Learning to See Through the Eyes of Torah

 In this piece by our member Rabbi Paul Bloom, we are invited to consider the quality of sight, its relationship to hearing and our ability to choose, and its role in our spiritual development as Jews.

"See, I place before you today a blessing and a curse." (Devarim 11:26). Every day we recite the words of the Shema:

"Hear, O Israel..."

Listening is one of the Torah's central themes. Faith begins by hearing Hashem's word. Yet Parashat Re'eh opens differently. Not with Shema—hear. But with Re'eh—see. Why the sudden change? After all, at Har Sinai the Jewish people heard the voice of Hashem but saw no image. Judaism rejected the pagan notion that God could be represented by something visible. If Hashem cannot be seen, what exactly is Moshe asking us to look at? The Torah's answer is profound. Hashem Himself cannot be seen—but His presence can be recognized through the lives we choose to live.

Seeing a Life of Blessing

Moshe tells the nation:

"See, I place before you today a blessing and a curse."

Notice that he does not merely describe blessing and curse. He says they can be seen. A life dedicated to Torah leaves visible footprints. You can see it in a family that honors parents. You can see it in communities built upon kindness and charity. You can see it in justice that protects the weak. You can see it in marriages strengthened by commitment, in children raised with purpose, and in lives filled with meaning. The Torah is inviting us to observe the results.

Leadership Begins with Example

The Ba'al HaTurim offers a beautiful insight. Moshe is saying, in effect: "Look at me." The greatest leaders do not merely teach—they model. Gideon used exactly this approach before battling Midian. Vastly outnumbered, he instructed his soldiers:

"Watch me, and do what I do." (Shofetim 7:17)

Those four words define authentic Jewish leadership. Parents influence children more through their actions than their lectures. Teachers educate by personal example. Communities rise because individuals quietly live the values they hope others will embrace. The Torah reminds us that every Jew is someone's role model.

Moshe Knew Both Worlds

The Kli Yakar deepens this lesson. Many people assume that spiritual leaders dismiss wealth because they never experienced it. Moshe Rabbeinu could never be accused of that. He grew up in Pharaoh's palace, surrounded by unimaginable luxury and power. Later he ascended Mount Sinai and experienced unparalleled closeness to Hashem. He had lived both lives. His testimony carries enormous weight. He knew firsthand that material success alone cannot satisfy the human soul. Real blessing comes from purpose. From holiness. From serving something greater than ourselves.

As Kohelet concludes after exploring every worldly pleasure:

"The end of the matter, when all has been heard: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole purpose of man." (Kohelet 12:13)

The Freedom to Choose

The Rambam, in Hilchot Teshuvah (Chapter 5), identifies this opening verse as one of the Torah's clearest declarations of human free will. Hashem gives us the dignity of choice. This idea distinguished Judaism from many philosophies of the ancient world, and it remains revolutionary today. Modern society often explains human behavior through genetics, psychology, economics, or environment. Judaism recognizes the influence of these forces but insists they never eliminate personal responsibility. Every person possesses the ability to choose. Blessing is not imposed. Neither is curse. Hashem places both before us and lovingly says:

"Choose."

As Moshe later declares:

"I have placed before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life." (Devarim 30:19)

Seeing Eretz Yisrael

There is another remarkable dimension to Moshe's opening command. The Ramban teaches that dwelling in Eretz Yisrael is itself a mitzvah, one that enables the Jewish people to live the Torah in its fullest expression. This idea is reflected throughout Parashat Re'eh. No other parashah emphasizes so repeatedly "the place that Hashem will choose." Again and again the Torah directs our attention toward the future spiritual center of Jewish life—Yerushalayim. The parashah concludes with the mitzvah of Aliyah l'Regel, ascending to Jerusalem on the three pilgrimage festivals. There, the Jewish people would literally see holiness. They would see the Beit HaMikdash. The Kohanim performing the Avodah.The Menorah shining. They would hear the songs of the Levi'im. They would experience the Shechinah in a way unlike anywhere else on earth. The opening "Re'eh" reaches its fulfillment in Jerusalem.

