The Song of Moshe: Ha'azinu 5786

This piece by Rabbi Berel Wein ztz'l has been kindly provided by the Destiny Foundation.

This song of Moshe is the song of the Jewish story. It accurately portrays the arc of Jewish history in moments both glorious and dolorous. The Ramban’s comment on the holiness and accuracy of Moshe’s prophetic words – “If someone stood up and accurately foretold what would happen many centuries later, would not one in hindsight be forced to admit to the truth of that prophet and his words upon seeing the minute fulfillment of that prophecy” –carries even more weight in our age, being a further eight centuries removed from Ramban’s time. 

Moshe calls forth the heaven and earth to bear witness to his words of prophecy, for he is aware that human logic and memory can never really be trusted. Unfortunately, memory can be dimmed and lost, and logic distorted or ignored. It is these factors – lost memory and flawed logic – that Moshe identifies as the cause of the sins of the Jewish people, and of much of the predicted travail that will accompany them throughout their history. 

It is not so much that there is a rebellion against God and Torah in our current society. Rather, it is that God and Torah have simply been forgotten, erased from the Jewish consciousness. For many Jews they simply do not exist. And in this climate of almost willful forgetfulness, any attempt to convince others of the errors of their ways by the use of logic is doomed to frustrating failure. 

Moshe concludes his visionary verses on an optimistic note. The covenantal relationship between God and Israel will remain binding and unbroken even unto the end of days. There will always be a core group of Jews who will not allow themselves—or others—to forget. Events will constantly jog the Jewish memory and new generations will arise and ask: “Who are we and why are we here?” And the response to those questions can only be found in the eternal memory bank of the Jewish people and their history. 

It is a very difficult task to restore memory but the fact that Moshe promises us that God and Torah will never be completely forgotten by the Jewish people reassures us that the restoration of Jewish memory is possible, and even guaranteed. And our logic will not fail us either. When we survey our world and our situation, we will reach the logical and holy conclusion as to what our policy and path in life should be. A nation of wisdom and insight, creativity and scholarship, will not always remain illogical and foolish. 

Moshe also encourages us by promising that eventually our enemies will be vanquished and shamed. Their nefarious ambitions will be thwarted and the Lord will balance all accounts with those who attempted to destroy the Jewish people. Good sense, accurate memory, strength of purpose and clarity of ideals will prevail and rule the Jewish world. Moshe’s song will continue to be heard throughout eternity. 

 "Our Two Great Poems", Rabbi Wein's piece for Hanassi Highlights last year, can be accessed here.

"Give Ear, O Heavens, and I Will Speak!"

This coming Shabbat our Torah reading—Ha'azinu—is a song. And who better to put it to music than our own Max Stern?

The Song of Moses (Devarim 32) comes in two versions. The original is set for contrabass and orchestra. Max explains:

The contrabass takes on the role of the Lawgiver, justifying the ways of God to man. Heaven and Earth are portrayed by the orchestra. "Give ear O heavens and I will speak; and hear O earth, the words of my mouth”. 

You can listen to it here. In this, the first recording of Max’s piece, Gary Karr plays contrabass, and the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra provides the backing under the baton of Arthur Fagen.

The second version has Max playing it himself back in 1996, accompanied by a harp and organ. According to Max, his work draws upon Jewish traditional and ethnic musical sources in order to illuminate epic biblical poetry to trace the dramatic trajectory of the text of Ha'azinu.  In this instrumental characterization of Moses’ farewell song to the children of Israel, the narrative foretells the history and prophetic mission of the Jewish people. You can listen to it here. This version comes with the text on-screen.

Who Influences Whom? Rashi reflects on parashat Ha’azinu

Parashat Ha’azinu is, at first glance, a relatively short section of the Torah in terms of verses. Yet it is one of the densest in commentary, particularly in Rashi, who unusually writes at length here. What makes this parashah stand out is that Rashi presents two entirely different interpretive approaches—each painting a different picture of who is being addressed and what the consequences will be. Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

Rashi’s First Approach: A Warning to Israel

The first interpretation is straightforward and expected. Moshe, continuing from the dire warnings in Ki Tavo, speaks once more to the Jewish people (Devarim 32:1):

הַאֲזִינוּ הַשָּׁמַיִם וַאֲדַבֵּרָה וְתִשְׁמַע הָאָרֶץ אִמְרֵי־פִי 

“Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak; and let the earth hear the words of my mouth”.

The heavens and earth are called as eternal witnesses to Israel’s covenant. The song of Ha’azinu then sets out the history of Israel in advance: the covenant, the failings, the punishments, and the promise of ultimate redemption. Later verses spell out the cycle (Devarim 32:15):

וַיִּטֹּשׁ אֱלוֹהַּ עָשָׂהוּ וַיְנַבֵּל צוּר יְשׁוּעָתו

 “He forsook the God Who made him, and spurned the Rock of his salvation”.

This is followed by the bitter consequence (at 32:20):

 וַיֹּאמֶר אַסְתִּירָה פָנַי מֵהֶם אֶרְאֶה מָה אַחֲרִיתָם

“And He said: I will hide My face from them; I will see what their end will be”.

