Parashat Ha’Azinu / פרשת האזינו

Deuteronomy 32:1 – 32:52

This Shabbat is Shabbat Shuva, the Shabbat of Returning. It is so named after the reading from Prophets that exhorts us to return to God, a fitting message for the Shabbat that falls between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, a period known as Aseret Yemei Teshuva or Ten Days of Repentance.

Most of Ha-Azinu is a poem spoken by Moses prophesying Israel’s fall from God’s favor upon entering the land of Israel, but what I find most meaningful and apt for this time of year are the verses at the end of the parashah that speak of Moses’ death:

That very day the Lord spoke to Moses: Ascend these heights of Abarim to Mount Nebo, which is in the land of Moab facing Jericho, and view the land of Canaan, which I am giving the Israelites as their holding. You shall die on the mountain that you are about to ascend, and shall be gathered to your kin, as your brother Aaron died on Mount Hor and was gathered to his kin; for you both broke faith with Me among the Israelite people, at the waters of Meribath-kadesh in the wilderness of Zin, by failing to uphold My sanctity among the Israelite people. You may view the land from a distance, but you shall not enter it — the land that I am giving to the Israelite people. 

Here we have God telling Moses to climb Mount Nebo and there prepare to die. In essence, God is alerting Moses to the fact that his death is imminent. With this warning, Moses might have reviewed his life and asked himself how might he make the best use of the days that remain. Though he was soon to remove himself from his community, might he still be able to do things even a little differently?

I honestly cannot say what Moses might have been thinking as God instructed him to prepare for his death, but I do know that you and I could meet our end at any time and that we should very well be asking ourselves the question “How might I do things differently with the little time I have left?” Of course, it’s not enough to just ask the question. We must respond to the question and effect the change necessary to do those things we said we would do.

Psalm 90:12 reads: Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. This for me is the ultimate lesson of this Torah reading and of the Ten Days of Repentance. This is a time to acknowledge the frailty of life and to recommit ourselves to making each day count. Most of us will live long after tomorrow. Unlike Moses, we have it in our ability to change in meaningful ways, to “return” to God, to make a difference in the world.

Let us not wait until our days are limited by age or failing health. Let us not wait until we walk up our own Mt. Nebo. Let’s begin to number our days now.

Parashat Nitzavim-Vayeilech / פרשת נצבים־וילך
Deuteronomy 29:9 – 31:30

This Saturday night, in synagogues throughout the world, Jews will gather to recite penitential hymns in preparation for the Ten Days of Repentance, which come upon us next week. The S’lichot (literally “forgiveness”) service alerts us to the work of teshuva, or repentance, that awaits us from Rosh Hashana to Yom Kippur. Like the shofar blast heard each weekday during the month of Elul before Rosh Hashana, the S’lichot service stirs within us an awareness of our mistakes and motivates us to seek forgiveness and, ultimately, to change for the better.

The Torah reading this week, then, is nothing if not timely. In his final discourse to the Children of Israel, Moses prophesies that Israel will thrive in the Land they are about to enter but will then stray from God and God’s commandments. Israel’s sins will be grave and God’s punishment will be harsh, but God will be ready to receive Israel back into God’s goods graces once Israel turns again to heed God’s word. This process of turning back to God — this teshuva (literally “turning” or repentance) — is the very process that you and I are to undertake in coming days.

Moses assures his followers that the “Instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach” (Deut. 30:11). There is no secret to teshuva, Moses insinuates. God gave the Torah to Israel as a road map to connect with God. All Israel need do is follow that map.

So, too, with us. Though personal transformation does not happen quickly and without great effort, the truth is that God has endowed us with the capability to exam our souls, determine the ways we want to change, and effect the change we desire. With our own inner resources and with the guidance of Torah, we can, in fact, turn our lives around. We imagine even that during the Days of Awe God is poised to inscribe us in either the Book of Life or the Book of Death. The extent to which we perform teshuva with full sincerity tips God’s pen in our favor.

How beautifully our experience of turning back to God parallels that of our biblical forbears, who also had Life and Death set before then. “I set before you this day life and prosperity, death and adversity,” Moses tells them. “For I command you this day, to love the Lord your God, to walk in God’s ways, and to keep God’s commandments, God’s laws, and God’s rules, that you may thrive and increase, and that the Lord your God may bless you in the land that you are about to enter and possess…. I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life — if you and your offspring would live” (Deut. 30:15-19).

If Moses’ words sound like they were meant for our ears today, they were. Indeed, his message of hope and faith was intended not only for his generation but for all future generations of the Jewish People as well. Our tradition teaches us that God lovingly longs as much for our return as God longed for the return of Israel millennia ago. God truly yearns to reconnect with us, to fill our lives and our world with the goodness of the Divine Presence. Know this day, therefore, that we do have a choice. Through teshuva, let us turn toward Life.

