Nazir – “Abstinent” – The Mind of Dan Perlman

Nazir – “Abstinent” – I’m Yours Forever… or a Month

I have to admit, I was so hoping we were done with the topic of vows. Instead, this new tractate delves deeply into the vows taken by those drawn to be Nazirites. We’ve mentioned them many times before and I would impart the little I knew about them in relation to the page of that day, but now, we’re going all in. Nazirites lived, to some extent, on the fringe of society (the word translates, variously, as monk, hermit, abstinent, anchorite. They were, are, people who declared themselves in service go God, and took on a series of vows and practices that kept them in a state of readiness and purity to be receptacles for divine inspiration. In particular, three vows standout – abstinence from grapes and grape products, to whit, wine (and by implication, any alcohol), avoiding becoming impure by contact with a corpse, and, never cutting their hair. If you’ve followed along on my 929 project scribblings, to date you’ve met two of the more famous ones, Samson and Samuel.
1/25/23, Chapter 1, Page 2 – The tractate starts by justifying its position in the Talmud. After all, we’re in Nashim, the Book of Women, and while both women and men can be Nazirites, it’s not a topic specific to women. The reasoning goes something like, we just discussed believing women, and if they aren’t to be believed, it’s probably because of the way they take vows, and may be due to drinking, so it’s a natural segue, and besides, next up in tractate order we’re discussing faithfulness and divorce. Yeah, that clarifies it.
1/26/23, Page 3 – Hair. Yup, that’s pretty much it for this page. If you declare you’re going to let your hair grow out, particularly if you mention you’re going to let it curl naturally, it is, apparently, the equivalent of having declared your intention to be a nazirite and to take on all the obligations involved. I guess if your intention is just to have longer hair, it’s best not to mention it.
1/27/23, Page 4 – You have gorgeous, long hair, flowing, rippling; how could you become a nazirite, knowing that at the end of your vow you have to shave it all off? Well, funny, you should mention that, because that’s why I’m becoming a nazirite, I looked at my reflection, saw how gorgeous my hair was, and this will teach me humility. Umm, but you could just declare yourself a permanent nazirite and never have to cut it off… besides, a year after shaving your head it’ll all grow back, right? Huh, hadn’t thought about that… I do have gorgeous hair, don’t I?
1/28/23, Page 5 – A difficulty historians face is the interpretation of ancient texts where a word’s meaning is uncertain. The Talmudic rabbis had no less a task as they set to work on the word yamim, a measure of time, used here in relation to nazirites and their hair. The only thing certain about this word is that it’s plural, and various sages opine that it refers to two days, two weeks, two months, or two years. But, why two others ask? Why not three, or four? So they settle on the approach of many historians – each picks a theory, propounds it, and doubles down when challenged.
1/29/23, Page 6 – The argument over how long terms are meant to indicate continues. As regards someone who has vowed to be a nazirite, the contention centers around, as an example, if someone declares being a nazirite for 90 days, if they shave their hair on the 90th day, does that invalidate their vow, or has the 90 days come to conclusion. Should they have waited until the 91st day? This seems a rather stupid argument to me. Are they that concerned about getting a haircut right away? Of course, this argument isn’t really about hair or nazirites, but about fulfilling a vow’s terms.
1/30/23, Page 7 – It’s good to know that there are some term limits on naziriteship. If you don’t declare a specific number of days, weeks, months, or years, even if you say “forever”, it is assumed you meant 30 days. On the other end, there is a minimum – any declaration that’s less than a full day is automatically assumed to mean a full day. Yes, that’s right, you can declare your dedication to God, abstain from drinking wine, getting your haircut, and touching a corpse… for 24 hours. Now that’s commitment.
1/31/23, Page 8 – How are long periods of time defined? As regards to naziriteship, it depends on how you phrase your vow. Certain statements of period result in being considered a “permanent nazirite”, while others result in being consdiered a “regular nazirite forever”. As best I can tell with the information provided so far is that the only difference between these two is how often you’re allowed to get a haircut. We may find out that it also impacts when you can have a glass of wine or poke a corpse.
