11a-b: On Being A Nazerite

Since I am sort of part Nazerite, what with my not drinking alcohol thing, I found fascinating the discussion about how to view a Nazerite, or generally someone who brings affliction on him or herself. I love the discussion of holiness and what it means, and I love that the tension the rabbis are encountering about the concept of the Nazerite seems to be woven into the very fabric of the Torah as well.

What does it mean, ultimately, to declare oneself holy, as a Nazerite seems to do? Surely there is some measure of self-righteousness here, and perhaps this worried the Biblical author as well as the rabbis. How can one person simply proclaim: I am above normal rules of eating and drinking and hold myself to a higher standard? And if we do that, are we not flaunting, to some extent, what it means to be a human, with all the loves, desires, and appetites thereof? Perhaps we should be suspicious of people who eschew pleasure, for it seems to indicate a certain lack of interest or concern in the workings of the real world, of the material world we inhabit. This, ultimately, is a dangerous path.

I think often of God's instruction to Elijah at the end of the amazing scene of theophany in I Kings 19. After Elijah complains that all his zealousness for God has been rewarded with death and destruction, the divine response is simple: get back to work. Get off this mountain, and go back to work. God has no time for mountain dwellers, for holy men set off from society. God needs workers, people knee-deep in the muck of real human existence, people conversant with the truth of the human experience.

God needs prophets who can speak to people who love, hate, desire, lust and also overdo those things. God needs prophets who can live, and speak to the living, and remain focused on what is beyond despite, and not in the absence of, the here and now.

That, maybe, is real holiness.