But the song does not end with despair. It closes with the vision of Israel’s vindication and return (at 32:36):

כִּי־יָדִין ה' עַמּוֹ וְעַל־עֲבָדָיו יִתְנֶחָם 

“For the Lord will judge His people, and relent toward His servants”.

Rashi reads this entire arc as a prophecy of Israel’s national destiny—an unflinching look at exile, suffering, and eventual restoration.

Rashi’s Second Approach: A Message to the Nations

Then, Rashi does something remarkable. He begins anew, re-quoting verses and suggesting an entirely different peshat. The song does not speak only to Israel—it speaks to the nations of the world. Take for example Devarim 32:28:

כִּי־גוֹי אֹבַד עֵצוֹת הֵמָּה וְאֵין בָּהֶם תְּבוּנָה

“For they are a nation void of counsel, and there is no understanding in them”.

Rashi reads this not as a description of Israel but of the nations. History, with its cycles of conflict and collapse, is laid out in the song.

Why do the nations suffer? Rashi offers two explanations:

1. Retribution – because they oppressed the Jewish people and scorned God’s word.
   
   
2. The Nature of the World – simply the way human history unfolds, full of conflict and tragedy.

Either way, the nations’ fate becomes part of Israel’s education: by watching the futility of the world’s power struggles, Israel learns to return to God. And yet, both interpretations converge in the end *(at 32:43):

הַרְנִינוּ גוֹיִם עַמּוֹ כִּי דַם־עֲבָדָיו יִקּוֹם וְנָקָם יָשִׁיב לְצָרָיו וְכִפֶּר אַדְמָתוֹ עַמּוֹ

 “Sing aloud, O nations, with His people; for He will avenge the blood of His servants, and will render vengeance to His adversaries, and will atone for His land and His people”.

Here the nations are explicitly included in Israel’s redemption. The restoration of the Jewish people becomes the restoration of the world itself.

A Treasure for the World

The Torah, at Shemot 19:5, calls Israel a segulah mikol ha’amim:

וִהְיִיתֶם לִי סְגֻלָּה מִכָּל הָעַמִּים

 “And you shall be to Me a treasured people from among all nations”

Usually, we understand this to mean that Israel is God’s treasure, distinct from the other nations. Yet some commentaries suggest a powerful alternative: Israel is a treasure for the nations—all peoples benefit from its presence and mission. Indeed, history shows that wherever Jews have been allowed to flourish, they have contributed immeasurably to society—in medicine, science, culture, and ethics. But when hatred blinds nations, they cut themselves off from that blessing.

One striking example came after the Six-Day War, when Israel discovered a Jordanian warehouse containing 50,000 doses of the Salk polio vaccine. America had sent them to save Jordanian children during an outbreak. But because the vaccine was developed by Jonas Salk, a Jew, the Jordanians refused to use it. Better their children risk paralysis than benefit from “Zionist science.” Hatred triumphed over reason, and tragedy followed.

Who Influences Whom?

This leads to the age-old question: who influences whom? The Jewish people are tasked to uplift the world, but often find themselves absorbing the world’s worst traits instead. The Torah repeatedly warns (at Vayikra 18:3, 27):

וּבְחֻקֹּתֵיהֶם לֹא תֵלֵכוּ… כִּי אֶת כָּל הַתּוֹעֵבֹת הָאֵל עָשׂוּ אַנְשֵׁי הָאָרֶץ

“You shall not walk in their statutes… for all these abominations the people of the land have done”.

When Israel imitates instead of inspires, both suffer. This dilemma echoes in modern education. When deeply religious children are integrated into secular classrooms, they often absorb the profanity and moral laxity around them, while their peers gain little of the refinement of Jewish learning. The weaker influence drags down the stronger.

Moshe’s song, then, is not only history foretold but also a challenge posed: Will Israel shape the world, or will the world shape Israel?

Conclusion

Rashi’s two readings of Ha’azinu remind us of the dual stage of Jewish destiny: inwardly, the covenant with Israel; outwardly, the Jewish mission to humanity. Whether the song speaks to us or to the nations, its end is the same: Israel’s return to God and the blessing of the entire world.

Moshe’s timeless words ask us to reflect: are we the influencers, or the influenced? The answer to that question shapes not only our destiny but that of all humankind.

The Mystery and Power of Kol Nidrei

On the eve of Yom Kippur, as darkness settles and the congregation gathers, the haunting melody of Kol Nidrei fills the synagogue. Few prayers in our tradition carry such emotional weight. And yet, when we look at its actual content, it seems puzzling: a legal formula for the annulment of vows. Why should this be the emotional centerpiece of Yom Kippur, the holiest night of the year? Rabbi Paul Bloom offers an impactful explanation.

If the formula we sing on Kol Nidrei seems strange, even stranger is the ritual that accompanies it. We open the Aron HaKodesh, remove the Torah scrolls, walk around with them—and then return them without reading a single word. Nowhere else in the year do we take out the Torah without fulfilling the mitzvah of Keriyat HaTorah. Clearly, something deeper is happening here.

