vayelech
parasha vayelech, deuteronomy chapter 31
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and thoughts…
Vayelech
and he (Moshe) went out
It’s the last day of Moshe’s life. And he knows it. Can you imagine what it might feel like to know something like that? He’s not sick. In fact, he has the vigor and the wits of a young man. He’s simply been told to lie down and die. Because it’s his time.
I don’t know what I would do if I knew it was my last day. Eat all of my favorite foods? I like food… Just hang out with my kids and grandkids, the greatest joy of my life? If I know myself, I’d probably spend it cleaning my house like a maniac to make sure no one could say I was a bad housekeeper. Pretty lame, I know.
What does Moshe do? He goes out to the people. He gives them one last mitzvah, one last commandment to take the number from 612 to 613.
And I think it just might be the greatest commandment of all.
It’s the greatest commandment because, without it, all the others become moot.
There are actually two parts:
The first is Hachel—every seven years, the entire nation, from infants to the most aged, must gather to hear Torah read aloud by the king.
The second part is what the people are commanded to do with the Torah that they learn—
“Now write down this song and teach it to the Israelites.”
Unless we teach Torah to the next generation, the teachings of Torah will become moot.
And how does Moshe deliver this teaching? In a song.
Music is a fabulous vehicle for learning. When my kids were little and I wanted them to learn the household phone number (back when the phone was wired to the wall and was shared by the whole family), I saw they were struggling to remember all the numbers and in the right order. So, I put the number to a tune and I sang it to them. They still remember that number today, many, many decades later.
If you think about it, all of Torah is a song. It’s poetry, full of ambiguity and hidden meanings. If it had been written otherwise, laid out in in-your-face prose, it would be an historical document, not a living Torah. It would be a look into the past rather than a precious teaching that’s as relevant today as it was three thousand years ago. Because every generation sees new messages, new depths that pertain to their world in their time. Because it’s poetry, and poetry is like that.
We Jews are big on music, on songs. Most of our Service is sung or chanted, not just read. It’s the music that stirs the soul, the beat that mimics the beat of our hearts, the rhythm of the breath of the universe, that enables our souls and our minds to take in the words and make them our own.
Each of us is to write our own Torah. Our tradition teaches that everyone is to take part in the writing of a Torah scroll, by writing a letter, or by making a donation in return for which a scribe writes a letter or a word on their behalf.
But I think it means more than that. Each of us is to write our own Torah—to discover new meanings and new depths, and to teach them to the next generation, who will add their own understanding, their own harmony, to the heavenly choir, so that the Song of Torah is ever the eternal, living, Word of God.
So what shall we eat?
This is Shabbat Shuva, the Shabbat of Return, the Shabbat that falls between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We had a small army join us at table for Rosh Hashanah, but I cooked enough for a large army. We’ve been eating leftovers ever since. I definitely want something else for tonight. I’m also still recovering, energy-wize, so I want to keep it lavish but simple.
As is traditional for the season, there will be a round challah to dip in honey.
And I’m feeling like staying true to my roots.
Since I made a baked gefilte fish in a fish mold for the holiday (which was delicious), I want to do something different. I picked up some jars of Yehudah Gefilte Fish, the only brand in a jar that I like. I’m going to dip it in an egg wash, roll it in breadcrumbs, and serve it warm for a crunchy gefilte treat. There’s plenty of chicken soup remaining, and I’m going to switch it up by using it as the base for a bright tasting avgolemono soup.
A crisp and juicy Israeli salad will be refreshing and healthful. It’s hard to believe, but I’m a little chickened and brisketed out.
For a change of pace, I’m going to roast duck legs, thighs attached. I’ll season them with ras al hanout and roast them directly on an oven rack so that as the fat renders out it will drip into a pan of cut up potatoes—because few things are as fabulous as potatoes roasted in duck fat! I’ll put them into a pan pre-seasoned with a little salt, pepper, and smoked paprika.
The asparagus at my market looked very fresh and was on sale, so I’ll cook up some of that, as well, and serve it with capers and a mustard vinaigrette. You can use any vegetable that looks good and strikes your fancy.
As for dessert, I am not tired of the mountain of almond shofars, or the giant honey bee cake, or the bit of taiglach that has somehow managed to avoid my sticky fingers, so dessert is solved!
Easy peasy, and worthy of this special Shabbat.