Parashat Nasso
June 11, 2022 | 12 Sivan 5782
Torah: Numbers 4:21-7:89 | Triennial: 7:1-7:89
Haftarah: Judges 13:2-25
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In this week's Torah Sparks, you'll find a D'var Torah on the Parashah by Ilana Kurshan called "Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow", Vered Hollander-Goldfarb poses questions titled "One Day of Glory" and Bex Stern Rosenblatt writes a dvar haftara called "Names and Blessings".
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Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
Ilana Kurshan
Our parashah describes the laws of the Nazir, one who elects to take a vow of consecration to God for a certain period of time. Such an individual is required to abstain from wine and avoid all contact with the dead, which suggests that the Nazir is taking on the stringencies of the priesthood; the priests, too, had to abstain from wine to maintain the proper mindset and avoid contact with the dead so as to serve God in a state of purity. More puzzling, perhaps, is the Torah’s stipulation that the Nazir may not cut or shave his or her hair, and then must shave it all off and place it to burn on the sacrificial altar at the culmination of his or her vow. What is the logic behind the unique grooming practices of the Nazir? What can we learn about the way we relate to our own hair—or lack thereof?
The Torah suggests that the Nazir’s hair becomes the hallmark of his or her consecration to God. We learn that the Nazir may not come near the dead even if his parents or siblings die, because “hair set apart for his God is upon his head” (6:7). If a Nazir does become impure during the period of his or her vow, the Torah states that it is in fact the Nazir’s hair that becomes defiled, and therefore it must be shaved off and then left to grow anew: “If a person dies suddenly near him, defiling his consecrated hair, he shall shave his head on the day he becomes clean… That same day he shall reconsecrate his head” (6:9-11). As these verses indicate, both the practice of growing one’s hair long and the practice of cutting it short are fundamental to the identity of the Nazir, embodying his or her act of consecration.
The Talmud in tractate Nazir discusses the laws governing the Nazir’s grooming practices in extensive detail: May the Nazir use depilatory cream? What if his or her hair always sheds while combing it? What if a Nazir was attacked and forcibly shorn by a group of thugs, leaving just a small bit of hair? These questions may seem like splitting hairs, until we come to a story about a particular Nazir who had a unique and inspiring relationship with his hair.
The story is narrated by Shimon HaTzadik, a priest during the Second Temple period. He tells of one particular Nazir who came to the Temple at the culmination of his vow to shave and burn his hair, as the Torah stipulates. The priest describes this Nazir as having “beautiful eyes and a handsome appearance, with his locks arranged in curls,” an image reminiscent of the beautiful Absalom’s heavy tresses or the curly locks of the lover in the Song of Songs. The priest saw this Nazir upon his arrival at the Temple and asked, “Why did you become a Nazir, which would force you to destroy this beautiful hair?” The Nazir responded that he was shepherding his flocks when he came to a pool of water and gazed admiringly upon his reflection: He decided to become a Nazir to escape his infatuation with his beauty: “I said to my heart: Wretch! How you pride yourself in what is not yours, made of dust, worm and maggot! Behold I will shave it off for the sake of heaven!” (Nazir 4b). This Nazir was not just struck by his beauty; he was also struck—and alarmed—by his vanity, which he sought to check by consecrating his hair to God.
This story is often compared to the myth of Narcissus, which scholars presume to have influenced the Talmudic account. But another useful intertext—albeit one that came much later—is the famous O. Henry story “The Gift of the Magi,” in which the heroine also examines her reflection and is struck by her hair: “Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass… Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length… Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her.” Della sells her hair so that she might have enough money to purchase a Christmas present for her beloved husband Jim; she buys him a fob for his watch, unaware that he has sold his watch to buy her combs for her rippling, shining hair. By the end of the story, it is clear that Della and Jim have given each other the most meaningful gifts of all, because their gifts symbolize the sacrifices they are prepared to make for one another.
Perhaps we should not be surprised, then, that the Nazir is commanded to grow long hair and then offer it in sacrifice to God. In the Torah’s synecdoche, the hair of the Nazir substitutes for the entire person, and thus the Nazir sacrifices his or her hair as a way of symbolically sacrificing himself or herself. Hair is a renewable part of our body; when we give it up, we are not endangering ourselves, but rather enacting the gesture of sacrificing something we value deeply for the sake of another ideal. We might shave our hair to burn on the altar, or sell it to buy a present for a spouse; but we might also donate our hair to organizations that make wigs for cancer patients, thereby allowing someone else to feel beautiful again. The Nazir challenges us to think about other creative ways we can give of ourselves, and how, in so doing, we might find ourselves transformed.