Rav Hirsch: Seeing Beyond the Surface

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch explains that Torah demands more than physical sight. It asks us to develop moral vision. Anyone can observe events. The Torah teaches us to recognize their meaning. Two people can witness the same history. One sees politics. The other sees Hashgachah. One sees coincidence. The other sees Divine Providence. The challenge of Re'eh is to cultivate eyes that perceive Hashem's hand within history.

A Message for Our Generation

Perhaps no generation since the destruction of the Second Temple has witnessed what ours has. After nearly two thousand years of exile, millions of Jews have returned home. The Hebrew language has been reborn. Jerusalem is once again the heart of Jewish life. The Land has flourished exactly as the prophets foretold. These are not merely historical events. They are invitations to see. To recognize Hashem's faithfulness unfolding before our eyes.

The Sifrei teaches that every generation must view the Torah as if it were given today. Moshe therefore says not only "See," but "See...today." Every day presents the same choice. Will we see the world through the lens of convenience—or through the lens of covenant? Will we pursue comfort alone—or purpose?

Will we recognize that the greatest blessing is not simply living well, but living a life connected to Hashem, His Torah, His people, and His Land? That is the enduring challenge of Parashat Re'eh.

May Hashem open our eyes to recognize His blessings, strengthen our commitment to His Torah, and enable us to witness the complete redemption, when all of Israel will once again ascend to Yerushalayim in joy and behold the beauty of His Presence restored in Zion.

A Message for Me: Parashat Re'eh 5786

 This piece by Rabbi Kenigsberg was originally published in the Hanassi Highlights, Thursday 6 August 2026. You can also read it in Hebrew, thanks to ChatGPT, here.

The opening verse of Parshat Re'eh contains a curious grammatical shift:

"Re'eh anochi noten lifneichem hayom berachah u'kelalah" – "See, I place before you today a blessing and a curse."

The word re'eh is singular, yet lifneichem is in the plural. Why the inconsistency?

The Kli Yakar explains this based on a statement of the Gemara in Masechet Kiddushin (40b). A person should always view the world as perfectly balanced between merit and guilt. One mitzvah can tip the scales in favour of the entire world; one aveirah can tip them the other way. That is why the Torah begins this verse in the singular. Every one of us must hear these words as though they are addressed to us personally. It is tempting to think that one individual can hardly make a difference. After all, what effect can one person's actions really have among millions of Jews and billions of people?

Yet the Torah's answer is: more than you imagine. The verse does not remain in the singular. It immediately becomes plural: lifneichem. The choices I make are never only about me. Every act of kindness, every moment of integrity, every mitzvah and every aveirah has consequences far beyond what I can see. We rarely know how our actions influence those around us, and we certainly cannot measure their spiritual impact. Yet the Torah asks us to live with the awareness that they do.

This perspective runs counter to the way we usually think. We naturally measure our actions by what we can see: Did anyone notice? Did it make a tangible difference? Did it change anything? The Kli Yakar reminds us that this is not how the Torah measures a person's life. We are not in a position to calculate the ultimate impact of our deeds. That is Hashem's domain. Our responsibility is simply to recognise that no action is ever insignificant.

There is a powerful tension here. Judaism does not encourage us to think that we are the centre of the universe. At the same time, it asks us to live with the awareness that our choices genuinely matter. We are neither insignificant nor all-important. We are individuals whose actions form part of a much larger story.

Hashem speaks to each of us personally. No one can serve Him on our behalf, and no one else can make our choices for us. At the same time, those choices are never ours alone. Every individual decision contributes, in some small but immeasurable way, to the spiritual direction of the Jewish people and of the world.

That is both a great responsibility and an extraordinary privilege.

Shabbat Shalom!

