Vayelech is a beautiful, emotional parsha. Moshe says goodbye.
It starts, “Vayelech Moshe va’yedaber et ha’devarim ha’eleh el kol Yisrael.” And Moshe went and spoke these things to all of Israel.[1]
Moshe “went”?
In Nitzavim he’d just been addressing the entire nation. Where did everyone go? According to the Ramban, everyone went back to their tents after his last speech and Moshe walked from the Levite camp where he lived to the camp of the Israelites to address them. He did it “like one who wants to take leave of his friend and, as a sign of respect, he comes to receive permission from his friend to depart.”[2]
Moshe continues, “I am now one hundred and twenty years old. I can no longer be active.” Imagine the faces. The message here is easily understood – he’s going to leave them. Moshe has been their leader since they were born.
What Moshe says next is quite interesting. He doesn’t talk about all the things he did for them. He doesn’t remind them of their obligations. He says, “the Lord said to me, ‘You shall not go across yonder Jordan.’”
The first think he does is point out the biggest mistake since they’ve known him. The Torah is filled with imperfect people and here, Moshe, the greatest prophet of Israel points out his own imperfection. No leader will be perfect, no person can be perfect. Perhaps he’s apologizing for not being able to see them thru all the way. After all, he’d led them on a 40-year journey that he won’t be able to complete.
Or perhaps he is saying, “don’t worry – I wasn’t a perfect leader, so, don’t worry, everything will be okay when I’m gone.” He sets the stage well for every leader who would follow him.
They must be thinking, “who will lead us?” He continues, “The Lord your God Himself marches with you: He will not fail you or forsake you.” And then there’s Joshua. “Moshe calls Joshua and says to him in front of all Israel, ‘Be strong and resolute…the Lord Himself will go before you. He will be with you; He will not fail you or forsake you. Fear not and be not dismayed!’”
Moshe is the one that’s about to die. They don’t go to him – he goes to them. We don’t hear them comfort him. We hear him comfort them!
The next line that is translated differently in various places. In Hebrew it reads, “Va’yichtov Moshe et HaTorah ha’zot.” The Etz Hayim translates this as, “Moses wrote down this Teaching.” According to the commentary in Etz Hayim, the “Teaching” refers to Deuteronomy. The Ramban suggests that, when it says Torah, it means the entire Torah from the start of Bereishit until l’einei kol Yisrael, the last words of the Five Books of Moses. Everett Fox translates this as “You shall write down this Instruction…”
For the time being, I’ll stick with the Hebrew word, Torah. Moshe wrote the Torah “and gave it to the priests, sons of Levi, who carried the Ark of the Lord’s Covenant, and to all the elders of Israel.”
He then “instructed them as follows: Every seventh year, the year set for remission, as the Feast of Booths, when all Israel comes to appear before the Lord your God in the place that He will choose, you shall read this Torah aloud in the presence of all Israel.”
Our rabbis say that it say, “when all Israel comes to appear” because Sukkot was, o fall the holidays, the holiday that was best-attended in Jerusalem.
He continued, “Gather the people – men, women, children, and the strangers in your communities – that they may hear and so learn to revere the Lord your God and to observe faithfully every word of this Torah.”
The strangers are invited to attend. In Nitzavim ,the parsha right before Vayelech, the message of inclusiveness is clear.
Moshe starts the beginning of Nitzavim; “you stand this day, all of you, before the Lord your God – your tribal heads, your elders and your officials, all the men of Israel, your children, your wives, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer – to enter into the covenant of the Lord your God, which the Lord your God is concluding with you this day, with its sanctions, to the end that He may establish you this day as His people and be your God…”
From the woodchopper to the water drawer. However you define the Torah, you are welcome.
In Re’eh, it says about Sukkot, “You shall rejoice in your festival, with your son and daughter, your male and female slave, the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow in your communities.”
Clearly, there’s an emphasis both on strangers and Sukkot.
Sukkot often gets overshadowed by Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, since it follows them so closely. In fact, it is a perfect contrast to those holidays. Yom Kippur is a day of affliction spent inside of a building – Sukkot is a holiday of celebration spent outdoors. We’re commanded to have fun. To invite guests. It has contemporary relevance– it could be easily rebranded as Judaism’s green holiday – we are commanded to spend time outdoors in a roof made of what-was-once living things. A lot of stuff fits into a house, but not much stuff fits into a Sukkah – a Sukkah is a simple dwelling.
The other particular obligation on Sukkot is to gather four types of plants. Rabbi Rembaum spoke a couple of weeks ago about the humility human beings must have in God’s world; a world full of a variety of species. Sukkot embodies that idea; it’s a holiday spent in a humble place with plants that are all quite distinct.
We are reminded that nothing is permanent and that our stay in this world itself is short. We are travelers on this land, and while we’re here what are we supposed to do?
We are meant to learn – as we can tell from Moshe teaching the Torah – and to be with friends and family.
But how do we get people to come to our Sukkot?
Vayelech – Moshe went out. A few weeks ago, Rabbi Berenbaum spoke a bit about the success of Chabad. What an amazing job they’ve done. They’ve reached out to the corners of the world, creating a space that is a refuge for Jews. Furnished with folding tables and simple chairs, the rooms are filled with paper plated food and people happy to spend time with others.
Sukkot are, by definition, temporary, movable huts. I argue that the Conservative movement could make more about a holiday that focuses on nature, the outdoors, friendship and family. Chabad puts Chanukiahs in public places. What if we put up Sukkot in places where the homeless or the well-healed could both eat together. We can invite them in; but sometimes we have to go out.
This parsha begins is reminiscent of the Shma. “These words (devarim) which I command you today shall be upon your heart. Teach them to your children, speaking of them when you sit at home and, u-lechtech ba’derech, when you travel on the way, when you lie down and when you rise up.”
The story of the Torah and the story of our history remind us not to become too comfortable in one place. Avram went out, Moshe went out, the Torah is filled with journeys. We’re commanded to speak the words on the road because God knows we’ll be going out.
And sometimes, we don’t come back.
Maybe that’s why we read this parsha right before Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. Life is like a Sukkah. It’s temporary. Every year we are to approach God, ourselves and our deeds, and treat this as if it may be our last year. The Unetaneh Tokef reminds us of that.
But, at the end of his life, Moshe is reminding us that, while we’re here, we should fill it with Torah – instruction, teachings, morality; a respect for the God-given world, the people who are a part of our lives and the strangers who live among us.
As Moshe is about to die, God calls him and Joshua into the Tent of Meeting. It is here that God comforts Moshe, and recites the final poem of the Torah.
A tent of meeting. Sounds nice.
Shabbat shalom.
[1] Translation used is from Etz Hayim
[2] Artscroll Series: Ramban commentary on the Torah