Ha'azinu (Deuteronomy 32:1-32:52)
OVERVIEW
Parashat Ha'azinu is the last parashah in the annual cycle of Torah readings that has a Shabbat to itself. The final parashah, V'zot HaBrachah, is only read on Simhat Torah. Ha'azinu contains Moses' final words to the Israelites - delivered as a powerful poem or song recalling the people's sacred history since the Exodus from Egypt, and warning the Israelites in the strongest terms not to stray from the path that God has commanded. This is one of only two songs in the Torah attributed to Moses, the other being the Song at the Sea in parashah Beshallach. At the end of the parshah, God tells Moses to ascend to the top of Mount Nebo, where he will die. But while God allows Moses to see throughout the Land of Israel from the top of the mountain, it is reiterated that Moses will not be able to enter the Land since he "broke faith with Me."
IN FOCUS
Give ear, oh heavens, let me speak; let the world hear the words I utter! (Deuteronomy 32:1)
PSHAT
This opening line of the song is classic prophetic language, and Moses most fully emerges as a prophetic voice in this song. Moses is not only speaking to the People of Israel, who are his direct audience, but his words are of such great importance, that they are aimed at the totality of heaven and earth. Moses is calling on the entire universe as witness to the truth of what he is about to declare.
DRASH
A few years ago, newspapers covered the story of a couple who were discovered in the Brazilian Rainforest who spoke a language which was not previously known or recorded. They where referred to by Brazil’s Indian-protection agency as "isolated Indians" - that is, natives who live in remote corners of the Brazilian Amazon and who have had no contact with modern society. Apparently, dozens of these isolated peoples have been discovered over the past few years, and the policy has been to just leave them alone and to avoid "tainting" their culture and way of life by undue contact with modernity. But, in this case, the situation was different. The land on which this couple lived was privately owned, and, as much of the Rainforest, it was steadily being stripped away by farmers, ranchers and loggers. Eventually, the couple's home would be burned or bulldozed. The best the protection agency could do was move them off their ancient land and resettle the couple to a reservation on the edge of a city.
This is a sad tale. The last of a people and the death of their culture. The members of a people who have been around for thousands of years, this couple were the last of their tribe. An ancient people who have always been tied to their land, they have now been so encroached upon that they have come to the end of their line. With them, their history ends.
This is certainly not the first time that this has happened, nor, I am sure, will it be the last. One can only imagine how this couple must have felt or whether they were actually aware of their impending extinction. Who knows what their past possessed? After they are gone, no one will ever know.
Rabbi Pinchas Peli (z"l), in his commentary on this week's parashah, suggested that it is better to be the "first" rather than the "last" of a distinguished genealogical line. The Jewish people are a people who have, thank God, managed to endure, although sometimes it seems miraculous. We are a people who are also tied to a land, and our land has been expropriated from us on numerous occasions. We have managed to survive, and re-establish our presence in our land time and time again. But we have never been an "isolated" people. We have had to move out into the world and wander from place to place. We have learned from our experiences there, and learned how to live with others.
And, most importantly, no matter where we have gone, we have always taken our past with us. This is probably the secret of our survival. We have not been only been tied to a land, but to a history as well, and to the texts and records of our past. No matter how much we have been threatened, by knowing our past, and by teaching it to our children, we have guaranteed ourselves a future.
Moses, our great teacher, clearly understood the importance of history. That is why he spent all of his final days and hours and minutes trying to teach the children of Israel - who were about to enter into their own land for the first time as a people - about their past. He wanted to guarantee that they would have a future.
Sifre, a midrashic commentary, says about this weeks’ parashah: "This song is great, for it pertains to the present, the past and the future." It is sad to know that there, in the Amazon, is the remnant of a people who have all but disappeared. I certainly hope some linguist or anthropologist got to these last representatives of who , I am sure, were a distinguished people, and recorded some of this people’s history before they disappeared for good. At least then someone, even if it not one of them, will be able to tell their story.
As Moses taught us in Ha'azinu, it is important that we tell our story, to our children and to ourselves, and to anyone else who will listen. That way we will guarantee our future; that way we will never become the last of a distinguished people.
DAVAR AHER
May my discourse come down as the rain... (Deuteronomy 32:2)
The hallowed words of the Torah may be likened to rain. While the rain falls we still cannot see the benefit it brings to the trees, the plants, and the soil. It is only later, when the sun shines again, that we can see what the rain has wrought. We find the same to be true with regard to the words of the Torah. While they are uttered, we still cannot see what they will accomplish on earth, but, in the end, all will know what they have wrought. (Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Przysucha).