A taste of the bittersweet: Re'eh 5785

Though Rabbi Wein ztz'l may no longer be with us, we are still privileged to benefit from his words of wisdom. All the divrei Torah that we post between now and Simchat Torah were sent to us for publication by the Destiny Foundation before he died. We are grateful for the opportunity to reproduce them here.

In this week’s parsha the Torah continues with the theme that runs through the previous parshiyot of Devarim: we are always faced with the stark choice between  blessings and curses, good and evil. The words of the Torah seemingly offer little scope for any middle ground on these basic matters of belief and behavior. Yet we know that life’s events are rarely ‘all or nothing’, 100% blessing or curse.  In fact, Jewish tradition and teachings instruct us that, hidden in tragedy, there is always a glimmer of hope and goodness, and that all joy and happiness contains within it the taste of the bitter. 

Jewish philosophy and theology teach us that evil somehow has a place in God’s good and benign world. We face the problem of why the Torah addresses these matters without nuance, in such a harsh way which seemingly brooks no compromise, without a hint of a middle ground. After all, the Torah is not a debating society where one is forced to take an extreme uncompromising stand in order to focus the issue being discussed more sharply and definitively. 

Many rabbinic scholars of previous generations have maintained that it is only in our imperfect, post-Temple period that we are to search for good in evil, and to temper our joy with feelings of seriousness and even sadness. But, in an idyllic world, where the Divine Spirit is a palpable entity, the choices really are stark and the divisions are 100% to zero.

Far be it from me to reject the opinion of these great scholars of Israel. However, I wish to interject a slightly different perspective into this matter. This parsha begins with the word re’eh – “see”. We know that there are stages in life that we can see well only with the aid of corrective lenses, especially when reading small print. Without that correction, we can easily make grave mistakes in seeking to size up what appears before us. Well, this situation is not limited to the physical world: it applies equally to our spiritual world of Torah observance and personal morality. 

Many times we think we are behaving righteously when we are in fact behaving badly because we fail to see the matter correctly. We are not wearing our corrective lenses,. But, with the benefit of halacha, history, good common sense and a Jewish value system that should govern our lives, we see things so much more clearly. Without this advantage, we see blessings and curses, good and evil, in a manner that is blurred, their edges lacking definition.

The Torah wishes us to see clearly, so that we will be instinctively able to recognize what is the blessing in our life and what is not. The Torah has been kind enough to provide us with the necessary corrective lenses. These lenses consist of observance of Torah and its commandments and loyalty to Jewish values and traditions. 

For "Comfort from the Calendar", Rabbi Wein's devar Torah on this parashah for last year, click here.

Following in Their Ways – The Eternal Struggle Against Avodah Zarah

This parashah shiur is based on a Shiur given by Rabbi Wein ztz’l on August 30,2024

 In this week’s parashah, we encounter a passage that reverberates throughout Jewish history and Jewish life. Moshe warns the people:

הִשָּׁ֣מֶר לְךָ֗ פֶּן־תִּנָּקֵשׁ֙ אַֽחֲרֵיהֶ֔ם אַֽחֲרֵ֖י הִשָּֽׁמְדָ֣ם מִפָּנֶ֑יךָ וּפֶן־תִּדְר֨שׁ לֵאלֹֽהֵיהֶ֜ם לֵאמֹ֗ר אֵיכָ֨ה יַֽעַבְד֜וּ הַגּוֹיִ֤ם הָאֵ֨לֶּה֙ אֶת־אֱלֹ֣הֵיהֶ֔ם וְאֶֽעֱשֶׂה־כֵּ֖ן גַּם־אָֽנִי

“Take heed… lest you inquire after their gods, saying: ‘How did these nations serve their gods, that I may do the same?’” (דברים י״ב:ל)

 This verse is not merely a historical warning about ancient idolatry. It points to a deep spiritual and cultural struggle that the Jewish people have faced in every generation: the temptation to imitate the practices, priorities, and lifestyles of the nations around them.

 How Far Does Avodah Zarah Go?

 Rashi, citing the Gemara (סנהדרין ס׳ ע״ב), explains: 

“כְּגוֹן מַרְקוּלִיס שֶׁדַּרְכּוֹ לְהַשְׁלִיךְ לוֹ אֲבָנִים, וְהַשּׁוֹלֵךְ לוֹ אֶבֶן, חַיָּיב”

 “For example, the idol Marculis, whose way of worship is to throw stones at it—one who throws even a single stone is liable.”

 Even though such an act appears disrespectful, when done as ritual it becomes idolatry. But what if someone bows to Marculis, even though its typical service is throwing stones? Rashi notes that bowing itself is universally considered an act of worship, so it too constitutes avodah zarah: 

“אֲבָל הַמִּשְׁתַּחֲוֶה לוֹ—אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁאֵין דַּרְכּוֹ בְּכָךְ—חַיָּיב”

 “But one who bows to it—even though that is not its way—he is liable.”

 The Rambam expands on this principle: 

“כָּל עֲבוֹדָה שֶׁהִיא דֶּרֶךְ כָּבוֹד—אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁאֵינָהּ דֶּרֶךְ עֲבוֹדָתוֹ—חַיָּיב עָלֶיהָ”

 “Any form of service that is a way of honor—even if not the idol’s usual service—one is liable for.” (הלכות עֲבוֹדַת כּוֹכָבִים ג:ג)

The Torah’s purpose, says the Rambam, is to distance us from avodah zarah entirely, for it has always exerted a powerful psychological pull. 

The Pressure of the Majority

Moshe’s warning is not only theological but deeply psychological: How could it be that so many nations are wrong? How can a tiny minority insist on saying “no” when the whole world seems to say “yes”?

כִּי עַם־קָדוֹשׁ אַתָּה לַה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ… וּבְךָ בָּחַר ה׳ לִהְיוֹת לוֹ לְעַם סְגֻלָּה

 “For you are a holy people to Hashem your God… and Hashem has chosen you to be His treasured people.” (דברים ז:ו)

 The Torah recognizes that it is hard to be a despised minority, mocked for standing apart. Yet that is precisely the Jewish destiny: to remain faithful even against the tide of the majority. 

Darkei Emori – The Ways of the Nations 

Beyond worship itself, the Torah forbids imitating pagan practices—darkei Emori. The Mishnah teaches: 

“דַּרְכֵי הָאֱמוֹרִי—כָּל מִינֵי נִחוּשׁ שֶׁהָיוּ אוֹמְרִים…”

“The ways of the Emorites—these are all forms of superstition that they would practice…” (שבת סז ע״א)

 Throughout Jewish history, this principle sparked debate:

● In 19th-century Germany, Reform synagogues introduced organ music to imitate churches. Orthodox authorities banned it, declaring it darkei Emori.

● Rabbi Yaakov Emden forbade decorating synagogues with flowers on Shavuot because it resembled Christian Easter celebrations—though most communities kept the custom, claiming Jewish precedent.

● The Rambam insisted that all superstition—lucky numbers, red strings, omens—is forbidden: 

“כָּל הַמְנַחֵשׁ אוֹ מְעוֹנֵן—לוֹקֶה. וְאֵין בְּדְבָרִים הָאֵלּוּ דָּבָר שֶׁל חָכְמָה כְּלָל”

 “Anyone who practices divination or soothsaying is liable to lashes. There is no wisdom in these things whatsoever.” (הלכות עֲבוֹדַת כּוֹכָבִים יא:טז)

 The reasoning is clear: imitation in custom can lead to assimilation in spirit.

 Drawing the Line 

Where, then, do we draw the line?

● Should rabbis wear clerical robes like priests? Some German communities said yes; Eastern European Jews said no.

● Should synagogues adopt church-like decorum? Opinions diverged.

