Occasionally, I think about my own obituary. It’s a classic exercise used in writing classes and coaching sessions, and one I find grounding, like that first lungful of icy air after you get out of a warm car. It shocks you awake and brings clarity to your thoughts. Imagining my death allows me to frame my career, my parenting, and my hobbies in the context of a larger story. Like a table of contents, it shows the direction without defining details. I hope my obituary tells of a life of moderate ambition and desire to help others. I have enough ambition to want my name in lights, but not so much that those lights need to be outside Madison Square Garden. I want to make a positive impact on the world; I’ve chosen a career that allows me to help individuals in a meaningful way, without obligating myself to a life of asceticism. Moderation in all things, even moderation. In this week’s portion, Naso, we read about the Nazarite vow, which balances those three qualities: a desire to serve, a need to strive, and a measure of restraint. It’s a voluntary, temporary commitment to God’s service. In Numbers 6, we read the rules for a nazir: no grapes or grape-based products, no alcohol, no contact with dead bodies, and no cutting their hair. Should any of the rules be broken, a sacrifice is prescribed and the term of commitment starts over. The Torah omits any explanation of why someone would choose to become a Nazirite. Perhaps the author assumed that the motivation was so obvious that no explanation was needed. Numbers 6:1 reads:
Adonai spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelites and say to them: If any men or women explicitly utter a Nazirite’s vow, to set themselves apart for Adonai, they shall abstain from wine or any other intoxicant.
That’s the entirety of the Torah’s explanation – “to set themselves apart for Adonai.” In the Talmud, an entire tractate is devoted to Nazirite vows. The ancient Rabbis discuss what counts as a Nazirite vow, how long it should last, what happens if you’re in a cemetery when you utter the vow – but don’t mention why you would choose to voluntarily, temporarily dedicate yourself to God and take on the required abstentions. Abstaining from things like alcohol isn’t a typical Jewish obligation beyond Yom Kippur; in fact, the Talmud takes a dim view of those who entirely prohibit themselves from drinking wine in order to appear more “pure” or pious. Judaism is not an ascetic religion. Perhaps the rabbis of the Talmud were concerned about false modesty. As Golda Meir is said to have quipped: “Don’t be so humble, you’re not that great.” Nazirite vows remind me of modern volunteerism. Not the “one-and-done” approach that we sometimes engage in to assuage guilt or check a box, but the eager desire to contribute to an organization committed to making the world a better place. When I studied to be a cantor at Hebrew Union College in Manhattan, I was always impressed by the students who volunteered in the HUC soup kitchen, devoting their Monday nights to serving others. They truly “set [themselves] apart for God,” taking on the holy work of feeding others despite the schoolwork and synagogue jobs that competed for our limited time. Our obligation as Jews is to try to make the world a better place. We don’t all have to volunteer at soup kitchens, though that would be a worthy cause. Our world needs a lot of healing. We don’t have to do the same thing forever, but we must continually look around us and ask: where can I do good? Where am I inspired to help? Where can I dedicate myself to holy work, voluntarily, for a time, like the Nazirite? Immediately following the rules for Nazirite vows, in Numbers 6:24-26, we find the oldest blessing in our tradition, the Priestly Benediction:
The Eternal bless you and protect you! The Eternal deal kindly and graciously with you! The Eternal bestow [divine] favor upon you and grant you peace!
These verses – beautiful and moving poetry for weddings, b’nei mitzvah services, and all manner of holy occasions – might be here incidentally, a standalone section that happens to conclude the chapter on Nazirite vows. I like to think they are deliberately placed here to teach us about our power to change the world. The Sages teach that the Priestly Benediction is the conduit through which we bring God’s blessings to each other. Anyone can offer it. There is nothing about it that requires a rabbi, cantor, or High Priest. While the first three lines are certainly the most well-known, there is a fourth line that concludes the chapter: “Thus they shall link My name with the people of Israel, and I will bless them” (Numbers 6:27). Perhaps that’s the lesson of the Nazirite – by devoting ourselves to others, we bring God’s blessings to everyone, everywhere.