Throughout the Torah, we hear many descriptions of Moshe (Moses), but a particularly powerful descriptor comes once he has died at the age of 120.

“Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died; his eyes were undimmed and his vigor unabated.” - “וּמֹשֶׁ֗ה בֶּן־מֵאָ֧ה וְעֶשְׂרִ֛ים שָׁנָ֖ה בְּמֹת֑וֹ לֹא־כָהֲתָ֥ה עֵינ֖וֹ וְלֹא־נָ֥ס לֵחֹֽה”

There are a lot of different interpretations of what this means. Some say this means he exuded the same light that shone from him as he descended Mount Sinai / Har Sinai for all of the days of his life. Others say this means his body did not show signs of aging even as he reached such an advanced age, and that he remained youthful even at 120.

What does one do to remain youthful / have a long life? Personally, I have been anxious about aging since my 10th birthday. (Seriously, I remember crying on my final night as a 9 year old with the recognition that I will never be one digit ever again!!) And it was just my 24th birthday (I am approaching my mid-twenties and I don’t know how to feel about it), which led me to some reflection on my values in general.

In his commentary on this parsha, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks cites the Grant Study, which longitudinally tracked the lives of 268 Harvard students since 1938. The Grant Study sought to understand what leads to human flourishing. The psychiatrist George Vaillant wrote a number of books about the findings of this study.

There are 2 dimensions of successful aging that are related to Moshe.

Moshe has spent the entire book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) performing generativity. Instead of hanging out, relying on his laudable past, or rehashing his mistakes, Moshe spends his final 5 weeks teaching the next generation how to live their lives, rehashing their history as a people and refreshing their memories on how to be moral, upstanding people in a social context. What good does setting B’nei Yisrael (the Children of Israel) up for success do for Moshe? Well, nothing. He’s planting the seeds for the next generation with the knowledge he will never see the benefits.

And regarding being a “keeper of the meaning” — we cannot count the amount of times “teach this to your children” has been said in the Torah. We are all about valuing the wisdom of old and making it new by teaching it to the young.

This is reminiscent of the difference between hiddush (newness) and hidhadshut (renewal). Newness for the sake of new is worthless because it’s not rooted in anything deeper or meaningful. Renewal is taking the wisdom of the old with us into the new.

Moshe remained youthful till 120 because he retained hope for the future through all of his days. He never lost sight of the value of the next generation.

I have always been someone who is impressed by success in any form. You’re a math genius who scored a perfect 36 on the ACT? You have me in absolute awe. You’re a supremely gifted dancer who can kick your face? I bow at your perfectly pointed toes. You’re an innovative computer engineer who knows 10 coding languages? I don’t understand you, but I respect you.

But when I moved to New York, I realized there are lots of successful people everywhere.

Cont’d…

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Wow we’re in the second-to-last portion of the Torah! Moshe Rabbenu, Moses our Teacher, for the entire book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) has been giving B’nei Yisrael, the Children of Israel, his last words of wisdom. As we know, Moshe, will not be entering the Land with the People. So, like a parent about to send their child off to college, Moshe is trying to capture all the things the kid needs to know before launching them out into the world.

We spend a lot of Sefer Dvarim (the Book of Deuteronomy) recapping the events of the past 40 years while also talking about the way that the Jewish people should conduct themselves once they enter the Land of Israel. In last week’s Torah portion, we read about a “song” that B’nei Yisrael should write for themselves and teach their children. This “song” represents the Torah but it also refers to an actual section of this week’s parsha - Shirat Haazinu, the Song of Haazinu (the name of the portion). The section describes how B’nei Yisrael will turn away from G-d once things start going well when they enter the Land of Israel.

The text explains that this “song” should bear witness against the Jewish people - predicting that B’nei Yisrael will stray. G-d not only predicts that B’nei Yisrael will stray, but also predicts how G-d and the Jewish people will react to these events.

The text says, "And I will kindle My anger against them on that day [i.e. at that time] and leave them, for I will hide My face from them, and terrible things will befall them - and they will say on that day [at that time] - it is because God is not in our midst that these evils have befallen us"

So B’nei Yisrael strays, and G-d gets angry, sending bad things to them. But by saying that G-d isn’t in their midst, it sounds like B’nei Yisrael blaming G-d for the “terrible things that will befall them.” They’re saying, “Well G-d has turned from us and that’s why these bad things are happening, not because we did anything bad!”