Re-enacting the Forgiveness of Sinai

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin, in his sefer אוזניים לתורה, offers a profound perspective. He reminds us that Yom Kippur is the anniversary of the day Moshe Rabbeinu descended from Mount Sinai with the second set of Luchot, carrying with them Hashem’s forgiveness for the sin of the Golden Calf.

The Torah describes this as follows (שמות ל״ד:כ״ט):

וַיְהִי בְּרֶדֶת מֹשֶׁה מֵהַר סִינַי וּשְׁנֵי לֻחֹת הָעֵדֻת בְּיַד מֹשֶׁה בְּרִדְתּוֹ מִן־הָהָר וּמֹשֶׁה לֹא־יָדַע כִּי קָרַן עוֹר פָּנָיו בְּדַבְּרוֹ אִתּו  

Moshe’s face shone with a radiant light so intense that the people could not look at him directly:  וַיִּירְאוּ מִגֶּשֶׁת אֵלָיו  (שמות ל״ד:ל). This is the meaning of the verse in Tehillim  (תהילים צ״ז:י״א): אוֹר זָרוּעַ לַצַּדִּיק וּלְיִשְׁרֵי־לֵב שִׂמְחָה.

When we open the Aron HaKodesh on Kol Nidrei night, we symbolically open the Sha’arei Shamayim, the gates of Heaven. When we remove the Torah and walk with it, we reenact Moshe descending from Sinai with the Luchot, shining with Divine light. The procession with the Torah is not a formality—it is a renewal of our covenant, a reenactment of the moment when Hashem forgave our nation and gave us His Torah anew.

Kol Nidrei and the Power of Annulment

But why, at this moment, do we annul vows? Here Rav Sorotzkin points to a remarkable Midrash on parashat Ki Tisa. When Hashem threatened to destroy Israel for the sin of the Golden Calf, Moshe pleaded (שמות ל״ב:י״א): לָמָה יְהוָה יֶחֱרֶה אַפְּךָ בְּעַמֶּך. 

The Midrash (שמות רבה מ״ג) explains that Hashem responded: “But I already swore that idolaters will be destroyed”—a reference to the verse (שמות כ״ב:י״ט):  זֹבֵחַ לָאֱלֹהִים יָחֳרָם בִּלְתִּי לַיהוָה לְבַדּוֹ.  Moshe replied that Hashem Himself had given the Torah’s laws of הַתָּרַת נְדָרִים. If a vow can be annulled by a sage, then surely Hashem’s oath can be released as well. 

The Midrash uses the verse from the laws of vows (במדבר ל׳:ג): לֹא יַחֵל דְּבָרוֹ כְּכָל־הַיֹּצֵא מִפִּיו יַעֲשֶׂה. The word יַחֵל is understood by Chazal not only as “he shall not profane his word,” but also as “he shall release” (יַתִּיר) his word. Thus, Moshe declared: “I will serve as the חכם who annuls Your vow.” And in that moment, Hashem forgave Israel.

The Heart of Yom Kippur

Kol Nidrei, then, is not about the dry legalities of vows. It is about memory, covenant, and forgiveness. It is about reopening the gates of Sinai, carrying the Torah anew into our lives, and recognizing that even when we fall, Hashem has given us a path back.

Each Yom Kippur, as we hear the trembling notes of Kol Nidrei, we relive Moshe’s role as מליץ יושר—the great defender of Israel. We feel anew the light of Torah descending into the world. And we remind ourselves that the gates of forgiveness, like the Aron HaKodesh itself, are never truly closed.

May this Kol Nidrei open for us a year of אוֹר, of blessing, of גאולה, and of שפע טוב.

Shabbat Shuva: Not Just Empty Words

We are reaching the end of Sefer Devarim. This week we read parashat Vayelech and next week Ha’azinu, the last of the weekly Shabbat readings of this book. Looking through Sefer Devarim as a whole, our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger takes a fresh view of the word that gives this Sefer its name.

There is real symmetry to Mishneh Torah, this collection of Moshe’s last words to our people between the beginning and end of this Sefer. The first verse begins with words and the root דבר:

אֵ֣לֶּה הַדְּבָרִ֗ים אֲשֶׁ֨ר דִּבֶּ֤ר מֹשֶׁה֙ אֶל־כׇּל־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל בְּעֵ֖בֶר הַיַּרְדֵּ֑ן בַּמִּדְבָּ֡ר בָּֽעֲרָבָה֩ מ֨וֹל ס֜וּף בֵּֽין־פָּארָ֧ן וּבֵֽין־תֹּ֛פֶל וְלָבָ֥ן וַחֲצֵרֹ֖ת וְדִ֥י זָהָֽב׃

These are the words that Moses addressed to all Israel on the other side of the Jordan, through the wilderness, in the Aravah near Suph, between Paran and Tophel, Laban, Hatzerot, and Di Zahav.

