Parashat Vayelech, Deuteronomy 31:1-30, Shabbat Shuva

We face each Yom Kippur as if it were our last opportunity to check off the most important things on our "to do" list.

We've all got at a "to do" list.  Or at least we should.  But I'm not referring to daily tasks.  Recently, we have been told that it is important to have a list of goals to accomplish during our lifetimes.  That's the premise behind the film The Bucket List.  It also accounts for the popularity of books such as 100 Things to Do Before You Die by the late Dave Freeman and Neil Tiplica.  This book, which was written close to a decade ago, inspired many people to create their own lists.  There are countless sites on the web where you can read of people's ultimate desires, most focusing on activities and adventures, which is not surprising given that the original work is a travel book.   

A poignant recent addition to this genre may be found in a video called The Last Lecture.  Carnegie Mellon University has a tradition of inviting retiring academics to think about what is most important to them and then present it as a "last lecture."  Randy Pausch did not retire.  His last lecture, entitled ""Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams," was delivered before he died of pancreatic cancer.  Among his advice in this powerful presentation: "Experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted." " I’ll take an earnest person over a hip person every day, because hip is short term. Earnest is long term." "Apologize when you screw up and focus on other people, not on yourself." "It’s not about how to achieve your dreams. It’s about how to lead your life. " 

There is something that resonates deep within us when we think of our own mortality.  We are in this world for what inevitably seems too short a time.  How can we make the most of it?  What can we get out of it?  Actually, scratch that last question.  A Jewish approach would ask: What have I learned?  What difference can I make?  What can I teach others?   

Not surprisingly we have a lot of answers.  Our answers are probably not as popular as the Freeman and Tiplica tome, but maybe we can change that.  There is a Jewish tradition of writing ethical wills. These are documents that summarize the things that are important to you in life: What experience has taught you that you want to leave as a legacy to your loved ones.  Think about it.  What would you write?   

Eight decades ago Israel Abrahams edited a book called Hebrew Ethical Wills, in which he collected a variety of such documents going as far back as Rabbinic times.  What did our ancestors consider the most important lessons they could leave as a legacy?

To be at peace with the world, with Jew and Gentile, must be your foremost aim in this terrestrial life.  Contend with no man.  In the first instance, your home must be the abode of quietude and happiness; no harsh word must be heard there, but over all must reign love, amity, modesty, and a spirit of gentleness and reverence.  This spirit must not end with the home, however.  In your dealings with the world you must allow neither money nor ambition to disturb you.  Forego your rights, envy no man.  For the main thing is peace, peace with the whole world.  Show all men every possible respect, deal with them in the finest integrity and faithfulness.

Joel, son of Abraham Shemariah, 

Hebrew Ethical Wills, Israel Abrahams  (ed.)  vol. 2 p. 344-45

Learn in your youth, when ye eat what others provide; while your mind is still free and unencumbered with cares; ere the memory lose its vigor.  For the time will come when ye will wish to learn but will be unable.  And even if ye do not entirely fail, ye will labor much to little effect; for your mind will lag behind your lips, and when it does keep pace, the memory will not hold fast what the mind attains.   

Bring near those who are far off, bow to the lowly, and show the light of your countenance to the downcast.  Be pitiful to the poor and sorrow-stricken.  See to it that they share in your joys!  Help them in your feasts, according to the good hand of the Lord upon you.  But beware lest they be put to blush by reason of your gifts.  Never cease to do good to all in whom it is in your power to serve, and be on guard against working ill to any man whatsoever. 

Attributed to Maimonides, 

Hebrew Ethical Wills, Israel Abrahams  (ed)  vol. 1 p. 107, 110

The Torah also contains examples of ethical wills.  Jacob gathers his family as he is dying: Come together that I may tell you what is to befall you in days to come. (Genesis 49:2)  The entire book of Deuteronomy can be considered Moses' ethical will, as he recounts and surveys the developing relationship between Israel and God.  In this week's portion, Vayelekh, Moses’ lesson is approaching its end.

