The Nazir, the Rabbis, and Yichud

The Gaon of Vilna is often quoted as saying that the Mesilas Yesharim does not contain a single extra word until chapter eleven. It is not hard to understand the Gaon's meaning, for the change in writing style is immediately evident to every reader. The first ten chapters speak of principles; chapter eleven consists of examples. The author could not be more explicit about this shift; he titled the chapter, "The Details of the Trait of Nekius." This is only chapter name in the book that mentions "details."

Why did the author change his style and give us a long list of detailed examples? The answer can be found in chapter ten. 

So now you see the difference between the Zahir and the Naki, even though they are similar. The Zahir is careful with his behavior and makes sure not to sin in ways that he is aware of and are considered by everyone to be sinful. However, he is not yet a master over himself to prevent his heart from being drawn after the natural desires, that it should not influence him with leniencies in areas where the wrongness is not well-known...      

This then is the goal of Nekius: achieving mastery over our Yetzer HaRa so as not to be seduced in the grey areas of Halacha where "the wrongness is not well-known." Now we understand why the Ramchal has to delineate specific examples in chapter eleven. By definition, Nekius is gaining awareness and building resistance against the forgotten sins. If the Ramchal doesn't identify them, we would never know what he's referring to. Unless, of course, you are the Vilna Gaon.

II

For years I was troubled by the Ramchal's blatant omission of yichud from chapter eleven. Trumped only by the desire for money, arayos (sexual immorality) comes in second in the Ramchal's list of the most challenging sins. Aside from the primary act, he lists multiple secondary ways arayos can be violated: by touch, sight, speech, hearing, even thought. Surprisingly though, the Ramchal makes no mention of yichud, the prohibition against being alone with a woman. Why did he leave out yichud from his otherwise comprehensive list?

By way of introduction to arayos, the Ramchal quotes an intriguing Midrash. It is understood that the Nazir's primary sin is to drink wine, nonetheless, the Torah also prohibits the Nazir from eating grapes and grape leaves. According to the Midrash, these biblical laws of the Nazir serve as a model for the rabbis, directing them to pass similar legislation for arayos. It is not only the primary sin that should be prohibited, but also anything close to it. 

The Ramchal feels this is an important Midrash, but it is hard to see what is new here. The job of the rabbis is known; their mandate is to construct "fences" around the law, prohibiting any act that may lead to a biblical violation. What does the Nazir teach us that we didn't already know?

The answer is that the Nazir is actually introducing an entirely new type of rabbinic law, one that is not a fence at all. If the objective was merely to prevent the Nazir from drinking wine, what is the sense of prohibiting grape leaves? Does eating leaves generate a thirst for wine? Most certainly not. So why does the Torah prohibit it? The answer is that grape leaves have something in common with wine - they both come from the grape vine - and that is reason enough to stay away. This is the remarkable stringency the rabbis learned from the Nazir and applied to arayos: prohibit anything similar to the sin, even if it does not lead to the sin.

The Ramchal underscores this truth in a pointed paragraph.

If a person suggests that what the sages said about verbal vulgarity was just intended to frighten and distance people from sin... but if someone speaks that way just to be funny there is no issue and nothing to be concerned about, tell this person that he is quoting the Yetzer HaRa! ... The truth is what the sages said, vulgarity is literally the arayos of the mouth, it is a prohibited form of promiscuity no different from all the other forms of promiscuity... Even though there is no kares or capital punishment, they are inherently prohibited, apart from their ability to cause and lead to the primary sin itself, just like the Nazir in the Midrash we quoted above.   

There are "innocent" acts that must be condemned and prohibited, not because of the proverbial slippery slope, but because their association with sin makes them inherently wrong. This, says the Ramchal, is what the Nazir taught the rabbis about arayos.

It is the very novelty of these laws that drives the Ramchal to write about them. Since these behaviors don't necessarily lead to sin, people don't see the problem. The wrongness is not well-known. Nonetheless, they are a form of arayos and to be Naki from arayos requires Nekius from these behaviors too. Yichud, however, belongs to an entirely different category. The sages did not ban Yichud because it is a form of arayos, they banned it because it leads to arayos. Abstaining from being alone with a member of the opposite sex is simply common sense; one who is permissive is not only in violation of a well-known law, he is grossly negligent. Forget Nekius, this person lacks basic Zehirus! This is why yichud does not belong in chapter eleven.