What we have here is a seeming showdown between G-d and the Jewish people. And because Moshe sees that this situation could be in the future for both parties, Moshe gives over Shirat Haazinu, preparing future generations.

Moshe opens the song commanding B’nei Yisrael to listen - he then praises G-d, following the praise with the statement, “Destruction is not His; it is His children's defect you crooked and twisted generation.”

Moshe is saying, “Do not blame G-d for your straying … it’s not that G-d isn’t among you, it’s your own doing!”

Moshe goes on, “Is this how you repay the Lord, you disgraceful, unwise people?! Is He not your Father, your Master? He has made you and established you.”

These statements directly confront B’nei Yisrael’s inevitable question - whose fault is it that bad things are happening? Theirs / ours!

If B’nei Yisrael is fully blaming G-d for bad things in their midst, then they have misinterpreted the last part of “He has made you and established you.” Just because we are G-d’s people does not mean that G-d acts like a fairy godmother to our every wish, poof-ing away any trouble. The covenant that the Jewish people have with G-d is one of reciprocation, of responsibility. We have Bechira Chofshit, free will, which means we are accountable for our actions.

Cont’d…

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The Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is called Shabbat Shuva, or the Shabbat of Return. Not, as could be easily misunderstood as Shabbat TEshuva (Shabbat of Repentance). Of course the word for Teshuva is related to shuva because they both come from לָשׁוּב / Leshuv, to return.

Return and repentance are definitely related. When we repent, we are returning to the self we were before we did the deed we wanted to repent for.

In this week’s parsha, Vayelech, B’nei Yisrael are doing their own kind of returning - they are about to cross the Jordan and enter the Land of Israel, finally! Eretz Yisrael is now in their future, but it’s also a part of their past. Their ancestors - Avraham (Abraham), Yitzchak (Isaac), and Yaakov (Jacob) all lived there once upon a time. Moving forward, then for the tribes, is returning to the place of the past.

When we repent, we return to our purest, truest selves, and Shabbat Shuva is a time to tune into this self. We have this whole Aseret Yemei Teshuva, the 10 Days of Repentance from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, and Shabbat Shuva is smack in the middle of these.

I picture a seesaw. On one side sits the self we began the holidays with. Perhaps this self is a bit scuffed, wearing a sour expression, but off in the distance, on the other side of the see saw, is the self we want to end Yom Kippur with - the self that is shining, gleaming, pure and is wearing a serene expression.

Where we are now is the center of the seesaw. We are between the two selves, and we have the choice where we want to end.

This is inspired by a teaching of the Rambam, Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, Maimonides. He taught in Hilchot Teshuva, the Laws of Teshuva, that we should view ourselves all year as if we are half innocent and half guilty. If we commit one sin, we tip the seesaw to the guilty side. And it we just do one mitzvah, we tip the seesaw to the righteous side. (Well he didn’t say the part about the seesaw, that’s me…)

Rav Kook taught that the Jewish people are a collective soul. We are all sparks from the same source, so when we sin, we are sinning on behalf of all of the people. The same, of course, goes for when we perform mitzvot. We are acting righteously on behalf of all of the people, then, too.

Speaking of acting on behalf of the Klal, the whole community… In this week’s parsha, we receive the final mitzvah, the final of the 613th of the mitzvot.

“And now, write for yourselves this song, and teach it to the Children of Israel” - “וְעַתָּ֗ה כִּתְב֤וּ לָכֶם֙ אֶת־הַשִּׁירָ֣ה הַזֹּ֔את וְלַמְּדָ֥הּ אֶת־בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל”

What is the song you ask? The “song / shira” is the Torah. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, taught that Moshe was teaching B’nei Yisrael that it isn’t enough to just take in the teachings of Moshe himself — they must make the Torah new and fresh themselves.

To this day, Torah scrolls are written as in ancient times, by hand, using parchment, and written with a quill. The Torah scroll is the closest thing we have in our modern Jewish practice to a sacred relic.

The word “shira” can mean song or poetry, and because it’s used 5 times in this passage, clearly is significant. The Netziv, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, interprets that we should read the Torah as if it is poetry, not prose. The Netziv argues that the Torah is like poetry because it’s allusive rather than explicit - leaving more unsaid than said. Secondly, it also hints at deeper meanings, expressing more than just is what is visible on the surface. Torah is imbued with deep secrets, like poetry, too.

