As Shared on Parshat Devarim
Human narratives, Torat Emet, and Gaza
We’ve reached the final book of the Torah. In this week’s parsha, Moses addresses the Israelites, looking back at their forty years in the wilderness and looking forward to their conquest of the land of Canaan. Unlike the previous books of the Torah, which are primarily narrated in the third person, much of Deuteronomy is Moses speaking in his own voice. In this accounting, there happen to be some discrepancies with previous parshiot – Moses takes credit for things that had been suggested to him by others in the book of Exodus. Occurrences from just the book prior, Bamidbar, are recounted differently. These things should not be very surprising to those of us who have reflected on the nature of human transmission – how often do we tell the same story, even about things that have happened to us, in the exact same way?
In our era of 24/7 news cycles, the phenomenon of multiple tellings of the same occurrence feels particularly familiar. Yet this challenge of changing narrative is not just salient in a postmodern world. Medieval commentators would highlight or try to reconcile contradictions internal to the Hebrew Bible.
When Moses says, in this week’s parsha, that he established a system of judges because “I cannot bear the burden of you by myself,” Ibn Ezra is quick to point out that it was Jethro who told him this in Exodus! Then, when recounting the incident with the spies from Bamidbar, Moses also diverges from past tellings. In Shelach Lecha, God told Moses to send men into the land, and does not explicitly instruct spying. In Parshat Devarim, we read that it was the people who requested sending men. Additionally, this week’s parsha uses two different words that roughly mean “to spy.”
I came across an article about this week’s parsha entitled “Is Moses Telling ‘Fake News’?” While the phrase "fake news" appears here in the context of Torah commentary, it inevitably and intentionally evokes today's media landscape and journalism. It has always been part of the human experience to hear various accountings of and perspectives on events, yet this dynamic is intensified when we are constantly flooded with news alerts, social media videos, and opinion pieces.
Earlier this week, my colleague Rabbi Daniel Gropper addressed a gathering of Jews outside the Israeli embassy in New York. He has a relationship to Israel that will feel familiar to some in our community and perhaps foreign to others—part of the ideological diversity I cherish about who we are as a congregation.
With a dog tag around his neck and microphone in hand, he vulnerably shared that his son had been sworn into the IDF that very day. He was likely experiencing many of the feelings that any parent would, including pride in his son’s commitment to his people and Israel, as well as concern for his son’s wellbeing. I’m sure he also shares my disgust at and horror about Hamas’s evil actions on October 7, which started this war. I suspect he also knows that Hamas does not care about Israeli or Palestinian life.
All of these parts of Rabbi Gropper likely informed his decision to protest outside the Israeli embassy in response to the humanitarian crisis in Gaza. Rabbi Gropper writes, “This might seem odd. But in fact, it makes perfect sense to me that I was (and am) publicly criticizing the Israeli government when my son is serving in the IDF. My stake in the future of Israel…is greater than ever.”
Speaking to the moment we find ourselves in and the ways in which we learn about it, Rabbi Gropper said, “Photos [of children in Gaza] are shared without their full context; reports of Hamas stealing food are later revised by the IDF itself. In this blizzard of ideological fiction, how are any of us supposed to know what’s true? How are any of us to know what is the right thing to do?”
To provide context for one of Rabbi Gropper's observations: a widely circulated photo this week of an emaciated child, intended to convey the gravity of the situation in Gaza, has generated significant discussion, with differing accounts about the circumstances behind the child's condition - some pointing to pre-existing health conditions not disclosed by media outlets sharing the photo, while the family attributes these conditions to malnutrition during pregnancy amid the current crisis. For many people in our community with a variety of political opinions, how this photo was or was not reported understandingly brought up strong feelings. Relatedly, there exists a range of perspectives on how various parties have responded to the humanitarian situation and what additional steps might be needed. Gropper mentions a report from an Israeli military official that brings into question the understanding that Hamas systematically stole aid. And, whether or not they stole aid systemically, Hamas does not seem to care whether or not Palestinians starve.
Yet I am not a first responder, I am a rabbi. So let us ask, What is the Torah's role in moments of contested information? How can we, as Jews, meet this moment grounded in the wisdom of our tradition? Even though the Torah itself contains multiple diverging accountings, much like our current times, we still refer to it as “Torat Emet,” the “True Torah.” Just because the Torah, or our articulations of Jewish wisdom, may not be perfect, and there are many different understandings of the Truth, our tradition does believe there to be such a thing as Torat Emet
What is this Torat Emet? In Nehemiah’s account of revelation, the text uses the language of “Torat Emet” to refer to the true teachings that God gave at Sinai.
וַתִּתֵּ֨ן לָהֶ֜ם מִשְׁפָּטִ֤ים יְשָׁרִים֙ וְתוֹר֣וֹת אֱמֶ֔ת חֻקִּ֥ים וּמִצְוֺ֖ת טוֹבִֽים׃ …
…You gave them right rules and true teachings, good laws and commandments.
Even if our best attempts at receiving this revelation are imperfect, or include contradictions, at its core, and in it’s most authentic form, the Torah that God knows and wishes to give us is one of religious Truth. This is not some sort of empirical truth, or editor’s correction in a news article.
It is a truth not based on evidence but based on faith and teachings beyond the realm of the quantifiable. It is a moral truth that we can strive to understand, even if we never will in full.
This framework allows us to hold that there can be different perspectives, even possibly multiple truths, or multiple fictions, while still having moral clarity. Rabbi Gropper also said, “Here is what we do know. There is hunger and starvation in Gaza. We need to state this loud and clear…” Rabbi Gropper then called in his remarks on the government of Israel to do all they could to avert a deterioration of the crisis.
In this room, we can hold different understandings of how we reached this moment, and even various beliefs about Rabbi Gropper’s call to the Israeli government, without losing sight of the urgency of the moment, by returning to central ideas around morality in our tradition.
What are some of those central ideas? Perhaps one of the most frequently referenced is the idea of b’tselem elohim, that each of us is created in the image of God, or has inherent divine worth. Perhaps this is why our tradition is so insistent on the importance of choosing life… that verse from Psalms, that refers to God’s complete or perfect Torah, it goes on to say “מְשִׁ֣יבַת נָ֑פֶשׁ”... renewing life. תּ֘וֹרַ֤ת הֹ תְּ֭מִימָה מְשִׁ֣יבַת נָ֑פֶשׁ God’s perfect Torah renews life.
There is a narrative in our tradition about a convert coming to Hillel and asking him to teach what he needs to know about Judaism and the Torah “on one foot,” meaning…what is the essence? What is the most important thing for me to know? Hillel famously replies, “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow.” Menachem Mendel, a disciple of the early Hasidic teacher the Maggid of Mezritch, interprets this response as a guide for what to do when everything else is falling apart. When we feel barraged by information, subsumed by conflicting narratives, we can return to this central idea of not doing to others what is hateful to us. We can affirm the inherent dignity of every person. We can choose life. We can say in no uncertain terms that we must relate to God’s Torah in a way that generates and sustains life.
Proverbs teaches us: "If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat. If your enemy is thirsty, give him water to drink." Different viewpoints may inform how each of us conceptualizes the “enemy” and conversely the “friend.”
Our Torat Emet calls to us amidst this complexity: Feed the hungry. Even when - especially when - the world around us is fracturing into competing narratives, this moral truth remains. It is not contingent on perfect information or political agreement. It is the divine spark within us responding to the divine spark in others. Ken Yehi Ratzon.