Parsha_Push, Parshat Nasso

As we approach the end of the school year, with graduation parties and completion of matriculation exams, we can reflect a bit on the question of endings. Sometimes the end is the conclusion of something good that lasted for some time – a program we participated in, studies we pursued, work that occupied us. The program, the studies, and the work are the main thing, and the end is simply the end, marking what was and preparing us mentally to move on to the next thing.

And sometimes, the end is the climax, it is the goal, only we had to go through a process on the way to reach it. Whether it’s the matriculation exams we prepared for (when the matriculation is also the final accumulation of knowledge, at least for now), or whether it’s about achieving a certain goal that the process leading to it enabled.

So what’s the story of the Nazir – is the path that leads to nezirut the main thing, or is it the destination? Well, it depends on whom you ask.

Many see the period of being a Nazir itself as the essence of “Naziriteship”. It is a period in which a person separates himself in a variety of ways from the world. For instance, he refrains from drinking wine, grows his hair, and is careful not to become impure through contact with the dead. This is a period of even greater awareness than usual of what enters the mouth, and of the places where one moves about. According to Halakha, even the way one showers and combs their hair has significance. A life of separation, even if temporary, is a life of spiritual tension, of awareness, of holiness.

But others see the Nazir’s vow as something else. Like other vows in the Torah that include the dedication of sacrifices, they believe that the essence of nezirut is the sacrifices offered at its end, which include – among other things – the hair of the Nazir himself. The Nazir grew his hair in purity, while avoiding impurity from the dead, while refraining from drinking wine. And he dedicates this hair, together with additional sacrifices, to God. In order to give ‘of himself’ something to God, he must first preserve himself, and his hair. The entire period is preparation for the climactic moment at its end.

If we’re dealing with consciousness, it seems this is true in life in general – to what extent do we focus on the path, and to what extent on the point of completion? And how does this affect the way we prepare for things and experience them? Is the act of giving charity more important, or the money that reaches the poor person? Is studying Torah more important or knowing Torah? Is the doing more important or the result? Marking the goal – even if the path is the goal – is a necessary part of directing our actions.