The second half of chapter 18 returns to the well-trodden restrictions against false prophets, witches, wizards, and soothsayers. The Torah is very specific listing out all of these types of magicians those who tell the future through bones, talking through body parts, and necromancers. Why the obsession with witches, wizards, prophets and soothsayers? God knows that he people were heavily influenced by the idol worship that included wizardry in Egypt (recall that he charumim were a big part of the Exodus story). This influence caused them to sin greatly at Mount Sinai. It can easily happen again. The Israelites are now about to enter the land of Canaan, a land full of intense idol worship. Idol worship is not just bowing down to images, it also involved other types of spirit connections. It makes sense, therefore, that God would emphasize these restrictions. But there is also a deeper reason that this comes up a lot in Deuteronomy. Until this point, the only leader the people knew was Moshe. Moshe talked to God and performed miracles and guided the nation through the wilderness. But, Moshe was not going to be entering the land with the people. Joshua was going to be with them, but the people would be spread out and not centralized as they were in the wilderness. This sets them to be vulnerable to others who claim to be speaking for God and work. Moshe, therefore, emphasizes that these prophets and others who claim to talk to and for God are false and not to be trusted.

A Few Good Men (1992)

The entire film builds to Jessup’s testimony, culminating in the famous “You can’t handle the truth!” moment.

To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

Mayella Ewell’s testimony exposes the moral fault lines of the case and the town.

My Cousin Vinny (1992)

Mona Lisa Vito’s comedic inversion of the trope: the last witness dismantles the prosecution through expertise rather than emotion.

Watch any courtroom drama in film and television and the crescendo always comes from the one dramatic witness on the stand. Halacha treats witnesses very differently in criminal cases.

“A person shall be put to death only on the word of two or three witnesses; no one shall be put to death on the testimony of a single witness” (verse 6).

עַל־פִּי שְׁנַיִם עֵדִים אוֹ שְׁלֹשָׁה עֵדִים יוּמַת הַמֵּת לֹא יוּמַת עַל־פִּי עֵד אֶחָד

(Deuteronomy 17:6)

The death penalty is severe, and the Torah requires a court to be absolutely certain before meting out such a punishment. A single witness is not enough. Circumstantial evidence is also not enough. Two witnesses are required.

The Talmud derives several important rules from this verse. The emphasis on “by the word of” (al pi) teaches that the accused must be warned by two witnesses that the act constitutes a capital crime before committing it. In addition, “by the word of” means that the court must hear the testimony directly from the witnesses themselves and may not rely on an interpreter (Makkot 6b).

Why does the verse say “two or three witnesses”? Why not simply say two? On the most basic level, the Torah means two or more witnesses. But the Talmud understands the phrasing as setting the framework for the laws of eidim zomemim—conspiring witnesses.

“Just as three witnesses can render the two witnesses conspiring witnesses, so too the two witnesses can render the three witnesses conspiring witnesses.” (Makkot 5b)

The Talmud in Sanhedrin further explains that “three witnesses” teaches that if a group of three is found to be false witnesses, the third member cannot claim exemption by arguing that only two witnesses are normally required and that their testimony was therefore unnecessary (Sanhedrin 9a).

Why does the verse conclude with “no one shall be put to death on the testimony of a single witness”, seemingly repeating the opening requirement? The Talmud explains that this teaches an additional rule: the two witnesses must have observed the crime together, from the same vantage point. A person cannot be put to death based on the combined testimony of two witnesses who saw the act from different locations and did not witness it as a single, unified event.

Because this verse addresses capital punishment, this strict requirement of shared vantage point applies only to death penalty cases. In monetary cases, testimony from witnesses who observed events separately may still be admissible.

“Justice, justice shall you pursue, that you may thrive and occupy the land that your God has given you” (verse 20).

צֶדֶק צֶדֶק תִּרְדֹּף לְמַעַן תִּחְיֶה וְיָרַשְׁתָּ אֶת־הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לָךְ

(Deuteronomy 16:20)

This famous phrase, or at least its opening words, has often been used as a rallying cry for “Jewish values” centered on the pursuit of justice. But what does it actually mean, and why is the word justice repeated?