Cont’d…

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A few weeks after I graduated college in 2019, I staffed a Hillel International Birthright trip. If you have had the immense privilege to be a participant on a Birthright trip, you know there are 2 very important Israeli cogs in the machine that is an individual Birthright trip - the Israeli bus driver and the Israeli tour guide.

Our tour guide, who we will call Ron, was your typical non-religious Israeli. Every time I would commandeer the bus microphone to give some Torah context for a location we were going or share some “fun” Jewish facts, he would roll his eyes good naturedly. By the end of our 10 days he had given me the title “Rabbanit.” (Which I give him credit for - whether he knew it or not, he was being pretty progressive. What we call young women in Jewish contexts — I.e. - Rabbanit vs Rebbetzin, is a whole conversation that I welcome. Write to me.)

Ron was very averse to the religious aspects of Judaism. (Alert - I’m going to make a grand over-simplification about Israeli culture!!) This wasn’t surprising — there is a very deep cultural divide between religious Israelis and non-religious Israelis.

Ron, like 50% of the Israeli population, served in the army and viewed such service as the citizens’ responsibility as an Israeli. Haredi Jews do not serve in the IDF (Israel Defense Forces), under religious exemption, and because 53% of Haredim live below the poverty line, they receive government funding. Haredim view themselves as the last protector of the Jewish nature of the state, and that on the merit of their full-time learning does the state of Israel stand.

I hope you believe that none of this info has been sharing my personal opinion — I am trying to simply give context. Basically — there is lots of tension between these two groups. Obviously there’s even more nuance within other religious groups… but we will leave it here.

I didn’t think much of Ron’s aversion to Judaism. It seemed typical to me. On the last day of our trip, though he shared something really beautiful. So after his army service, like many Israelis, Ron traveled. In India specifically, he was fascinated by Buddhism and the deep, ancient connection that those he met in India felt to their ancestors. He found himself wishing that he, too, had an ancient connection to an ancient people. Interestingly enough, Jews account for as many as a third of all non-Asian Buddhists in North America, so there’s definitely something there between Judaism and Buddhism. Ron wanted to be connected to ancient people until he realized… he was. Ron was a Jew! A Jew whose ancestors stood at Har Sinai (Mount Sinai) and heard Hashem speak the first 2 Aseret HaDibrot (Ten Commandments), he was a Jew that had actualized the hope of thousands of years to return to the Land of Israel to be a free people. Ron had spent his whole life living in the ancient Jewish homeland, but didn’t appreciate it till leaving the nest.

Ron saw us silly Americans as being more connected to our Judaism from 7,000 miles away than he was in Israel. To him, we were willing to schlep across the ocean to connect to our Judaism, and he wondered maybe he was too close to it.

In this week’s parsha, Nitzavim, our brit (covenant) with G-d is renewed, the covenant of promising to uphold G-d’s mitzvot. This covenant is not only with all of Bnei Yisrael that were present, but also with those of future generations. The next section of the parsha describes how future generations may stray from the Derech HaShem, the way of G-d in life. The Torah tells us that we are curious people, that we will be drawn by other aspects of other religions.

Soul scene

Cont’d…

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There’s a really long, really unique declaration in regard to the mitzvah of “bikkurim” that is made in this week’s parsha. Bikkurim refers to the mitzvah of bringing the first of your fruits to the Beit HaMikdash, the Temple in Jerusalem.

The Torah begins with the word, “Bereshit - בראשית” meaning “in the beginning.” According to the Midrash on this very first word, there are a few things in the Torah that are called “Reishit,” meaning the first of. In the beginning of this parsha, we get this word Reishit, “And you shall take of the first of the fruits of the earth… - וְלָֽקַחְתָּ֞ מֵֽרֵאשִׁ֣ית | כָּל־פְּרִ֣י הָֽאֲדָמָ֗ה”

The Midrash tells us that G-d created the whole world for the purpose of all of the “Reishit” moments, of which bikkurim is included in. Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki explains that the essence of this mitzvah is demonstrating our gratitude to G-d. OK cool, how?

