Parshas Devarim – No One Wants War

 

Parshas Devarim – No One Wants War

 

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Parshas Devarim begins Moshe’s presentation of the events that transpired to the Jewish people and the travels they made. It may see strange since that which he describes in the second half of the parsha took place within the last few years, but it is objectively difficult to understand the significance of the times one is living through. Moshe is, therefore, reframing the events – the wars and interactions with the nearest neighbors of the Promised Land – to strengthen the faith of the people before him and to clarify history for the generations to follow.

 

Given that Bnei Yisrael have not yet entered the Promised Land, there is an impressive amount of conquest that occurs in Parshas Devarim. Specifically, Moshe goes into great detail about the wars with the Amorites and the Bashonites, specifically about how powerful they were and how they resided in the lands of giants. Indeed, Moshe even states that the bed of Og, King of Bashan, was “nine cubits long and four cubits wide according to the cubit of the man” (Devarim 3:11). While the detailing of these tremendous victories may have been an excellent pep talk before entering the Promised Land, anyone reading the parsha cannot fail to note that these nations were wiped out completely, “At that time we captured all his towns, and we doomed every town—men, women, and children —leaving no survivor” (2:34). And there is no denying, from a 21^st century perspective, that this is shocking turn of events. It is so shocking a statement that it is easy to forget that Bnei Yisrael did not attack the Amorites, but, rather, they requested safe passage. The response was a full out attack, and the results were as stated above.

 

Bnei Yisrael was not then, nor is it now, a bellicose nation. There is no instance in the Torah before they arrive at the Land of Israel where Bnei Yisrael specifically set out to conquer land. In fact, Hashem was very specific with them about not attacking land that He had promised to other nations such as Edom, Amon, and Moav. It was only once the Amorites and Bashanites attacked that Hashem gave the enemy “into their hands.” And it was only once these nations had been defeated that it was determined to be acceptable for two tribes, upon their own request, to settle there. What Parshas Devarim makes clear is that Bnei Yisrael had one goal, and that was the land that had been promised to and surveyed by Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.

 

Underlying everything that is occurring in Parshas Devarim is the idea of the Divine promise of land. It is a foundational belief of Judaism that Hashem owns the world and determines the specific lands of the nations. Thus, the area of Har (Mount) Seir is specified for Edom and etc..

 

It is nearly impossible to come to Parshas Devarim for a second time during Israel’s current state of war and not use this as an opportunity to make grave political statements about the situation. There is no desire for the atrocities of war – in the wars above and in future wars, utter destruction only came at the command of Hashem. War in the Torah has a goal, and that goal – except for the directives against Amalek – is twofold the protection of the people (thus the Midianites, Amorites, and etc) and settlement of the Promised Land. And even in the wars of conquest yet to come, there were instructions on the means of avoiding utter cruelty.

 

The current situation is incredibly complex. War is a terrible thing, and it is always most cruel and devastating to the one’s least involved in the war itself. We do not have, today, a Divine voice telling us how to finish this war, and so we are left in the human quagmire. What we do know is that defending ourselves to our full strength against one who attacks us is as well-documented in Jewish tradition as the preciousness of the Promised Land.

 

This Shabbas is Shabbas Chazon, the Shabbas preceding, immediately in this year’s case, the observance of Tisha B’Av. On Tisha B’Av, we mourn the loss of the Beis Hamikdash – we mourn the fact that we have to fight for our homeland. We mourn that fact that not only are we at war with another nation, but that that war is a source of battle among ourselves, and divisiveness within ourselves led to the destruction of Bayis Sheini. On Tisha B’Av, we mourn the fact that what we are truly missing in our lives, due to our own foibles, is that clear and precise guidance from Hashem. Beyond peace, beyond returning to our homeland, beyond anything else – this is our greatest sorrow.

 

May this be the last of our years of mourning.

