Beyond the Rule of Passion: Naso

Beyond the Rule of Passion:  Naso

D’var Torah by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

This week’s Torah portion, Naso (Num. 4:21—7:89), bursts the bubble of perfection that last week’s portion, B’midbar, envisioned for us.

It may be unfair and we can protest all we want, but it’s an inescapable fact that, despite all the beautiful visions and prophecies in the Bible, life just isn’t perfect.

Nature’s whims and caprices, even the earth’s instability, are only the setting for the real drama that takes place on life’s stage.  We are the players, and it is human emotions that transport us and which evoke both laughter and tears. 

Unpredictable and volatile, our emotions bind us one to another, but just as quickly they can turn into dangerous and divisive passions. 

The Midrash teaches that “love and hate disrupt the natural order.”  The presumption behind this teaching is that were it not for these emotions, life would follow some “natural order.”  Perhaps so, but we will never know.  Human beings, arguably more than any other living creature, are ruled by our passions.  That is our natural order.  Perhaps what the rabbis meant is that all too often we allow our emotions to get out of hand, causing needless chaos and destruction.

The story of this week’s portion, Naso, begins where B’midbar leaves off.  The Israelites are encamped around the Tabernacle, each with his and her own place, each with his and her own unique function and role in the upkeep and maintenance of the community.

But almost immediately, we see the cracks of imperfection.  Petty offenses occur, incursions into one another’s property, intentional or unintentional misdemeanors, take place.

Then worse things happen, as feelings intensify and passions erupt.

Love’s fresh bloom has the potential to sour and turn into jealousy.  And faith, unshakeable source of strength for some, can easily become excessive and turn into dangerous zealotry.

These passions, it seems, have bedeviled us since time immemorial, even to our own day.  Stories of jealousy and domestic violence are the stuff of local news, while religious fanaticism underlies brutal global wars and even many of our own internal, social and legal battles.

Recognizing the volatile nature of human emotions and passions, the Torah admonishes us to keep them in check through formal rituals.

One of the most revolting of these rituals is known as the Ordeal of Bitter Waters.  Disgusting, degrading, and even misogynistic, this ritual is theoretically meant to prove the innocence of a woman accused of infidelity by her husband.  In this test, the woman is forced to drink a vile mixture of water, dirt and ashes.  If she is guilty, she will display mysterious—and impossible—physical symptoms.  If, on the other hand, nothing of the sort happens, she is cleared of all charges and is restored to her former place and role.

It may be sickening, but the Ordeal of the Bitter Waters serves to save the woman’s life.  Literally and figuratively, she is taken out of the jealous husband’s hands. The ritual, administered by a dispassionate priest, allows dangerous passions to cool and violent urges to dissipate. 

Religious zealotry—excessive devotion to God—is likewise disruptive to normative social order.  Yet, as we know all too well, it too is a common phenomenon.  Religious wars, crusades and jihads are but some of the examples of unbridled faith. 

Once again, the Torah prescribes rituals intended to keep this human peculiarity under control.  Strict rules are proposed whose purpose is not only to give direction to religious passion, but also to restrain it, to keep it from turning into violence.  Among these, alcohol is forbidden to the Nazirite (the term used to describe this excessively devout individual); so is coming in contact with—and, by extension, causing—death.

The rituals that Naso prescribes are, thankfully, obsolete.  Their role has been replaced by the rule of civil law.  But both ritual and law are only concepts, ideas invented as a counterbalance to violent emotional outbursts.  Once in the throes of our passions, we find it difficult if not impossible to control ourselves.  That’s why the Torah requires external supervision.  The jealous husband is replaced by the court.  So, too, is the Nazirite’s devotion kept in check by the surrounding community, whose critical role it is to maintain a watchful eye on the individual and keep his passion under control.

Love and hate may indeed raise us above the ordinary.  Certainly they define our humanity as distinct from all other forms of life.  However, our easy susceptibility to excessive passions can cause us to disrupt the natural order of things, to wreak mayhem and destruction within our homes and upon our society.  It is only when we recognize the powers that exist above us, beyond our own skins and egos, that we can maintain stability within and around us.

Only when we accomplish this difficult task can the Priestly Blessing, the pinnacle of this portion, become our blessed lot:  “May God bless you and watch over you; may God cause light to shine upon you and be gracious to you; may God’s countenance be lifted up unto you and grant you peace” (Num. 6:24-27). 

Kein y’hi ratzon, may this indeed, be our blessing.

© 2015 by Boaz D. Heilman