Up until entering the land of Israel, the Jewish people have been living a pretty miraculous life out there in the midbar, the desert. Their food is dropped in their laps, (the man / manna), they drink water that poured forth from a rock, they have this pillar of cloud that keeps them cool, their clothes never wear out… they’re living a supernatural life. It’s very easy to see that G-d is in every aspect of their day-to-day when in the desert. But when they cross the Yarden / Jordan and begin their normal, typical life, they start living a non-obviously G-d-granted life. They’re going to be making their own living - they’re plowing the land, and they’ll get their own yield. This is exactly the moment where one can forget about G-d’s involvement.

In comes bikkurim — in the very moment when the first bud develops in their crop, where we could begin to believe that our success is due to our own work and not to G-d. We quite literally “nip it in the bud” by gathering the Reishit, the beginning, of our crop to be taken the Temple.

Once you take the first fruits to Yerushalayim, you’re commanded to make this long declaration (as mentioned in the beginning) recapping the miracles that G-d has done for the Jewish people. In this declaration, we remember Yaakov / Jacob and his clash with Laban, his father in law. We remember being slaves in Mitzrayim / Egypt, and finally we we remember G-d’s deliverance of us to our Eretz Zavat Halav u’Dvash - a land flowing with milk and honey.

We recap of all the good that G-d has done for the Jewish people to remind us that we are not out here floating on a space rock. We are very much rooted in the presence and benevolence of G-d, even when we feel as though all of our success is due to our own hand.

The word for heresy is the same word as ignoring / choosing not to acknowledge - כְּפִירָה / Kfira. The word for gratitude, though, is the same as active acknowledgment - הוֹדָאָה / Hoda’ah.

Being willing to acknowledge the presence of G-d is what true gratitude is. Thanking G-d is attesting, acknowledging G-d’s dominion on this earth.

This is why, then you compliment religious Jews, their response is often “Thank G-d.” This is an every-day kind of Hoda’ah - recognizing that every positive (and negative) trait was specifically chosen by G-d for you.

Cont’d…

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Ki Teitzei, this week’s parsha, has the most number of mitzvot mentioned in all of the 54 parsha installments. These mitzvot are pretty miscellaneous — paying wages on time, family inheritence, treatment of domestic animals, weights and measures, and lots of others.

One mitzvah that continually perplexes us is one dealing with baby birds, mama birds, and their nests - the mitzvah of שילוח הקן / Shiluach HaKen, or sending away the nest.

It’s special for a few reasons - firstly, it’s one of only 2 mitzvot in the Torah where a reward is specifically mentioned (the other is Kibud Av v’Em, honoring one’s mother and father).

We are instructed that if we come upon a mother bird upon her nest of either eggs or young, we are to shoo the mother bird away before taking the eggs or the young. If we take the eggs / young after shooing the mother away, it will be “good for us” and we will have a long life - לְמַ֨עַן֙ יִ֣יטַב לָ֔ךְ וְהַֽאֲרַכְתָּ֖ יָמִֽים.

What’s the first thing that comes to mind for this? I think the natural train of thought is, “Oh, G-d loves all creatures. It’s kind of mean to take a mother’s babies when she’s there, so the mitzvah is to NOT let her see them being taken.”

But then why is eating meat ok?? If it’s “mean to animals” to kill them, we shouldn’t eat them!!

Ok so the Ramban, Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, explains that having compassion for animals simply inculcates compassion for humanity. People should accustom themselves to act mercifully and kindly to all. And if we’re kind and empathetic to even baby birds, then even more so would we be kind to our fellow humans. Lovely idea!

Also you can see the obvious parallel between Kibud Av v’Em and Shiluach Haken, because we have the respect of a parent at the center. Shiluach Haken is interesting though because the mitzvah only counts if it’s the MOTHER bird, not the father bird, while Kibud Av v’Em is both the mother and the father. Let me know your thoughts on this distinction!

Ok so let’s talk more broadly about mitzvot!

As we learn from a few sources, there are 613 mitzvot. According to the Midrash, there are 248 positive mitzvot (Mitzvot Aseh, a mitzvot you SHOULD do), and 365 negative mitzvot (Mitzvot Lo Taaesh, mitzvot you should NOT do).

We learn that 248 corresponds to the number of bones / limbs in the human body. Every part of the body is directly related to one of those mitzvot. (EX: you should OPEN your hand to give charity - תִּפְתַּ֛ח אֶת־יָֽדְךָ֖). Every part of our physical body, then, is elevated by the mitzvot corresponding. The 248 mitzvot become our spiritual “body” double.

