim; and the emunah had so saturated the nation that the teachings had permeated down even to the lower levels of the people, down to the working boy.
That’s what he was – a working boy. But we see from this young man’s words that he was very aware of the great issues of life. The truth is that if we’re going to be honest with ourselves we’d have to say that the old time working boy of the Bayis Sheini was far superior to some of our very good people today.
The Truth About the World
And so we’re going to sit now at the feet of this shepherd boy as if he were one of the Sages of the Am Yisroel and listen to his words as he teaches us one of the yesodei ha’emunah; one of the Torah foundations of understanding life and all the phenomena of this world. That’s a very big order, but we’re going to hear about it now from this shepherd boy. “As I was looking at my image in the water and felt the stirrings of vanity, I thought to myself, ‘What’s going on here? Rasha! You evil person! Why are you proud, so conceited with a world that does not belong to you?!’”
Now, in those words we hear a very great message. It’s the message we’re going to listen to tonight. He recognized that this world is not his; that it has an Owner, a Landlord. That’s what we hear from the words of this boy. “I’m living in a world that belongs to Someone Else! And everything in the world belongs to Him including my handsome face and my beautiful hair. It’s loaned to me for a short time. It’s not your hair,” he was telling himself, “What’s there to be proud about?”
The Tuxedo Gmach
Imagine someone borrows a tuxedo or an expensive chassidishe suit from a friend. And so he's strutting down Thirteenth Avenue wearing his friend’s outfit, fancying himself a wealthy man now because he’s wearing his tuxedo. He’s so proud of himself. “Ahh, my beautiful tux! I’m a wealthy man!” What would we say about such a fellow? “A meshugeneh,” we’d say. It’s all a dimyon; it’s your imagination. You’re being misga’eh b’olam she’eino shelcha – you’re proud about owning a tuxedo that’s not yours. If you’re an honest man, as you walk down the avenue and people are admiring you, so you say to yourself, “Don’t live in a world of fantasy! You’re parading around in borrowed finery.”
And if we would study well the words of our teacher, this shepherd, we would understand immediately that even the rich man, the “owner” of the tuxedo, if he’s walking down Thirteenth Avenue thinking that he’s proud of his tuxedo, so he’s exactly like that poor fellow parading around in borrowed clothing. Nothing is his! Of course, it’s his; but he understands that it really belongs to Hashem! The rich man is only temporarily in charge of the property. And if he’s arrogant, he's being misga’eh b’olam she’eino shelo – he’s being arrogant with a world that doesn’t belong to him.
Giving Back
So this Nazir said to himself. “How could I be arrogant with hair that is not mine? It’s not my hair anyhow!” And so, what did he do? “Ha’avodah she’agalchacha la’Shomayim,” he said. “I take an oath by the temple service to be a Nazir; I’ll let this hair of mine grow and then at the end of the period of nezirus, I’ll shave off all of this beautiful hair and give it back to its true Owner.”
“I’m living in a world that is not mine, wearing hair that’s not mine, and that’s easy to forget in Olam Hazeh. I need some time to think; time to reflect about the One Who owns this world and remove the conceit from my mind. And so I’ll become a Nazir and after a period of time thinking about that, of drilling that truth into my head, I’ll take Your hair and give it back to You.”
The Ancient Orthodox
You know, in the olden days people were loyal to Hashem. You have no idea how much people were devoted to Hakadosh Baruch Hu in the early days. The common people thought about Hashem always and the awareness that He was the Adon, the Master, was paramount to them in their hearts. We are very far away from that today. If a person is frum today we don’t examine him too much; we’re not interested in how much he’s thinking about Hashem in his heart. Halevai he should be mikayeim kol haTorah kulah in all its technicalities and we’ll consider him a tzaddik gomur. But in the olden days it was the Awareness of Hashem that was the criterion. Everyone lived with the declaration of Hashem that י לִי הָאָרֶ ץ כִ – “I am the One Who owns the land” (Vayikra 25:23). And what mattered most in those days was how dedicated you were to Hashem in your heart, how much you recognized Him as your Master.
And therefore, if someone felt that he was lacking in this awareness of Hashem, if he felt there was some shortcoming in his dedication to this principle, so to remedy that, sometimes he or she – it was available to men and women – would accept upon themselves a term of nezirus. It means you make a decision to set aside a certain period of time – thirty days or longer – to recognize that you belong to Hashem and you express that dedication by becoming a Nazir.
The Hairy Crown
Now, the laws of nezirus are made up of many details; in many ways the Nazir was imitating the laws of a kohen who was the prototype, the eved Hashem par excellence. But one of the most prominent aspects of a Nazir was the hair on his head. When you study the laws of a Nazir in our parshah, you’ll see that it states as follows: י נֵ זֶ ר כִ קָיו עַל רֹאשׁ וֹ אֱל - The crown of Hashem is on his head (Naso 6:7). Now a possuk like that is something that’s almost unequaled! His hair is a crown of Hashem resting on his head! That’s something! We have to study that; it’s not for nothing that it’s in the Torah.
It's a remarkable thing – for thirty days he was chosen by Hashem to wear a crown on his head – that’s his long hair. And the crown was considered so sacred that when the nezirus ended he had to cut off his hair; it was burnt in the fire upon which they were cooking the korban shelamim that he had brought. The hair of the Nazir was burnt as an offering to Hashem!
An offering of hair!? Yes, his hair was kadosh now because this man had recognized that even his hair, growing from his hair follicles, on his head, it all belongs to Hashem. A Nazir became a new person. Not only that he looked different; it could be that externally the only change you would see would be his hair growing. But more important was that his mind was growing. For one month – sometimes more than that – this person had devoted his or her mind to Awareness of Hashem!
The Thirty Day Campaign
Now, it doesn’t mean he didn’t do anything during that time. I’m sure that the Nezirim learned and they davened too. Some of them even worked — there were Nezirim who were farmers and blacksmiths. The shepherd in our story didn’t stop herding his father’s sheep. But whatever it was that they did, their minds were devoted entirely to thoughts of Hakadosh Baruch Hu, to recognizing that we are guests in His world.
That was the crown of a Nazir, the long hair on his head was a crown of dedication to Hashem, a sign of what was doing in his head. He was learning that he’s living in an olam she’eino shelo – in a world that’s not yours. And once a person underwent such an experience, once you went through that, then all of your life the impression of that period remained on your mind.