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One Day Of Glory
Vered Hollander-Goldfarb
Text: Bemidbar 7:1-11
1Now it came to pass, on the day when Moshe had completed setting up the tabernacle, that he anointed it and consecrated it and all its furnishings, …10And the leaders offered the dedication offering for the altar when it was anointed; so the leaders offered their offering before the altar. 11 For the Lord said to Moshe, “They shall offer their offering, one leader each day, for the dedication of the altar.”
- The Mishkan (Tabernacle) was a national project. Why is Moshe credited with its completion?
- The leaders of the tribes have a major role in consecrating the Mishkan. Why are their offerings mentioned separately from the offerings that all the people made to build the Mishkan?
Commentary: Rashi Bemidbar 7:1
Moshe had completed – Bezalel and Ohaliab and all the wise-hearted men made the Tabernacle (cf. Exodus 36:1), but Scripture attributes it to Moshe because he devoted himself wholeheartedly to it, to see that the shape of each article was exactly as He had shown him on the mountain — to show the workmen how it should be made; nor did he err in a single shape.
- According to Rashi, who should have been credited with building the Mishkan? Why is Moshe, whose position appears to be administrative and supervisory, credited with the completion of the Mishkan? Can you think of similar situations today? How do they differ from the reason given by Rashi?
Commentary: Rashi Bemidbar 7:10
So the leaders offered their offering before the altar - because Moshe would not accept them at their hands until he was so bidden by the mouth of the Almighty.
- Why do you think that Moshe would not accept the offerings of the leaders of the tribes until he was instructed to do so by God?
- Once he was ordered to accept the offerings, each tribe leader brought the offering on a separate day. Why do you think that it was done in such a manner?
Commentary Hizkuni Bemidbar 7:11
One leader per day – to honor the leaders. Since Nahshon (the leader of the tribe of Judah) went first, he should not say, ‘since I offered first, I will go up to offer with each of the others on their day'; therefore, it says: “one leader per day.”
One leader per day - to extend their joy.
- Hizkuni offers two possible reasons for the “one leader per day” system. How would you define each of them?
- What risk does Hizkuni identify in Nahshon’s potential understanding of his position? When is such a risk prevalent?
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Names and Blessings
Bex Stern Rosenblat
Names are important - they tell the world who we are and help us understand ourselves. In a climatic moment of our parasha, God describes the purpose of the priestly blessing, saying: “And the priests will set my name upon the Israelites and I, myself, will bless them.” Through the recitation of God’s name in the priestly blessing, God is invoked, such that God blesses through the words coming out of the priests’ mouths. The recitation of God’s name becomes inseparable from blessing.
Yet, in this week’s haftarah, Judges 13, there is deep discomfort around the sharing of names. There are four characters in the story and only two of them are named - Manoah and Samson. Manoah’s name can be read ironically. The root of his name is nun-vav-het, to rest. But Manoah is unable to rest, rushing from place to place, from action to action, never content to let the divine plan simply unfold. Samson’s name is also something of a riddle, meaning perhaps “name.” The main character of the story is left nameless, identified only as the woman, the wife of Manoah.
The final character of the story refuses to divulge their name. They are identified as a messenger or angel of God. Manoah asks for more, asks the angel directly what their name is, in order to honor them when their words come true. Much as we honor God and God’s name through the invocation of God’s name, it seems that Manoah hopes to do the same for the angel. But the angel refuses, saying, “Why are you asking for this, for my name? It is wondrous.” Rashi explains the angel's comment by way of Bereshit Rabba, saying that angels do not have fixed names. Rather, an angel’s name is dependent on their task. Malbim takes this idea even further, explaining that at this moment, the angel’s name is Wondrous because the angel has been sent to perform wonders. However, when sent to perform a different task, the angel will have a different name.
We humans are different. We remain ourselves, we have a sense of internal coherence that lasts not just through any particular action, but through all the years of our lives. It is the thing we summon into being through our names. Samson suffers in this way - as Name son of Rester Who Can’t Rest and Nameless One, he struggles to figure out who he is and where he belongs. Our parasha offers a direct contrast. There, we are listed by name and by tribal affiliation. We tell ourselves a story of who we are that outlasts the particular actions and rebellions of the Book of Numbers.
Today, the priestly blessing is used, among other things, to bless children. In an undoing of the story of Samson, parents let children know where they come from. When we invoke God’s name as a blessing over the children, holding God to the part of Godself that is inseparable from blessing.
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