Ok so what about the 365?

The Or HaChaim cites the Arizal - our soul is split into many sparks of life. Each spark represents a day we have been granted by G-d. Each day we have an opportunity to do a mitzvah. If we complete a mitzvah, the spark is actualized. If we do not do a mitzvah, that spark becomes blemished.

The Or HaChaim says this helps us to understand sleep - we need sleep to be the “changing of the guard.” Replacing yesterday’s spark with tomorrow’s. And when sleep is described as 1/60th of death, this makes sense! One bit of our soul IS departing - one spark-let is leaving but if G-d wants us to live another day, we get a new one for the next day.

So every day is an opportunity to connect with the Divine every day of the year - 365 times per year. Because the 365 negative mitzvot correspond to each day of our lives.

Every day is an opportunity to connect to the Divine and every limb is, too.

Cont’d…

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There is a famous pasuk (line) in this parsha - one that every Millenial / Gen Z, socially conscious person you know has written on their water bottles, computers, coffee cups, etc — צֶ֥דֶק צֶ֖דֶק תִּרְדֹּ֑ף, Justice, justice, you shall pursue.

In context and out of context, it’s such a powerful line. The command “tirdof” meaning “you shall pursue” from the verb לִרְדוֹף, implies chasing, hunting, going after with energy. It’s not “casually saunter after justice” or “go get some justice if you feel like it.” There’s no qualifier or anything, it’s just “Go after it.”

This is the point in my dvar-writing that I absolutely went down a rabbit hole in the internet. I didn’t know this, but in modern Hebrew, the planet Jupiter is called Tzedek??? What even!?!? If you went through a super enthusiastic Greek / Roman mythology phase like I did in junior high, you will know that Jupiter was the Roman equivalent / parallel to Zeus in Greek mythology. Jupiter is the biggest planet and Zeus / Jupiter are considered the “head gods” so that makes sense that the planet is named for them. But what’s the connection with tzedek? I should really do some more substantial research on this, but Zeus’s thing was being the god of Order and Justice, ahem: tzedek, righteousness. So this choice of calling the planet Jupiter, “Tzedek” after the Green / Roman god its named after, is just modern Hebrew paralleling Greek and Roman culture.

This parsha is full of commands against worshipping idols or other false gods, so it’s a tad funny that a word so central to the parsha is relatively related to these aforementioned “other gods.”

And once I was down the rabbit hole of roots of Hebrew words or associations with certain Hebrew words, I couldn’t stop. Thanks to an essay I found online by Rabbi Jacob Chinitz, I have learned that there are literally 10 different words the Torah uses in referring to “law” - din, tzedek, dvar, mishmeret, mitzvah, torah (lowercase, not the Torah), mishpat, chok, edut, and ot. And they can mean anything like commandment, judgment, observance, righteousness, rule, sign, statute, teaching, testimony, or word.

These are not simply interchangeable synonyms, but they overlap so much in meaning!

But I’m digressing - we’re focusing on tzedek. And tzedek is really hard to truly define. At its root, tzedek is the act of doing what is right, it doesn’t really refer to punishments (like “din”) or corrective actions (like “mishpat”). It encompasses the way we treat one another, the way we defend those who cannot defend themselves, the way we help those in need.

Tzedek is the root of the word “tzedakah” which is often not-totally-accurately translated as “charity.” Charity comes from the Latin root “caritas” referring to the “Christian love of your fellow human beings.” Tzedakah is not giving because you feel like it, or giving because it makes you feel warm inside. Tzedakah is the duty, the moral obligation to give and to care for our fellow people.

This brings to mind another part of the parsha - a bit later, we read about the procedure if a dead body is found and the cause is unknown. The elders and judges of the area should measure to which city the body was found closest to. That city that is closest to where the body was found is to send their elders to proclaim that they had nothing to do with this death, and then they sacrifice an “unworked calf” in a “rough, unworked valley.”

Cont’d…

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We learn in the Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 26A) that a person who has seen a crime committed cannot serve as a judge in the case. Why? When someone has seen a person commit a capital crime, they cannot possibly exonerate them. Judges are supposed to look for innocence, and if a person has seen another commit a crime with their own eyes, having impartiality isn’t possible.

Our sages recognize that sight is a very powerful sense, and we start this week’s parsha with it.