The Torah marks the conclusion of Ha’aziunu with three unusual and redundant pesukim (Deut. 32:45-47):

וַיְכַ֣ל מֹשֶׁ֗ה לְדַבֵּ֛ר אֶת־כׇּל־הַדְּבָרִ֥ים הָאֵ֖לֶּה אֶל־כׇּל־יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

And when Moses finished reciting all these words to all Israel,

 

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר אֲלֵהֶם֙ שִׂ֣ימוּ לְבַבְכֶ֔ם לְכׇ֨ל־הַדְּבָרִ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֧ר אָנֹכִ֛י מֵעִ֥יד בָּכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם אֲשֶׁ֤ר תְּצַוֻּם֙ אֶת־בְּנֵיכֶ֔ם לִשְׁמֹ֣ר לַעֲשׂ֔וֹת אֶת־כׇּל־דִּבְרֵ֖י הַתּוֹרָ֥ה הַזֹּֽאת׃

He said to them: Take to heart all the words with which I have warned you this day. Enjoin them upon your children, that they may observe faithfully all the terms of this Teaching.

כִּ֠י לֹא־דָבָ֨ר רֵ֥ק הוּא֙ מִכֶּ֔ם כִּי־ה֖וּא חַיֵּיכֶ֑ם וּבַדָּבָ֣ר הַזֶּ֗ה תַּאֲרִ֤יכוּ יָמִים֙ עַל־הָ֣אֲדָמָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֨ר אַתֶּ֜ם עֹבְרִ֧ים אֶת־הַיַּרְדֵּ֛ן שָׁ֖מָּה לְרִשְׁתָּֽהּ׃ 

 

For this is not a trifling thing for you: it is your very life; through it you shall long endure on the land that you are to possess upon crossing the Jordan.

 In these three verses Moshe uses the root דבר six times. It is unclear from context if each one refers to the same thing, different things, perhaps to the entire Torah, solely Sefer Devarim, maybe to certain specific admonitions he related that particular day – or to all, or none, of the above. Moreover, there seems to be no major commentary on these verses that provides clarity.

 This week is Shabbat Shuva. Perhaps it should more appropriately have been called Shabbat Teshuva – as it is the Shabbat of the Ten Days of Repentance.  However, it receives its name from the special Haftarah that we read – “Shuva Yisrael” from Hosea 14.

 Most people are familiar with the opening verse:

שׁ֚וּבָה יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל עַ֖ד ה אֱלֹק-ֶ֑יךָ כִּ֥י כָשַׁ֖לְתָּ בַּעֲוֺנֶֽךָ׃

Return, O Israel, to the ETERNAL your God, For you have fallen because of your sin.

However, it is the second verse that perhaps provides a key to understanding the enigmatic words in the verses we quoted and, in turn will reflect back and provide us with a deeper understanding of the teshuva process. The verse reads: 

קְח֤וּ עִמָּכֶם֙ דְּבָרִ֔ים וְשׁ֖וּבוּ אֶל־ה 

Take words with you, and return to God.

What are those words? There is that word “devarim” again.  Is this somehow all connected? Is there an interpretation or unifying theme that can help us understand this within the context of Moshe’s phraseology which may then help us reach a higher teshuva?

Moshe said that the words, the “devarim”, are not a “davar rek,” not empty. Rashi interprets this as follows:
 

There is not one empty (ריק i.e., superfluous) word in the Torah that, if you properly expound it, has not a grant of reward attached to it for doing so. You can know this, for so did our Rabbis say: It states (Genesis 36:22) “And Lotan’s sister was Timna”; (Genesis 36:32)

In other words, there are Jews who contain, have heard, have studied, have learned all, or close to all of the Torah. They are Jews who are “Kol haDevarim” Jews. They bring their bountiful “Devarim” and return to Hashem. It is easy for them; they approach confidently - have little to be concerned about.

 But unfortunately, there are many or our co-religionists who have not only not paid attention to the entire Torah – they have heard, perhaps, only a fraction of it. Maybe only a phrase or two, the equivalent of the words: “And Lotan’s sister was Timna”.  For one, it was reciting one “Shema Yisrael”.  For another, it was answering a single Amen to a mourner’s kaddish when they attended a funeral. For yet another, maybe it was sitting at one’s grandparents’ seder and eating matzah.

If any Jew combines that one word, that one experience, with a step or a thought toward teshuva, then, as we read in the very next pasuk: 

אֶרְפָּא֙ מְשׁ֣וּבָתָ֔ם אֹהֲבֵ֖ם  נְדָבָ֑ה                                                                                                             

I will heal their affliction. I will take them back with love.

Devarim is unique, a Jewish king must write this book and keep it with him at all times. All of the Jews – men women and even infant children – gathered as a nation every seven years to hear it read aloud.   Even today some have the minhag to read the complete sefer on the eve of Hoshana Rabbah. Perhaps it is not solely because of its contents. Instead, maybe it is because its very name reminds us that every single Jew is a davar and not a davar rek. If every Jew can hold on to his or her davar and  bring it to Hashem – it would change the world!

Repentance and return -- the long way back: Vayelech 5786

We thank the Destiny Foundation for providing us with this essay by Rabbi Wein ztz'l

Vayelech is the parashah that contains the smallest number of verses—just 30—of any parsha in the Torah. It also usually coincides with Shabat Shuva, the holy Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Its words are part of the last testament of Moshe, uttered on the day of his passing from this earth. 

As is his wont, Moshe minces no words regarding the fate of the Jewish people. In this most powerful of parshiyot, Moshe warns his people Israel that the Lord will hold them accountable to the terms of the covenant of Sinai—a covenant that is irreversible and unalterable. It will take the Jewish people a long time and much twisting and turning before they accept the reality of covenantal responsibility. But Moshe assures them that eventually the message will set in, and that this will be the basis for the Jewish return to God and His Torah.  This is the essence of Vayelech’s content; the brevity of the parashah only serves to enhance the power of its message. 

Some truths are self-evident and need no extra words or explanations. This parashah gains in power and relevance as Jewish history unfolds over thousands of years. Every deviation from the covenant of Sinai has eventually brought with it angst and pain, if not disaster, in the Jewish world. Just dip into Jewish history and you will see how Moshe’s words are clearly vindicated by subsequent events. 

Repentance and return is far easier for individuals to achieve than for nations. The Jewish people, or at least a significant part of it ,has strayed far away from the covenant of Sinai. The situation here in Israel is far better than it is in the Diaspora where intermarriage, ignorance, alienation and false gods have eroded Jewish faith, family, self-identity and values.

So how is it possible to hope for a national return to the covenant of Sinai under such circumstances? Vayelech seems to indicate that it will be a process and not a sudden epiphany. The prophet in the haftarah warns that no such process will be complete without recognition that the false gods and temporarily popular ideals all have led nowhere. He echoes Moshe’s words in our parashah that return and repentance in a national sense can only occur if there is a realization how badly we have gone astray. 

The great challenge, of the modern culture around us, is how pervasive it is in every facet of our lives. The confusion that this engenders in the Jewish people prevents clear thinking, accurate judgment and honest assessment of true Jewish values versus current faddish correctness. 

Vayalech is short—but our way back is long and arduous. In the good and blessed year that we have just begun let us start—and then continue—that journey that leads back to Sinai, but forward to complete national redemption. 

The Life and Death of Gedaliyah ben Achikam

Today we fast to mark the death of a leader whose name is better known than his deeds. Why do we fast, when we have lost many other leaders in tragic circumstances. What singles him out for special treatment? Here's a brief biographical note of a life that should never have been taken.

Gedaliyah ben Achikam stands as a pivotal though often overlooked figure in the turbulent period following the destruction of the First Temple in 586 BCE. A member of a prominent Judaean family loyal to the prophet Yirmeyah, Gedaliyah was the son of Achikam ben Shaphan, who had famously protected Yirmeyah from execution decades earlier. His lineage, rooted in piety and moderation, shaped his political approach during the kingdom ofJudaea’s final, fragile years.

After Babylonian forces under Nebuchadnezzar razed Jerusalem, exiled much of its population, and destroyed the Temple, Judaea was left leaderless and demoralized. Rather than annihilating the remaining Judean presence, the Babylonians appointed Gedaliyah as governor over the small remnant of people who had not been deported. He established his administrative centre at Mitzpah, just north of Jerusalem, where he sought to stabilize the shattered community.

Gedaliyah pursued a policy of cooperation with Babylon, recognizing that survival required accommodation rather than rebellion. He encouraged displaced Judaeans, including farmers and soldiers, to return to the land, cultivate fields, and rebuild a modest social fabric. His call was met with a measure of success: groups of refugees, hearing of his governance, returned and began to restore economic life. Gedaliyah’s leadership thus represented a glimmer of continuity and hope in an otherwise catastrophic era.

Yet his conciliatory stance also made him vulnerable. Elements within the Judaean elite, still committed to resistance against Babylon, perceived him as a collaborator. Chief among them was Yishmael ben Netanyah, a descendant of the Davidic line. In the seventh month of Gedaliyah’s governorship Yishmael, likely encouraged by external powers such as Ammon, orchestrated an assassination. Gedaliyah and many of his supporters were murdered at Mitzpah.

The assassination proved disastrous. Fearful of Babylonian reprisals, the surviving Judaeans fled en masse to Egypt, despite Yirmeyah’s warnings. This flight effectively extinguished organized Jewish life in Judaea for decades, deepening the exile’s trauma. In later Jewish memory, Gedaliyah’s death became a national tragedy. The fast of Tzom Gedaliyah, observed annually on the third day of Tishrei, commemorates not only his murder but also the collapse of Jewish autonomy and the further dispersal of its people.

Gedaliyah ben Achikam remains emblematic of a statesman who sought peace and pragmatic survival in the face of imperial dominance. His life and untimely death highlight the tensions between accommodation and resistance, and the fragile fate of leadership amid the ruins of a fallen nation.

Hannah's Song of Thanksgiving

Hannah's prayer from the Book of 1 Samuel is read as the Rosh Hashanah Haftarah: its themes of longing, heartfelt supplication, and the promise of dedicating a child to God's service resonate with the spiritual focus of the High Holidays. Hannah’s prayer exemplifies the need to approach God with deep sincerity, pouring out one's true desires and struggles, even when feels that one is submerged in a quagmire of unending disappointment.

In setting this prayer to music, our member Max Stern describes it as “ a paroxysm of praise and ecstasy filled with awe, wonder, love, and visceral confidence by a woman, joyous beyond her senses at the birth of a son”. It is, he maintains, the most important prayer uttered by a woman in the Bible.

This recording was made almost exactly 30 years ago, on 13 September1995 at the Maisel Synagogue, Prague. The musicians are Kristyna Valouskova (soprano) and Yuri Likin (oboe).

You can listen to this intense, emotionally charged composition here.

Eight People We Met on the Way Home: Book of the Month (Tishrei 5786)

Since Rabbi Wein zt’l was such a passionate advocate of aliyah for all, so often reminding his congregants and his wider audiences of the God-given connection between us and our land, it seems only appropriate to select one of his titles as Book of the Month for Chodesh Tishrei—and we have chosen for this purpose Eight People We Met on the Way Home—published in 2024 as the book of the lecture series on the major personalities involved in the return of the Jewish Nation to the Land of Israel.

For the record, the eight in question span a wide range of aptitudes, philosophies and religious orientations: they include characters as diverse as Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (the Netziv), Chaim Weitzman and Louis Brandeis. As the book’s webpage explains:

In a world of propaganda and controversy, Rabbi Wein takes you on a journey through 8 lives that were inextricably tied with the emergence of the Israel of today—and reveals truths you’ve been waiting to discover. Eight People We Met on the Way Home is an all-new riveting, emotion-laden narrative by world-renowned “Voice of Jewish History”.

It’s a lovely book and an easy read, with large, clear print and plenty of illustrations—some quite unexpected (Kaiser Wilhelm II and Giuseppi Garibaldi, the only great European political figure to have a biscuit named after him).

You can enjoy this book by borrowing the copy we have in the Beit Knesset library—but be sure to return it. Many books by Rabbi Wein that start off on our shelves end up in the private collections of people who have borrowed them.

"Are You With Us or Against Us?"

 Here's another piece by Rabbi Wein zt'l, drawn from the Destiny Foundation archives, on the importance of self-assessment on Rosh Hashanah.

On Rosh Hashanah we stand in judgment before our Creator. But we are not mere passive defendants standing in the dock awaiting a verdict in our trial. Instead, we take the liberty of submitting requests, suggestions and sometimes even demands to our Heavenly Judge. We pray for life and health, prosperity and wisdom, family and national stability, as well as for redemption, peace, serenity and meaningful success.

That is quite a long and impressive list of requests that we submit to the Almighty. It is part of the ethos of Judaism that such requests are allowed, if not even encouraged, by the Lord. These requests illustrate our dependence upon God and our inability to have hope, direction and planning in our lives without Heavenly aid and grace.

The doors of Heaven, the gates of prayer, are thrust wide open for us on the High Holy days and the Ten Days of Repentance—and we are bidden to take advantage of that situation with our prayers, requests and demonstrations of our improved social and religious behavior. It would be foolish in the extreme to ignore and not take advantage of such an opportunity to ask for what we need in our personal and national life.

Though the results of the judgments of Rosh Hashanah are not immediately clear, we are nevertheless in an optimistic mood and we celebrate the day in a holiday mode with feasting, family and friends. It is the connection with eternity and Heaven that Rosh Hashanah affords that transforms an otherwise day of tension and awe into one of holy serenity and satisfaction.

But Rosh Hashanah is a two-way street. It is not only our turn to ask God for what we want, but it is also a day when God, so to speak, also informs us what He requires from us. Judaism is a faith of mutually binding covenants between God and the Jewish people, collectively and individually. The rabbis taught us that, first and foremost, God wants our hearts. He wants sincerity and faith, belief and discipline, strength of character and good will. He abhors falsehood and hypocrisy, mendacity and venality.

The prophet taught us that the Lord desires that we act justly, love kindness, show mercy to others and to walk humbly in God’s ways. He demands that we live up to our side of the covenant, that we observe His commandments and sanctify His Holy Days and Shabbat by our behavior and demeanor. He wishes us to have an appreciation and knowledge of our past and a vision for our future. He would like us to share His view, so to speak, of the Jewish people as being a kingdom of priests and a holy nation—a unique treasure amongst all of the peoples of the world.

He also wishes that each and every one of us realizes that he or she is a special unique individual, not just a faceless number in a world of billions. People who feel special are special. Our self-judgment in our hearts influences our Heavenly judgment on Rosh Hashanah too: God invites us, so to speak, to judge ourselves in conjunction with the Heavenly court. Therefore we state in our prayers that every person’s signature appears on the verdict of the Heavenly court. We are equal partners in our judgment and in the outcome.

The national hopes of the Jewish people also find expression on Rosh Hashanah. No Jew is exempt from the destiny of the Jewish people as a whole. Our past century of sad and tragic experiences clearly indicates the futility of daring to imagine that the Jewish covenant allows individuals to opt out of it at will. Solidarity with the Jewish faith and people, with the state of Israel and with the eternal Torah is the guarantee of individual Jewish survival and meaning.

Joshua, upon encountering the angel in his tent, asked only question: "Are you with us or are you against us and with our enemies?" Unfortunately many Jews, deluded by "humanitarian" sloganeering, wittingly or unwittingly cannot answer Joshua’s question correctly. Rosh Hashanah allows us to look within ourselves and to declare to the God of Israel that we are truly with Him and with our people.

We wish to be inscribed in the book of eternal life and Jewish glory and not, God forbid, on the pages of Jewish perfidy and shame. Rosh Hashanah provides us with a wide range of important choices that have eternal consequences. May we always choose wisely and correctly.

The Ultimate Selfie

The following piece, written by Rabbi Wein zt'l in 2014, is as relevant now as it was on the day it was written.

The Torah emphasizes hat the day of Rosh Hashanah is a day of remembrance and of memory. Heaven can recall everything and everyone; human beings, less so. Human memory is selective, arbitrary and—many if not most times—faulty and inaccurate. 

People have often told me that they heard me say such-and-such in a public lecture and I have no recollection whatsoever of having ever publicly said something so inane. My memory is often faulty and betrays me when I need it. But the hearing of my listeners is often also impaired. People tend to hear whatever they wish to hear, even if the speaker never really said those words. 

All of this is part of our human condition, our frailties and our mortal nature. And it is a great and truly awesome (how I despise that word as it is used in current society!) experience on Rosh Hashanah to encounter Heaven’s perfect memory and faculty of total recall. 

It is not only that all our actions and words, thoughts and intentions are remembered and judged, but it is that they are remembered objectively and truthfully without personal prejudice or bias. That makes Rosh Hashanah the “Day of Remembrance.” There are people who are blessed with great powers of memory. But even they are fallible. Maimonides, one of the great geniuses of memory of all time, admitted that once he could not at first recall the source in the Talmud that would justify a decision that he rendered in his monumental work, his Mishneh Torah. If he could forget, then who will not also forget?! Only Heaven is not burdened with forgetfulness. 

This leads us to a basic question regarding our memories: what do we choose to remember and what do we sublimate and choose to forget? The Torah instructs us over and over again not to forget the basic principles of Jewish life:  God and the Torah revelation at Sinai, the exodus from Egypt, the sins of slander and gossip, the sanctity of the Sabbath, the continuing enmity of Amalek and much of the non-Jewish world towards the people of Israel, and finally the tendency of the Jews from the time of the Sinai desert till today to anger God by backsliding on obligations and covenantal undertakings. 

We have chosen to remember other less important things in life—foolish statements and imagined slights, unimportant statistics and false opinions, our jealousy of others and their achievements—while at the same time consigning the basic memories that should guide our lives to the dustbin of oblivion. 

Rosh Hashanah demands an accounting of our memory and our forgetfulness. The prophet long ago proclaimed that Israel was unfaithful because “I (God) was forgotten.” It is only forgetting that begets the ignorance of one’s heritage, faith and self. And it is that very ignorance that creates the climate of sin and assimilation, secularism and violence, greed and avarice that threatens our very existence as a people and a state. Woe to those who no longer remember for, without awareness of their past, their future is doomed! 

On Rosh Hashanah we read in the exalted prayers of the day that there exists, so to speak, a book of remembrances in Heaven—of memory. And in that book, each and every one of us has a page dedicated to our activities and behavior in our life on this earth. Not only that, but our signature and seal appears on that page, attesting to the veracity of what is written there. That page reminds us of what we have forgotten, and whether we willed that forgetfulness or otherwise. 

Eventually, after we have departed from this earth, our true and accurate powers of memory are restored to our souls. And, as the prayer records for us, the page literally speaks for itself, announcing the events and occurrences listed. So the ultimate day of judgment, just as the Rosh Hashanah day of judgment here on earth, is the day of memory and recollection. 

Remembering is the true catalyst for repentance and self-improvement. To put it into the current common vernacular, Rosh Hashanah should serve as one’s ultimate “selfie.” For that attitude of self-appearance is reflective of our fascination to remember and to know ourselves deeply and truly. On the day that everything is remembered in Heaven, we on earth should also strive to remember our past actions, attitudes and behavior.

Standing Firm in Covenant

 In this devar from our member Rabbi Paul Bloom, we take a deeper look at the word that gives its name to this week's parashah -- Nitzavim.

This week’s parashah, Nitzavim, opens with a powerful scene (דברים כ״ט:ט׳):

אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם כֻּלְּכֶם  

The Jewish people are summoned to accept upon themselves a final covenant before Moshe Rabbeinu’s passing. At first glance, the phrase “atem nitzavim” seems simple—“you are standing.” But the word נִצָּבִים carries a depth that goes far beyond the literal. In Lashon HaKodesh, לַעֲמוֹד does not mean merely “to stand.” It means to stand firm, with strength, courage, and faith. It is a word bound up with emunah—to take a position with inner conviction, even when facing opposition and uncertainty. We find this usage already at the Kriyat Yam Suf. When the nation stood trapped between the sea and the pursuing Egyptians, Moshe told them (שמות י״ד:י״ג):

הִתְיַצְּבוּ וּרְאוּ אֶת־יְשׁוּעַת ה׳ אֲשֶׁר יַעֲשֶׂה לָכֶם הַיּוֹם  

Here, “hityatzvu” does not mean passive waiting; it means summoning inner faith and resolve, reporting for duty, ready to face what seems impossible.

