鲸鱼传媒

Parashat 贬补鈥檃锄颈苍耻 (Deuteronomy 32:1-52)

In Parashat 贬补鈥檃锄颈苍耻, Moses delivers a poetic final address to the Israelites, centering on the story of their relationship with God. At first glance, this poem is alarming to read.

It begins innocuously, with flowery descriptions 鈥� hopes for Moses鈥� words to trickle like dew and drop like rain (Deuteronomy, 32:2). The poem proclaims God’s perfection and wholeness. But in an instant, this wholeness becomes a foil to Israel鈥檚 inadequacy.

While God is 爪址讚旨执芝讬拽 讜职讬指砖讈指謻专 (righteous and upright), his children are described as 注执拽旨值謻砖讈 讜旨驻职转址诇职转旨止纸诇 (crooked and twisted) (Deut., 32:3-4). And the inadequacy doesn鈥檛 stop there. Throughout Moses鈥檚 address, the people of Israel are chastised for forsaking God, worshipping other entities, and neglecting and forgetting the One who created them. They are called 鈥渃hildren one cannot trust,鈥� and even deemed unwise (Deut., 32:20). The speech emphasizes how they have strayed and disobeyed.

One cannot help but ask: why is this Moses鈥檚 final address to his community? After a Torah鈥檚 worth of beautiful, brutal, multi-faceted relationship between God and Israel, why is this the note that Moses wants to leave them on? And, I wonder, what should we make of this parasha arriving right after the Yamim Noraim?

The other day, I spoke to a friend who was simmering with frustration. 鈥淚 keep telling my mom to stop, especially now that I鈥檓 an adult, but she won鈥檛!鈥� she said. 鈥淚 love you, I love you, I love you, every other sentence 鈥� it鈥檚 relentless!鈥� As long as she could remember, her mother would shower her with these words 鈥� along with how 鈥渁mazing and perfect and flawless鈥� she was 鈥� until they began to lose their meaning.

My friend knows she is wonderful, but like all humans, she is not perfect. She is well aware of her own struggles and shortcomings; the times she messed up, that compound to make her who she is. And so, every time she received this barrage of compliments from her mother, she did not feel seen as herself. In not feeling truly seen for the specific, flawed person that she is, she could not feel the meaning of these words. They felt like a template, overly general 鈥� perhaps meant for someone else.

I couldn鈥檛 help but think of the comedy Long Story Short, which captures snapshots of a Jewish family from childhood through adulthood. In it, the mother greets her children with suffocating hugs and kisses. 鈥淚 LOVE YOU I LOVE I LOVE YOU, SAY IT BACK!鈥� she blares into their ears each time they come into contact. By the time her children grow up, they are virtually unable to utter those words. 鈥淵ou know?鈥� they say to each other instead, upon ending a phone call. 鈥淚 know.鈥�

I think of these instances, where being showered with words of love and affection had the opposite effect on the recipient. And suddenly, Moses鈥檚 song takes on a whole new meaning. In this song鈥檚 perspective, God knew all of our sins, our flaws, our worst intentions, our non-trustworthiness, our messiness; in short 鈥� our humanness.

The words of verse 10 make this clear: 讬职住止讘职讘侄謾谞职讛讜旨謾 讬职讘郑讜止谞职谞值謹讛讜旨 讬执爪旨职专侄謻谞职讛
Using Yaakov as a metaphor for the people of Israel, God 鈥渟urrounded him, understood him, and guarded him.鈥�

These three words emphasize that God truly witnessed us; paid close attention to us, and understood who we were. With all of our imperfections.

And yet, God still chooses us; claims us as God鈥檚 people.

Over these Yamim Noraim we have experienced many different versions of God, including King, Judge, and Creator. And in 贬补鈥檃锄颈苍耻, we get glimpses of God as a protective parent. 鈥淟ike an eagle protecting its nest, over its young birds鈥� he spread out his wings.鈥� (Deut. 32:11)

Moses urges his people not to take his words lightly, to keep this song with them and pass it down for generations. There must be something deeply essential here. While as a whole, Moses鈥檚 poem may be a bit harsh, within it lies a model for our relationships with God and one another: love from a place of specificity and understanding.

After all, is this not the kind of love we seek in our human relationships as well? A kind of love that pays attention, understands, and surrounds us. A kind of love that is honest, that recognizes our humanity and mistakes; holding the difficult with the beautiful.

Maybe this is the version of love that we so desperately need during these High Holidays. Not a God with a blank template; not a God who says we are flawless. But rather, a God who witnesses our best and worst parts 鈥� and chooses us anyway.

Gila Axelrod (she/they) is a second-year rabbinical student at 鲸鱼传媒. Before starting this journey, Gila was honored to serve as Editor in Chief of New Voices Magazine. After studying Jewish Thought and Sociology at JTS/Columbia, they went on to manage research programs at the Shalom Hartman Institute, create an LGBTQ+ Rosh Hodesh group, complete a year of service with Americorps, and run workshops on body acceptance. Gila loves to write and talk about grief, disability theory, neurodivergence, queerness, and how these topics can be understood through a Jewish lens. She lives in Cambridge with her girlfriend Hannah, and their beloved new puppy, Penny Babka.

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