Behold, today I set before you a blessing and a curse - רְאֵ֗ה אָֽנֹכִ֛י נֹתֵ֥ן לִפְנֵיכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם בְּרָכָ֖ה וּקְלָלָֽה

The first word in this parsha, and the name of the parsha, Re’eh, means to see, coming from Lirot / לראות. But here, Re’eh is translated most commonly as “behold.”

Why does “sight” imply understanding? When someone explains a concept to us, if we say “Ah, I see” we understand. We can also communicate our understanding with another sense, “Ah, I hear you.”

Judaism is a religion that primarily relates to sound. Our Avot, Avraham (Abraham), Yitzchak (Isaac), and Yaakov (Jacob) heard the voice of G-d and didn’t see it, Moshe heard G-d at the burning bush but didn’t see G-d, B’nei Yisrael heard the voice of G-d at Har Sinai, Mount Sinai. Even at Sinai B’nei Yisrael awoke to the SOUNDS of thunder, lightning, and a great horn blast. (Yes they saw a great cloud / the mountain ablaze, but the most important thing here is the sound — the sound of the voice of G-d delivering the first 2 of the Aseret HaDibrot, the Ten Commandments. G-d is not an entity that can be comprehended, let alone seen. And though our ancestors did see symbols / representations of G-d, the most affecting situations are found with sound.

Judaism is rare in that our “revelation” that “proves” G-d is real, happened for all the nation to hear. We all heard G-d’s voice at Har Sinai, we all had the privilege of experiencing the sound for ourselves. Much like “seeing” someone commit a crime makes you unable to say they are innocent, “hearing” the existence of G-d and the existence of our covenant with him makes us unable to deny G-d’s existence.

Throughout the book of Devarim, Deuteronomy, the verb Lishmoa / לשמוע can be found in some form 92 times. But weren’t we just talking about sight? Re’eh right?

Yes! Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, pointed out that though the command is “See / behold before you,” the words that follow it only speak of hearing.

I will now roughly paraphrase -

See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse. You will get the blessing if you LISTEN - תִּשְׁמְע֗וּ- and heed my laws, you will get the curse if you DON’T LISTEN - אִם־לֹ֤א תִשְׁמְעוּ֙.

So, SEE these 2 options that will happen if you don’t LISTEN!

The Shema, found in 3 places in the Torah and that has now become a centerpiece in Jewish belief, also focuses on sound. Shema - of course coming from Lishmoa, to hear, proclaims the basic Jewish principle - monotheism.

שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל ה' אֱלֹקינוּ ה' אֶחָֽד - Hear O Israel, the Lord our G-d, the Lord is One.

It’s not REEH oh Israel, or SEE O Israel, it’s HEAR O Israel.

Cont’d…

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In this week’s parsha, we continue with Moshe Rabbenu’s recounting of the events of the past 40 years in the midbar, the desert 🏜🌵🐪. We begin this parsha with a conditional statement - where Moshe tells B’nei Yisrael that if they observe the mitzvot they have received from G-d, then G-d will keep the covenant, the Brit, he made with our ancestors. The parsha opens with, “And it will be, because you will heed these ordinances and keep them and perform them, - וְהָיָ֣ה | עֵ֣קֶב תִּשְׁמְע֗וּן אֵ֤ת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים֙ הָאֵ֔לֶּה וּשְׁמַרְתֶּ֥ם וַֽעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָ֑ם - that the Lord, your God, will keep for you the covenant and the kindness that He swore to your forefathers -

וְשָׁמַר֩ יְהֹוָ֨ה אֱלֹהֶ֜יךָ לְךָ֗ אֶת־הַבְּרִית֙ וְאֶת־הַחֶ֔סֶד אֲשֶׁ֥ר נִשְׁבַּ֖ע לַֽאֲבֹתֶֽיךָ

The word used for “it will be” or “so it shall follow” is the word עֵ֣קֶב / Ekev, the name of the parsha. Eikev literally means “heel,” and here it can mean “on the heels of [following the mitzvot].” We can also interpret the usage of eikev to refer “walking” in the way of our ancestors, or the way that G-d would like us to conduct ourselves. Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki also comments that the usage of Eikev refers to the fact that we should heed ALL commandments, even HaMitzvot HaKallot / המצות הקלות or “light / simple mitzvot”, that one might “trample with their heel” and not view as important.