● Even the simple presence of a clock in a synagogue once sparked a Lithuanian rabbi to quip: “I see Reform has already arrived here!” 

The Rambam provides a guiding principle: 

כָּל מַה שֶּׁנִּמְצָא שֶׁיֵּשׁ בּוֹ תּוֹעֶלֶת מִנִּימוּסֵי הַגּוֹיִם—אֵין בּוֹ מִשּׁוּם חֻקּוֹתֵיהֶם. וְכָל מַה שֶּׁאֵין בּוֹ טַעַם רָאוּי—אָסוּר

 “Anything found among the nations that has a clear benefit is not included in the prohibition. But anything with no rational basis is forbidden.” (הלכות עֲבוֹדַת כּוֹכָבִים יא:א)

 Thus, medicine is permitted because it heals, while quack remedies—once tied to superstition—are forbidden. 

The Eternal Struggle 

Moshe’s words echo through the generations: the Jewish people must often stand apart, resisting the lure of majority culture. This has never been easy. 

הֶן־עָם לְבָדָד יִשְׁכֹּן וּבַגּוֹיִם לֹא יִתְחַשָּׁב

 “Behold, it is a people that dwells alone, and is not reckoned among the nations.” (במדבר כג:ט)

 The idols of today are different: money, fame, power, ideology. Yet the temptation to bow to them, to imitate the world, remains just as strong. The Torah reminds us to guard our uniqueness, to hold fast to truth, and to avoid being swept away by borrowed customs.  

שַׁבָּת שָׁלוֹם

Comfort from our Calendar: Re'eh 5784

In the middle of Moshe’s lengthy oration to the Jewish people about their history and destiny, he surprises us by inserting a review of the year’s calendar holidays. The calendar has always been central to Jewish life and its survival. Indeed, during the dark regime of Stalin, Soviet Jewry was forbidden from owning or possessing a Jewish calendar. 

The depth of Soviet Jewry’s loyalty to its inner faith is evidenced by the fact that, somehow, millions of Soviet Jews still knew when the Jewish holidays would occur. For the calendar is the rhythm of our lives. It evokes memory, hope and a feeling for the timelessness of Jewish life and its traditions. As such, the mere existence of the Jewish calendar posed a threat to the cruel and atheistic Communist regime that ruled in its time over a large part of humankind. In reality, for the Jewish people the calendar does not only mark the passage of time gone by: it also focuses on time that is yet to come—on the future—which always offers brighter prospects than they experienced in the past. 

One of my younger grandchildren proudly told me that he had calculated how many years in the future a certain anomaly on the Jewish calendar regarding the date of erev Pesach would occur. I bless him that he lives to see it—but he is already certainly enthusiastic about the prospect and looks forward to its happening. 

By supplying us with a vision of the future, our calendar gives us a chance to feel that we are to some extent the masters of our own fate and that we can, by our own efforts, have some influence in determining our destiny. 

The Jewish calendar marks the progression from one holy day to the next. We are always on the way to celebrate and commemorate our obligations to serve our Creator. Though numerous sad days have been introduced into our calendar since the time of Moshe, the Jewish calendar still remains upbeat, exuding spirit and joy, family and hospitality, compassion and appreciation of life and its bounties. 

The parsha of Re’eh almost always falls in Elul, the month that leads us into the glorious days of Tishrei, to our days of awe and compassion and to Succot with its celebration of Torah and its commandments. The review of the Jewish year, which occupies a great deal of this week’s parsha, is therefore most fitting, for it prepares us not only for the month ahead but for the coming year generally. Though our future remains unknowable, we can nevertheless fee; secure, comforted by the centuries-long consistency of our calendar. Since our calendar reminds us daily of our uniqueness as a people and of the eternity of our Torah and our faith, this week’s review fits well into Moshe’s overall message. It also reminds us the passage of time is itself one of life’s gifts that is bestowed upon us by our Creator.

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein