Eikev
Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25
Isaiah 49:14-51:3
Last month I accompanied my son to the drop-off point as he was heading for his summer camp. I stood there waiting with him, trying to think of what words of wisdom I could impart to him (take care; don’t get in trouble; did you pack everything; watch for bears; don’t forget to write …). Then the image of Moses in Deuteronomy came into my mind: a parent to a people, eager to continue the journey with them, but fully aware that he is unable to do so, standing at the “bus stop” with very limited time and lots to share, teach, remind.
Among the many topics in the book and in this week’s parshah, Moses tells the people about the land they are about to enter: “For the land that you enter to inherit is not like the land of Egypt which you left….” (Deuteronomy 11:10). How is this land different?
Most of Egypt’s population lives along its river, and the land’s survival depends on it. The fields’ irrigation system is a masterful manmade structure of extensive dams and channels, that, when managed well, can provide year-round assurance for water. The Book of Deuteronomy describes Egypt as a green garden, easy to seed. But not so the land of Israel: “it is a land of mountains and valleys; you’ll have drinking water in accordance with its rainfall” (11:11).
Back when Joseph was in Egypt, before he rose to be second to the Pharaoh, there was famine in Israel, but there were grain and food in Egypt. Surely the Children of Israel, only a few generations apart, knew that. They were now leaving that security and making a huge transition. Up until now, they had a flowing river (in Egypt) and abundant wells (in the desert). Water was no problem. Food was OK too, even if boring at times. But from now on, water — and thus food — would depend on rainfall. And rainfall, so it turns out, would depend on the people’s relationship with God.
It is a “land that God cares for always; His eyes are on it from the beginning of the year till its end; And it shall come to pass, if you listen to my commandments…to love your God…I will give you rain in its season…and you shall gather your harvest…you will eat and be satisfied…” (11:12-13).
And what if they don’t listen? “There will be no rain, the earth won’t give its produce, and you will be dispersed from this good land that I give you” (11:17).
What? Isn’t this a bit much? How can anyone assure that a piece of dirt will reflect an eternal relationship between a people and their God?
And yet, the history of the land of Israel has been just that. While it was the “Land of Milk and Honey, for 1,800 years, the land became progressively desolate, ruled by renowned leaders who led successful empires, each with its own economy and relative technological advances. These rulers erected shrines, monasteries and forts all over the world. Writers of the 19th century describe it as a “forsaken place,” where the sun is blasting and there is no shade, where any greenery and clean water are extremely rare and the roads are dangerous because of beasts and bandits.
By the time the pioneers of the 19th and 20th centuries arrived, they found swamps, malaria, stagnant creeks, eroded hills and a few shrubs struggling for their existence. They couldn’t figure out why anyone would pray for that place. Indeed, only in recent decades did the Land of Milk and Honey once again regain its biblical reputation — in spite of the fact that it is still hot.
What’s our explanation for this unique phenomenon? Is it a coincidence? Perhaps a combination of determination and modernity? Or maybe an amazing love story?
Unlike Moses at one of our first “bus stops,” we have a span of centuries to look at this unique relationship, which today, just as back then, we’re still invited to share and enjoy.
Michal Kohane is the director of the Israel Center of the S.F.-based Jewish Community Federation. She has served in leadership roles throughout Northern California and holds advanced degrees in studies of Israel, psychology and education. She can be reached at [email protected].