In its immediate context, the verse appears to apply specifically to judges and courts. Rashi explains that the repetition simply means that one must actively seek out proper judges, and that establishing a fair and functioning legal system is sufficient to ensure the people’s continued presence in the land.

Sforno adds that the commandment goes one step further: it requires careful vetting of judges before their appointment, ensuring that they are already known for integrity and fairness. Justice, according to Sforno, must precede the courtroom.

The Talmud in Sanhedrin 32b expands the scope further, teaching that this guiding principle must inform every stage of a legal case—not only the final ruling. Even compromise (pesharah) must be shaped by justice and not convenience alone.

Ibn Ezra also focuses on the doubled language, explaining that justice must govern the outcome even if it results in financial loss or personal cost to the judge. The repetition emphasizes unwavering commitment, not efficiency or self interest.

Ramban offers a more conceptual interpretation, reading the two instances of tzedek as referring to two kinds of justice. The first is justice in this world—the imperfect, human system of law. The second is justice in the World to Come, where divine reward completes what human courts cannot. Pursuing justice in this world earns justice in the next.

The Rav expands on Ramban’s idea. Justice in this world is necessarily incomplete because truth and peace are often in tension. A just compromise may preserve peace, but it can never fully preserve truth, since each litigant must relinquish part of their claim. This idea is rooted in a Midrash describing a dispute among the angels: righteousness and justice favored the creation of humanity, while truth and peace opposed it, knowing that humans could never fully embody both. God cast truth aside, allowing peace to remain alongside justice and righteousness. In the World to Come, truth will be restored, and full harmony between truth, peace, justice, and righteousness will finally be possible. This, according to the Rav, is the second tzedek in the verse.

All of these interpretations, however, remain grounded in the immediate context of judges and law. Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch extends the verse beyond the courtroom to all areas of public and private life. The obligation to pursue justice, he argues, is not limited to legal institutions but must guide every sphere of human conduct. Perhaps Rav Hirsch is motivated to broaden the verse’s meaning because of its placement. Although it appears in a legal section, the verse stands on its own as a concluding principle, teaching an overarching lesson: justice is not merely a system—it is a way of life

“Every seventh year you shall make a shmita.” (verse 1)

מִקֵּץ שֶׁבַע שָׁנִים תַּעֲשֶׂה שְׁמִטָּה

(Deuteronomy 15:1)

The Shmita year appeared twice before—the first in Exodus 23:11 and the second in Leviticus 25:4–7. Interestingly, while the fallow land aspect of Shmita may be the most famous, the term “shmita” itself appears here in Deuteronomy specifically in the context of loan forgiveness.

Ibn Ezra explains that the word shmita comes from the root שׁמט, meaning to release or let drop—indicating that one must release financial claims. Rashi asks whether the “six years” mentioned in this chapter refers to six years from the start date of any individual loan. Verse 9 clarifies that question, warning against withholding loans simply because the Shmita year is approaching:

“Beware lest you harbor the base thought, ‘The seventh year, the year of remission, is approaching,’ so that you look unfavorably upon the needy and give nothing.” (Deuteronomy 15:9)

הִשָּׁמֶר לְךָ פֶּן־יִהְיֶה דָבָר עִם־לְבָבְךָ בְלִיַּעַל לֵאמֹר קָרְבָה שְׁנַת־הַשֶּׁבַע שְׁנַת הַשְּׁמִטָּה

וְרָעָה עֵינְךָ בְּאָחִיךָ הָאֶבְיוֹן וְלֹא תִתֵּן לוֹ

Confusingly, the next topic in the chapter—the freeing of an Israelite slave—uses the same six years work/seventh year freedom framework. However, that law is case specific: an Israelite slave works for six years and goes free in the seventh year of their servitude, not based on the Shmita cycle.

What is the connection between leaving the land fallow and loan forgiveness?

In Exodus, the Shmita year is discussed in the broader context of Shabbat and charity:

“You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.

Six years you shall sow your land and gather in its yield; but in the seventh you shall let it rest and lie fallow. Let the needy among your people eat of it, and what they leave let the wild beasts eat. You shall do the same with your vineyards and olive groves.

