D’Var Torah By: Rabbi Sari Laufer

The classic refrain of the modern family road trip, “Are we there yet?”, can be heard implicitly in the ancient words of Parashah Eikev. While the text has moved past its initial step by step travelogue, no longer intent on reminding us of each and every pit stop, we are not yet ready to put the journey behind us. Like so much of Deuteronomy, Eikev lives between the past, present, and future. Most of the parashah focuses on imagining life in the Promised Land while also warning the people about the dangers-both physical and spiritual-that lurk there. Yet Moses is not willing to let go of the past, particularly wandering in the wilderness for 40 years. It seems to be a reminder, even implicitly, that the Torah is a desert document; these years were not wasted, but worthwhile. Take, for example, Deuteronomy 8:2, which teaches:
“Remember the long way that your God has made you travel in the wilderness these past 40 years, in order to test you by hardships to learn what was in your hearts: whether you would keep the Divine Commandments or not.”
This is an echo of an earlier text; soon after the Israelites flee Egypt, the Torah teaches us that God did not lead the Israelites “by way of the Land of the Pelishtim, although it was nearer, for God said, ‘If they encounter war, the people may have a change of heart and return to Egypt.'” (Exodus 13:17-18). There are clues — and sometimes explicit statements–throughout the Torah that the generation of Egypt is not going to be the generation to enter the Promised Land. The reasons are myriad: because of the sin of the Golden Calf; because of the doubt of the spies; because of the natural aging process; or, the reason suggested here, the Israelites who came out of Egypt were not ready to enter the Promised Land. That generation needed spiritual and emotional development. This is, perhaps the most important teaching; we cannot enter the Promised Land without transformation. And so–we spent 40 years wandering a distance that scholars suggest is about 613 kilometers. With each and every step, with each stop and each twist, and with each argument and song, we moved farther from who we were and closer to what we might become. The Mekhilta is an early third century midrashic work written in the land of Israel. In explaining this moment and, perhaps, the earlier quote from Exodus, this text suggests:
“God said ‘If I take them to the Land of Israel now, everyone will immediately involve themselves with their field or vineyard and they will pay no attention to Torah! Instead, I will take them through the wilderness. They will eat the manna and drink water from the miraculous well and the Torah will become absorbed within their body.'”
The first transformation of the desert is one that teaches us that no longer will we be reliant on an outside source for our very sustenance; we are no longer subject to the slave mentality. But the second transformation is the one that prepares us for life in the Promised Land. We must learn that the things that nurture our souls and sustain our existence may come from God–but they are found within our hearts and bodies. This, the midrash suggests, is the transformation God is looking for, both from us as a nation and as individuals. This is the work of the years in the desert. This is Moses’s reminder in Deuteronomy: There is no short distance between points A and B. It is the twists and turns in life that shape us into who we need to be.