2/1/23, Chapter 2, Page 9 – What happens when you introduce an irrelevant condition into a vow? The case noted is someone who vows something to the effect of “I declare I’m a nazirite and therefore will not eat figs”. Being a nazirite has no restrictions on eating figs, it’s a defined set of rules. Shammai says that you just separate and/or ignore the extra declaration, and the person is still sworn to be a nazirite. Hillel disagrees (of course), and declares that the extra clause negates the entire vow. The argument rages on.
2/2/23, Page 10 – Yesterday’s argument continues, though now using a cow as an example instead of a fig. If a cow is lying down, and you swear to be a nazirite if it stands up, even, perhaps, further promising never to eat said cow, and it stands, does that validate your vow? Shammai says yes, sort of kind of, if you’d tried to get it to stand before and it hadn’t. Hillel says no, because sometimes cows lie down and sometimes they stand, and coincidence and causality are not the same thing.
2/3/23, Page 11 – If you don’t want that glass of wine, just say so. You don’t need to declare yourself a nazirite for a month as an excuse to get out of having a drink with friends. Unless, apparently, you have the sort of friends for whom nothing less will fly. Also, if you’ve already had a couple, the vow doesn’t count, as vows made when inebriated are considered invalid.
2/4/23, Page 12 – It was apparently a common tradition for a newly declared nazirite to offer to “shave a nazirite”, a linguistically weird construction for “I’ll pay for the haircut and sacrifice expenses of someone who’s completing their nazirite term”. If you weren’t quite so flush with cash, you could opt for “shaving half a nazirite”, ponying up fifty percent. Or just, not say anything, and maybe get on with that dedicating yourself to God’s service part that seems to be getting lost in all the rules around haircuts, wine, and corpses.
2/5/23, Page 13 – If a man vows to become a nazirite if his wife gives birth to a son, the rabbinic folk feel there’s a need for clarification. At first glance, he may mean just a son, not a daughter, not a hermaphrodite, not an intersex child. But at the same time, Hebrew, like many gendered languages, ofttimes uses the masculine form as a generic, so perhaps he means a child, regardless of gender. It’s actually been rather interesting, given today’s culture, as the topic of gender identity has reared its head more than once in the Talmud as nuance to various rulings.
2/6/23, Page 14 – Suppose, as the discussion goes today, one violates the terms of being a nazirite during their 30 or more days? You drink a glass of wine, you cut your hair, you come into contact with a corpse, or, even, on the last day, you don’t get your hair ritually shaved off to indicate that the term is complete? Do you have to start over? Do you get credit for “time served”? Do you get flogged? Important considerations, and ones for which there is, like always, no agreement among the authorities.
2/7/23, Page 15 – It’s like the Groundhog Day of naziriteship. Someone vows to be a nazirite, twice, each for a different reason. Naziriteship terms run consecutively one after the other. But, if one of the vows is time sensitive, and the trigger occurs during the term of the other – you pause the first, fulfill the second, and go back to the first, but… because at the end of the term of the second you have to shave, you’ve violated the terms of the first to not shave, and you have to start over. Don’t even get me started on if both vows are time sensitive.
2/8/23, Chapter 3, Page 16 – While the sages understand that a moment of grief in a cemetery, at the funeral of a loved one, might drive one to vow naziriteship, in dedication to service, they also get that it might be a momentary thing, not really intended. Still, you said it, and words have consequences. Vows made in that moment of grief are considered binding, however, they don’t take effect until you’ve left the cemetery behind, and not just momentarily, but you’ve moved on and resumed daily life.
2/9/23, Page 17 – How did one balance the desire for service when purity is a requirement with the desire to pay respect to someone who has died? The rabbis understood that there were situations where naziriteship and familial obligations will come into conflict, even in the short term of a thirty day vow. The solution? A wooden box, chest, or cabinet. Yes, a wood enclosure apparently protected the nazirite from the transmission of whatever vapors of impurity abound in a cemetery.
