Haazinu: At the Boundary
This week’s parsha (the penultimate of the Five Books of Moses), like the upcoming holiday of Yom Kippur, explores boundaries and what happens when we hit up against them.
The Pain of the Edge
In this week’s parsha, like the last few weeks, Moses stands at the boundary of the Promised Land. God tells him to climb the mountain so he can see the land, but reminds Moses that he will die without entering it.
49 Go up this Mount Avarim [to] Mount Nebo, which is in the land of Moab, that is facing Jericho, and see the Land of Canaan, which I am giving to the children of Israel as a possession,
50 And die on the mountain upon which you are climbing and be gathered to your people, just as your brother Aaron died on Mount Hor and was gathered to his people…
52 For from afar, you will see the land, but you will not come there, to the land I am giving the children of Israel.
- Devarim: Chapter 32:49-50, 52
Although in the text itself, Moses is fairly passive regarding this news, the midrashim (commentaries) are full of his arguments pleading and begging to God to reverse this decree and let him “cross over” to the land that has been promised to the Israelites.
"Must I die now?” Moses says, “after all the trouble I have had with the people? I have beheld their sufferings; why should I not also behold their joys? Thou hast written in the Torah: 'At his day you will give him his hire' [Deut. xxiv. 15]; Why don’t you give me the reward of my toil?" (Yalḳ., Deut. 940; Midr. Peṭirat Mosheh, in Jellinek, l.c. i. 115-129).
God says, no.
Another midrash has Moses arguing that he will gladly serve Joshua, his successor, if only he is allowed to enter the land.
God, once again, says no.
After all his arguments fail, Moses finally breaks down into total grief:
“Moses took off his outer garment, rent his shirt, strewed dust upon his head, covered it like a mourner, and in this condition, betook himself to his tent amid tears and lamentations, saying: “woe to my feet that may not enter the land of Israel, woe to my hands that may not pluck of its fruits! Woe to my palate that may not taste the fruits of the land that flows with milk and honey!”
- Ginzberg, “The Legends of The Jews” Vol. III: Moses in the Wilderness
Moses’s despair and frustration are palpable. His agony is relatable. It is the same grief that we feel when we are forced against a boundary that will not give. We may feel the edges of these boundaries with the people that we love, but can never deeply know. We may feel the ache of not being able to “cross over” boundaries in our own heart and mind that feel rigid and impenetrable. Perhaps we feel the crushing pain of coming up against the largest boundary – life and death. We miss our loved ones on the other side of this divide and are unable to reach them once they leave us. We can feel our own powerlessness and grief in Moses’s, as he wails and protests against lines that he cannot cross, and a “reward” he will never receive.
Boundaries as a Gift
Given Moses’s agony, God’s refusal to let Moses cross appears cruel and resentful. And yet, God’s behavior towards Moses in the last few hours of Moses’s life is not angry or punishing – it is quite loving. Although God holds firm to his decree that Moses must die on the other side of the Jordan, midrash says that God gives Moses the death that Moses says he wants, peaceful in the manner of Aaron. In an act of utmost intimacy and care, the Divine kisses Moses as he takes his last breath and is the only one to bury Moses (more on this in next week’s email!). Why, then, does God deny Moses the reward he seeks if God’s love for Moses is so deep and obvious?
Sometimes, boundaries can be gifts. Certain types of boundaries – when we slam up against them – force us to come back to ourselves and actually spend time in the place we are trying to escape. Many of us have witnessed the damage inflicted by people in our lives with poor boundaries. These people do not respect the physical and/or emotional space of others, projecting and deflecting their problems onto other people. I have also been the person pathologically ignoring the boundaries of the people closest to me in an attempt to be close, leaving these people feeling unseen and sometimes manipulated. Remembering the boundary line between myself and others – even if it’s porous – serves as a way to take responsibility for my
own life. It helps me to see both myself and the people on the other side of my skin more clearly.
The upcoming holiday of Yom Kippur also highlights the gift of the boundary at the border of life and death. The quintessential Yom Kippur prayer, the Una Tanah Tokef, has the line, “On Rosh Hashanah will be inscribed and on Yom Kippur will be sealedhow many will pass from the earth and how many will be created; who will live and who will die. Who will die at his predestined time and who before his time.”
Nobody escapes death, and Yom Kippur asks us to wake up to that reality. Not because it is good to be morbid or morose, but because the boundary of the end of our life is a mirror that forces us to return to our life right here and now. As the Una Tanah Tokef notes at its conclusion, “But Returning (teshuvah), Prayer (tefilah), and Righteousness (tzedakah) modify the severe decree." Rehearsing death is the best shot we have at living our life honestly, deeply, and righteously
Moses wanted a “finish line” to his life. He loved the Israelites, he loved God, and he wanted to see the final place on their journey. By not letting Moses enter the Land, perhaps God was sending a message to Moses and to us that there is no finish line in life. There is no perfect, promised land where the journey ends. There are, of course, milestones, but the point of life is in the living. The point of the journey is in the journeying.
Learn more
jewishspirituality.org
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