Six days you shall do your work, but on the seventh day you shall cease from labor, in order that your ox and your ass may rest, and that your home born slave and the stranger may be refreshed.”

(Exodus 23:9–12)

וְגֵר לֹא תִלְחָץ כִּי אַתֶּם יְדַעְתֶּם אֶת־נֶפֶשׁ הַגֵּר כִּי גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם׃

וְשֵׁשׁ שָׁנִים תִּזְרַע אֶת־אַרְצֶךָ וְאָסַפְתָּ אֶת־תְּבוּאָתָהּ׃

וְהַשְּׁבִיעִת תִּשְׁמְטֶנָּה וּנְטַשְׁתָּהּ וְאָכְלוּ אֶבְיוֹנֵי עַמֶּךָ וְיִתְרָם תֹּאכַל חַיַּת הַשָּׂדֶה כֵּן תַּעֲשֶׂה לְכַרְמְךָ לְזֵיתֶךָ׃

שֵׁשֶׁת יָמִים תַּעֲשֶׂה מַעֲשֶׂיךָ וּבַיּוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי תִּשְׁבֹּת לְמַעַן יָנוּחַ שׁוֹרְךָ וַחֲמֹרֶךָ וְיִנָּפֵשׁ בֶּן־אֲמָתְךָ וְהַגֵּר

Leviticus discusses Shmita as a standalone commandment tied explicitly to entering the land:

“But in the seventh year the land shall have a sabbath of complete rest, a sabbath of the LORD… Whatever the land yields during its sabbath you shall eat.”

(Leviticus 25:4–7)

וּבַשָּׁנָה הַשְּׁבִיעִת שַׁבַּת שַׁבָּתוֹן יִהְיֶה לָאָרֶץ שַׁבָּת לַה׳…

וְהָיְתָה שַׁבַּת הָאָרֶץ לָכֶם לְאָכְלָה

Chapter 15, by contrast, presents Shmita primarily through the lens of charitable loans. While it makes sense that Shmita is connected to entering the land, there is a deeper message linking all three appearances.

Until this point, the people have not had the opportunity to own land. Property ownership makes it easier to isolate oneself from others, especially from the poor who lack land. Land ownership is also a marker of wealth and security. The Shmita year forces even the wealthiest individuals to recognize that they, too, depend on someone else for sustenance—God. That realization, in turn, reinforces their obligation to care for those who are less fortunate.

“Do not boil a kid in its mother’s milk.” This is the third time the Torah relays this exact commandment. The first was in Exodus, the second also in Exodus, and the third in Deuteronomy. The Torah repeats many laws, especially in Deuteronomy, but this law is unique in that it is repeated using the exact same phrase three times.

The formulation appears first in the context of first fruits and festivals:

“The choice first fruits of your soil you shall bring to the house of the LORD your God. You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk.” (Exodus 23:19)

רֵאשִׁית בִּכּוּרֵי אַדְמָתְךָ תָּבִיא בֵּית ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ

לֹא־תְבַשֵּׁל גְּדִי בַּחֲלֵב אִמּוֹ

It appears again, word for word, at the end of the second tablets narrative:

“The choice first fruits of your soil you shall bring to the house of the LORD your God. You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk.” (Exodus 34:26)

רֵאשִׁית בִּכּוּרֵי אַדְמָתְךָ תָּבִיא בֵּית ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ

לֹא־תְבַשֵּׁל גְּדִי בַּחֲלֵב אִמּוֹ

The third appearance is in Deuteronomy, now firmly embedded in the laws of permitted and forbidden foods:

“You shall not eat anything that has died a natural death; give it to the stranger in your community to eat, or sell it to a foreigner. For you are a people consecrated to the LORD your God. You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk.” (Deuteronomy 14:21)

לֹא־תֹאכְלוּ כָל־נְבֵלָה לַגֵּר אֲשֶׁר בִּשְׁעָרֶיךָ תִּתְּנֶנָּה וַאֲכָלָהּ אוֹ מָכֹר לְנָכְרִי

כִּי עַם קָדוֹשׁ אַתָּה לַה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ

לֹא־תְבַשֵּׁל גְּדִי בַּחֲלֵב אִמּוֹ

The commentators derive several lessons from this triple repetition. One common explanation is that each occurrence forbids a different act: cooking meat and milk together, eating the mixture, and deriving benefit from it. The Talmud in Chullin 113a explains instead that each verse comes to include a different category of animals: birds, domesticated kosher animals, and wild animals. (Believe it or not, eating a non-kosher cheeseburger is not a Torah violation of eating meat and milk, even if it is prohibited by not eating non-kosher meat).

