A Message from Rabbi Weitzman

Dear Congregation Beth Emeth,

The opening word of this week's Torah portion is easy to pass over: V'haya eikev tishme'un—"Because you heed these laws..." (Deuteronomy 7:12). But the Torah chooses an unusual word. Instead of a more common word for "because," it uses eikev, a word that also means “heel”.

The rabbis couldn't resist the invitation. Some taught that eikev reminds us not to trample even the "small" mitzvot beneath our heels. Others understood it to mean that blessing comes in the wake of the lives we lead. Still others saw in the heel a symbol of humility, the lowest part of the body, yet the very foundation upon which we stand.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe offers a reading I find especially compelling. He suggests that Torah should reach all the way to our heels. Our relationship with God should not be reserved for the sanctuary, the High Holy Days, or an occasional moment of spiritual inspiration. It should extend into the least glamorous, least noticeable, most ordinary parts of our lives. The heel is not the most sensitive part of the body, but it is the part that carries us forward.

That image captures something essential about Judaism. Ours is not a tradition built around isolated moments of belief. It is a tradition of walking. The very word halachah, Jewish law, comes from the Hebrew root halach, to walk. Judaism asks not only what we believe, but how we walk through the world. How we speak to one another. How we spend our money. How we welcome strangers. How we care for those we love. How we pursue justice. How we practice gratitude.

One faithful step after another.

Those steps matter because they shape us. Judaism has always understood something we often forget: we don't perform mitzvot because we've already become holy people. We perform mitzvot in order to become holy people. Torah isn't simply trying to change what we think. It is trying to form who we are. Every blessing, every act of generosity, every moment of restraint, every word of compassion leaves its imprint on us. Character is cultivated through practice. We become, slowly and faithfully, what we repeatedly do.

Later in the portion, Moses recalls the gift of manna in the wilderness and reminds the people that human beings do not live by bread alone.

The rabbis ask an intriguing question: why didn't God simply provide enough manna for an entire year? Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai answers with a parable. A king supported his son with a year's worth of provisions, and the son visited his father only once a year. So the king began giving him what he needed every single day instead. Now the son returned to his father every day.

So too with the manna. Every morning, the Israelites had to gather what they needed for that day. Every morning, they remembered their dependence, their gratitude, and their relationship with God.

Perhaps that's the connection to eikev. Jewish life isn't sustained by one Yom Kippur that moves us to tears, one inspiring sermon, or one extraordinary act of generosity. It is sustained by daily practices that slowly shape who we become. The blessings we say. The kindness we offer. The forgiveness we choose. The justice we pursue. The Shabbat we welcome. The Torah we study. Again and again.

Torah asks something quieter of us than the dramatic turnaround. It asks for ordinary faithfulness. The steady footsteps of a life lived with purpose.

Maybe that's why this portion begins with a word that means both "because" and "heel." The holiest life is built not on giant leaps, but on the small, faithful steps that carry us, every day, toward God and toward one another. God didn't only give the Israelites enough manna for a day. God gave them a way of becoming, one day at a time.

May we pay attention to what is happening at our heels, to the quiet rhythms, repeated choices, and sacred practices that shape us into the people we are becoming. For it is there, in those ordinary steps, that we discover extraordinary meaning, draw closer to God, and help bring the world a little nearer to what it should be.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Greg Weitzman