Parshas Devarim: These are the words of Moshe – [This is] the vision of Isaiah

 Without question, Jews around the world are “holding our breath” this Shabbas. For many of us, we do not remember a Nine Days that felt so rife with threat – and we in the diaspora are experiencing only a small sliver of that tension.  Some may be asking “How did we get here?”, while others are pondering “How can the situation be saved?”

 

This Shabbas is known as Shabbas Chazon, which technically translates into the Shabbas of vision but receives the name because chazon, vision, is the first word of the Haftara, the opening lines of Sefer Yishayahu (Isaiah). Shabbas Chazon is always the Shabbas right bfore Tisha B’Av, and it is also always Parshas Devarim. Within that duality lie responses to both questions.

 

How did we get here? Parshas Devarim begins with Moshe reviewing the actions of Bnei Yisrael throughout their sojourn in the Wilderness. Most significantly, however, Moshe focuses on the appointment of the spies who so thoroughly led the nation astray. And it is only here, in Devarim, that we learn the subtle details of how Moshe felt about their request to spy out the land and how troubled he was by their lack of bitachon. Here it is that we are reminded that had we, meaning the whole of klal Yisrael, not cried out in self-pity that Hashem was leading us to our destruction, all of history would have been different. We are reminded of how often Klal Yisrael can be its own worst enemy.

 

How did we get here? Hashem makes it clear in Yishiyahu’s vision that all of our trials and tribulations stem from our own behaviour. We bring upon ourselves destruction because we did not learn from our mistakes, because we allowed our society to become selfish and sinful. More importantly, even as we practiced perfect sacrifices and orderly rituals, it is clear from Yishayahu’s words that we lost the ikker, the heart, of the Torah – which is about creating a true and just society.

 

How did we get here? Ritual and ceremony, and even prayer, mean little without actual bitachon. Without bitachon, we cannot set up a just society because we work under the pretense that we control the outcome and so our instincts for self-preservation kick in. Alas, as pointed out in Shaar Habitachon (I believe), the ways of Hashem are such that when mankind believes in a force other than Hashem – be that an idol or money or people or self – Hashem leaves them in their delusion.

 

Parshas Devarim wraps up with the assignment of land to Reuven, Gad, and half of Menashe on the far side of the Yarden. This is significant because it reminds us of an important aspect of bitachon, which is knowing that we are in a relationship with Hashem, that Hashem listens to our opinions and desires as well.

How can the situation be saved? Loftily stated – by creating a society built on bitachon. This doesn’t mean religiosity, but rather “Learn to do good. Devote yourselves to justice; Aid the wronged. Uphold the rights of the orphan; Defend the cause of the widow” (Yishayahu 1:17). One can build a truly just society only when one truly comprehends that Hashem runs the world for the good of all and that we are each only tools for His will to be carried out.

 

Of course, life, and faith and individuality are far more complicated than just saying trust Hashem, and true bitachon is an exceptionally hard feat – made even harder by a host society that asserts its rights to self-expression and self-fulfillment above all else. Most of us are self aware enough to know that we as individuals are not in positions to shape national policy – or often even community behaviour. What we can shape is ourselves.

 

Will Iran attack? Might Hezbollah go rogue? Are our synagogues safe? We must daven that this evil will pass, but we can’t just daven in a vacuum. We have to do our hishtadlus by incorporating acts that lead to just-ness and by building our bitachon.

 

Shabbat Shalom.

 

 

Parshas Devarim* – Food, Water, and Dignity

Parshas Devarim* – Food, Water, and Dignity

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Chaya Sofya Sara bas Mera, Tova bas Perel, Binyamin ben Simcha, and Betzalel Tzvi ben Chaya Yocheved.

This week’s Dvar Torah is going to start with a question that might sound a little foolish. What did Bnei Yisrael eat and drink in the Midbar? If you answered manna and water from the ba’eir Miriam (Miriam’s well), then you are probably wondering why such a simple question is being asked…

If Bnei Yisrael ate manna in the wilderness and had a constant source of water, then why does Moshe discuss – not once, but twice – offering to pay for food and water? This occurs twice in Perek Beis of Devarim, and this fact is, truly, food for thought. (Ok, I couldn’t resist).

