Shema: Restoring Connection and Powering our Resilience

Yesterday, Tisha B'Av, was a day for mourning and for sitting in despair. As we commemorate the destruction of the Temple, we always recall a brutal siege with starvation, countless tears, exile and alienation. Other tragic events from throughout Jewish history have been folded into the day too, from the negative report of the spies in the Torah, to more recent expulsions of Jews from England (1290) and Spain (1492). It's easy to extend the day's themes forward to the present as well. Yesterday, I found myself thinking about the brokenness of our American society (in so many dimensions: from the dismantling of the checks and balances of our democracy to financial corruption, to racism, xenophobia and antisemitism breaking through to violence); about the brokenness of modern-day Israel (the continued shadows cast by the Oct 7th attacks and the Gaza War among both Jewish Israelis and Palestinians, horrifying settler violence in the West Bank, etc.); and about global brokenness (including climate change's dire impacts on the planet). I am grateful, as always, that we are permitted a day -- but only a single day -- to wallow in such bleakness.

According to the Geonim, who established the mathematical rules of the Hebrew liturgical calendar, Parashat Va'etchanan must always be read on the Shabbat that immediately follows Tisha B'Av. This is strategic -- as this Torah portion functions as a tool to help us move forward in the wake of grief and loss.

Like Tisha B'Av, Va'etchanan, too, launches in sadness. As the Torah portion opens, Moses recounts his own personal tragedy of not being permitted to enter the Promised Land. He recalls:

"I pleaded with Adonai at that time, saying, 'O Lord God, You who let Your servant see the first works of Your greatness and Your mighty hand, You whose powerful deeds no god in heaven or on earth can equal! Let me, I pray, cross over and see the good land on the other side of the Jordan, that good hill country, and Lebanon.'" (Deuteronomy 4:23-25)

Despite Moses's heart-felt prayer and his 40-year track record as the Israelites' leader in the wilderness, God's answer to his plea is a hard NO. Moses is left to stew in disappointment and contend with his own intense swirl of anger, sadness, and grief.

Moses never fully reconciles himself to God's decree that he will die before reaching his destination, but he does keep going. Throughout the rest of this Torah portion, Moses articulates and reiterates that the Israelites must stay in relationship with God, avoid idolatry, and obey the commandments. Despite whatever personal despair he may be operating from, Moses models that it's possible to move forward; he embraces the idea that even when we are disappointed, we have the ability to seek alignment with God.

The most famous line in Va'etchanan (and perhaps in the whole Torah) comes later in this parasha, in Deuteronomy 6:4: "Shema yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad," "Hear, O Israel! Adonai is our God, Adonai is one."

This Shema line feels like an unlikely candidate to become the quintessential Jewish prayer, as it addresses the Israelites, rather than God. And yet, this is exactly what it has become: a core piece of our liturgy, called by many the "watchword of our faith." K'riyat shema, the formal "recitation of Shema" (which includes this line plus the V'ahavta paragraph which follows and two more biblical passages) happens daily in the context of our morning and evening prayers. Shema can be recited again at the end of every day as part of Shema al ha-mita, Bedtime shema. It's also used as a prayer during special ritual moments - like when we take out the Sefer Torah, on an individual's death-bed, and communally at the very end of Yom Kippur.

Through its very regularity of recitation, Shema conveys constancy. Even and especially in the wake of frustration and grief, it calls on us to listen rather than speak (or scream). When the line of Shema appears inside a Torah scroll, it is written with two larger-print letters -- the ayin (ע) of "shema" and the dalet (ד) of "echad"-- which together spell "עד‎" or "witness." The main idea conveyed here is that by reciting or proclaiming the Shema, one becomes a living witness, testifying to that which is true: the unity of God and of all being.

Reciting Shema is the ultimate spiritual practice. Set, as it is, following the collective disaster(s) signified by Tisha B'Av signifies, and also Moses's personal disappointment in Va'etchanan, it functions as a self-soothing mechanism: a mantra of faith, of calm, and of reassurance.

Given that the world is a lot right now, and that we are all holding so much heartbreak on so many levels, I want to recommend returning to this most core of Jewish spiritual practices. Find a quiet moment -- in the morning, in the evening, at bedtime, or all of the above -- and recite, chant, or sing the line of shema to yourself. Make this a regular practice from now through the High Holidays (at least), if you can. Know that this text, which first appeared right here in Parashat Va'etchanan, has powered Jewish resilience for centuries and millennia. Reciting Shema reminds us that relationship and connection can be restored, even in the wake of grief and disappointment. There is always hope to be found.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum