INSTITUTE FOR
THE EXPLORATION OF THE DEEPER DIMENSIONS OF TORAH
Exploring a Boy's First Haircut & the Symbolic Nature of Hair
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All rights reserved to Iyyun.com. 1) Upsherin 3) Three: The Age of Transition 4) Three Stages of Development 5) Boundaries & Borders 6) Uncut Hair, No Hair & The Balance 7) Head Hair of Atik, Za & Nukvah: Nazir, Male & Female There is a custom that has been practiced by Jews for generations throughout the entire world — a ceremony celebrating the first hair cut of a boy. The primary purpose of the hair cutting is for the intention of leaving and essentially revealing the peyos (side locks). Shortly we will explore the intention and relevance of the peyos. The Yiddish name for this ceremony is upsherin. Upsherin is translated as to shear or cut off. The Yiddish phrase comes from the German word sheren-shear, and auf-off. While not Talmudic based, this custom of celebrating a first
hair cut seems to have been around for hundreds of years. The
student of the saintly R. Yitzchak Luria (1534-1572) writes that
his teacher, on the 33rd day of the counting of the Omer, the
day marking the passing of the first century sage, Rabbi Shimon
Bar Yachai, took his family and his young son to R. Shimon's
gravesite and performed his first hair, cutting with great joy
and festivity, "according to the well known tradition."
Clearly, a child at the age of three passes through a major transitional period, the journey from babyhood to childhood, as it is a time when the child is weaned from being completely dependent on the mother to functioning as an independent being, as we will explain shortly. This transition period is somewhat related to the first hair cutting of the boy. In earlier traditional sources there is discussion as to what age should parents give their boy his first hair cut. One source writes as early as thirteen weeks, two years, while others explore the 'ripe old age' of five. Most commonly today the first hair cut is given at the age of three. Select Chassidic groups perform the upsherin when the child enters the third year, on his second birthday, while most traditions celebrate on the child's third birthday. Drawing a parallel between human beings and their environment, a correlation between trees and humans arises. According to Torah law (Leviticus 19:23), we may not indulge in the fruit of trees that were planted for the first three years. This injunction is referred to as the laws of orlah, literally translated as concealment. It is the fruit of the first three years that are off limits for human consumption; similarly, the child's hair should be left alone for the first years of life, and only afterward can it be cut. Every age, every movement of transition is marked by a ceremony, the reason being, both to show support for the one undergoing the transition, and also to facilitate and allow for a smoother, less turbulent transition. Children moving from a pre-personal age to a personal age;
going from a non-self awareness to a self awareness, become very
protective of their space and their ego. When a child first discovers
that they are separate from their mother, and that he or she
is a person, with a separate body and his own wants and desires,
the awareness can be as frightening as it is empowering. The
process of 'separation individuation,' as some psychologists
refer to it, begins at an early age of life, and shows up remarkably
and with a kind of vengeance in the child's second year of life,
the 'terrible twos,' as it were. To mark this advancement into maturity, and to render this transition memorable and impressionable, an upsherinish is celebrated, and done so with joy and various intriguing customs to excite and enthuse the child.
4. Three Stages of Development To move forward there needs to be a movement away from a 'prior.' Often, the first thing that is needed is a radical break, called havdalah—separation from the previous past to move forward into a more rewarding future. To create the new, there needs to be a loosening of the old. A seed rots in the earth before it can offer new life; first comes sterility then fertility. On a development level from birth until the age of three, the child passes through three stages of transformation, with each stage requiring its own set of havdalah so that later there can be greater hamtakah—a sweetening and integration on a more profound level. The first and principle havdalah—separation in the life of every living being—is the process of birth itself. Birth occurs through a great tzimtzun—contraction which literally ejects a fetus from the comfort of her warm mother's womb, and then what is needed is a total and radical havdalah, which occurs in the cutting of the umbilical cord, as the fetus severs ties with her mother. The havdalah of birth is so devastating to the mother, manifesting in the form of separation anxiety (some are very conscious of the experience, others less so), that the mother becomes tamei, translated as impure, but implying a connection with death of any sort. Ritual impurity of Torah law has nothing to do with hygiene
or uncleanliness, rather it indicates a person's involvement
or connection with the 'opposite of life,' the notion of death.
The mother having carried the fetus for nine or so months, with
the fetus being "yerech imo"—part and within
the body of the mother herself—, the birth of the child
outside the womb is a form of death, and with the eventual severing
of the umbilical cord, there is a drastic form of havdalah-separation.
This movement is most devastating and overwhelming for all parties,
from pre-birth, ibbur-fetus status to post birth yenuka-suckling
status. Seven represents creation, the cycle of the week, duration of time, celebrating what is, reflected in the lower seven sefiros. Eight represents the transcendence, that which is above nature, beyond immediate time, celebration and anticipation of what could be. The cutting, the havdalah of the bris, removes the orlah, the covering over, the foreskin, and reveals this transcendent eternal bond which can be felt and observed even in the physical body. The female child is born post-covenant; a female child does not need a process to reveal the covenant, "isha k'man de'mali dami - a women is like circumcised." Accordingly, women's bodies are innately fashioned to create and bring new life into this world, and thus are more naturally connected with transcendence. Up until a certain age children feel themselves 'bodiless' and even genderless, much like Adam and Chava (Adam and Eve), before they became aware of their nakedness. There are times in every one of our lives, whether at the beginning of one's life or throughout life when our life mimics the life of Adam in the garden of the Tree of Life, where there is total oneness and integration, with no separate awareness. With regard to young children, when young children act this way, with no shame and a desire to be appreciated, however they are or feel, the challenge of parents or friends is to honor and, certainly, give young children that space for them to just be, without a definition—for a boy to just be, without needing to be a 'boy.' At each stage of the first there years, whenever there is monumental movement, there is a break with the old, a cutting off, a havdalah -separation. From cutting the umbilical cord, moving from within mother to independence, to the bris, to the upsherin, and now the little baby is a little boy. From being a young genderless child, as it were, the child
becomes a boy, and at the age of three, parents begin to educate
the child in the ways of a Torah observant boy, first by cutting
his head hair and leaving the peyos and putting on a yarmulka,
otherwise known as a kipa-head covering, and wearing tzitzit.
An upsherin, which creates the peyos, expresses the idea of establishing a boundary and affirming a border. The word 'peyos' is the plural form of the word peah. In the Torah we find the idea of peah in reference to a field owner and the poor. Torah law requires that a person who owns a field leave some of the crop, Rabbinically, at least one sixtieth of the entire crop is for the poor. "When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very corners of your field… you shall leave them for the poor and stranger" (Leviticus 19:9-10). Leaving at the edge and corner of the field the peah, the peah itself sets up a boundary—a border, which separates what the field owner gets for himself, and what the poor receive for themselves. Dialectically speaking, the border of peah actually establishes a separation for the purpose of greater unification. By setting aside within the field of an owner a portion for the poor, a relationship between owner and the people who collect the produce is established, a relationship that would otherwise not necessarily exist. The border separates to allow a deeper connection. The charity that is given from the more fortunate to the less fortunate establishes a relationship between 'giver' and 'receiver' and ultimately reveals a deep bond between the two 'owners'—the person who gives it away and the person who now has it in their possession. Tzedakah is generally the Hebrew word used for charity, though literally translated it means 'doing what is right.' Clearly, there is a marked distinction between giving charity and doing what is right. To be charitable is to assume that the money or belongings are yours, and you are nice enough to give away your money or possessions to others. Tzedakah means doing right, being aware that the money you are giving to the poor has been offered to you as a gift, to be kept in your trust until you distribute it to its proper owner. Supposing you own a field and set aside peah on the corner of your field, a line is drawn showing how much belongs to you. How much of yours is in fact yours, and what of 'yours' belongs to others. The peah reveals how much of you is mispashet—extends and spreads out over your own belongings, and where there is a clear divide, a distinct perimeter where the other begins. Peah - the corners of the hair which are the
sideburns or ear-locks, called peyos, serves the same
purpose. peah on the field and on the hair both set a
distinction, a border, and simultaneously allow for a deeper
connection, simply between the head hair and eventual facial
hair, and between the child and the people around him. Mimicking the cosmic process of creation, where initially came tohu-chaos then tikun-correction, a child, for the first few of years of life, functions in a reality of tohu-chaos on all levels of existence, both in a state of chaos and being the source of chaos for others. The cosmic force of tohu is marked by ego, non-interconnectivity and non-responsibility; it is a reality in which each sefira is on its own, and there is no room for others or for interplay. As a result, there was a meltdown of the world of tohu, and eventually there emerged a universe of tikun. A child until three years of age orbits in the world of self-absorbed tohu . There is no room for sharing their toys or understanding of others. The way they see it, they need to mispashet—spread themselves over as many things as possible—and claim everything in sight as their own. If such behavior would continue throughout life, if ego is never checked or counterbalanced, there would ultimately be an internal meltdown. Being of the world of tohu, this young child runs about wild, with long uncut hair. The child is hairy as the physical embodiment of tohu, the biblical character of Esav, the brother of Yakkov, whom the Torah relates with the idea of hair (Genesis 25:25). Now that the child has reached a 'ripe' age of three, a haircut is due, allowing for the entry into the world of tikun. Never to lose the passionate energy of tohu, that simplistic joyful dispassion of being a child, yet, as the boy matures, channeling the "light of tohu in the vessels of tikun." Getting a haircut and leaving the peyos symbolically represents this movement into tikun, a level of maturity, setting a limit to the child's hispashtus, taking the wild, untamed, undisciplined, chaotic reality of babyhood and now cutting off the long hair and setting a border. Peyos, as previously mentioned, sets a boundary, gives a limitation to how much of the person extends outward. At this point, the child has enough understanding and awareness of others that they can be educated and introduced to a proper framework to exist in a more delineated, descriptive tikun existence; a world of order, egolessness, and sharing. The border in fact allows for greater integration—as the child feels secure in who he is, he can appreciate who the other is as well. In Hebrew, a haircut is called tisporet; the root word is safar, which means haircut but also means a boundary. The word safar is related to the word sapir, in English sapphire, so from the boundary of the haircut and peyos, a new illumination arises as the child shines brightly as a sparkling sapphire.
In the Zohar every strand of hair is viewed as harboring entire universes, but what exactly does this mean? What is hair? And what does human hair represent? Before we can delve deeper into the nature of hair from a kabbalistic understanding, and decipher the various forms of male hair (such as head, facial, body) and the hair of the female, we ought to first become familiar with the way hair or the lack thereof, is discussed in the Torah. In the Torah we find that people committed to a life of holiness and service, such as the tribe of Levi, needed to shave their hair completely to initiate them (Num. 8:7), and the priests among them were not allowed to grow long hair. Yet, by contrast the Nazir (Num 6: 1-21), one who takes upon him or herself to be a Nazirite—"to separate themselves to G-d" to live a life of holiness—must never cut their hair at all. In fact, their hair is part of their holiness. (6:5) So there is an act of holiness in the context of long, unkempt, uncut hair, and holiness which demands the cutting of all hair. Why the difference? Traditionally the Nazir is viewed as an ascetic, and that
is because a Nazir refrains from drinking wine and simply allows
his or her hair to run wild. The Nazir accepted upon himself to live a Nazirite life style as a kind of spiritual retreat from the chaotic, aggressive competitive nature of adolescence and youth. Struggling with life or being weighed down by negative temptations, they wished to retreat a bit, stand back, detach themselves from the pleasures of life, such as the drinking of wine represents, and also detach themselves from life's sorrows, such as death, thus not touching or contacting the dead. They simply wanted to be and observe without too much participation. Notwithstanding the positive role that being a Nazir could play in terms of a healthy spiritual development, a Nazir represents a type of holiness and dedication that is not intended as a way of life. Life in retreat is ultimately ego-based. In fact, the Nazir, after his stint as a Nazir, needs to bring an offering of atonement, as it were, atoning for refraining from drinking wine. For the time being the life of a Nazir serves a wonderful purpose, a detachment to further a more focused meaningful involvement. Yet, life as a Nazir is meant as a time-bound retreat, to transcend and from which later to emerge. It is a life of pelah (Num. 6:2), which is detached, separate, and isolated; whereas life is meant to be lived fully and with total mindful participation. The polar opposite of the long-haired Nazir is the priest, who served without long hair. This too is an extreme, no ritual contamination and no hair. Though this life was the lot of an entire tribe, it also indicates a life detached from ordinary experiences. Thus it was only one tribe's lot and not the entire nation. In between the no hair and the long hair is the short hair reality, which is relevant to all people and applicable for all times. In the Torah we find the idea of having a haircut when a person comes in front of a king, as a sign of respect. Yosef was thrown into prison, and when the ruler of Egypt heard of his amazing dream interpretation, the verse says, "Then Pharaoh sent and called Joseph, and they brought him hastily out of the dungeon; and he shaved himself" (Genesis. Chap 41: 14). In Talmudic law, the idea of having one's hair cut is a sign of respect, whether taking a haircut for the Shabbos or the holidays, or any other event. The Midrash speaks of Rosh Hashanah—'the day of judgment'—as a time when the people, in great confidence in the eventual outcome of the ruling, would congregate, dressed in their finest attire, clean, and with their hair nicely trimmed. As long hair or no hair represents a holiness that is detached from the everyday, mundane reality, the balanced trimmed hair reflects the well-adjusted life of holiness, to live within the world and yet be above, to be above and yet enclothed within—in classic Kabbalistic language, to function in a condition of mati ve'lo mati, 'to touch and not to touch' or to 'reach and retreat.' In fact, the only way to fully be present is by remaining a bit above. As the Kotzker used to say; "if you wish to know the world, you need to soar above it." Ultimately we express our full beingness when our lives mimic our Creator, when we are like our Creator, as it were, embodying both immanence and transcendence, being and non-being—on the one hand, to be fully 'drawn within' the world, not neglecting nor renouncing the beauty of creation or the value of the physical, and yet remaining somewhat above and transcendent of creation's trivialities. A little boy until his 'ripe' age of three, lives, for the
most part, a careless, selfish, involved life, certainly not
entirely interested or even equipped to participate as a fully
integrated member of society. With his long flowing hair, his
life of 'detachment' and 'non-responsibility' reminds us of the
Nazir who also chooses to live detached and not responsible.
Parents tend to shield their very young ones, and often for good
reason, from the sorrows of life. In the same way, in joyful
times, children at this young age are apt to do their own thing
and be in their own world. Now that we have a better grasp on the way hair is presented in the revealed aspects of Torah, we can comfortably move to the deeper dimensions and explore the nature of hair and what it represents. Hair grows on mammals for protection and to keep the body warm. On a literal level, the literal always being an outer reflection of the deeper/ metaphorical, hair is threadlike outgrowths from our skin. On a deeper level the hair is rooted in the space beyond the skin, as it were, beneath the surface of the epidermis. The intensity, measure and level of spiritual energy contained within a strand of hair depends on the interior beneath the surface upon which the hair grows. Overall, though hair is rooted and nourished from the body, it contains little to no blood cells or nerves, and can thus be cut off with no pain. The idea of flowing hair represents a flow of energy. As each strand of hair is thin and threadlike, individually they are not overwhelming, hair reflects an energy flow that penetrates the below in a way that is measured and can be appreciated and appropriately accessed. Beginning with the head hair, there are three forms. In the language of the kabbalah, there is the hair of atik, detached or removed, which is part of the sefira of keser-crown, deep desire reality, which is represented by the hair of the Nazirite. There is the hair of zeir anpin (z'a)-'small face,' that of the male. zeir anpin- 'small face' is comprised of the six emotional divine attributes, otherwise known as the sefiros; chesed-kindness, gevurah-restraint, tiferes-compassion, netzach -perseverance, hod-humility, and yesod-connection. And there is hair of nukvah-the idea of receiver, which is the hair of a female. Essentially there are three types of head hair, rooted in atik, zeir, and nukvah. Yet, each one of these levels is considered an entire partzuf-structure on their own. There are a total of five partzufim; three of them are atik, zeir anpin, and nukvah. The other two are arich anpin-long enlarged face, the idea of will, and a'v'a-intelligence. Each partzuf contains the entire arrangement of all the sefiros, albeit, occasionally in a zeir-'smaller,' contracted version, so that each one is a total structure, a full divine persona, as it were. Think of the partzuf as a hologram, wherein each aspect
contains the whole. In the universe of emotions, for example,
there is also intelligence, the intellect guiding and orienting
the emotions. Conversely in the world of intelligence there are
also emotions, as emotions stir and affect all intellectual understandings.
The energy that flows from mochin-mind in each distinct strand of hair is constricted and limited, much like the actual thin shaped nature of hair. Hair contains merely a slim measure of body energy, and thus can be cut or trimmed with no pain. What is more, the life energy of hair is present within the actual challal-hollowed space within each strand of hair. Accordingly, the chayos-the life energy within hair is the least of the body, even less then nails. Yet, that idea of hair is that it transmits and funnels energy,
albeit condensed and contracted in its stream. Paralleling the
cosmic structure, every strand of head hair, every blade of thin
lined hair represents a flow of din-constriction and limitation,
a fine condensed flow of light. din is tzimtzum-contraction
and concealment. Since normally hair is associated with din and tzimtzum, the idea of trimming and shortening one's hair becomes a symbolic gesture, and on a deeper level an initiation of a process where one trims, dims and eliminates all manifestations of din and constrictions from one's life. Yet, the head hair of a Nazir is to remain intact, allowed to grow and expand as much as possible. A Nazir, a man or woman who lives a life detached and separate
from the social norm, reflects the divine energy flow of keser,
the crown, a space of transcendence, beyond world, logic or reason.
And since there is "no left side-separateness/din/kelipa-
in atik" (Zohar), everything within atik/keser
reality is kedushah-holy, enclosed within divine oneness
and plenty. The hair, too, of the Nazir is holy, kadosh,
as in sublime and removed, and should not be tampered with or
trimmed and allowed to grow long, as hair is generally a form
of din and tzimtzum. The Nazir's hair is complete
and absolute rachamim-divine mercy. At this level of reality,
there is a radical transformation of the quality of hair, from
din-restrictions and confinements to rachamim-mercy
and openness, and thus the hair is holy and should not be cut.
Din and tzimtzum of the Nazirite's hair is not in the hair itself, so to speak, rather in the manner in which transcendent keser, beyond and above divine infinite light, is funneled into a finite creation that is comprised of time and space. There are two forms of divine light that create and sustain creation. There is the transcendent light, the or ha'sovev kol almim-the light that surrounds all worlds, and there is the imminent present light, the or memale kol almim-the light that fills all creation. The Creator's reality makes itself manifest as both immanent and all-pervasive finite and beingness, and as a light that is transcendent, infinite and beyond beingness. Clearly these images of surrounding and filling lights are not to be taken literally with spatial linear connotations, as they are both strictly relating to the degree of revelation and observed presence within the world. Keser is the 'crown' which hovers above creation, the
infinite transcendent sovev light, while the partzuf
of zeir anpin and nukvah represent a more
delineated, finite, invested form of enclothed memale
light, zeir anpin as the light itself, and nukvah
as the actual embodiment of the light and its presence within
the physical. With regard to sovev, however, to get from a point of infinity to a point of finitude ilah v'alul would not work, a quantitative evolution of infinity cannot produce finitude. What is needed is qualitative movement, a 'quantum leap' a tzimtzum where the infinite retracts, as it were, and that is the hamshacha-the drawing down "b'derech sa'aros-in a manner of hair," a revelation through the form of a tzimtzum, which now allows for the process of ilah v'alul to occur. When there is this little ha'arah-slim glimmer of these
intense transcendent infinite lights of keser that become
revealed in the form of hamshacha b'derech sa'aros, a
radical shifting process begins, originally sourcing the light
of memale and eventually filtering down to become the
light that is vested within finite creation. In the next chapter, the head, peyos and facial hair of the male will be explored. For now, let's move from the Nazir, who can be either male or female, to the nature of a non-Nazir female hair. To be continued... |