Chizkuni explains that the three times are there to emphasize the prohibition during three moments of temptation-

Ibn Ezra notes that some heretical interpretations claimed the first two verses referred to boiling fruit in milk, based on the surrounding context of first fruits. He rejects this reading outright, pointing out that the verse explicitly refers to a mother and milk, categories that do not apply to fruit. Ibn Ezra explains that Deuteronomy 14 provides the correct legal context, while the placement in Exodus is thematic: the first fruit season coincides with the birthing season of livestock.

Sforno explains that this commandment addresses a specific pagan fertility rite, in which a young goat would be boiled in its mother’s milk to ensure agricultural blessing and herd fertility. This explains why the phrase appears alongside first fruits in Exodus, where the Torah warns against idol like ritual practices. When Moshe later repeats the phrase in Deuteronomy, he places it in its proper halakhic context among the dietary laws, fully integrating it into Israel’s system of sanctified eating.

Idol worship is one of Moshe’s central concerns in his farewell speech, and for good reason. The people are about to enter a land filled with entrenched idol worshiping cultures. Unlike in the wilderness, Israel will not simply pass through these influences; they will live among them permanently. But Moshe warns that external influence is not the only danger. Chapter 13 identifies three internal sources of spiritual corruption: the false prophet, the family member who entices, and the wayward city.

The first threat is the false prophet, someone who is technically part of the Israelite community but socially distant from the individual. Because this figure lacks close personal trust, the false prophet relies on spectacle to persuade:

“If there appears among you a prophet or a dream diviner and gives you a sign or a portent, and the sign or portent comes true, but he says, ‘Let us follow other gods’… you shall not heed the words of that prophet.” (Deuteronomy 13:2–4)

כִּי־יָקוּם בְּקִרְבְּךָ נָבִיא אוֹ חֹלֵם חֲלוֹם וְנָתַן אֵלֶיךָ אוֹת אוֹ מוֹפֵת׃

וּבָא הָאוֹת וְהַמּוֹפֵת… לֵאמֹר נֵלְכָה אַחֲרֵי אֱלֹהִים אֲחֵרִים…

לֹא תִשְׁמַע אֶל־דִּבְרֵי הַנָּבִיא הַהוּא

The Torah emphasizes that these signs may be real. This is not illusion or trickery—it is a test from God:

“For the LORD your God is testing you, to know whether you love the LORD your God with all your heart and all your soul.” (Deuteronomy 13:4)

כִּי מְנַסֶּה ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם אֶתְכֶם לָדַעַת הֲיֵשְׁכֶם אֹהֲבִים אֶת־ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם

The decisive factor is not the miracle, but the message. God will never send a prophet to instruct idol worship.

The second threat moves closer to home: a family member or close friend. Here, no miracles are needed, because trust already exists:

“If your brother, your son or daughter, your wife, or your closest friend entices you in secret, saying, ‘Let us go and worship other gods’… you must not consent or listen to him.” (Deuteronomy 13:7–9)

כִּי־יְסִיתְךָ אָחִיךָ בֶן־אִמֶּךָ אוֹ־בִנְךָ אוֹ־בִתֶּךָ אוֹ אֵשֶׁת חֵיקֶךָ אוֹ רֵעֲךָ אֲשֶׁר כְּנַפְשְׁךָ בַּסֵּתֶר לֵאמֹר נֵלְכָה וְנַעַבְדָה אֱלֹהִים אֲחֵרִים

This form of influence is more dangerous precisely because it is personal. Emotional bonds can override rational judgment, which is why the Torah’s language here is especially forceful.

