Devarim
Deuteronomy 1:1-3:22
Isaiah 1:1-1:27
If you were told you could give one last message to your loved ones, what would you tell them? What would you want them to remember from your life — the lessons you learned, the memories you hold most dear, your hopes fulfilled and for the future? What have you experienced that you want to share with others?
That is the challenge that confronts Moses in this week’s Torah portion: What can he tell his people that will guide them through the years and travels ahead? We begin the reading of retrospectives discourses by Moses that repeat much of what has come before in the Torah. The entire book of Deuteronomy, starting with this portion, consists of his farewell message.
Moses spoke to the Children of Israel. His message on this occasion was both harsh and loving. He reminds them of where they had fallen short of the standards of the Torah. The Midrash of Deuteronomy Rabbah tells us that God instructs Moses that since the Israelites have accepted his rebuking of them, it is time to remember his other responsibilities as a leader, and now it is his turn to bless them. And so out of love he chastises but does so in order to help those he has led grow and take responsibility for their actions.
Since almost none of us do not have the awesome responsibilities or opportunities that Moses did, it is rare for people like us to know that the time has come to say what should be said — and to have something to say, as well as the courage to say it. What if we were able to know which is the last day that we will ever see someone? Some of us don’t take advantage of an opportunity to say what is in our hearts. It may not be easy to get started … but it is so good to do — good for those who speak and for those who hear.
Moses prepared what today we might call an ethical will. The Jewish custom of writing directions for the religious and secular guidance of those you love can be traced back to the 12th century. Until fairly recently it was long overlooked by contemporary Jews. Preparing an ethical will gives the writer an opportunity to think about what is really important and then to tell their loved ones what they hope will live on after them.
One powerful example was written by Sam Levenson, a Jewish humorist who was popular in the 1950s and ’60s. He titled it “Ethical Will and Testament to His Grandchildren, and to Children Everywhere,” and here are parts of it:
I leave you my unpaid debts. They are my greatest assets. Everything I own — I owe.
To America I owe a debt for the opportunity it gave me to be free and to be me.
To my parents I owe America. They gave it to me and I leave it to you. Take good care of it.
To the Biblical tradition I owe the belief that man does not live by bread alone, nor does he live alone at all. This is also the democratic tradition. Preserve it.
To the 6 million of my people and to the 30 million other humans who died because of man’s inhumanity to man, I owe a vow that it must never happen again.
I leave you not everything I never had, but everything I had in my lifetime: a good family, respect for learning, compassion for my fellow man, and some four-letter words for all occasions: words like “help,” “give,” “care,” “feel” and “love.”
And I leave you the years I should like to have lived so that I might possibly see whether your generation will bring more love and peace to the world than ours did. I not only hope you will. I pray that you will.
Signed, Grandpa Sam Levenson.
There are many ways to think about what it most important and to make it last. Ethical wills are one way to send a message into the future. Another is to take stock in the present about what we hold most dear. Either way, it is important to not put off such important tasks and get started on them right away.
Rabbi Larry Raphael is the senior rabbi of Congregation Sherith Israel in San Francisco.