Mitzvah Kallah is a common way to refer to a minor / light / not-so-weighty mitzvah. We also learn, though, that we cannot know the exact importance of certain mitzvot on this earth. Shouldn’t we know which mitzvot to prioritize? I guess not. If we pursue all mitzvot equally, perhaps that’s a way to walk in the way of G-d. If we are constantly pursuing righteous things, even things that we, in human error, deem to be less important, we will live a righteous life.

I guess when we think of important / heavy commandments, we think of “do not kill” or “do not steal” or “do not worship idols.” But something like “do not embarrass others” or “do not slander others” or “do not lie” falls to the side.

We’re judgmental people (or at least I am…for now!) And as much as we think we weigh the “big” mitzvot more than we weigh the “little” ones when we judge, we also make judgments based on the little things (again, or at least I do….for now!) The “little” things could be the way someone speaks to an Uber driver, whether or not they pick up a piece of trash they’ve dropped, or my big one: if they make others feel valued and included in a conversation. This isn’t a hot take — everyone says that the way someone treats a person that owes them nothing is very telling.

So, if we perform easy mitzvot with the same energy we perform harder mitzvot, that’s a well-rounded life.

Cont’d…

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opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

How do you ask a friend, a loved one, an acquaintance, a coworker for something? Do you remind them of the deeds you’ve done for them? Do you remind them how much they love you? Do you simply ask?

According to Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, the way to do it is to simply ask. Those who are righteous do not expect their rewards in this world, Olam HaZe. They know their rewards await them in the world to come - Olam HaBaa.

And this sort of straight-up ask is what Moshe Rabbenu, Moses our Teacher, does in this week’s parsha - VaEtchanan. As we have read before, Moshe was prohibited from entering the Land of Israel with B’nei Yisrael, but that didn’t stop him from pleading, praying to G-d to be let in. Not even to live there or lead the people! He was just asking G-d to be able to enter the land, walk it, and observe the mitzvot that can only be observed there.

According to the Midrash, Moshe implored G-d 515 times to enter (because the Gematria / numerical value of the word Vaetchanan - וָֽאֶתְחַנַּ֖ן, meaning “I implored” is 515 - 515 is also the numerical value of my name, Shira - which means “singing” as well as the word Tefillah / תפלה which means “prayer”. Lots of symbolism there.) G-d commands Moshe to stop praying — implying that if Moshe would have sent out his 516th prayer, he would have been allowed into the Land.

Perhaps Moshe knew that this 516th prayer would have been the ticket — especially after being explicitly told NOT to continue. And yet he listens. If you wanted something and knew you were thiiiiiis close to pushing the outcome over the edge, wouldn’t you be tempted to keep wheedling? I know I would.

Here we learn that prayer does not fall on deaf ears. Our prayers are always answered,  but sometimes the answer is “no.” And sometimes we understand immediately why that was the case, other times it takes years, and most likely, we will never know. But prayer isn’t just for G-d to see how righteous we are. Prayer is also a reflective experience - as well as a reflexive one, too. This is a common concept to reference, but the Hebrew verb להתפלל - LeHitpalel (to pray) is reflexive, meaning you do the praying to yourself. How can that be? Aren’t we asking G-d for something? Yes, but we also pray for the sake of ourselves.

When we articulate our desires, we are able to visualize what we want.

But how do we deal with the denial? Emunah, faith. Or recognition that we are simple human beans (yes, beans) that cannot comprehend the ways of the world. That isn’t a very comforting thought, but it can be if we have proper context. I am always working on this, but off the top of my head right this moment, I can think of 5 instances where I davened (prayed) and cried over some experience / job / person only to see that the outcome I desired was 100% the incorrect one. I try to remind myself of these truths when I’m frustrated with what I am perceiving as a “no.”

So back to this word Vaetchanan - וָֽאֶתְחַנַּ֖ן, meaning to beg or plead — it’s rooted in the Hebrew word Chinun - חִנּוּן, which, according to Rashi, implies requesting a free gift. This reminds me of something I once heard about the concept of love. If you asked someone you love why they love you, it would be nice to hear a few reasons. “Your incomparable wit… your incredible emotional intelligence… your beautiful eyes! Etc.” But what if these reasons were to go away? Would the love go away, too?

Cont’d…

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opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed