The Holy Sinner By Rabbi Aryeh Teifenbrunn

5786/2026

Sometimes, it can be hard to tell what type of life the Torah asks us to live. We are expected to hold ourselves to high standards and avoid excess. On the other hand, there are times when we are encouraged to enjoy ourselves in the physical world through Mitzvot like Oneg Shabbat, which we can fulfill by eating our favorite foods on Shabbat. Which is it? Are we meant to abstain from even permitted physical pleasures, thereby elevating ourselves? Or is it appropriate to engage in enjoyable activities, and eat that second (or third) piece of kugel at Kiddush, so long as it’s within the confines of the Mitzvot?

Parashat Nasso introduces us to the concept of a Nazir - a man or woman who vows to abstain from wine and avoid Tumat Meit for some period of time. There is a seeming tension in the Pessukim that describe the Nazir during his or her period of Nezirut. The Nazir is referred to twice (BeMidbar 6:5 and 6:8) as “Kodesh”, holy, to Hashem, by virtue of the vow that they took. However, when a Nazir becomes Tamei Meit by mistake, the Passuk (6:11) prescribes that they must bring a Korban Chatat “MeiAsher Chata Al HaNefesh”, “because of the sin committed upon the soul”. Rashi quotes two opinions as to what sin this is: firstly and simply, the sin of becoming Tamei while a Nazir; his second interpretation, quoted from R’ Elazar HaKappar, says that the Nazir’s sin of self-affliction is by requiring themselves to abstain from wine. According to Rashi’s second interpretation, it appears that although one achieves a high level of Kedushah as a Nazir, this is not an ideal way of achieving holiness.

Ramban on that same Passuk takes a different approach: the sin of the Nazir is the act of leaving a state of Nezirut. According to Ramban, a person requires atonement for the sin of defiling themselves with material desires such as wine. We have now examined two conflicting perspectives. Is it praiseworthy to become a Nazir, and a sin to exit that state, as 

Ramban indicates? Or is it less than ideal to become a Nazir, in which case leaving Nezirut is a return to a person’s natural state, as R’ Elazar HaKappar (quoted by Rashi) implies? If the Torah calls the Nazir both holy and a sinner, maybe the real question isn’t whether to say no to the pleasures of this world, but when to say no, and for how long.

The Gemara (Ta’anit 11a) presents Shmuel teaching that one who fasts unnecessarily is called a sinner. His proof is the same statement of R’ Elazar HaKappar that was quoted by Rashi in our Parasha - that the Nazir is a sinner because he or she  distressed himself by abstaining from wine. Indeed, Rambam in Hilchot De’ot (3:1) warns strongly against pursuing a path of asceticism (refraining from physical enjoyment). He writes that although some may assume that a good path to righteousness would be to not eat meat, not drink wine, not get married, and not live in a nice home or wear nice clothing, since that is what is done by holy people in other religions, it is prohibited for a Jew to behave this way. Earlier in Hilchot De’ot (1:4), Rambam makes his famous statement that the proper way for a person to act is to take the middle path for all aspects of life. Don’t refrain from ever eating delicious food- but don’t make every meal extravagant either. Don’t have an overly extravagant home to the point of waste and excess- but don’t feel obligated to live in a run-down shack, either.

Bearing in mind all of the above, I suggest that the message of the Nazir is the same message that Rambam delivers in yet another part of Hilchot De’ot (2:2). There he says that when a person is naturally drawn toward the extreme of a certain character trait, he can remedy this by forcing himself to the opposite extreme, until he returns to the middle path where he should stay. Through this lens, we can resolve the tension of whether the Nazir is holy or a sinner. Nezirut is an extreme measure. Someone who feels that their physical desires control their life can take on a period of Nezirut to deprive themselves temporarily. However, the goal is a return to the “Shvil HaZahav”, the golden middle path of Rambam, and to enjoy the world Hashem created for us without letting our desire for it drive us toward excess. This is the holiness of Nezirut: to push us back toward moderation when we’ve gone off course. This temporary push toward extremes is a powerful and useful tool to keep us on the right track. However, we must also remember that one who deprives oneself without good reason is called a sinner. May we all merit to enjoy Hashem’s world in an appropriate and holy manner.

My Body, My Choice? By Daniel Farkas (‘27)