Eikev 5774

I always notice that it is summertime in Chicago when people start wearing flipflops. There are one or two members of our community who try to wear flipflops year-round, but I think that most people begin wearing more open shoewear in the early summer. And as that happens, I think it is a common experience for people’s feet to get a little dried up; and very commonly, people go through new pairs of flip flops every year or so.

You might think that something as mundane or trivial as this would be glossed over in the Torah. But sure enough, in this week’s parasha, Moshe, in the midst of describing the journey through the desert, exclaims: The clothes upon you did not wear out, nor did your feet swell these forty years." (Deuteronomy 8:4) Moshe identifies a miracle – after forty years of walking, wandering, travelling through the desert, not only did their clothing all remain fully intact, but their feet never swelled! Rashi, quoting a midrash, takes this one step further. He explains that the clouds of glory that helped them navigate through the desert was not only an ancient form of GPS – but that the clouds also washed their clothes and constantly made them feel like freshly laundered garments.

Another miracle that he identified is one that any parent could imagine – where did parents get new clothing for their children as they grew up in the desert? After all, there were no outlet malls in the desert! Sure enough, Rashi explains that as the children grew up, their clothes grew with them.

The Torah notices this otherwise mundane piece to help us develop appreciation for all of the little things that we have in our lives. This week’s parasha also tells us to be wary, lest we start telling ourselves, “I am so strong, I made all of this happen myself!” (Deuteronomy 8:17). Our parents have given us a strong upbringing, our friends offer us emotional support, and God gives us guidance through Torah and mitzvoth. Even when we do the smallest actions – laundering our clothing, or getting new flip flops, it is upon us to be thankful to family, friends, and God for allowing us to have all of these marvelous things that help us live our lives.


Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi David Russo

Eikev 5773

Eikev 5773

Judaism has a rich tradition of blessings. We have ways to thank God for everything from returning safely from a long journey to seeing a rainbow, and many religious Jews aim to utter 100 blessings every day. Parshat Ekev is the source of one of the most recognizable Jewish blessings: Birkat haMazon, the blessing after a meal. Blessing our food is not an exclusively Jewish concept, but the Torah tells us that "when you have eaten your fill, you shall bless the LORD your God for the good land that He has given you" (Deuteronomy 8:10)-- that is, we thank God after we have eaten. It is one thing to be grateful for our blessings when they are sitting in front of us, and to remind ourselves to give thanks when food is foremost on our minds, but it demands a higher level of awareness and gratitude to remain thankful when the meal has been consumed and we are ready to move on to other matters.

The text of Birkat haMazon presents some readers with a challenge, however. The problematic line reads: "I was young and have grown old, and I have not seen a righteous man forsaken with his children begging for bread." To insinuate that only the wicked have to worry about the origin of their next meal is problematic; many righteous people struggle to make ends meet. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, however, offers a reinterpretation of this line, saying that rather than, "I have not seen a righteous man forsaken," we should read, "I have not watched a righteous man forsaken." We cannot be bystanders who allow those less fortunate to fend for themselves. With this reading, the grace comes full circle: just as we began by thanking God for providing us with food, we conclude with an exhortation to act in a Godly way and provide for others.

Parshat Ekev tells us that the manna, the food God provided to the Israelites in the wilderness, was a test (Deut. 8:16). We also know that "man does not live by bread alone" (Deuteronomy 8:3), so perhaps the true test of the manna is this: if we eat our fill, we will be nourished in body, but if we watch the righteous man's children beg for bread, we will be spiritually starved. The same awareness that allows us to thank God for the food we have consumed must lead us to feed the hungry, thereby nourishing both others' bodies and our own souls.

Shabbat Shalom,
Meggie O’Dell
Rabbinic Intern