Pillars of Strength

Pillars of Strength

D’var Torah for Parashat Eikev

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

There’s something magic about that dusty, ancient land they call Israel.  It casts its spell on you even as you complain about the heat and the humidity and about the impassioned people who live on it.  It’s not easy to live there, taking it all in day after day, year after year, and yet the energy never lags.  The children grow up secure about themselves, knowing they’re loved, knowing they can freely love back.  For all the disgruntled people that recall better, more idyllic days, there are also those willing to take on the task and carry it forward.  And for all the pushy people who don’t believe in standing in line, there are those for whom courtesy is natural, who are willing to extend a helping hand with a smile, for whom doing what is right comes easily, simply.

The food, quite frankly, is amazing.  Fruit, vegetable, fowl, fish, meat of all sorts, colors and varieties.  The baked goods are incredible.  Truly a land flowing with milk and honey.  Cooking is the latest passion in Israel, and chefs are the new superstars.  And though, for the first time since 1992, none of the Israel Olympics team won a medal in this year’s games, Israel is crazy about sports.  Especially soccer.

Yes, Israel does have its problems, both internal and external.  All are vital, even existential.  There’s the widening social and economic gulf between the poor and the super rich.  There’s the deep divide between the ultra-Orthodox and the secularists.  Israelis pay 8 dollars a gallon for gas, and there’s a growing Africa refugee problem and an ever-growing illegal immigrant quandary.

And of course there’s the enemy at the gate:  Hamas, Hezbollah, the Moslem Brotherhood.  Iran.

You wake up in the morning and don’t even know where to look first.  Maybe that’s why so many Jews start the day with prayers.  Focus.  Breathe.  Center yourself.

For many—both in Israel and abroad—this miracle of Israel’s rebirth and surge is something they take for granted.  For the older generation, however, it is nothing of the sort.  They remember what the Jews looked like before there was Israel. 

It’s hard to comprehend what a huge transformation has taken place here.  Yet this isn’t the first time, it’s happened, only the latest.  This week’s Torah portion, Eikev (Deuteronomy 7:12—11:25), is one of the earliest descriptions of Israel’s makeover. 

In the title of the portion, the Hebrew word eikev means “as a consequence.”  The root letters of the word, however, denote several other meanings.   They also constitute Jacob’s Hebrew name, Ya’akov.  In the book of Genesis, the explanation for the name is that at birth, Jacob was holding on to the heel (‘akeiv) of his twin brother, Esau.  Later in the story, Esau complains that Jacob had supplanted him (va-ya’ak’veini), jumping from follower to leader.  It’s an accurate description of the change in the brothers’ relationship, and Esau is right to protest:  this head-over-heels swap came about as a result of guile and cheating.

One could rationalize Jacob’s actions as those of a survivalist.  He had plenty of time to observe the relationship between Esau and their father, Isaac.  Jacob was Rebecca’s favorite, but Esau was Isaac’s.  Jacob understood what that meant:  Esau would receive the primogeniture, the right of the first-born to inherit the father’s entire estate.  It wasn’t so much that Esau was a hunter—a killer by nature.  There would, at least, be food.  However, Jacob was keenly aware of Esau’s fatal flaw:  his brother wasn’t in the least concerned with the future.  In fact, Esau couldn’t see past his own instant gratification.  In agreeing to sell his entire birthright for a cup of soup, Esau proved that he was incapable of taking care of the estate—and of his brother.  And so Jacob did what he had to:  He plotted and won—by subterfuge and dishonesty.  Jacob, at this point in the story, is less than an honorable person.

Yet a different route to victory and success is presented in this week’s parasha, Eikev.  “Upon the heels” becomes “as a consequence.”  It will be as a result of following God’s laws that Jacob—Israel—will assure its survival.  Esau’s strength was dependant on physical food—the soup that Jacob cooked.  This week, in Deuteronomy 8:3, we read, “Man does not live by bread alone.”  It’s God’s words that determine our life and its outcome, that instill within us honor, content and meaning. 

In our cyclical reading of the Torah, the story of Israel’s ancient past is about to conclude, and it’s time for the lesson, for the moral of the story.  The real difference between a follower and a leader isn’t so much a factor of physical strength.  It’s in the understanding that actions have consequences.  As a youth, Jacob understood that intrinsically, but he needed the rest of his life to appreciate the full meaning of the concept.  In this week’s portion, it’s our turn—Jacob’s progeny—to be taught this moral.  Our history of survival proves that we internalized it.

Though physical strength is not to be discounted, it’s our spiritual might that keeps us surging ahead.  Parashat Eikev teaches us that, if nothing else, our tests and trials have strengthened us by teaching us to rely on God.  Maybe we pray not only to stay focused, but to keep this connection going.  Maybe we follow God’s commandments not only because they make us better, but because they are the true source of Israel’s strength.  Through them, we are taught to understand that actions have consequences, and that success in life depends on our thinking ahead, on our looking beyond our daily bread and immediate gratification, on being ten steps ahead of anyone else.

The dangers that Israel faces today are enough to make a strong man’s knees quake.  But what I fear is not the threats of bombs and missiles, but rather that we take our strength for granted, that we forget to learn—and teach—the lesson of this week’s portion:  That prayer, acts of kindness and the study of Torah are the real pillars of Israel’s strength, since they are the way to God’s heart.

© 2012 by Boaz D. Heilman