Parashat Ekev, Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25

This week's parasha is sponsored by the Ladovsky family, to honour the
memory of their grandparents Aaron and Sarah Ladovsky, and their father Herman Ladovsky. "They inspired us to put our values and priorities into practice. We are proud of our cherished legacy and appreciate that 'man does not live by bread alone.'"

In times of famine we reach out for Divine help, but that same source is easily forgotten in times of plenty.

As we begin our exploration of Torah together let me express my gratitude for this opportunity. We have all learned a great deal from Baruch's insights and it is somewhat daunting to follow him in writing for this site. Nevertheless, I am very excited to be able to explore the beauty and wisdom of Torah with you. So let us begin...

There are those who say that Judaism is all about food. Our holidays revolve around food or lack thereof, food is central to the identity of the least religious among us, and we have countless jokes that center on eating.

Reading this week’s parasha you might be inclined to agree that we are food obsessed. Toward the very beginning, in Deuteronomy 8:3, we are told that God "subjected you to the hardship of hunger and then gave you manna to eat, which neither you nor your fathers had ever known, in order to teach you that man does not live on bread alone, but that man may live on anything that Adonai decrees." We are reminded of this as we stand on the threshold of the Promised Land, a place that is described as "a land of wheat and barley, of vines, figs, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey; a land where you may eat food without stint, where you will lack nothing…" (Deut. 8:8-9) We are also told of the proper etiquette related to food in the very next verse (8:10): "When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to Adonai your God for the good land which God has given you." This last verse forms the basis of the Birkat Hamazon the traditional Grace after Meals that is the topic of a previous Parashat Hashavua.

The manna that God fed us in the desert has been the subject of much speculation. According to the great Israeli scholar Nechama Leibowitz, manna itself was a test:

"We may detect, however, in the wording of the text, that the trial had nothing to do with the instructions governing the manna but with the actual enjoyment of the Heavenly food. The life of luxury and ease they would enjoy in virtue of the manna would constitute the greatest trial of all … would the Israelites continue to fear God and keep His commandments in times of prosperity?"

Perhaps that is why we need the reminder to thank God for our food even once we have entered the land of plenty. But that's not the end of the issue. In the very next chapter, Moses describes his tribulations on our behalf in the context of food. First he recalls his time on the Mount Sinai getting the Ten Commandments:

"I had ascended the mountain to receive the tablets of stone, the Tablets of the Covenant that Adonai had made with you, and I stayed on the mountain forty days and forty nights, eating no bread and drinking no water." (Deut. 9:9)

This is followed by his recollection of what takes place after the incident of the Golden Calf:

"I threw myself down before Adonai — eating no bread and drinking no water forty days and forty nights, as before — because of the great wrong you had committed, doing what displeased Adonai and vexing God." (Deut. 9:18)

It seems that if God bonds with us through food, the bond with Moses is through fasting. The examples presented in our parasha are the extremes. In forty days on the mountain, Moses neither eats nor drinks, yet during his experience of revelation he is as close as is humanly possible to the Divine. In forty years of wandering in the wilderness, our basic needs are met on a daily basis. As with Moses on Mount Sinai, we too had a regular encounter with the Divine, through God's take-out service, the specialty of the house being manna. At a time when there was the possibility of thirst and famine, we experienced God daily. Now, on the edge of a land "flowing with milk and honey" (Deut. 11:8) there is Divine anxiety that we will forget that bonding experience symbolized by food.

Food and bonding go together in the human experience. Think of it this way: A parent feeding a child provides more than nutrition. There is nurturing that takes place in our earliest mealtime relationships. Experts remind us of the importance of family meals. As we mature we discover the joys of a romantic dinner for two. All of these fulfill our craving for community, consumption, and companionship.

But Ekev exposes a hazard that can be the outcome of the overabundance of food our ancestors would enjoy in the land of Israel. There is a danger that comes with too much of a good thing. In times of famine we reach out for Divine help, but that same source is easily forgotten in times of plenty. Writing in Eat and Be Satisfied, John Cooper quotes a medieval French document cautioning that "gross overeating is as dangerous to the body as a sword, besides that it bars one from occupation with the law of God and the reverence due to him."

To put it in modern terms, a recent Time Magazine article called "How the World Eats" (June 11, 2007) notes that as economies expand, family meal time decreases. Countries where families once gathered for two meals a day are now experiencing a shift to one shared meal. North Americans are lucky to have a few family meals a week, let alone on a daily basis. And how often is God a guest at the dinner table?

The blessing of bounty thus carries with it the curse of complacency. This is the greatest danger our ancestors faced as they prepared to set foot in the land flowing with milk and honey. This is the danger we face today. The more we have, the more we take for granted – be it possessions, people or God. Ekev reminds us that food in Judaism goes beyond nourishment, it nurtures relationships; more than simple nutrition for the body, it truly is soul food.

Shabbat shalom,
MS