Coming Clean

Chapter twelve is short. Throughout the lengthy and intimidating chapter eleven we braced ourselves for a grueling regiment for acquiring Nekius, but Luzzatto surprises us. All we need to do is learn.

Based on its description in this chapter, Nekius is a hyper-Zehirus, a scrupulous observance of Torah to its very last detail. As seasoned masters of Zehirus, we are well trained in taking the Torah to heart and implementing what we learn into practice. The only thing we lack is a comprehensive knowledge of Halachah and Mussar. So Luzzatto prescribes learning. Learn and be Naki. That's it.

Sounds reasonable enough, until we remind ourselves of Luzzatto's original definition of Nekius. Back in chapter ten he explicitly differentiated Nekius from Zehirus. As long as man is driven by self-interest he can never be truly Naki, Luzzatto wrote, for man's subconscious id blinds his objective thinking and corrupts his judgement. Luzzatto therefore made the bold claim that attaining Nekius requires nothing less than the total eradication of the Yetzer HaRa itself. It's hard to argue with the logic, but it begs the question: How on earth can a human being change his nature and attain the spiritual level of an angel?!

The title of chapter twelve promises to provide an answer to this mystery, but Luzzato seems to have conveniently forgotten the idealism of chapter ten. We could easily accept his educational recommendations if Nekius were merely a matter of observance, but it is not. According to chapter ten, Nekius is the transformation of a flawed human into a perfect, purified being devoid of negative drives. How could simply reading Halachic and Mussar works possibly suffice to achieve that superhuman goal? What we need here is a brain and heart transplant!

What has happened to Luzzatto? Is he backpedaling?

Tradition informs us and experience has shown that we can trust our author. The key to discovering his intent is simply to read carefully and follow through. If Luzzatto tells us in chapter twelve that Nekius is basically just a complete, all-encompassing Zehirus, then we would do well to turn back and review what he wrote about Zehirus earlier in the book. Indeed, a rereading of chapter five quickly demonstrates that Luzzatto has not abandoned one iota of his utopian Nekius and the advice he gives us here in chapter twelve is, in fact, the one and only way to acquire it.

The fundamental teaching of chapter five instantly puts chapter twelve in a whole new light. Luzzatto quotes a Gemora: God said, "I created the Yetzer HaRa and I created the Torah as its antidote" (Kiddushin 40b). Torah study is the antibiotic that eliminates the Yetzer HaRa! 

There you have it. Nekius does indeed require the total cleansing of the negative drives and, as astonishing as it sounds, this is an attainable goal. It is achieved by the very method Luzzatto advocates here in chapter twelve: the study of Torah. But not just any Torah study. Unceasing study of the entirety of Torah with the goal of observance in mind. Deep study with creative thinking and chiddushei Torah, as Luzzatto describes. And with that, with the divine light of Torah permeating and illuminating every aspect of life and every dark crevice of the human mind and heart, the Yezter HaRa vanishes. And man comes clean.

Adam Reborn! (but still weak...)

In chapter 16 Luzzatto describes the exalted level of Tahara, Purity. The Tahor transcends all interest in pleasure, recognition and monetary gain and is motivated solely by the drive to serve God. He does Mitzvos לשמה, for their own sake, because כך גזר אבינו שבשמים, it is the decree of our Father in heaven. This results in actions of perfect purity, hence the label “Tahor.” 

My student Bracha S. wondered about the feasibility of Tahara. Earlier in the year, we learned a fundamental teaching of Reb Chaim Volozhiner. He writes in Nefesh HaChaim (1:6, second note) that before the original sin of Adam, evil did not exist within man. Left to his own devices, Adam would naturally and consistently do the right thing (cf. Ramban to Devarim 31:6). In this lofty spiritual state, the only way man could be persuaded to sin was through a seduction coming from outside of himself, i.e., the snake. 

Everything changed when Adam ate of the fruit of the עץ הדעת טוב ורע. The forbidden fruit brought evil into man, where it commingled with good. Ever since, writes Reb Chaim Volozhiner, it is virtually impossible for man to perform an act of perfect goodness or of perfect evil. No matter what we do, there are always elements of both good and evil blended into the act. 

Bracha pointed out that according to the Nefesh HaChaim, Tahara is an impossibility. If there is always some evil motivation in our behavior, then nothing we do is ever truly Tahor. 

It would appear that we have a fundamental debate here between R. Moshe Chaim Luzzatto and R. Chaim Volozhiner, but that can’t be right. R. Chaim Volozhiner’s Rebbe, the Vilna Gaon, was an avid student of Luzzatto’s Kabbalistic writings. It is also known that the Gaon particularly treasured the Mesilas Yesharim. R. Chaim Volozhiner would surely never disagree with Luzzatto. 