Perek Beis begins with Hashem telling Moshe that the people have circled Har Seir long enough, and it is time to move forward. In doing so, they will be passing through the land of Bnei Esav. “You shall not provoke them, for I will not give you any of their land not so much as a footstep, because I have given Mount Seir to Esau for an inheritance. You shall buy food from them with money, that you may eat, and also water you shall buy from them with money, that you may drink” (Devarim 2:5-6).

The Perek then continues to describe the movements of the Israelites, including the fact that there were 38 years between Kadesh Barnea the water of Zered. It mentions interactions with Moav and Ammon, cousins who were not to be disturbed, until Bnei Yisrael comes to the land of the Amorites, where Sichon is king. Upon reaching the border of the Amorites, Hashem told Moshe that He has put the dread and fear of the Israelites into these people, but Moshe proceeds with diplomacy. He sends messengers and says “Let me pass through your country. I will keep strictly to the highway, turning off neither to the right nor to the left. What food I eat you will supply for money, and what water I drink you will furnish for money; just let me pass through” (Devarim 2:27-28).

The simple question is why did Bnei Yisrael need to buy food and water if they had manna and a continuous water source? The deeper question is what can we learn from the fact that Bnei Yisrael offered to buy food and water when it was not needed. 

This is, of course, pure postulation. Perhaps from Perek Beis of Devarim, we can learn about acting humbly and respectfully before other nations. The Jewish people are known as the Chosen nation. Hashem promised Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov that their descendants would be blessed. This does not mean that we have the right to be lofty over other nations, but rather that we have responsibilities as the mamleches kohanim, the kingdom of priests. 

In the verse that follows the recollection of being told to offer to buy food and water from Bnei Esav, Moshe states, “For the Lord, your God, has blessed you in all the work of your hand…” Bnei Yisrael was blessed in the wilderness with Divine care-taking. They were given food and water, but within the territory of another nation was not the time to exult. This was a lesson Moshe heeded when they then came to Sichon’s kingdom. Moshe knew already, for Hashem had told him, that this nation would be afraid of Bnei Yisrael, and that this is where the conquest would begin. Moshe, however, did not approach them in a bellicose manner, but rather with a fair and equitable offer. The Amorites refused and attacked and were defeated, but the significance is the fact that Bnei Yisrael behaved in a morally upstanding manner. 

The national implications can, and should, be reflected on an individual level. Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should. Having natural talents or specific skill-sets is valuable, of course. More important, however, is knowing how to treat others with respect and dignity. 

*Personal Parsha Prose began as a personal project I named Eilu Devarim in 2018 after leaving my job of 19 years. I wrote my first Parsha Essay on Parshas Devarim 2018. While some parshios were skipped some years, every parsha has at least 4 unique pieces. All Personal Parsha Prose, along with other writing, can be found on http://cthedawn.blogspot.com/

May you all have a beautiful and inspiring Shabbas.

Parshas Devarim - US

As a lover of language, there is something spectacular about the subtle flexibility of the Hebrew language. The addition of a letter at the beginning of a word can transform the meaning of the entire sentence, and the shift of a suffix alters the pronouns associated with the word. This subtle nuance of language can add a tremendous message to pasukim, and in Parshas Devarim, the pronoun that Moshe focuses on for the first time is, perhaps, the most important one that Bnei Yisrael must remember as they look at their past and head into their future.

 

Us… Our. These are powerful terms. These are terms that create a nation. These are terms that it would behoove us to remember today, as we begin Tisha B’Av (Shabbas, with the fast on the Sunday, the 10^th of Av). It is well-known that the destruction of the second Beis Hamikdash is attributed to the lack of unity among the Jewish people. The greater “Us” was shattered into us and us and us. It is, sadly, a rift that we have not yet healed – indeed, it has continued to splinter into ever greater discord as the generations proceed.

 

What is unique about the use of “Us/Our” in Parshas Devarim? Verse 1:6 states:  “Hashem, our God, spoke to us in Horeb saying…” If you just read the parsha, the wording feels so common, so un-noteworthy, that it does not make one pause and reflect – especially as it occurs so early in sefer. But, from what I can see, this terminology “our God” is actually rather uncommon in the Torah. The last time the term was used was in Sefer Shemos, and then only in the context of Moshe and Aaron speaking to Pharaoh.  It has not, until this point, been used to address the people.

 

In Shemos, Vayikra, and Bamidbar (Bereishis being a unique sefer), Moshe frequently reiterates to the Children of Israel – or is instructed to reiterate to them – the commandments of God. In these three sfarim, however, Moshe almost exclusively speaks in the second person. He speaks, consistently, to the Children of Israel and talks to them about “Hashem Elokeichem, the Lord your God.” And while he is addressing them as a whole through the second-person plural, it is, in syntax, distancing. It is a language that, if nothing else, segregates the speaker (Moshe) from the audience.

 

Moshe’s distance was necessary. Beyond the fact that he was set apart from the nation because of his unique and incredible level, because he was the only human given the opportunity to come that close to Hashem and to communicate with Him so directly, Moshe needed to speak tp the people this way in order to lead them and communicate Hashem’s words to them. As Bnei Yisrael wandered through the wilderness, Moshe needed to represent “din,” the rule of law.

 

As Sefer Devarim begins, however, Moshe’s job is coming to an end. Now that Moshe knows that the journey is winding down, that the people are ready, he begins his final address with a reminder that everything that has happened, everything that has been commanded, is for Klal Yisrael all together.

 

“The Lord our God spoke to us at Horeb (Sinia),” (Devarim 1:6). On a surface level, this phrase refers to a very specific event. When Hashem began to give the Torah at Sinai, He called out the first few of the Ten Commandments so that everyone could hear. But the people were struck with such awe, with such fear, that they begged Moshe to receive the commandments for them. “Let us not die, then, for this fearsome fire will consume us; if we hear the voice of Hashem our God any longer, we shall die” (Devarim 5:22).

 

Rhetorically, however, as the first words that Moshe speaks in Sefer Devarim, “our God, spoke to us” is a call for the nation to look at themselves as a we, as an us, as a people with far more to hold them together than to set them apart. And it does not matter if he reverts to the use of second-person plural when he reiterates events or repeats the mitzvos to remind them. In the opening words of his speech, Moshe has set the tone of unity. (And, one might note, Hashem Elokeinu, is used approximately 25 times in the sefer).

 

We live in a time where it seems even the fight for Jewish unity, so seemingly prominent in recent decades past, has been resignedly put to the side. We live in a time when we hope, and pray, and gently inquire, for Jews outside of the Orthodox realm, to maintain their Jewish identity and to pass it on to their children. And within the Orthodox realm, we live in an era when hashgafic details create cracks that our children use to pick one another apart on the school playgrounds. The Lord OUR God spoke to US! This is our God. This is our Torah. And we cannot properly move forward unless we start to actively think of ourselves – and not just talk about ourselves -  in this manner.

 

Tisha B’Av is here. We are, sadly once again, sitting down to cry about the destruction. We mourn the loss of the Beis Hamikdash, not the physical place but rather the ability to have the Shechina, the spirit of Hashem, dwell among US. All of the people stood at Horeb and heard Hashem’s words, those who would come to rebel, those who would run to bring a gift to the Mishkan, those who would come to complain and those who sought to move forward, those who come to sin and those who would suffer for the sin of others. It doesn’t matter. Our nation is not perfect, and we never were. But we are a nation and Hashem is OUR God.

 

May this be our last Tisha B”Av and May we see Klal Yisrael come together in love and unity.

Parshas Devarim: Learning from the Generation

It is, as many know, not a coincidence that we read parshas Devarim, the first portion of the final book of the Torah, on the Shabbas before Tisha B’Av (9th of Av), the day on which we mourn a series of calamities in Jewish life. Devarim is, as is noted in the opening phrase, a recording of the words that Moshe spoke to Bnei Yisrael before his death and their entry to eretz Yisrael, and he began by talking about the demand of the people for sending scouts into the Promised Land and their refusal to enter the Land after the scouts returned. 

There are many excellent reasons for this to be Moshe’s starting point, not the least of which is because the reactions of Bnei Yisrael to the report of the scouts were the reason the nation had to remain in the Wilderness for four decades. And yet, it seems a strange place to begin a review of the journey of Bnei Yisrael. Why wouldn’t Moshe begin at the beginning, with Hashem instructing him to lead them out of Mitzrayim, or with their experiences at the crossing of the Sea and camping at Har Sinai? On the other hand, if one is going to state the great infraction of the burgeoning Jewish nation, most of us think first to the Cheit Ha’egel, the Golden Calf, of which here there is no mention. 

In sefer Bereishis, humanity received two great punishments. They were utterly obliterated, with the exception of Noach, by the flood as a punishment for becoming corrupt and so depravedly self-centered that they wantonly stole and plundered from each other.  Not long after, another generation is struck down and scattered by a transformation in their communication (no longer able to speak the same language) as a punishment for raising a tower to make war against the Heavens. The difference in the two incidents, the reason that Hashem did not destroy humanity again at the Tower of Babel, was that Hashem could accept His creation fighting with Him but He could not accept His creation destroying one another. From here we are taught that Hashem values Bein Adam L’Chavero over Bein Adam L’Makom (interpersonal behaviors over those between a person and the Divine).

Perhaps remembering these distinctions will help us see the difference in Moshe’s perspective on the people's behavior during the Cheit Ha’egel verses their reaction to the scouts. The commentators explain that the people made the Golden Calf because they miscalculated Moshe’s time on Har Sinai. They expected him to have returned and so they panicked. They created the calf not to be a replacement for Hashem, but to be a replacement for Moshe, to be a new intermediary. They were wrong, of course, but they were also misguided and, perhaps, spiritually confused due to the idolatrous world that had surrounded them throughout their lives.

The Incident of the Scouts happened not long thereafter, but the exposure of the underlying flaw of the nation was far more insidious. They did not lack faith, they lacked trust and they lacked hope. They knew that Hashem exists and that Hashem was active in their lives, and yet somehow they could not believe that they could conquer and be successful in the Promised Land. More significantly, however, was that how they each reacted undermined the future of their fellow Jews.

While both the Chait Ha’egel and the reaction to the scouts appear to be issues of trusting Hashem, the comparison is in the ramifications. Like Migdal Bavel, the Cheit Haegel was a group of people but each was compromising their own individual relationship with the Divine. They joined together from peer pressure, but the actions had the greatest impact on themselves. Like the dor haflaga, the nation of the flood, the generation that came out of Egypt and who bemoaned their fate and cried out against their ability to conquer the Promised Land were determined to act in a way that put others in danger. Refusing to enter Eretz Yisrael was an action that affected not only them but their children and their future generations. Moaning that they wanted to go back to Mitzrayim demonstrated a psychological state that preferred the depravity of Egypt to the promises of living a full Torah life. (This fits even with the Midrashim that speak of the generation’s reaction as an attempt to stay in the environment of being secluded with Hashem, because truly acquiring Torah – and the benefits of Torah - mean taking it into the world, into real life, and living it.) 

The generation that came out of Egypt was in no means depraved as was the generation of the flood. They did not deserve to be annihilated in one fell swoop. But they were so deeply flawed that their actions had incredible ramifications on the lives of all of their descendants – for generations. The anniversary of the bewailing of the people as a reaction to the report of the scouts is Tisha B’Av. This is the date on which both Temples were destroyed, on which the Roman Emperor Hadrian plowed over the city, and on which the Bar Kochba Rebellion was decimated. This is the date on which Jews were kicked out of England in 1290 and on which the great Expulsion from Spain took place. This is the date of endless tragedy because the generation that came out of Mitzrayim could not take the lessons they had learned of Hashem’s ability and desire to perform miracles for them and take the first step to independent Torah living. 

Had we moved into Eretz Yisrael when Hashem first led the people there, the history of the world and the fate of the Jewish people would have been very different. The sages placed the reading of Devarim at this time, just before Tisha B’Av, because just as the action of that generation continues its impact on us, we need to read/hear Moshe’s words so that we can try to repair the exile that, in many ways, began before we even entered the land. 

How Generations Change (Devarim #3)

It is interesting to note that when Moshe begins his final address to Klal Yisrael, a review of all that they have experienced as a nation, he does not begin with leaving Egypt, crossing the Sea, or even receiving the Torah at Sinai. Instead, he begins with a listing of their journeys and the setting up of a system of civil courts. The only laws that appear to be repeated in Parshas Devarim are commandments meant to ensure impartiality in the judicial system. While the parsha speaks of several occurrences in the wilderness, the two most prominent seem to be the incident of the scouts and the land allocation of Reuvain, Gad, and half of Menashe. Thus it is worth wondering at Moshe’s choice of these the two main narratives for the opening parsha of Sefer Devarim.

Although both of these stories are recorded in Sefer Bamidar and read just a few weeks before Parshas Devarim, they occurred years - actually decades - apart. They are, in truth, opposites: the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end. When the scouts returned from the Promised Land and put fear in the hearts of the nation, that was the end of the first era of Klal Yisrael’s journey. The raw energy of emergence, of change, of becoming a nation at Sinai, here proved itself unsustainable as the driving force of this nation. Even after all of the blatant miracles and God’s forgiveness after the Golden Calf, the people demonstrated an inherent inability to truly trust Hashem or believe in their own worthiness.

The generation that saw “explosive” miracles, that sang the great Shira at the Yam Suf, blunted their own spiritual fire. Certainly, part of this came from their having begun as slaves, and possibly some of it was because the actual impact of each of their experiences had been so majestically miraculous.

Moshe was able to grant the request of Reuvain and Gad because this generation was different from their fathers’ generation. They knew of the great and wonderous miracles, but the miracles in their own lives – while still spectacular to us today – were both more subtle and more constant.  When we today think about the generation of the wilderness, we think of how wonderous it must have been to have been close to active miracles, to have witnessed a cloud descending on the Tent of Meeting or experienced life fully provided for by Hashem (manna, water from Miriam’s well, ever-lasting clothing…). But for that generation, raised since their youth surrounded by these active miracles, it must have been difficult to even perceive them as miraculous – this was just life. Hashem was a tangible presence in their lives – providing cause and effect, consequences such as Korach being swallowed by the earth. And even though their life was “easy,” they were ready to go forward and put in the necessary work and effort.

The granting of the land in response to the request from Reuvain and Gad demonstrated the difference of this second generation to that of their elders. Their request was not a demand, as, it is now explained, had been the idea to send the scouts. Indeed, according to numerous commentators, when Moshe says: V’tikravoon eyli koolchem, and you gathered around me all of you, he is subtly describing how the generation that came from Egypt had forced the idea of the scouts upon him, how they were impatient and demanding. The second generation, however, was willing to put their own effort into building their towns and fighting beside their brethren. They represented how Klal Yisrael as a whole was ready to begin the last stage of their journey to enter the Promised Land – ready to fight and to work and, most importantly, to trust in Hashem.

Thousands of years later, we reside here in galus, and we yearn for redemption. We sigh and we hope and we wonder – and yes, I think it is a thought that crosses everyone’s mind once in a while – we wonder why we do not have such open miracles as those of our ancestors. We imagine how much easier it would be to have emunah shelaima – complete faith – if we just witnessed an open miracle or two. And we are not asking for Yam Suf; we would be satisfied with Miram’s well or heaven-sent manna. But perhaps Moshe opened his address this way to Klal Yisrael because he was not speaking only to the people before him, but to the generations upon generations to come. Open miracles are not the answer, they do not build a strong core of bitachon. In order to prepare for the conclusion of our own journey, we need to learn to accept the constant miracles that surround us with gratitude, put our trust in Hashem, and be ever-ready to work on moving forward.

A brief note of thanks and a dedication:

Parshas Devarim marks the anniversary of my writing Parsha posts. I have now completed two years, although I cannot say that I have managed every week in either year (thank you Corona!)

This Personal Parsha Prose was written on Friday, 3 Av 5780, the yahrtzeit of my Great-Grandfather Elias Gartel, l’ilyui neshama Eliyahu ben Yitzchak Halevi.

Two Mountains Too Much (Devarim)

The Book of Devarim is often explained as Moshe’s recap of the Torah. Knowing his death is imminent, he gathers the people and reminds them of their travels and of many of the halachot they have learned. The first five verses of Devarim explain that these are Moshe’s words and set the time and place in which they were spoken. Then Moshe begins: “The Lord our God spoke to us at Horeb (Sinai) saying: ‘You have stayed long enough at this mountain’” (1:6).

It is actually a bit puzzling that Moshe began his recap with the people leaving Sinai. What of all the events before – the 10 plagues, the flight from Egypt, the crossing of the sea, and, most specifically, receiving the Torah (and the incident of the Golden Calf)? Rather Moshe starts by reminding Bnei Yisrael that God told them to move on from Sinai.

If one wanted to compare Bnei Yisrael to a person, once could almost say that until they received the Torah at Sinai, the didn’t yet fully exist, at least not as a unified whole. Sinai was their first breath. Breath, in the world of Jewish metaphor, is the essence of the spiritual, for God breathed life into Adam and thus gave him the unique gift of a soul, a special connection to the Divine. At Sinai, Bnei Yisrael was given their soul, their special direct connection to the Divine. Is it surprising that they wished to stay longer in the area of Sinai?

Instead, as we learn here, God wanted the people to move on. In Hebrew the words that God used are: “Rav Lachem,” which is understood with commentary as “You have stayed long enough,” but which could really be translated as “It is too much for you.” Then the Jewish people were told “Turn yourselves and journey” (1:7).  Now that Bnei Yisrael had drawn the breath of Torah, it was time for them to live life.

It is interesting that Moshe next recaps how the Israelites went to the borders of the Promised Land … and proved themselves unworthy and unable to enter. This is the narrative of the scouts, their negative report, and the reaction of the people. Bnei Yisrael were so caught up in the physical elements of the land – the large fruit, the mighty giants – that they could not imagine how they had the strength through their spiritual connection to the Divine to conquer it. Their lack of physical self-confidence undermined their spiritual strength. Thus concludes the first chapter of Devarim.

The second chapter of Devarim has an oddly similar beginning. “We turned and journeyed to the Wilderness, toward the Yam Suf, as Hashem spoke to me, and we circled Mount Seir for many days. Hashem spoke to me, saying: ‘You have stayed long enough circling this mountain. Turn yourselves northward’” (2:1-3). Once again, Rav Lachem – It is too much for you. The mountain that they were circling, Har Seir, was the area given as an inheritance to Esav and his descendants.

Two mountains and two commands of Rav Lachem, a phrase not particularly common in the Torah.* Is there a connection? Sinai was the place where the Jewish people received the Torah, where they were strengthened spiritually, and they were sent away from there because they stayed too long. Seir was the land of Eisav, who was deeply connected to the physical world. Remember, according to Midrash, he sold his bechora because he couldn’t even believe in his own olam habah, World to Come. Perhaps, having failed to merit the Promised Land because they doubted their physical strength and ignored the significance of their spiritual connection, Bnai Yisrael dwelled longer circling the mountain of Eisav because they were trying to harness the power of the physical. Like for their forefather Yaakov, however, trying to be connected deeply to the physical world like Eisav could only be temporary…and so God sent them on their way.

The two mountains could, perhaps, represent the divided aspects of the spiritual and the physical that are both essential for serving Hashem. One must find a balance between these two realms rather than trying to dwell only in one or the other. The Promised Land, however, is the balance of both. It is the land of milk – a manifestation of the physical as the animal eats the grass and produces the milk – and honey – a manifestation of the spiritual in that Torah is as sweet as honey. Bnai Yisrael could not stay only in a world immersed in spirituality (Sinai), nor could they be part of a world immersed in the physical (Seir). Eretz Yisrael, once Bnei Yisrael had truly developed themselves as a nation, was the place for them to achieve that perfect balance.

*although the two words are found next to each other in 3:19, referring to a large amount of livestock. Same words, different usage.

These Are The Words (Devarim)

Eilu Devarim - These are the words...starts the first verse of the fifth book of the Torah. Perhaps that is what I should title this project that I have chosen to create for myself. These are the words, for I am starting a commitment to myself to write a brief essay on the weekly parsha. The goal is threefold. I am making a commitment to have a writing schedule. I am making a commitment to review the parsha each week. I am making a commitment to find my own voice, to reignite the fire I once had for delving into sources and sifting through the holy word (after ten years of writing almost solely as the voice of JewishTreats.org).

Perhaps this is an auspicious week for my journey into unleashing my personal commentary, for it is specifically stated in Devarim that Moshe’s words contain “every detail that God commanded to them (Bnei Yisrael)” (Devarim 1:3). The presentation, now in the first person, presents the four-decade experience of the Israelites from Moshe’s perspective.

And now for some of that more personal commentary....

The parsha of Devarim is always read at the time of Tisha B’Av, when the Jewish people mourn the loss of the Holy Tempe (twice) because the tragic tone of the day was set when the nation cried out in response to the report of the scouts sent to the Land of Canaan. (For a full recount of this event, here’s the Jewish Treat I wrote: http://www.jewishtreats.org/2008/09/forty-years-and-forgiveness.html).

Reading through the narrative of the scouts as retold by Moshe in Devarim, I was particularly struck by the words Moshe states as part of the people’s outcry. “Our brothers have shattered our hopes...” (Devarim 1:28).

What struck me most about this verse was its possible connection to recent stories describing how young Jewish adults travelled across the world to visit Israel on Birthright trips and then left the trips to protest the State of Israel. Let’s not talk about the theft involved (whether that be legitimate or simply the spirit of the law) in their taking a free trip in order to leave and work against the very purpose of the trip. Let’s talk about the distorted vision of these young Jewish adults.

When the Israelite scouts returned from the Promised Land, their first words were: “We came to the land you sent us to; it does indeed flow with milk and honey, and this is its fruit. However, the people who inhabit the country are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large...” (Numbers 13:27-28).

HOWEVER. What a terrible, poisonous word and it is a word that seems to capture the current relativism of public opinion about Israel. At the birth of the State of Israel, the Jewish people were rejoicing. Through long, hard years - interspersed with tragic, bloody wars - the Jewish people built a successful, vibrant, diverse Democracy in a land once desolate and corrupt (Ottoman era). And instead of saying that we have been blessed with a land flowing with milk and honey, a new voice has emerged decrying the fact that we are no longer the underdogs in the story. We were no longer weak, and somehow that is bad.

As the volume of the outrage against Israel grows louder, particularly from our own people, one can only wonder at how similar this is to the story of the scouts. Joshua and Caleb were the minority voices trying to remind the people of the promises made to them by God and of the magnificence of the Promised Land. Their voices were drowned out by the fear, the self-doubt, the lack of faith of the rest of the nation.

We today need to remember that God’s promises still hold true. That we are still a unique nation. And we need to stay strong when the cries of our people are overwhelming. Remember the words, “Good is the land that Hashem our God is giving us” (Devarim 1:25).