Mishneh Torah, Foreign Worship and Customs of the Nations 12

Hook

You’ve likely heard the “stale take” that Jewish law is just a giant list of "don’ts"—a cosmic game of Simon Says designed to keep us from having any fun with our hair, our clothes, or our bodies. The prohibitions against shaving the corners of the head, wearing "cross-gender" clothing, or getting tattoos are often dismissed as archaic, irrelevant, or just plain weird. But what if these laws weren't about suppression at all? What if they were actually the world’s first "identity security" system? Let’s crack open Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah and look at these rules not as shackles, but as a deliberate, thoughtful project of building a coherent, distinct self in a world that is constantly trying to blur the lines.

Context

• The "Rule-Heavy" Misconception: We often assume religious laws (mitzvot) are purely about God wanting to control our aesthetic choices. In reality, Rambam (Maimonides) frames these specific laws under the umbrella of "Foreign Worship." The goal isn't to police your barber; it’s to prevent "assimilation by imitation"—the slow, unconscious erosion of a unique cultural and spiritual identity.
• Contextualizing the Body: The Torah laws in this chapter aren't arbitrary. They address how we mark our transition into grief (gouging), how we signify belonging (tattoos), and how we express our fundamental humanity through our appearance (shaving/clothing).
• The "Why" Matters: Every law here acts as a boundary. By saying "we don't do this," we are implicitly saying, "we do something else." It’s an exercise in maintaining a border between your inner world and the prevailing trends of the outside culture.

Text Snapshot

"We may not shave the corners of our heads as the idolaters and their priests do... One is liable for each corner. Therefore, a person who shaves both his temples... is liable for two measures of lashes."

"A man should not adorn himself as a woman does... A woman should not adorn herself as a man does... Everything follows local custom."

"The tattooing which the Torah forbids involves making a cut in one's flesh and filling the slit with eye-color, ink, or with any other dye... This was the custom of the idolaters, who would make marks on their bodies for the sake of their idols."

New Angle: The Architecture of Identity

1. The Power of "No" as a Design Choice

In modern adult life, we are obsessed with "authenticity." We feel that our clothing, our hair, and our body art are the ultimate expressions of our "true selves." But Rambam suggests a counter-intuitive truth: true identity isn't just about what you add to yourself (the ink, the haircut, the fashion statement); it’s about what you refuse to do.

When Rambam discusses the prohibition of shaving the "corners" of the head, he’s not just talking about hair. He’s talking about how we distinguish ourselves from the "priests of foreign worship." In our world, the "priests of foreign worship" are the algorithms, the trends, and the relentless, crushing pressure to conform to whatever is currently "in." By setting boundaries—by saying "I don't participate in this specific cultural signal"—we create a space for ourselves. For an adult, this is the ultimate act of autonomy. It’s the difference between being a consumer who is shaped by the market and a person who is shaped by their values. You aren't just "not shaving"; you are actively curating a life that isn't dictated by the current fashion.

2. The Fluidity of "Local Custom"

One of the most fascinating aspects of this text is Rambam’s repeated refrain: "Everything follows local custom." He acknowledges that what constitutes "men’s clothing" or "women’s clothing" is not a static, eternal truth, but something that shifts with the culture. This is an incredibly sophisticated insight for the 12th century. It suggests that the act of dressing with intention is more important than the specific item of clothing itself.

For the modern professional or parent, this is a lesson in mindfulness. We often dress on autopilot. We wear what our peers wear, what our industry dictates, or what we think we "should" wear to be taken seriously. Rambam invites us to pause. If you are going to dress to fit in, do it because you’ve chosen that role, not because you’ve been brainwashed by the "custom of the nations." The prohibition isn't against looking good or being stylish; it’s against losing your sense of purpose in the sea of collective trends. Whether it’s in your career or your parenting, the "mitzvah" here is to be deliberate. Ask yourself: "Am I adopting this behavior because it serves my values, or am I just mimicking the surrounding 'priests'?"

3. Grief and the Dignity of the Body

Rambam’s discussion of tattoos and self-mutilation during mourning is deeply empathetic. He recognizes the raw human need to express pain. When we lose someone, we want the world to see our pain. We want to scar it into our skin. Yet, the Torah says: No. Do not gouge your flesh for the dead.

Why? Because the body is a temple, a loan from the Divine, not a notepad for your trauma. In a high-stress, high-anxiety world, we often "gouge" ourselves metaphorically—overworking, self-neglect, or constant self-criticism. We try to handle our pain by damaging the vessel. Rambam is suggesting a different way: hold your grief without destroying yourself. Keep your boundaries. Even in your darkest moments, the structure of your identity—the "corners" of your head, the integrity of your skin—is worth preserving. It’s a profound reminder that while we can’t control our pain, we can control how we carry it.

4. The Fear of Separation

The most beautiful, and perhaps strangest, part of this text is the "allegorical" interpretation of the prohibition against gashing: "Do not separate into various different groupings." Rambam connects the physical act of cutting oneself to the social act of fracturing a community.

This is the ultimate adult challenge. How do we hold our distinct identity (our "corners") without becoming a "gash" in the community? How do we be Jewishly distinct without being fractious? Rambam teaches that the healthiest community isn't one where everyone is the same, but one where everyone has a clear, defined identity that respects the boundaries of others. When we stop trying to "tattoo" our opinions onto everyone else or "gash" the reputation of those who disagree with us, we create a unified whole. We are individuals with boundaries, but we aren't separate, warring tribes.

Low-Lift Ritual: The Two-Minute Boundary

This week, pick one "aesthetic" or "habitual" choice you make simply because it’s "what everyone does." It could be the way you check your emails at dinner, a specific slang term you use, or a style of dress you don't actually like but wear to fit in at the office.

For the next seven days, perform a "Ritual of Intention." Before you engage in that habit, pause for sixty seconds. Ask yourself: "Does this action help me build the identity I actually want, or is it just the 'custom of the nations'?" You don't have to quit the habit entirely, but by naming it and questioning it, you move from being a passive follower to an active participant in your own life. You are reclaiming the "corners of your head."

Chevruta Mini

1. Rambam says "Everything follows local custom" regarding clothing, yet he is strict about physical grooming (shaving/tattoos). Why do you think he differentiates between external garments and our own physical bodies?
2. If the prohibition against gashing is actually an allegory for "not forming separate, warring groups," what is one way your community (or family) could better balance "being distinct" with "remaining unified"?

Takeaway

Identity is not found by blending in; it is crafted through the deliberate, sometimes uncomfortable act of standing out. Whether it’s the hair on your head or the way you process your grief, the rules in Mishneh Torah are a call to stop being a mirror of the world and start being an architect of your own character. You aren't "missing out" by not following the crowd—you are building something that actually belongs to you.