Erev Shavuos / Parshas Nasso 5780
We are dazzled by heroics. When the hero faces his greatest challenge and still overcomes the odds, we are left awestruck. Whether a home run in the bottom of the ninth against the toughest closer in baseball, or Batman finding a way out of the Joker’s deathtrap, these are the moments that captivate our minds like no other.
For the past two months, we’ve lived without heroics. No dramatic face-off between ourselves and our nemesis, the coronavirus, burrowing ourselves deep into the security provided by our private homes. Why? Because we’re safe, responsible people. Only a fool puffs out his chest and insists that he’s invincible, boasting that he can go toe-to-toe with any enemy and come out unscathed. For anyone who’s had the option, the responsible approach has been to avoid danger, not seek it out and show ourselves tougher.
This is a lesson that is more easily accepted when it comes to our bodies than when it comes to our character. Somehow, we appreciate that even a healthy body can be compromised by illness, but find it hard to believe that healthy character can be compromised by vice. A healthy person can become sick, but an ethical person should never falter.
Parshas Nasso takes a different approach. Immediately on the heels of relating the story of the Sotah—a woman who commits adultery under a particular set of circumstances—the Torah immediately pivots to a discussion of the laws of the Nazir, who, among other things, abstains from wine for the length of his vow.
Rashi, quoting the Gemara in Sotah, explains this odd juxtaposition:
לָמָּה נִסְמְכָה פָרָשַׁת נָזִיר לְפָרָשַׁת סוֹטָה? לוֹמַר לְךָ שֶׁכָּל הָרוֹאֶה סוֹטָה בְקִלְקוּלָהּ יַזִּיר עַצְמוֹ מִן הַיַּיִן, שֶׁהוּא מֵבִיא לִידֵי נִאוּף
Why is the portion dealing with the Nazir placed next to the portion dealing with the Sotah? To tell you that whoever sees the Sotah in her disgrace should separate himself from wine, which can lead to adultery.
The Torah’s approach to exposure to the Sotah episode is far from heroic. There is no insistence made by the onlooker that he’s a cut above the weak minded folk who succumbed to this sin. No, the Torah encourages caution, rather than heroics. Beware of the fact that you’re a human being and that human beings are susceptible to mistakes and erosion of character. Make no assumption that you’re beyond this behavior and that sin is simply beneath you. Don’t be blind to the sad reality that even great people can slowly slip if they act with anything less than vigilance in securing their spiritual health. Don’t be a hero. Be real, be honest, and be careful.
Perhaps this philosophy is embedded into the very fabric of the Jewish calendar, forcing us to consider the relationship between the Sotah and Nazir as we celebrate the inception of our relationship between ourselves and the Torah. We need to be mindful of just what an overhaul of our very personalities, drives, and natural desires the Torah asks of us. In doing so, the Torah makes no demand that purposely plough through a spiritual minefield; but that we carefully navigate our way around it. When hazards emerge on the horizon, the Torah insists that there’s no shame in avoiding them.
Do we hope to embed the Torah’s values so deeply into our consciousness that nothing will ever sway us from our commitment to them? Of course. But we must be humble enough to admit that when exposed to prolonged challenges, we will likely falter. First in mindset, then in deed. Our Parsha encourages us to own up to this reality and adopt a fitting strategy and avoid picking fights on behalf of our conscience if we could simply have crossed to the other side of the street.
In the tefilah immediately following the morning Birchos Hashachar, we ask that Hashem protect us and keep us away from spiritual harm: “ואל תביאנו לא לידי חטא ולא לידי עברה ועון ולא לידי נסיון—Please do not bring us to sin, nor transgression, nor iniquity, nor a test.” This last request is odd. Why ask to be shielded from scenarios that test our meddle and valor, rather than simply request the ability to overcome all such challenges? The answer is that we’d be asking for the miraculous. Character can and will be tested; at times in incredibly difficult ways. Indeed, these tests may well make us stronger. But bringing tests upon ourselves in an effort to display machismo of character is reckless. Such influences ultimately erode our character and resolve, and we naturally become weaker of spirit as a result.
In truth, perhaps saying that we shouldn’t play the hero is overstating things. What’s actually needed is a more realistic assessment of what a hero truly is. Like a gold glove outfielder who makes a remarkable diving catch when absolutely called for, we hope to develop enough strength of character to withstand extraordinary tests when they arise. But day to day life calls for far less flash and pizzazz, for an eved Hashem as much as a ballplayer. The player who tries to make the highlight reel on every play is acting recklessly. First and foremost, being a hero means cautious and responsible, and avoiding the urge to unnecessarily turn the routine into the thrilling. Whenever possible, a true hero avoids heroics.
As we approach Matan Torah, it’s worth considering what areas of our avodas Hashem demand more responsibility and caution. Are there specific groups of friends that challenge my ability to speak properly? Are there modes of entertainment that erode my modesty or inner kedusha? Are there environments that bring out the cynic in me? One bent on foolish heroics would continue to dive headlong into these fraught environments, convinced that he will rise above all difficulties. But the Parsha prods us along a different path; one of humility and caution that circumvents the challenges rather than passing right through their midst. This is path that leads straight to Sinai.