I would like to suggest a radical solution to this problem. In chapter ten Luzzatto writes that a Naki is “completely cleansed of any negative trait and any sin… the fire of physical desire has been extinguished from his heart…” In other words, the Naki has no interest in sin and will naturally always do the right thing. This is the level of Adam before the sin! Tahara may indeed be unachievable for man after the sin, but the Naki is no ordinary man. He is cleansed and transformed. For a Naki, Tahara is not only feasible; it is a natural outgrowth of his Nekius. 

Good evidence for this approach can be found in Perishus, the level right after Nekius. Luzzatto tells us that the reason it is so difficult to abstain from the physical pleasures is because we are seduced by the attractive appearance of things. “This seduction is what caused the original sin to occur, as the verse testifies, ‘The woman saw that the fruit was good to eat and it appeared desirous to the eyes…’ (Bereishis 3:6)” (Mesilas Yesharim, chap. 15). 

To our ears, this just sounds silly. Do we really need to cite biblical verses to explain why we enjoy indulging in the pleasures of life?! But Luzzatto is not speaking to us; he is speaking to the Naki. Cleansed of all interest in sin and lacking the inner drive of the pleasure seeker, it is hard to understand why Perishus would be a challenge for a Naki. That is why Luzzatto reminds us of what happened in the Garden. חוה was Naki, but nonetheless, she fell for the forbidden fruit. For no matter how Naki a person is on the inside, the eyes are constantly receiving stimuli from the outside. And human eyes are always in danger of being seduced by the beckoning pleasures of the garden. 

This approach also helps us appreciate an unusual piece of evidence found in chapter 16. Describing the challenge of Tahara, Luzzatto tells the story of R. Chaninah ben Tradion’s daughter. 

She had a graceful bearing when she walked, and when she heard [people] commenting, “How fine is the bearing of that girl!” she immediately became more meticulous. This addition was clearly born of the praise that she received. Even though the forbidden element is vanishingly small, an act with components like this in the mix is not perfectly pure. 

The daughter of the great Tanna was undoubtedly Naki in the sensitive areas of modesty and humility. Nonetheless, even the most righteous of women is not impervious to the impact of compliments. Just as external seductions cause the Naki to fail in Perishus, so too compliments can play with the mind and influence behavior, ruining the purity of our every act. 

Let the Naki beware!

On the Relevance of Nekius

Chapter eleven makes us feel bankrupt. While it seems reasonable to strive for zehirus and zerizus, no matter how you spin it, nekius just does not seem humanly possible. Complete and total eradication of the Yetzer HaRa?! Even our indefatigable author grants that it is "difficult" (See, however, the final paragraph of the chapter). One can't help but wonder how many years (centuries?) it has been since a naki has walked this earth.

But yet, the Mesilas Yesharim remains relevant, for why should we assume it is all or nothing? People are multidimensional. A person can certainly be less than zahir in one area and naki in another.

We should not make the mistake of working only on the areas where we are weak and abandon our qualities to habit. Where we are strong and have already reached zerizus, we should be striving for greatness, for nekius. (Yes, Virginia, everyone is a zariz for at least some Mitzvos.) The Ramchal tells us how to carry our strengths to new heights and we can use his advice. Nekius is relevant for us all.

This explains chapter eleven. Inordinately long relative to the other chapters of the book, in chapter eleven the author stops speaking in generalities and enters into the details of specific character traits and Mitzvos. He sounds almost apologetic when he explains why he isn't writing about every Mitzvah. "Even though the Yetzer HaRa tries to get people to violate every law, there are those that human nature finds more desirous... requiring greater strength to defeat his Yetzer and become clean (naki) of the sin." And later, "I am only going to discuss the [Mitzvos] where most people typically fail."

Why does the Ramchal need to discuss the details of every Torah challenge? He could drastically shorten this chapter by simply stating that the Yetzer HaRa must be defeated on all fronts. But life is not all or nothing. This is the Ramchal's message: Every single Mitzvah and every single Middah present a stand-alone nekius opportunity.

The Ramchal says as much quite explicitly in chapter eleven. "Many have achieved chassidus (yischasidu) in many aspects of chassidus, but have not been able to reach perfection when it comes to disdaining [illegal] financial gain." There it is: Perfection in one area; imperfection in another. It's not hypocrisy; it's just being human.