2/10/23, Page 18 – Tthe rabbis discuss when, after having become ritually impure, a newly vowed nazirite can actually begin his service. Since he has to get ritually pure from having been in the cemetery and/or in contact with a corpse, there’s a whole period of ritual sacrifices and baths and other stuff. The debate, unresolved, is whether he can start his service on the final day of his purification, the day after, or not until after offering one or the other of the ritual sacrifices. Gotta get right with God before you start working for him, apparently.
2/11/23, Page 19 – As the argument over timing rages on, I want to take a sidestep. In all of the arguments over rules, I note that what’s missing is the why someone would take on a nazirite vow. A bit of internet diving reveals that even that is up for debate. Some feel it’s a holy calling, either short or long term; but others feel that it’s more of an atonement for temptation, resisted or not. That the vow is ended by performing a sin-offering sacrifice backs that view up. Interesting note, someone who takes a nazirite vow in modern times is a nazirite forever, because the Temple no longer exists in order to offer sacrifices at its conclusion.
2/12/23, Page 20 – One set of witnesses say that the person who vowed to be a nazirite vowed to commit themselves for two months, another set of witnesses say it was five months. The numbers don’t matter, as the rabbis spend the time debating over how to decide which set of witnesses are to be believed. It apparently never, in the course of the entire argument, occurs to them to ask the person who made the vow.
2/13/23, Chapter 4, Page 21 – If one person makes a declarative statement, and another person declares “me too”, what is the validity of the second person’s assertion? It depends how long after the first person made their declaration, and the rabbis decide that it has to have happened in physical proximity and within such a short amount of time that no other statement could be being referenced. A third person, the same. However, they’re quite clear that by the time “me too” is announced by a fourth person, it is invalid unless the person articulates what they are “me too-ing” about. A lesson for today, perhaps?
2/14/23, Page 22 – Men. Women. Power dynamic. Vows. Nullification. Me too. It just had to come to this. A woman vows to be a naizirite. Another woman hears her and vows “me too”, within the acceptable timeframe. First woman’s husband isn’t having it and nullifies her vow before sunset. This, of course, we could see it coming, nullifies the second woman’s vow automatically because she was saying “me too” to what is now an invalid promise.
2/15/23, Page 23 – Intention rears its head once again. In fact, over the three years of this course of study, it might be the state of mind that has come up most often. Here, if you unintentionally violate a vow, an oath, a promise, a mitzvah, you are liable for a “guilt offering”, a simple sacrifice that acknowledges that you broke your word. If, however, you violate those intentionally, you are liable for a “sin offering”, a sacrifice, plus, in many if not most cases, physical punishment, usually lashes, for having sullied your honor and that of your family.
2/16/23, Page 24 – Part of the naziriteship process was that at the end of the term, the person offered a sacrifice. That animal was designated at the start of the term, and kept, fat and happy during the 30, 60, or more days. If, however, the nazirite’s vow was nullified, for example, a woman’s vow nullified by her husband, the sacrificial animal cannot be undesignated. Instead, it was left, without food, water, or light, to waste away and die. By modern sensibilities, that’s just sickening.
2/17/23, Page 25 – Apparently some of the rabbinic authorities were appalled by the argument for leaving sacrificial animals to wither away, unfed, at the Temple. It’s not clear whether that was based on the treatment of the animal, or the location, but their counter-proposal is, hey, God likes his lamb, just sacrifice the animal on the altar as a general “peace offering”, after all, the reason for being tossed on the fire doesn’t really matter to the ram. Besides, a well-fed God is, presumably, a happy God.
2/18/23, Page 26 – Even a dead nazirite has obligations. That’s the gist of today’s page, as the rabbis discuss what is to be done with money, sacrificial animals, and idols (yes, they were still contending with idols for other deities) if a nazirite dies before designating them for a specific purpose. Throw them into the Dead Sea, never to be seen again! Which, in today’s world, has raised concerns among some orthodox folk in regard to the use of Dead Sea cosmetics, which might contain traces of those unconsecrated items.
2/19/23, Page 27 – We’re still on dead nazirites. A father vows to be a nazirite, and sets aside an animal for sacrifice for the end of his vow. But, he dies before finishing the vow. His son, being the dutiful sort, vows to finish out his father’s term of service. At some point, he discovers that the animal set aside is unfit for sacrifice, and likely, his father knew that. He is obligated to sell the animal and donate the proceeds to the Temple, and still then has to pick and sacrifice his own animal. Sins of the father and all that.
