| One of many things I appreciate about Judaism is that she offers many paths toward meaning, holiness and self-refinement. It makes sense that there isn't just one way. After all, people are wired, raised and educated differently. So it stands to reason that Judaism would offer multiple paths befitting our diversity of perspective and life trajectory. It's telling that our tradition's greatest paths to spiritual meaning and holiness – the discipline of long-term wise choice – comes forward in Torah precisely now, just after Shavuot. |
Nasso 5786 (2026)
Think about times that you took on a discipline in your life. What did it teach you?
For all of Judaism's spiritual allusions to light, love and transcendence, Judaism also is a very earthy religion. One way that Judaism calls us toward spirituality in through the here and now – this moment, this place, this food, this person, this community.
Almost anything can be a springboard to the spiritual, an opportunity for blessing and gratitude. As we say in the Amidah from Isaiah 6:3, "The whole earth is full of [God's] glory."
That's one reason that Jews traditionally haven't been ascetics. Our ancestors who believed in afterlife accountability wrote 2,000 years ago, "On the future judgment day, a person will need to give account for all that they saw but did not eat" (J.T. Kiddushin 4:12.3) – meaning, all that we might have enjoyed in this life but did not. Jewish spirituality includes enjoying our lives – not as mere hedonists, but in wise balance with the flow of spirit.
So when our spiritual ancestors did take up the discipline of self-denial, it was a very big deal. Yom Kippur is one example. This week's Torah portion about the nazir is another.
A nazirite voluntarily vowed to give up certain physical pleasures as a discipline to become holy (Num. 6:1-21). Abstaining from liquor, cutting hair (concern for appearance), bodily pleasure and public mourning rituals, the nazirite temporarily set themselves apart from the physical to focus on the metaphysical.
The prophet Samuel, and the ancient judge Samson, both were Nazirites. Both undertook times of discipline to refine themselves spiritually.
The nazirite vow was open to anyone – male or female, from any background, of any age. In this way, it was profoundly democratic. Its duration was whatever the nazirite undertook as a personal commitment (the default was 30 days), and thus was about personal choice and discipline. Anyone undertaking it was honored as a role model, respected for choosing spirituality and inner discipline to control life's excesses.
I wonder if there are modern equivalents to the nazirite vow – intense times of personally chosen discipline, turning away from routine and toward the spiritual. I know from my own life the power of such chosen times, and what they can teach us about ourselves and the power of chosen spirituality. Perhaps you do, too.
It's telling that Torah records the nazirite vow precisely now, immediately after Shavuot. It reminds that our next major holiday is Rosh Hashanah. Perhaps the nazirite vow comes now to remind that each of us has choices to make about how to live, and that soon enough we will face those choices in community.
The journey ahead will ask discipline. We'll need discipline to face those parts of ourselves we know must change, the hurts we caused, the opportunities we missed. And we'll need discipline to navigate how we feel about them, and how others feel about them, so that raw emotion can galvanize us without dissuading us.
Day by day during these long days of maximum light, each of us has personal opportunities to begin the long, slow turn inward. What discipline might you take up in the weeks and months ahead to raise up spiritual meaning and inner refinement, to prepare us for the journey ahead?
Our High Holy Day "runway" series will begin 7:00pm July 28 for seven Tuesdays.
Erev Rosh Hashanah will begin 6:30pm on Friday, September 11.
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