The third and most expansive threat is an entire city led astray. Unlike the false prophet or family member, a city does not rely on miracles or intimacy. Its power comes from collective pressure:

“If you hear it said of one of the towns the LORD your God is giving you… that base men have gone out and led the inhabitants astray, saying, ‘Let us go and worship other gods’…” (Deuteronomy 13:13–14)

כִּי־תִשְׁמַע בְּאַחַת עָרֶיךָ… לֵאמֹר יָצְאוּ אֲנָשִׁים בְּנֵי־בְלִיַּעַל מִקִּרְבֶּךָ וַיַּדִּיחוּ אֶת־יֹשְׁבֵי עִירָם

Here the Torah warns that environment itself can corrupt. It may take a family to raise a person, but it can also take a city to undermine one.

At first glance, Deuteronomy 12 feels repetitive and disorganized. The chapter moves back and forth between destroying idolatry, prohibiting private altars, permitting ordinary meat consumption, and insisting on worship at a central location. But when the themes are separated, a deliberate structure emerges.

At its core, the chapter revolves around two anchoring ideas:

1. Entering and remaining in the land

2. Centralized worship at the place God chooses (eventually the Temple)

Everything else in the chapter supports or protects the relationship between those two ideas.

Instead of tracking every verse individually, the laws fall naturally into five recurring themes:

• A — The Land: entering the land, remaining in it, and long term stability there

• B — Idolatry: destroying pagan worship sites

• C — Imitation: not worshiping God in the way the nations worship their gods

• D — Central Worship: sacrifices and sacred foods belong only in the chosen place

• E — Private Altars: the prohibition of decentralized, personal worship sites

• F — Ordinary Meat: non sacrificial meat may be eaten anywhere

• G — Blood: the absolute prohibition on eating blood

Some themes naturally pair together:

• C and E both deal with how not to worship God

• D always asserts where God must be worshiped

Rather than reading the chapter as a long, linear argument, it helps to notice this pattern:

Every small unit of laws is anchored either in the Land (A) or the Temple (D) — and often both.

In other words:

• Laws about idolatry only matter once you are in the land

• Laws about private altars only matter because there is now a central sanctuary

• Laws about meat consumption exist to distinguish everyday life from sacred worship

• Laws about blood preserve holiness both inside and outside the Temple

The repetition is intentional. Moshe keeps returning to the same anchors to reinforce the message.

Deuteronomy 12 is not a random collection of ritual rules. It is a re ordering of religious life for a settled people.

In the wilderness:

• Worship was portable

• Sacred and ordinary life overlapped

• Private altars made sense

In the land:

• Worship must be centralized

• Sacred space must be protected

• Everyday life must be clearly separated from ritual sacrifice

That is why the chapter constantly oscillates between:

• Land language (“when you cross the Jordan,” “so that you may remain”)

• and Temple language (“the place God will choose,” “there you shall bring”)

Moshe concludes the chapter by framing Israel’s future as a stark choice. God presents the people with two possible paths:

“See, I place before you today the blessing and the curse.” (Deuteronomy 11:26)

רְאֵה אָנֹכִי נֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם בְּרָכָה וּקְלָלָה

God then clarifies what each path represents:

“The blessing, if you obey the commandments of the LORD your God which I command you this day; and the curse, if you do not obey the commandments of the LORD your God, but turn aside from the path that I command you this day.” (Deuteronomy 11:27–28)

אֶת־הַבְּרָכָה אֲשֶׁר תִּשְׁמְעוּ אֶל־מִצְוֹת ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי מְצַוֶּה אֶתְכֶם הַיּוֹם׃

וְהַקְּלָלָה אִם־לֹא תִשְׁמְעוּ אֶל־מִצְוֹת ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם וְסַרְתֶּם מִן־הַדֶּרֶךְ אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי מְצַוֶּה אֶתְכֶם הַיּוֹם