2/20/23, Page 28 – We learned many pages ago that a husband can nullify his wife’s nazirite vow as long as he does it within a day of hearing her vow. That doesn’t mean within a day of her making the vow, but from when he learns about it. He could have been away on a trip, or maybe he’s just an inattentive, oblivious spouse. He actually has until her final rituals – shaving, sacrifice – are performed to nullify her vow. After all, she might re-up, shaven headed and unable to drink wine for another month.
2/21/23, Page 29 – A father can obligate his son to become a nazirite, as part of his obligation to educate his son in the various mitzvot of the Torah. A mother can’t, as she has no such obligation, and a father can’t obligate his daughter, as her education is not a rabbinical obligation. But when does the son have a say in this? The rabbis are split between the sensible, but hard to determine “when he understands the nature of vows” and “when he has grown two pubic hairs”. Because men are so mature once they have two pubic hairs.
2/22/23, Page 30 – Relating to a son’s use of his father’s nazirite funds in the event that the father dies during his naziriteship, it is noted that it’s handled more or less just like inheritance laws. Which apparently means that the firstborn son automatically inherits a double portion to that of his “regular” brothers, and, of course, sisters don’t inherit, because, women. As the eldest of six myself… siblings take note. I mean, it’s fair, we’re also the ones who always get culled when God gets pissed.
2/23/23, Chapter 5, Page 31 – Our old friends Shammai and Hillel are at it again. The topic? Vows with errors. The example given is of someone vowing to consecrate the first black bull that emerges from the barn. A white bull emerges. Shammai says, “no worries, you just got the color wrong in your vow, the white one is consecrated”, while Hillel says, “no dice, the white one goes on its way, wait for the first black one, the way you said it matters”. Intention matters to both of them, but there’s no agreement on what the intention was.
2/24/23, Page 32 – Back on page 19 I noted that naziriteship no longer exists, because you can’t offer sacrifices at the Temple, as it no longer exists. That came up back in 70CE when the Temple was destroyed. There were people already in the midst of their nazirite vows, and completion was now impossible. A rabbinic judge, Nahum, dissolved their vows, but a few centuries later, the Talmudic rabbis decide he was wrong to do so and those people should have remained nazirites for the rest of their lives. Not that this had any effect on centuries dead folk.
2/25/23, Page 33 – Well. Now then. What am I to do today? This page consists of the final two sentences of yesterday’s discussion, and nothing else. No mishna, no gemarra. Tomorrow starts a new chapter. Recess!!!
2/26/23, Chapter 6, Page 34 – Grapes and grapevines. Nazirites are prohibited from eating or drinking grapes or their derivatives – grapes, raisins, wine, vinegar. Rabbi Elazar, in common talmudic fashion, wanted to extend that, to create a buffer zone, so one is not tempted, and declares that nothing from the stems, roots, or leaves is allowed either. No one else agrees with him. Elazar’s mother made lousy dolmas, everyone knew that.
2/27/23, Page 35 – Like many a person who has found themselves on the losing end of an argument, Rabbi Elazar, of the vine leaf prohibitions, doubles down. He notes that the rule states, specifically, that the nazirite is prohibited from eating or drinking grapes or their derivatives “from pits to skins”. Both being plural, he claims, indicates a minimum of two grapes involved, and therefore anything that might be between them, including the leaves. He’s not going down without a fight.
2/28/23, Page 36 – Kutah is back. You’d have to go back to Shabbat 19, or Pesachim 21, for previous mentions. I did actually try making it, but that didn’t work. Today it comes up in reference to the mixing of a prohibited substance with a permitted one. I’ve not understood why kutah is a forbidden food. The rabbis opine that if one uses it as a dip, it’s fine, because it’s so pungent one only uses a small amount, not enough to violate the prohibition. But, if one were to eat it in quantity, it’s also fine, because it’s so anomalous that it’s simply considered abberant behavior. Clearly they like it.
