Parshat Haazinu: Seeing is Believing

Generally speaking, the name for a Torah portion comes from one of the words in the opening verse of the reading. Sure, Noach and Yitro and Pinchas all have their title characters, but this is the general rule. And it is our task to try to find a connection between the general theme and the name of the parasha. Sometimes, however, the name of the Torah portion may, in fact, lead you in quite the opposite direction.

Today, we have quite the compelling opposite scenario. Our Torah portion this morning is Parshat Haazinu. Haazinu is the plural command “Listen up,” or, as the chumash in front of you translates, “Give ear,” from ozen. One might suggest then that the theme of this parashah is listening.

Certainly, we hear our dear master Moses, Moshe Rabenu, stand on his biblical soapbox and offer a strongly worded, 43-verse poem, detailing Israel’s unfaithfulness to God, and the consequences they will eventually suffer. And on the surface, it would make sense that listening, the idea of hearkening or heeding, might be the general theme of this Torah portion. But in truth, it is merely the distracting foreground. The key to this morning’s Torah portion is not the first word, but the very last line. For the essence of this morning’s Torah portion is not listening, but seeing.

We know following this morning’s reading that Moses, one of the greatest leaders of the Jewish people, if not the greatest, did not get to shepherd his flock into the Promised Land. And some suggest that this last line (Deuteronomy 32:52), “You will see the land from a distance, but you certainly cannot enter it,” was the wincing final blow of Moses’ ultimate punishment. You see, Moses led the people all the way to the land, but could not enter it with them.

But to see the land on top of that?! To bear witness to the land, which he could not enter?! Wouldn’t that be a little over-the-top even for God?

So then why would God let Moses see the land in the first place? God is not known for cruel and unusual punishment. The rabbis pegged God as an Enforcer, midah kneged midah – measure for measure. So if this is not an act of midat hadin, God’s punishing, judicial side, perhaps God brought Moses to see the land but not enter as a concession, out of God’s midat harachamim, God’s compassionate side.

Rashi, the premiere 11th century Torah sage from Troyes, France, understands this very same nuance in the text. Rashi suggests that the reason God showed Moses the Promised Land at this point of the story was that if Moses did not have the opportunity to see it specifically then, he would never have had the opportunity to see it again. In fact, Rashi adds emotion to the dialogue: God says, “but you shall not enter it, you shall not come there” – and Rashi adds the words in God’s mouth: “for I know that it is precious to you. This is why I say to you, ‘Go up and see!’”

Then perhaps this is exemplary of God’s sense of compassion and favor toward Moses. Moses had worked the majority of his life for God and by way of God—and God knew that. Even though, according to God (in the Torah), Moses had made one fatal mistake, which in turn keeps him out of the Promised Land, God still had compassion for Moses. Essentially, God allowed Moses to see the Promise, but not feel it. God let Moses see the Land, but not experience it. God basically tells Moses, “Not to worry, I will keep My word and bring your people into the land. You can now die in peace knowing that your life’s journey is complete. Sadly, Moses, you are not part of that plan.”

But then why go through with the punishment at all? Why not overturn the sentence?

There’s yet another reading of Rashi, a deeper reading into the Midat Harachamim understanding—and what I would suggest is the correct reading of the verse. God allowed Moses to see the Promised Land because God suspected that Moses had grown even more distrusting in his old age.

Think about the rant we read this morning. If Moses could not make it into the Promised Land because of his lack of faith and distrust during the Rock-and-Water incident at Merivah, then all-the-more-so, Moses had lost faith at this point. God knew Moses had lost faith. If the next stage is the Promised Land, God knew that Moses could not possibly just hear about it. Moses needed to see it to believe it. And so, in the end, God showed Moses the Promised Land.

This was not punishment—this was consolation. This was God’s understanding and meeting Moses where he was at the end of his life: weary and wary, tired and skeptical. God overturned the severity of the decree.

And thus it makes perfect sense that this is the Torah portion we read this day, a mere 36 hours after Ne’ilah. We’ve spent the better part of two weeks in Shul. Praying and Praying and Praying. Calling out to God. Crying out to God. Even with the apples and honey and intermittent shofar blasts on Rosh Hashanah, and even with the kittel and white garb on Yom Kippur, in the end, the day, all of the days of the Yamim Noraim, are abstract—entirely abstract. And now we’ve had enough with the “hearing.” We need the seeing. But we also need the feeling.

The High Holidays were our mountain to climb and now we sit atop waiting. Enter Sukkot. We shake the lulav, we smell the etrog, we build and rejoice and spend time in the Sukkah. In fact we are commanded, v’samachta b’chagekha, rejoice on your Chag. Be happy on Sukkot. But our souls are burnt out and we need the tangible. We are tired and weary, and maybe even skeptical, just like Moses. The only way for us to come to observe yet another stint of festival, the only way for us to even come close to the sheer and utter happiness that we are supposed to embody during Sukkot and upon which we are supposed to capitalize as we rejoice with these stories and these laws on Simchat Torah, is by seeing it—and of course, by feeling it.

It is no coincidence that Sukkot is the Second Act to the Yamim Noraim, for if we are to continue to experience God and rejoice as part of the process, then we need something that we can lock our eyes onto and focus our grips. We need to see the Promised Land and not just hear about it, and it is my prayer that Sukkot is that vision for all of us.