Moses went and spoke these things to all Israel. He said to them: I am now one hundred and twenty years old, I can no longer be active. Moreover, the Lord has said to me, "You shall not go across yonder Jordan." …Then Moses called Joshua and said to him in the sight of all Israel: "Be strong and resolute, for it is you who shall go with this people into the land that the Lord swore to their fathers to give them, and it is you who shall apportion it to them. And the Lord Himself will go before you. He will be with you; He will not fail you or forsake you. Fear not and be not dismayed!" Moses wrote down this Teaching and gave it to the priests, sons of Levi, who carried the Ark of the Lord's Covenant, and to all the elders of Israel.

Deuteronomy 31:1-2, 7-9

At God's instruction, Moses writes a poem which we will read in next week's parasha, Haazinu.  The lesson that Moses conveys is the one reiterated in so many Jewish ethical wills: Follow God's teaching in your behaviour towards humanity and the Divine.   

Which brings us to Shabbat Shuva, the Shabbat of Repentance, cradled between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  Weeks ago, in the month of Elul, we began the process of teshuvah, repentance.  This consists of looking at our actions in the past year and making amends where they need to be made, healing breaches and repairing the cracks in our relationships.  In these weekly Torah studies, we have been dealing with interpersonal relationships.  With the High Holy Days our focus shifts towards our relationship with God.  This is it folks.  Yom Kippur is almost upon us.  And on Yom Kippur we must consider our own mortality.  That is the idea behind abstaining from physical activities such as eating, washing and sex.  We wear white to remind us of shrouds.  We face each Yom Kippur as if it were our last opportunity to check off the most important things on our "to do" list.    

What advice can we find to achieve this goal?  The answer isn't on the best seller list; and a search of You Tube comes up empty.  But open the Talmud (Berachot 28b) and you will find there guidance through one of the earliest examples of an ethical will:

Our Rabbis taught: When Rabbi Eliezer fell ill, his disciples went in to visit him. They said to him: Master, teach us how to live so that we may merit the world to come. He said to them: Take heed to honour your colleagues, keep your children from speculative study, seat them at the feet of scholars, and when you pray know before whom you stand…

May we all be inscribed and sealed for a good year in the Book of Life. 
Gmar hatima tova,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Nitzavim-VaYelech, Deuteronomy 29:9-31:30

This week's parashah has been generously sponsored in loving memory of Meryl Gardner's mother, Harriet H. Cohen. Kolel is grateful to Meryl for her ongoing support and appreciates its weekly sponsors.

In transgressing we have started on the wrong path, but we always have the opportunity to change directions.

This is a time of transition both in the secular world and in the Jewish one. Stores have been touting their "back to school" sales for weeks, and Judaica shops have been displaying their back to shul items in preparation for the High Holy Days. With Labour Day behind us, we are back to our "normal" schedule of work and school. It is a transition so familiar to us that we take it for granted.

In Jewish time, the transition is both gradual and increasingly intense. The month of Elul is a time of introspection and soul-searching in preparation for the New Year. As we bid farewell to Shabbat this week, the force of our soul-searching increases with Selichot services. With the observance of Rosh Hashanah the seasonal transition intensifies even more, culminating in Yom Kippur.

Transition is at the core of our double Torah portion this week. In Nitzavim, Moses addresses the people once more, reiterating the obligations incumbent upon us as partners in God's covenant. This is a covenant that we freely accept and is within our reach (Deut 30:11-14).

The image of entering into a covenant with God is very different from what occurred at Sinai. When we received the commandments at Sinai, it was a spectacle that would inspire the likes of Cecil B. DeMille in the future:

Now Mount Sinai was all in smoke, for Adonai had come down upon it in fire; the smoke rose like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled violently. The blare of the horn grew louder and louder. (Exodus 19:18-19)

Compare this with the description in Nitzavim which focuses on the people who are to be part of the covenant:

You stand this day, all of you, before Adonai your God – your tribal heads, your elders, and your officials, all the men of Israel, your children, your women, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer – to enter into the covenant of Adonai your God which Adonai your God is concluding with you this day… (Deut. 29:9-11).