3/1/23, Page 37 – I like when a talmudic argument leads to an interesting question. The conversation starts with traces of wine left in a cooking vessel, or even just drops of wine that come in contact with a nazirite’s food, and the unanimous feeling that that violates their oath. The derivation, however, is tied to the old “cooking meat in milk” prohibition, and where it gets interesting is when it’s noted that it’s specific to “cooking”, and not to, say, marinating meat in milk prior to cooking. Which leads then to my wondering, for example, what’s wrong with a cheeseburger if the cheese is added atop the meat, but they’re not cooked together?
3/2/23, Page 38 – Punishments of a nazirite for violating the no grape products rule are severe – for each violation it’s being flogged, 39 lashes with cat o’nine tales or whatever they used. Making it worse, the punishments are consecutive, not concurrent. If you eat a grape, you get at least three rounds of lashes – one for violating the general prohbition, one for eating a grape skin, and one for each grape seed (since skins and seeds are specifically mentioned in the vow). They’re serious about not eating grapes or their derivatives.
3/3/23, Page 39 – If you’re a nazirite and a bandit shaves your head, you have to start the 30-day count over from scratch. Unless the bandit happens to leave enough hair to equal 7-day’s growth. Somehow it seems like you have more problems to deal with than completing your naziriteship if bandits are shaving your head. Maybe it’s just me.
3/4/23, Page 40 – One of the rabbis goes off on a tear about the shaving ritual at the end of the naziriteship and the shaving ritual at then end of a leper’s purification. He announces that they’re basically the same thing, so just have one set of rules for lepers and nazirites. One gets the opinion that he doesn’t think much of nazirites. The others point out that the shaving process is different, the sacrifices are different, the offerings are different, and the time periods are different, and one is a vow and the other a medical condition. It is, more or less, suggested he go sit in a corner and shut up.
3/5/23, Page 41 – The rabbinic folk continue their arguments over the differences between a nazirite and a leper, and even delve into what abouts with someone who is both, but I’m struck by their off-hand mention of alternatives to shaving one’s head with a razor. The two methods mentioned, tweezers and a plane. While I can imagine the first, plucking out hairs one by one, I’m a bit mystified as to the second, assuming they’re talking about a carpentry plane and using that to shave? Ouch to both.
3/6/23, Page 42 – During one’s naziriteship, you’re not allowed to cut your hair or shave your beard. You can shampoo and dry it – though not comb it, because that tears hair out. But what about shampooing with a hair removal product? Not allowed, as, obviously, your hair would come out, shaving or not. Lost, for me, in all of this, is that we’re talking about a thirty day period. Why are people so concerned about cutting their hair? It’s not like they’re going to grow wild, unkempt, flowing locks in four weeks.
3/7/23, Page 43 – It’s a mitzvah to sit with someone who is dying and care for them in their last moments. And, a nazirite is permitted to do so. Impurity of being in the presence of a corpse doesn’t occur until after death. And that’s where today’s conversation starts, as to, basically, when it is that a nazirite has to dive for the door to get out of the room. Some say it is at the moment of death, others, when the soul leaves the body. Which, leads to the question, when, exactly, is that? Some say, at the moment of death, others, at the moment of burial.
3/8/23, Page 44 – Of the three prohibitions for nazirites, not partaking of anything from the grapevine, not cutting their hair, and not being in the presence of a corpse, violating the first is far and away the easiest to have happen, even unintentionally. Recognizing that, the sages made the punishment sort of a slap on the wrist, add a few days, make an offering, and get on with it. Violating the others requires starting over from scratch, so the same sages created compassionate exemptions from the violations – mostly around being in the presence of a dead family member, or unintentional violations.
3/9/23, Page 45 – When the nazirite shaves at the end of his term, he is to throw the cut hair on the fire beneath the pot in which he is cooking up his peace offering on the altar. Here’s the thing, we’ve seen in numerous Talmud passages about how God loves sweet, fragrant aromas. I’m willing to bet neither the penitent, the priests, nor God, love the smell of burning hair. Something is very wrong with this passage.
