Dedicated to my father, Alexander ben Rachel, with a prayer for his complete and speedy recovery—a refuah shleimah.

Part I. The Prayer That Changed the Future

Every year, as I read Parashat Va’etchanan, I return to the same question.

Why did Hashem refuse Moshe?

Before us stands the man whom the Torah itself describes as “the humblest of all people on the face of the earth.” He never sought power, glory, or honor for himself. He led the people of Israel out of Egypt, ascended Mount Sinai, received the Torah, endured forty years of their complaints, prayed for them again and again after their gravest failures, and remained faithful to his mission until the very end.

And now, with the Land of Israel almost within reach, Moshe turns to Hashem with a deeply personal request.

He asks for only one thing: to be allowed to cross the Jordan and enter the land toward which he had led the Jewish people throughout his life.

For thousands of years, this response has inspired countless interpretations. This year, however, one of them led me to see the parashah in an entirely new way.

I encountered it in Ohalei Yaakov, a collection of teachings by Rabbi Yaakov Friedman, the Husiatyn Rebbe. The title means “The Tents of Jacob” and echoes the famous words: “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel”—Ma tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishkenotecha Yisrael. The very title evokes the idea of a spiritual home that the Jewish people preserve and carry with them from one generation to the next.

As I read Ohalei Yaakov, I began to understand that the question of Va’etchanan is not only why Moshe was denied entry into the Land of Israel.

There is another question:

What did he leave behind?

The Husiatyn Rebbe explains that Hashem’s refusal was not merely a punishment. It contained Moshe’s final great act of service to his people. Had Moshe himself permanently established Israel in the Promised Land, the holiness of his achievement would have been so great that exile would have become impossible.

At first glance, this seems like the greatest blessing imaginable.

But the Husiatyn Rebbe asks us to look deeper.

Had exile become impossible, then after the people’s future sins, Divine judgment could not have fallen upon the Land or the Temple. It would have fallen upon the people themselves.

The possibility of exile became a tragedy, but also an expression of mercy. The people could lose the Land. The Temple could be destroyed. Yet the Jewish people themselves would continue to live—and with their survival, the possibility of return would remain.

Moshe did not enter the Land of Israel himself, but his final service secured a future for those who would come after him.

It was here that I noticed........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)