Parasha Devarim

Rabbi Nicole Roberts - Senior Rabbi

North Shore Temple Emanuel, Chatswood NSW

D’varim

Many of our congregations’ children, teens, and emerging adults recently returned from Netzer Winter Camp, where they were surrounded by one of the greatest gifts known to humankind: friends.

According to interdisciplinary research, particularly by Harvard’s Human Flourishing program, friends can impact our physical, mental, and spiritual wellbeing, and our longevity.  According to Jewish tradition, friendship and social connection are among the most important things in life.  The Shehecheyanu blessing is traditionally recited when we encounter a friend whom we haven’t seen in over 30 days; its words thank God for “giving us life and sustaining us to reach this moment,” because when we’re apart from our friends, a part of us is weakened and we need strength from Beyond.

A different blessing is said when it’s been over one year since you’ve seen a friend: Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’Olam, M’chayei ha’meitim: “Blessed is God, Ruler of the Universe, who revives the dead!”  We needn’t believe this theologically, but our tradition clearly sees something life-giving in friendship.

This week’s parasha, Devarim, contains a verse (Deut. 1:12) which shares two words in common with the first verse of Eicha (Lam. 1:1)—the Book of Lamentations—that Jewish communities will chant on the commemorative day of Tisha b’Av, this Saturday night/Sunday:

The first word in common is eicha itself—a word meaning “how,” expressed in a devastating tone of disbelief, e.g., How is this possible?  In Lam. 1:1, the narrator asks how it is (eicha) that such devastation could happen.  In Deut. 1:12, Moshe asks how (eicha) in the world he is meant to bear the burden of leading such a troublesome and contentious group of people through the wilderness.

The second word in common takes different forms in each verse (Lam. 1:1 versus Deut. 1:12), but translates to “alone.”  In Lamentations, Jerusalem sits solitary, lonely (vadad), as her people have been exiled far away.  In Devarim, Moses buckles under the weight and loneliness of leadership, asking “How can I bear alone (l’vadi) your contentiousness, burdens, and quarrels?”

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks suggests that the common words in these verses indicate: that there is something agonising about being lonely; that Judaism is not a religion of solitary religious practices, but meant to be practiced in community; and that there is a strong message in Torah when God proclaims, after creating Adam, Lo tov heyot ha’adam l’vado—“It is not good for the human to be alone,” and then makes Adam a counterpart in Eve.  Social connection is vital.  This is one area where, the Harvard research shows, organised religion actually excels over solitary spiritual practices: we bring people together, in buildings, in parks, at camp, even on Zoom.  We stay connected, and this is, quite literally, life-giving – for people at any age and stage of life.

So our sages teach in The Mishnah’s Pirke Avot (2:4), Al tifros min ha’tzibbur—“Don’t separate yourself from the community.”  They teach us to pray for those who are ill “among all the sick of Israel” and to mourn alongside “the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.”  At the times we feel most vulnerable and alone, the tradition reminds us that we are actually part of an extensive community.  What an insightful gift.

Of course, it’s important to be able to be alone and sit with yourself in quiet solitude from time to time—to find ways to enjoy your own company, and hear yourself think.  But spending time with someone else created b’tzelem Elohim—in the likeness of God—is a gift that our religion embraces wholeheartedly and encourages.  Its ancient wisdom echoes down through the generations.

Shabbat shalom.