3/10/23, Page 46 – We start from a conversation about priorities. Some say a nazirite can drink wine after performing the sacrificial offering, before shaving, others say only after both the sacrifice and shaving. Someone tosses in a tangent… what does a bald nazirite do about the whole shaving thing, since he has no hair to let grow nor shave? Our old friends Shammai and Hillel of course disagree. The former says, skip the step, it’s irrelevant, the latter says, pretend, and pass a razor over your head for the sake of the ritual. Neither comments on when you can drink the wine.
3/11/23, Chapter 7, Page 47 – In the event that no family members or friends are around to bury the body of a person recently deceased, the role falls to the Temple. And, in order of preference as to whom is to do so and therefore become ritually impure – a regular priest, because they can just take a week off and get ritually pure again; a nazirite, because they have to start over again on their thirty day terms; and only if neither is available, a high priest, because, well, high priest, important, not to be sullied with daily concerns, you know?
3/12/23, Page 48 – While nazirites (and high priests) are enjoined to prevent impurity because of contact with a corpse, with fairly severe punishments for violating that, they are not similarly enjoined from contracting impurity for other reasons. For example, a nazirite suffers not punishment, other than the usual ritual purifications, for being in contact with a leper, or someone who is sexually impure because of an STD. High priests, on the other hand, could even lose their high priest status, depending on the situation.
3/13/23, Page 49 – There’s an interesting paradox that comes up in today’s passage, that, bizarrely, the sages let pass by without attempting to resolve it. Lineage is passed down from father to child (primarily, son). But, it is pointed out, while a person always knows who his/her mother is, because she gave birth, one can never be sure who one’s father is, it is always a presumption. Wait until they hear about DNA testing! Might change half the Talmud.
3/14/23, Page 50 – Rabbi Yosei: “a corpse upon which there is not an olive-bulk of flesh”. Alex Trebek: “Word you’re looking for for $200”. Every other rabbi: “What is a skeleton?”
3/15/23, Page 51 – Corpse dust. A nazirite can become impure from corpse dust. Well, a “full ladle of corpse dust from a corpse that was buried naked in a marble coffin on a stone floor”. That is oddly specific, and has to have left centuries of Talmudic scholars wondering just exactly what prompted it. To me, it sounds like a Dungeons & Dragons scenario cooked up by a particularly creative and twisted Dungeon Master.
3/16/23, Page 52 – A mole, a mouse, and six different kinds of lizards. These are the eight “creeping things”, the sheratim, that cause impurity when touched. Interesting that there are no snakes, spiders, or scorpions on the list. And of note, this includes these same animals in their fetal stage, if they are as big as a lentil. You know, it’s a running meme of how Americans go out of their way to avoid using the metric system for size comparisons. We have nothing on the Talmudic rabbis.
3/17/23, Page 53 – Continuing in our exploration of alternative size measurements, is the discussion of how much of a spine or skull of a person is enough to trigger a nazirite’s impurity rituals. And that is, of course, a “barley-grain” sized piece of bone. Is that bigger or smaller than yesterday’s lentil-sized creeping things fetuses? And there are different sized lentils out there. Do these concepts come readily to the mind’s eye?
3/18/23, Page 54 – The miasma of impurity from a sealed grave ascends, breaks through, imbues trees and stones above the grave with its dark aura, and descends back down. This is like right out of another D&D campaign scenario, and clearly, whoever sealed that grave doesn’t understand the concept of sealing. Though this leads me to wondering just exactly what the Jewish rituals for sealing a grave were?
3/19/23, Page 55 – Under discussion today is the creation of a barrier around a corpse that would allow a nazirite to be near one. As a corpse imparts impurity to the coffin in which it is placed, and the air around it, a second barrier has to be created – and the rabbis discuss that during a journey to a burial site, the nazirite can get inside of a box or other sealed container – noting that if he sticks his head out for fresh air, it breaches the container and he contracts impurity.