No thunder and lightning, this is a non-smoking covenant. The verb describing this momentous event is le-ovrecha, translated as "to enter," whereas the more common verb for entering into a covenant is likhrot "to cut," comparable to our "cutting a deal."

Rashi picks up on the use of the verb avar, "to enter," and explains that entering into a covenant involved making a partition on one side and the other, and passing between these partitions. He brings an example from Jeremiah 34:18-20 where an agreement was made by cutting a calf in half and walking between the two halves of the offering. A more familiar example would be the "covenant of the pieces" where God promises Abram that his descendants will inherit the land:

And he [Abram] said, "Adonai God, how shall I know that I am to possess it?" God answered: "Bring Me a three-year-old heifer, a three-year-old she-goat, a three-year-old ram, a turtledove, and a young bird." He brought God all these and cut them in two, placing each half opposite the other; but he did not cut up the bird. … When the sun set and it was very dark, there appeared a smoking oven, and a flaming torch which passed between those pieces. On that day Adonai made a covenant with Abram… (Gen. 15:8-10, 17-18)

The verb avar appears elsewhere in Nitzavim as well:

Well you knew that we dwelt in the land of Egypt and that we passed through (avarnu) the midst of various other nations through which you passed (avartem); and you have seen the detestable things and the fetishes of wood and stone, silver and gold, that they keep. (Deut. 29:15-16)

Here the meaning of the verb appears to be the simple "crossing" or "passing though." However, the next few verses warn of turning towards the gods of these nations. This provides a deeper understanding of avar, "crossing." Physically passing through an area is bound to affect you – be it walking between items for a covenantal ceremony, or traversing the territory of a nation whose influence you are to avoid.

This week's second parashah, Va-yelekh, also has examples of the verb avar:

Moses went and spoke these things to all Israel. He said to them: I am now one hundred and twenty years old, I can no longer be active. Moreover, Adonai has said to me, "You shall not go across (ta'avor) yonder Jordan." It is indeed Adonai your God who will cross over (over) before you; and who will wipe out those nations from your path and you shall dispossess them. — Joshua is the one who shall cross (over) before you, as Adonai has spoken. (Deut. 31:1-3)

On a simple peshat level, the verb provides "just the facts" of the transition from Moses' to Joshua's leadership under God's auspices. But the change in leadership is not simple. Crossing over the Jordan is more than a physical act, it is the first step in a new life for the nation of Israel; and it will take place under the direction of a different leader.

Moreover, crossing the Jordan has spiritual implications. Symbolically, it is a covenantal action. Crossing the Sea of Reeds carries the same imagery as a "covenant between the pieces." Crossing the Jordan is reminiscent of crossing this earlier body of water. At the Sea of Reeds we transitioned from being slaves to a free people. Crossing the Jordan is the threshold where we are transformed into a nation with full covenantal responsibility to God.

Beyond that, avar has theological implications for the individual's relationship with God. Think of Abram sitting by his tent, imploring three divine visitors, "If it please you do not go past (ta'avor) your servant." (Gen. 18:3) Or of Moses asking to see God's presence and being told "I will make all My goodness pass (a'avir) before you…" (Ex. 33: 19). Or most importantly for us at this time of year – Adonai passed (va-ya'avor) before him [Moses] and proclaimed: "Adonai! Adonai! a God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin… "(Ex 34:6-7)

"Crossing over" can be the first step in a life-changing experience. At this season of introspection, we are painfully aware of our transgressions (averot). Interestingly, even the English word is rooted in a journey: "trans" is from the Latin meaning "across" and "gressus" from "gradi" meaning "to walk, or go." In transgressing we have started on the wrong path, but we always have the opportunity to change directions. Now as we cross over from Elul into the New Year, our past transgressions open a sacred path of soul-searching that can lead us from simple transition to spiritual transformation drawing us closer to God.

Shabbat shalom,
MS