As for every holiday and special occasion that coincides with Shabbat, there are special readings for this Shabbat too, the Sabbath of Sukkot. Yet somehow, the Torah portion that should be studied this week, V’zot Habracha (“This Is the Blessing”) gets relegated to a midweek celebration—Simchat Torah—when it will be read in conjunction with the opening verses of the Torah. Between the dancing, however, the festive mood, and the fact that everybody in the congregation—including children!—traditionally gets an “aliyah” (the opportunity to say the Torah blessings) on that occasion, V’zot Habracha, the final parasha of the Torah, rarely gets the in-depth study and review that it deserves.
Yet its beauty is breathtaking. Its vision, both literally and spiritually, is magnificent. It is, after all, the last portion of the whole Torah. It is the summing up, the bridge into the future. The whole of Deuteronomy speaks of the transition of the Exodus generation of Israelites to the new generation, who, led by Joshua, will enter the Promised Land. This portion, then, represents the arch through which the People of Israel go through as they turn from the promise to its fulfillment. V’zot Habracha is not unlike a magical looking glass; we see ourselves reflected in it—the people dusty and worn by our wanderings in the wilderness—but even as we gaze, we see ourselves transformed, changing before our very eyes into what we are about to become.
In content, this portion mirrors the concluding parasha of the book of Genesis, the first book of the Torah. There, as he lies dying, Jacob blesses his children, telling them of their future struggles and promises. Now, a full era forward, Moses is about to die, and just as he is given a vision of the land his descendants will inhabit, so he gives them a glimpse of their future.
The difference between the two central figures of these stories—Jacob and Moses—becomes clear through the parallels. Jacob sees a family; Moses sees a people. From a group of squabbling children, they have matured and become transformed into one people. Jacob cannot bring himself to forgive Levi, for example. His third son was, after all (along with his older brother Shimon) responsible for the horrible massacre at Shechem. But 400 years plus later, the tribe that descended from that violent man learned to transform their passion, to change their fierceness into zeal. Moses does not forget their basic nature, but his blessing to them is that they be able to transform this vehemence into love. They are to become priests and teachers, reminding anyone who will listen of the difference between the two aspects of human nature, and how everyone can transcend the basic, animalistic nature within them into something more exalted and sacred. From sons of Levi, they have become Levites.
Jacob recognizes the leadership potential in Judah. Generations down, Moses acknowledges that strength, but at the same time he sees the dangers that can result from too much power being concentrated in any one group. It isn’t only the tyrannical nature of the beast that such dominance brings out, but also an exaggerated belief in a one’s own might. Moses’s blessing is that Judah learn to recognize the true source of his strength—God. This blessing is good not only to temper one’s belief in oneself, but also to bolster confidence at times of trouble. “Hear O Lord, the voice of Judah; bring him in unto his people…You shall be a help against his adversaries.” Throughout the millennia of our existence, this has been at the core of Jewish survival: Even kings were not above the law; one people under God. Judah’s strength has always been there, but it was God who enabled it, God who controlled it. The connection to God was always there, too: It was in our prayer, embedded in Moses’s blessing: Sh’ma Adonai—“Hear, O Lord, Judah’s voice.”
And so it is with the other tribes as well. Each one has its own strength. Through the centuries, however, what they have learned is to live together. Supporting one another is what turned the tribes into one nation. Moses, who saw this transformation, is filled with hope and confidence. Granted a glimpse of the future, he sees the trials and tribulations that lie ahead in Israel’s future. Yet he also sees their eventual triumph: “Happy are thou, O Israel; who is like unto thee? A people saved by Adonai, the shield of thy help and the sword of thy excellence!” (Deut. 33:29).
“Who is like unto thee?” “Mi chamocha!” these are very words with which Moses sings God’s praise immediately after the exodus from Egypt. Now these words are used to describe God’s people. The connection is magnificent and telling. The eternity of God is the wellspring of our own historical and cultural achievement. It is from this source that we draw blessing.
As the Book of the Torah reaches its final verses, Moses can finally let go. He has taught his people well, and now it is our turn. He has given us the Torah to learn, to cherish, to live by. He has now turned it over to Joshua, his own disciple, with the instruction that it be passed down through the generations. Torah tziva lanu Moshe—“Moses commanded us a law, an inheritance of the congregation of Jacob” (Deut. 29:4), one of the first verses from the Torah that is ever taught little Jewish children. The melody of this line still rings in our ears, never forgotten even well into old age. It is more than our inheritance. It is our legacy. It is the source of our life, our strength, our existence. It is indeed our Eitz chayim, our “tree of life.”
Next week: back to the beginning. Genesis once again. Children, let us learn.
Thank God.
©2010 Boaz D. Heilman
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