Parshat Naso introduces us to the Nazir - a person who voluntarily takes a vow to abstain from wine, avoid impurity, and refrain from cutting his hair. As presented by the Torah, this commitment appears to reflect spiritual elevation. Yet at the conclusion of the Nazir’s term, the Torah (Bamidbar 6:14) commands him to bring a korban chatat, a sin offering, indicating some form of wrongdoing.
Why should someone who has pursued holiness need atonement?
This question sparks a fundamental debate between the Ramban (Nachmanides) and the Rambam (Maimonides), reflecting two deeply rooted paradigms of religious life.
The Ramban, in his commentary to Bamidbar 6:14, praises the Nazir’s spiritual ambition. He views the sin offering as an expression of regret - not for the vow itself, but for returning to ordinary life. The Nazir has tasted a higher plane of kedusha; stepping back into the mundane is, in itself, a loss.
The Rambam, by contrast (Hilchot De'ot 3:1, Moreh Nevuchim 3:33), believes the ideal life is one of balance. Holiness does not demand retreat - it flourishes from engaging with the world. Sanctity emerges when we eat, work, and live in moderation, imbuing the everyday with spiritual purpose. For Rambam, the Nazir’s sin is the rejection of this model inherent in the vow he takes. By withdrawing unnecessarily, he disrupts the Torah’s call to elevate, not escape, the physical world.
These opposing views reflect two paths to God: Rambam’s engaged holiness, which finds God within the world, and Ramban’s transcendent holiness, which seeks Him beyond it.
This debate is not just philosophical—it is playing out today in Israeli society.
The ongoing debate over military service in Israel’s Torah communities echoes the Nazir’s dilemma in real time. Do we sanctify life by stepping back, or by stepping up? The Rambam’s vision that holiness is found not in retreat, but in engagement, feels especially urgent today. Torah is most powerful when it brings people together - not when it becomes an excuse for standing apart.
We are building a Jewish state where Torah is meant to inform every facet of life: military, economic, and social (that is the Religious Zionist credo, but should not be only theirs, ed.). Yet tensions persist between those devoted to full-time Torah study and those bearing the burdens of defense and nation building.
The week’s Haftarah, which tells the story of Shimshon - the lifelong Nazir - offers a cautionary tale. Shimshon embodies the Nazir who lives apart, yet his life ends in tragedy. His strength falters, his moral compass drifts, and his connection to his people erodes. Isolation, even for a holy purpose, can become a weakness.
The Torah does not command nezirut; it permits it. Holiness can indeed be found in separation—but it is not the long term ideal. The sin offering at the end of nezirut reminds us: withdrawal may inspire us but it is not sustainable.
Judaism calls us to live in the world.
The challenge - for Israeli society and for every one of us —is to integrate these two visions: to fuse the Nazir’s spiritual striving with the Rambam’s model of worldly engagement.
We need Torah scholars who understand soldiers, and soldiers who respect Torah scholars. Torah must guide our military, economic, and civic life—not stand away from it.
This is the power of the Hesder yeshivot and midrashot that prepare our youth for both spiritual growth and national service. These young people succeed when they bring these worlds together - as opposed to walling them off from one another.
As we continue shaping the role of Torah in a sovereign Jewish society, may we strive for a synthesis—bringing the depth of Torah into every aspect of life, so that kedusha is not only found in moments apart, but in the way we live, build, and serve together.