3/20/23, Page 56 – We’re back to leprosy again today. In fact, leprosy takes up a whole lot of the Talmud and Tanakh. It wasn’t necessarily… actually, it probably wasn’t at all… what we know medically as Hansen’s Disease, but rather any sort of temporary skin disfigurement, and it was considered the result of evil thoughts and deeds, a punishment from God. It also affects the length of naziriteship due to impurity and uncertainty of when it will go away. So, no sinning while a nazirite!
3/21/23, Chapter 8, Page 57 – Two nazirites are together in a space separate from other people. A distant eyewitness claims he saw one of them do something impure, but he was too far away to be sure which of the two it was. Unlike the usual tradition of requiring a corroborating witness, the rabbis accept the claim, the nazirites may not defend themselves, and they’re required to share punishment in solidarity with their commitment to spiritual purity. We know the rabbis understand the unreliability of eyewitness testimony, so why the deviation from tradition?
3/22/23, Page 58 – Manscaping is allowed as long as it doesn’t go too far. According to the rabbis, if a man feels like his body or head has too much hair, he can shave it off, excepting that he must maintain a beard and peyos, the spiraled sidelocks that these days are common to the more orthodox sects of Judaism. And, by rabbinic, though not Torah, law, they announce he cannot shave his armpits or pubic hair, because that would be too feminine.
3/23/23, Page 59 – In Deuteronomy, cross-dressing is cited as a prohibition punishable by flogging. But the Talmudic rabbis are clear it’s not the putting on of the garment, but putting it on and then participating in activities that were defined as for the opposite gender – a man sewing with women, or a woman going to combat for example. The shaving of armpit hair was considered a sign that one was committed to more than just putting on a dress (an acceptable, if odd, activity, they felt), and therefore punishable.
3/24/23, Page 60 – Suddenly, as this short chapter ends, we’re back to the subject of nazirites and lepers. Here’s the thing. With all the sacrifices and offerings and shavings and waiting times, I would venture to recommend not taking on naziriteship if you’re already leprous, because you’ve got years of that stuff ahead of you. If you get leprosy while you’re in the midst of your naziriteship, I don’t know, don’t let anyone find out until you’ve completed it. It’s the difference between concurrent and consecutive sentences.
3/25/23, Chapter 9, Page 61 – Non-Jews cannot take on naziriteship. After all, they’re basically impure, spiritually, all the time. Women can be nazirites, and other than some of the exceptions discussed in the last tractate, their husbands cannot order them to violate their vow once accepted. On the other hand, Canaanite slaves can be be ordered to break their vows, so their naziriteship vows are left a bit loose.
3/26/23, Page 62 – The sages are doubling down on the “no Gentile” nazirites. After all, one of “them” can’t really, truly, express their vow unambiguously. You know how they are, how they talk. They might even be doing it on a bet, rather than because they believe in God. That’s the sort of folk they are. After all, what makes them a Gentile is that they don’t believe in the one true God, right? We were chosen for a reason, you know?
3/27/23, Page 63 – What happens when an ex-nazirite discovers that they indirectly came into contact with a corpse during their naziriteship, something unknown to them at the time. Does it negate their entire service ex post facto? According to the rabbis… that depends. And the intricacies of the placement of corpses on or near roads, in bushes, in lakes and pools, hidden under rocks, speaks to a world where the appearance of an unclaimed corpse was apparently far more commonplace than today’s.
3/28/23, Page 64 – Do two creeping things in your area increase your impurity exposure risk? What if they’re one on top of the other? What about that olive-bulk sized piece of a corpse if it’s not still on the corpse? Perhaps it floated away, perhaps a fish injested it and is near to you, perhaps even on your dinner plate? Or maybe a crow flew directly over your head with it. These are the sort of late-night obsessions of the Talmudic folk, perhaps after they’ve had a little too much wine.
3/29/23, Page 65 – If you find one or two corpses in a spot where you wanted to do or build something, you can remove them. If there are three or more within a thirty foot radius, you must assume that it is an old graveyard and you cannot remove them, nor build on that spot. Unless there’s evidence that the people were killed, in which case you need to call CSI: Jerusalem and let the trained forensic rabbis take over.
3/30/23, Page 66 – STDs bad. STDs make you impure. Odd way to end this tractate, but there you have it.

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