Rabbi Leah R. Berkowitz
Parshat D’varim
This week we begin the last book of the Torah, which goes by two different names: Deuteronomy, or “second telling,” and D’varim, literally, “words.” This book contains a series of speeches — or perhaps one long speech spread out over several parshiyot — that Moses gives to the Israelites before they enter the Promised Land.
He will not be going with them, and he has a lot of wisdom to impart.
This long speech always reminds me of someone giving a speech at an event before the meal has been served. The Israelites must be champing at the bit to cross over into the Promised Land after 40 years of wandering, and Moses decides to wax nostalgic for 34 chapters.
But this isn’t simply a stroll down memory lane. It is a moment for reflection and revision.
Rabbi Yitz Greenberg points out that Moses’ retelling of the story does not always match earlier accounts of the same events. While scholars might attribute that difference to a change in authorship, Greenberg offers a different reason: “The looming end crystallizes for Moses what he can and must do before the end: to preserve the Jewish people. Instead of giving up and checking out of living, Moses decides to review his life and his teachings. He focuses on the Torah’s narrative and whether he taught it properly and applied its values correctly” (“Moses’ Narrative — And Ours,” Hadar, Parshat Devarim 5781).
By making slight adjustments to the narrative, Moses hopes to make sure that the story he tells aligns with the teachings he wants to impart to the Israelites before they enter the Promised Land without him. He recalls their battles, their triumphs and their losses, pointing out God’s generosity and protection during their time of wandering.
He emphasizes the importance of sharing the responsibilities of leadership. He calls them out on their constant kvetching and reminds them how they let fear and dread get the best of them in the incidents of the scouts.
While it may feel redundant — or revisionist — this retelling serves a larger purpose for both Moses and the Israelites, says Greenberg: “When he concludes that he has the narrative right, he is empowered to realize his mission: to teach that narrative to the next generation. He renews the covenant by bringing them in and opening the partnership to all who would join in the future.”
When I teach this parsha, I often ask my students to imagine: If you were Moses, having led the Israelites for these past 40-plus years, what wisdom would you want to impart to the Israelites? What aspects of the story would you particularly want them to remember? What might you want them to forget, or at least, remember differently?
We don’t necessarily have to imagine ourselves as Moses for this question to be relevant to us. There are junctures in our lives and in the lives of our communities when we might ask ourselves: What parts of this story do we most want to remember? What wisdom have we gathered from all our varied experiences that we want to remember and pass along to the next generation?
In the coming week, we will observe Tisha B’Av, in which we commemorate another major juncture in our people’s history: the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. This, too, was a moment when our people had to reshape the narrative to move forward. They had to choose how to understand this moment of rupture: Would it be the end of us as a people? Or the beginning of something new?
In that vein, Rabbi Jennifer Gubitz offers this teaching: “Sometimes the walls of life come falling down around us: but in time we pick up the pieces to rebuild. We pack and unpack the boxes of our lives, casting away what no longer serves us, while keeping with us enduring learnings of the story of a resilient people.” (“Grief, Weddings: Open First,” Lilith Magazine, July 14, 2021).
There are moments in our lives that call us to do as Moses did: to reshape and refine our narrative, to make sense of where we’ve been and where we hope to go. These moments call us to consider whether our next steps are in alignment with what matters, so that we can ensure that what we value is passed on to the next generation.
Sometimes, that means picking up the broken pieces and figuring out which of them will become part of what we build next.
Rabbi Leah Rachel Berkowitz serves on the faculty at the URJ 6 Points Creative Arts Academy, is a past president of the Women’s Rabbinic Network and is the author of four books for young people. The Board of Rabbis of Greater Philadelphia is proud to provide diverse perspectives on Torah commentary for the Jewish Exponent. The opinions expressed in this column are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the view of the Board of Rabbis.
