The Song of Torah
D’var Torah for
Parashat Nitzavim-Vayeilech
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
This week, on the Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah, we read a
double portion: Nitzavim (“Standing,”
Deut. 29:9—30:20) and Vayeilech (“He went,”
Deut. 31:1-30). With these chapters,
Moses sums up his teaching as he reaches the last days of his life. At 120 years (!) he is worn out and knows he
can no longer lead the Israelites.
Moreover, God has announced that Moses would not proceed with his
people, that he would not enter the Promised Land with them.
Moses has good reason to feel exhausted. It has been a long journey, full of challenge
and difficulty. Confidence has never
been his strong suit; yet, forty years earlier, with God at his side and with
his brother Aaron as spokesman, Moses stood before Pharaoh and refused to
cower. Through all the journeys in the
Sinai Wilderness, Moses continued to struggle, both with God and with the
Israelites. Now, at this supreme moment
in his life, he is not about to give in to either fatigue or discouragement. In
a supreme effort that shows how his faith and confidence have grown and
deepened through the intervening years, Moses summons up his strength to address
his people one last time.
Standing there, at the intersection of what has been and
what will yet come to pass, Moses has a vision.
With rare clarity he sees not only those people assembled and standing before
him at that moment, but also those who are not.
His gaze reaches beyond space and time as he foretells what he knows the
future will bring the Israelite people.
Moses’s vision of the future is dark. He knows that, once
settled in their Land, the Israelites will be tempted to follow other
gods. He can foresee that, time and
again, they will stray from God’s teachings and commandments. He tells the
people that they will suffer the consequences for their actions, that they will
be scattered among the nations, that they will be despised and reviled on all
their exiles.
Yet, he also knows, with a perfect faith, that God will take
the Israelites back in love and favor once they repent and return to God.
It will not happen automatically, however. Repentance requires action. It isn’t enough to just say, “I’m
sorry.” You have to prove it with your
deeds.
That’s why Moses commands that the Torah be written down,
that its commandments and regulations be taught and made as clear as can
possibly be. There’s nothing mysterious
about these words, Moses says. They are
not beyond reach or comprehension. But
they do have to be learned and, in turn, be taught and taught again. That’s how Israel’s future survival can be
guaranteed. The Torah becomes a
lifeline, keeping the people alive despite the difficulties they will
encounter. “Choose life,” Moses charges
us, “that you and your descendants may live” (Deut. 30:19).
Great leader that he is, however, Moses does not stop with this
instruction. He must demonstrate by example. And so, taking pen to paper, he proceeds to
write the whole Torah down himself, word by word.
Yet as he does so, as though by some magic or miracle, the
words take wing. The word Torah, meaning “teaching” or
“instruction” becomes Shira, meaning
“song.”
The dusty prose turns into polished, vibrant poetry: “Then Moses spoke in the hearing of all the
assembly of Israel the words of this song
unto completion” (Deut. 31:30).
What causes this great transformation?
It was an elevated moment, a moment of supreme exultation
for Moses. He was at the culmination of
life’s mission, and his love and complete embrace of God, Torah and Israel lift
him to greater heights than ever. The pen barely touches the paper, the ink
quivers as it settles lightly on the pages of the book. And it was at that exact moment,
emerging out of Moses’s great vision, that Torah, God and Israel all merged into
one eternal presence and became transformed into song.
More than three thousand years later, it’s a song we still
sing today. It’s the Song that is our
Torah.
© 2014 by Boaz D. Heilman
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