God presents the people with a series of blessings and a series of curses. The blessings come from follow God and his ways and the curse comes from refusing to follow God. This verse always reminds me of the famous Robert Frost Poem The Road Not Taken. “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood/ And sorry I could not travel both/ And be/ one traveler, long I stood/ And looked down one as far as I could/To where it bent in the undergrowth/ Then took the other, as just as fair/And having perhaps the better claim/Because it was grassy and wanted wear/Though as for that the passing there/Had worn them really about the same…” In Robert Frost’s poem, the poet describes facing a fork in the road. Unable to see past a short length of either side, the poet is forced to make a decision- which to take. He thinks that he could try one and then come back and try the other, yet knows that there is a chance he will not return from the first. The poem ends with the conclusion “I took the one less traveled by/And that has made all the difference.” The reader does not know which of the paths was the least traveled, or why that made all the difference. Was it a good difference? A bad one? The poet’s point is that a choice has to be made in life without knowing what the end of that decision will be. In the poem the paths are there in the woods already. The poet simply has to choose. In chapter 11, God also sets the paths before the people, a good path and a bad path. The key though is that God offers the choice. Just like in the poem, the people have the option to decide which path to take. They can choose to take the cursed path or the blessed one, but the choice is theirs. Unlike in the poem, though, God provides a bit more of a roadmap as to what the end of each path would look like. Whatever the people decide, God promises, that will make all the difference.

The first half of the chapter has an odd chronology. The chapter opens with Moshe carving the new tablets and coming down from the mountain:

“At that time the LORD said to me: Carve two tablets of stone like the first, and come up to Me on the mountain… I carved two tablets of stone like the first, and I went up the mountain with the two tablets in my hand.” (Deuteronomy 10:1–3)

בָּעֵת הַהִוא אָמַר ה׳ אֵלַי פְּסָל־לְךָ שְׁנֵי לֻחֹת אֲבָנִים כָּרִאשֹׁנִים וַעֲלֵה אֵלַי הָהָרָה…

וָאֶפְסֹל שְׁנֵי־לֻחֹת אֲבָנִים כָּרִאשֹׁנִים וָאַעַל הָהָרָה וּשְׁנֵי הַלֻּחֹת בְּיָדִי

Moshe then states that God rewrote the tablets and that he placed them in the Ark:

“He wrote on the tablets, according to the first writing, the Ten Commandments… and I turned and came down from the mountain and placed the tablets in the Ark which I had made.” (Deuteronomy 10:4–5)

וַיִּכְתֹּב עַל־הַלֻּחֹת כַּמִּכְתָּב הָרִאשׁוֹן אֵת עֲשֶׂרֶת הַדְּבָרִים…

וָאֵפֶן וָאֵרֵד מִן־הָהָר וָאָשִׂים אֶת־הַלֻּחֹת בָּאָרוֹן אֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתִי

Then, somewhat abruptly, Moshe inserts a travel notice and recounts Aaron’s death:

“From Beeroth-bene jaakan the Israelites marched to Moserah. Aaron died there and was buried there, and his son Eleazar became priest in his stead.” (Deuteronomy 10:6)

Immediately following Aaron’s death, Moshe mentions the elevation of the tribe of Levi:

“At that time the LORD set apart the tribe of Levi to carry the Ark of the Covenant of the LORD… therefore Levi has no portion or inheritance with his brothers; the LORD is his inheritance.” (Deuteronomy 10:8–9)

בָּעֵת הַהִוא הִבְדִּיל ה׳ אֶת־שֵׁבֶט הַלֵּוִי לָשֵׂאת אֶת־אֲרוֹן בְּרִית ה׳…

Only afterward does Moshe return to the subject of his time on the mountain:

“I stayed on the mountain, as on the first occasion, forty days and forty nights; and the LORD heeded me once again.” (Deuteronomy 10:10)

וְאָנֹכִי עָמַדְתִּי בָּהָר כַּיָּמִים הָרִאשֹׁנִים אַרְבָּעִים יוֹם וְאַרְבָּעִים לָיְלָה וַיִּשְׁמַע ה׳ אֵלַי גַּם בַּפַּעַם הַהִוא

This chronology is puzzling. The second tablets were crafted very soon after Moshe broke the first tablets. It was only after the giving of the Torah entirely that God commands the building of the Mishkan, and has Moshe appoint the tribe of Levi as caretakers. Aaron, however, does not die until year forty, 38 years after the events at Har Sinai. This leads us to two questions about chapter 10: Why is Aaron’s death recounted here? And when exactly was this “second” forty day period on the mountain?

Ibn Ezra explains that Moshe deliberately connects Aaron’s death to the sin of the Golden Calf. According to this view, Moshe was able to defer Aaron’s punishment for thirty eight years, but not eliminate it entirely. The Malbim adds that Moshe’s message is that while he successfully interceded on behalf of the people, he was unable to save Aaron. Aaron’s exclusion from the land, like Moshe’s own, ultimately traces back to the sin of the Golden Calf.

As for the forty days and nights, Rashi explains that this verse simply supplies information missing from verse 2—namely, the duration of Moshe’s stay on the mountain. While Rashi’s explanation addresses the textual gap, it does not explain why this single stay is interrupted by references to Aaron’s death and the appointment of the Levites.

Perhaps, taking Ibn Ezra and the Malbim together, one can conclude that this entire first section of the chapter forms a single thematic unit. Moshe’s ascent to receive the second tablets also included sustained prayer on behalf of both the people and his brother. The eventual death of Aaron thirty eight years later, the replacement of the firstborn by the tribe of Levi, and the preservation of the nation itself all flow from that same forty day and forty night period of intercession. Moshe’s prayer secured forgiveness for the people, the second tablets, the elevation of the Levites—and only a partial, delayed mitigation of the decree against Aaron.

Imagine the excitement as the people are about to enter the land, finally, after forty years of wandering. Moshe seems to throw some cold water on this excitement. He warns the people not to misunderstand why they are about to succeed:

“When the LORD your God thrusts them from before you, do not say to yourself, ‘The LORD has enabled me to possess this land because of my virtue’; it is rather because of the wickedness of those nations that the LORD is dispossessing them before you.” (Deuteronomy 9:4)

אַל־תֹּאמַר בִּלְבָבְךָ בַּהֲדֹף ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ אֹתָם מִלְּפָנֶיךָ לֵאמֹר

בְּצִדְקָתִי הֱבִיאַנִי ה׳ לָרֶשֶׁת אֶת־הָאָרֶץ הַזֹּאת

וּבְרִשְׁעַת הַגּוֹיִם הָאֵלֶּה ה׳ מוֹרִישָׁם מִפָּנֶיךָ

Moshe continues and clarifies that if virtue plays any role at all, it is only because of the forefathers:

“It is not because of your virtue or your uprightness that you are coming to possess their land; rather, it is because of the wickedness of these nations that the LORD your God is dispossessing them before you, and in order to fulfill the promise that the LORD made to your fathers, to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” (Deuteronomy 9:5)

לֹא בְצִדְקָתְךָ וּבְיֹשֶׁר לְבָבְךָ אַתָּה בָא לָרֶשֶׁת אֶת־אַרְצָם

כִּי בְּרִשְׁעַת הַגּוֹיִם הָאֵלֶּה ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ מוֹרִישָׁם מִפָּנֶיךָ

וּלְמַעַן הָקִים אֶת־הַדָּבָר אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע ה׳ לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב

The Ramban explains that Moshe is not trying to shame the people. Rather, this is a positive and stabilizing message. The seven nations were expelled because of their wickedness and had no merit to fall back on. Israel, by contrast, will always possess the merit of its forefathers as a spiritual safety net for remaining in the land.

At the same time, Moshe’s words function as a warning. At this moment, the people themselves are not worthy of entering the land on their own merits. They are entering only because of God’s promise to the forefathers. But Moshe reminds them that the current inhabitants were removed for their behavior—and if Israel fails to improve, they too could be expelled.

The Or HaChaim explains that Moshe is conveying two layered messages. First, the present situation depends on two conditions: the wickedness of the seven nations and the merit of the forefathers. If either factor were absent, Israel would not be able to enter the land. Second, Moshe offers a hopeful message. Although the people may not yet be worthy, their ancestral legacy demonstrates that they possess the capacity to rise to that level. Their history proves that they can become deserving of remaining in the land if they choose to live up to that legacy.