Parashat Ki Tavo / פרשת כי־תבוא
Torah Portion: Deuteronomy 26:1 – 29:8

This week’s Torah reading offers an important lesson on gratitude. Speaking to the Israelites, Moses instructs them that, upon entering into the Land of Israel, they are to bring some of the first fruits of their soil in baskets to the Levites at a place of God’s choosing. Once they have set their offerings on the ground in front of the altar, they are to recite these words, which have become familiar to us through the Passover haggadah:

My father was a fugitive Aramean. He went down to Egypt with meager numbers and sojourned there; but there he became a great and very populous nation. The Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy labor upon us. We cried to the Lord, the God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. The Lord freed us from Egypt by a mighty hand, by an outstretched arm and awesome power, and by signs and portents. He brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. Wherefore I now bring the first fruits of the soil which You, O Lord, have given me. (Deut. 26:6-10)

Through this ritual, the Israelites will express their gratitude to God for having brought them out of bondage to a place of safety in their own land. The words they will recite focus succinctly on the grace that God had bestowed upon them. With this gesture of thanksgiving, Israel will go on to thrive in the Holy Land.

Given Israel’s history of complaining about hardships throughout during their 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, how refreshing it is that the narrative Israel will recite focuses solely on the loving kindness that God has bestowed upon her. Before we credit the Israelites with a stark change of attitude, though, we should note that Moses prescribes the exact words they are to say. Moses doesn’t assume that his people will naturally set aside their troubles and wax sincerely in gratitude before God. He provides the script that he hopes will lead to the attitude adjustment that God desires of them.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we all had such a script in hand at times when we’re inclined to rant on about all our suffering, to run through a litany of all that we lack? My daughter recently melted down, proclaiming that she has the worst life of anyone in the world. After listening to what was upsetting her, my wife and I affirmed her feelings and then asked her about all the good things in her life. Soon enough, Katie saw that life was not nearly as bad as she imagined it just moments ago, and she was in a place where she could feel grateful for all she has, even if she didn’t lay a basket of fruit on the ground before our feet.

As the New Year approaches and we take stock of our lives, we should know that is alright to express our regrets and setbacks from the previous year. At the same time, however, we need to keep a sense of perspective, and balance the negative with the good. Should we be stuck in a dark place, unable to express gratitude for our bounty, we should seek out someone like Moses who can hand us a rosier script that is as true as the script we find coming out of our mouths. Sometimes we, like our ancestors, just need to be reminded how good life is in order to carry on and thrive in our own lands.

Parashat Ki Teitzei / פרשת כי־תצא

Torah Portion: Deuteronomy 21:10 – 25:19

This weeks Torah portion, Parashat Ki Tetzei, contains more mitzvot (commandments) than any other parashah: 74, to be precise. Mitzvot can be divided into two categories. The first category is called “ben adam l’havero” or “between one person and another person.” These mitzvot include ethical instruction that guides us in our treatment of our fellow human being in business, at home, and out in the world. An example of this would be treat all your children equally (Deut. 21:15). Mitzvot ben adam l’havero also comprise civil and criminal legislation that tell us what to do if someone should commit a crime, kidnapping, for instance: If a man is found to have kidnapped a fellow Israelite, enslaving him or selling him, that kidnapper shall die; thus you will sweep out evil from your midst (Deut. 24:7)

The next set of mitzvot are “ben adam lamakom,” or “between a person and God.” These mitzvot deal mostly with ritual, Shabbat, keeping kosher, and the like. They address issues of how we worship, celebrate and honor God. An example of a mitzvah between a person and God from elsewhere in the Torah would be to keep the Sabbath holy.

In the midst of the litany of mitzvot this week, all of which pertain to ben adam l’havero, we find one that, on the face of it, doesn’t seem to fit into either category:

If, along the road, you chance upon a bird’s nest, in any tree or on the ground, with fledglings or eggs and the mother sitting over the fledglings or on the eggs, do not take the mother together with her young. Let the mother go, and take only the young, in order that you may fare well and have a long life (Deut. 22:6)

This mitzvah clearly deals with how we treat animals. It doesn’t tell us how to interact with another person, nor does it address how we relate to God. Do we need a third category of mitzvah for this mitzvah and others like it?

I would contend that this mitzvah is, in fact, a mitzvah ben adam l’havero and ben adam lamakom. How so? In directing us to shoo away the mother before taking her little ones or her unhatched eggs, this and similar mitzvot inculcate in us a sense of compassion and empathy. If we should care enough to shoo away the mother so she won’t see us taking her progeny, even more so should we care about the feelings of human beings. From this mitzvah about ethical treatment of animals comes an awareness of how ethically to treat human beings.

In what way is this mitzvah about us and God? By shooing away the mother, we protect her from being captured or hurt and we allow her to go on reproducing. In the future, some of the mother’s eggs will hatch and bear fledglings, who themselves will live long lives and also reproduce. Thus, this mitzvah enables us to be stewards of God’s creation and so deservedly belongs in the category of ben adam lamakom.

Ki Tetzei reminds us that all the natural world of which we are a part is integral to our existence as human beings. The way we interact with the world reveals something about how we interact with each other. Mitzvot pertaining to our treatment of animals, we have seen, also shape our treatment of human beings by sensitizing us to the feelings of creatures around us. At the same time, our relationship with nature also reveals something about our relationship to God. Any mitzvot that guide us in our interactions with nature, likewise encourage us to be mindful of our partnership with God, while also helping us realize that all the universe truly is God’s kingdom. As citizens of this kingdom, we ought to strive through mitzvot to build a world of love and trust for all, including for those who soar in the skies above.