We encounter the same imagery at Har Sinai (שמות י״ט:י״ז): 

ַיִּתְיַצְּבוּ בְּתַחְתִּית הָהָר

Chazal stress that they did not merely stand physically at the mountain’s base; they stood with reliability and readiness, in full commitment to accept the word of Hashem. In modern Hebrew, lehityatzev means “to report for duty.” That is the deeper sense of nitzavim: to stand ready, faithfully and firmly, despite the challenges.

This firmness of stance connects directly to the meaning of a brit, a covenant. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l often contrasted a contract with a covenant. A contract is utilitarian: I need you, you need me, so we bind ourselves in mutual interest. If either party fails, the contract dissolves. A covenant, by contrast, is not transactional but existential. It says: Whatever may come, we are bound together. It is enduring, resilient, unbreakable. That is why the Torah is built not on contracts, but on covenants.

The Covenant of Mutual Responsibility

What, then, is the nature of this covenant Moshe introduces in Nitzavim?

The Gemara (סוטה ל״ז ע״ב) teaches:

אמר רבי חמא ברבי חנינא: מאי דכתיב (דברים כ״ט:כ״ח) הַנִּסְתָּרֹת לַה׳ אֱלֹקֵינוּ וְהַנִּגְלֹת לָנוּ וּלְבָנֵינוּ עַד־עוֹלָם? מלמד שלא נענשו ישראל על הנסתרות עד שעברו את הירדן. כיון שעברו את הירדן וקיבלו עליהם את השבועה בהר גריזים ובהר עיבל, נתחייבו על הנסתרות, שנאמר הַנִּסְתָּרֹת לַה׳ אֱלֹקֵינוּ וְהַנִּגְלֹת לָנוּ וּלְבָנֵינוּ עַד־עוֹלָם. מכאן אמרו: כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל עֲרֵבִים זֶה בָּזֶה

In effect, Moshe’s final legacy is this: “I have given you the Torah. I have led you through the desert with the manna and the clouds of glory. My last wish is this: look after one another. Be responsible for each other.”

Rashi (שם) comments:

והנגלות לנו ולבנינו – לְבַעֵר הרע מקרבנו, ואם לא נעשה דין בהם – יענשו את הרבים. מכאן שכל ישראל ערבים זה בזה

The Maharal (Gur Aryeh, דברים כ״ט:כ״ח) explains that this covenant truly took effect only upon entering Eretz Yisrael, at Har Gerizim and Har Eival:

כי הערבות הזה אינו אלא בארץ, שישראל הם אומה אחת. וכשנכנסו לארץ ונתקבצו כולם, אז נעשו ערבים זה בזה

Thus, mutual responsibility is fully realized only when the Jewish people dwell together in their land. The covenant of solidarity is tied intrinsically to the covenant with the land.

The Five Covenants

To appreciate Nitzavim, we must see it in context. Chazal and later commentators describe five great covenants that shape the destiny of humanity and Israel.

1.         The Covenant with Noach –וַהֲקִמֹתִי אֶת־בְּרִיתִי אִתָּכֶם (בראשית ט׳:י״א) :  The rainbow, the Sheva Mitzvot Bnei Noach, establishing a universal moral code for mankind.

2.         The Covenant with Avraham – בְּרִית מִילָה:  וַהֲקִמֹתִי אֶת־בְּרִיתִי בֵּינִי וּבֵינֶיךָ וּבֵין זַרְעֲךָ (בראשית  י״ז:ז׳)., demonstrating that an individual can enter into a personal, eternal relationship with Hashem.

3.         The Covenant at Sinai – “וַיִּכָּרֶת בְּרִית עִם הָעָם (שמות כ״ד:ח׳) :  The national covenant, when Israel collectively accepted the Torah and became a people bound to Hashem.

4.         The Covenant in Arvot Moav – (דברים כ״ח–כ״ט):  Affirming that the fate of Israel is not natural but spiritual. The Abarbanel calls this the Brit Eretz Yisrael, for it links our life in the Land to our spiritual state.

5.         The Covenant of Nitzavim – ערבות הדדית, mutual responsibility. Beyond being members of humanity, beyond individual and national connection to Hashem, beyond recognizing that our history is spiritually guided—we are also responsible for one another.

Judgment and Renewal

On Rosh Hashanah, we stand before Hashem in judgment on all five levels:

●          As members of humanity, accountable to the universal moral law.

●          As individuals, connected to Hashem through brit milah and personal faith.

●          As a nation, committed to Torah and mitzvot.

●          As a people tied to Eretz Yisrael, whose destiny depends on our spiritual standing.

●          And as a community, responsible for one another’s welfare and growth.

The covenant of Nitzavim teaches us that our greatness is not only in our personal achievements but in how we lift each other up, build families, communities, and strengthen Am Yisrael in Eretz Yisrael.

As we approach the new year, may we merit to stand firm—nitzavim—with courage, faith, and unity. And may this year bring ברכה, גאולה, and ישועה to all of כלל ישראל.