Parashat Re’eh: What do the Miracles at the Splitting of the Jordan River Teach Us About Free Choice?

 

Parashat Re’eh
What do the Miracles at the Splitting of the Jordan River Teach Us About Free Choice

How Does the Path Away from the Torah Resemble a Merry-Go-Around?

One of the Torah’s most fundamental beliefs is that of free choice. Hashem endowed all humans with the ability to choose between good and evil. Being created in “the image of G-d” grants us this Divine gift of free choice. Childhood wounds and traumas do not confine us – we have the choice to rise above the baggage of our past and choose kindness and positivity rather than wallow in bitterness and self-pity. The best choice I ever made was choosing the Torah path. After exploring and searching for meaning, it became clear to me that the secular path of my upbringing resembled my hamster’s merry-go-around. It kept moving but never got anywhere other than in circles. Similarly, if I continued walking in my parents’ footsteps, I would get a good education, find a good job, marry an educated, affluent man, ensure our children received a good education, marry well, and have children who in turn would receive a good education – and so the merry-go-around would continue ad infinitum. This lifestyle didn’t seem to lead anywhere. I asked myself, “What would be accomplished at the end of the day?” In contrast, choosing the Torah path leads to eternity. Rather than working for ephemeral success in this world, we strive to serve Hashem and fulfill His will, which leads to accomplishment both in this world and in the world to come. Yet there is never any guarantee – while we have 100% control over our choices, we have 0% control over the outcome. I wish I could speak from my heart to all the teenage daughters who choose the secular path and ask, “So where is the path away from the Torah leading you? Why exchange the truth and tranquility for confusion, depression, drug abuse, eating disorders, and cutting (self-mutilation)?” Yes, I know you have been hurt, and I want to embrace you deeply and kiss your wounds into healing. You are young, your life is still before you, and you can start afresh by choosing the blessed life of Torah.

What is the Eternal Significance of Our Choices?

Parashat Re’eh opens with encouraging us to see and distinguish between the blessing and curse that Hashem has set before us as we enter the Land of Israel:

ספר דברים פרק יא  פסוק כו רְאֵה אָנֹכִי נֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם בְּרָכָה וּקְלָלָה:

“See, I set before you today blessing and curse” (Devarim 11:26).

This verse is reflected later in Parashat Nitzavim: “It will be, when all these things come upon you – the blessing and the curse that I have set before you” …I have placed life and death before you, blessing and curse – and you shall choose life, so that you and your offspring will live” (Devarim 30:1 and 30:19).

The Ohr HaChaim explains that this verse describes two sets of realities. The first – “life and death” – refers to the here-and-now: the tangible consequences of our choices in this world. If we choose well, we will live; if we choose wrongly, we risk death. The second – “blessing and curse” – refers to the eternal destiny that awaits us after we leave this world. This is why the verse separates the two – the first applies to our present life; the second unfolds only after death.

This perspective lifts us out of the dizzying circles of the merry-go-round. Life is not an endless loop of empty achievements – every choice is charged with eternal significance. Choosing Torah is not merely about securing a better lifestyle here – it is about planting seeds of blessing that will bear fruit in both worlds. Even in moments when the reward is hidden, and the “life” promised feels far away, the Torah assures us that every act of choosing good is shaping both our present reality and our eternal future.

Does the Land of Israel Activate Our Choice Affecting the Spiritual World?

The Torah does not leave “choose life” in the realm of abstraction – it situates that choice at the Jordan’s crossing and inscribes it into the twin mountains that face Gilgal. As we enter the Land, the choice that shapes Olam Haba is stamped into geography itself – blessing upon Har Gerizim and curse upon Har Eival:

ספר דברים פרק יא  פסוק כט וְהָיָה כִּי יְבִיאֲךָ יְ־הוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ אֶל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַתָּה בָא שָׁמָּה לְרִשְׁתָּהּ וְנָתַתָּה אֶת הַבְּרָכָה עַל הַר גְּרִזִּים וְאֶת הַקְּלָלָה עַל הַר עֵיבָל:(ל) הֲלֹא הֵמָּה בְּעֵבֶר הַיַּרְדֵּן אַחֲרֵי דֶּרֶךְ מְבוֹא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ בְּאֶרֶץ הַכְּנַעֲנִי הַיּוֹשֵׁב בָּעֲרָבָה מוּל הַגִּלְגָּל אֵצֶל אֵלוֹנֵי מוֹרֶה:(לא) כִּי אַתֶּם עֹבְרִים אֶת הַיַּרְדֵּן לָבוֹא לָרֶשֶׁת אֶת הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר הַשֵׁם אֱלֹהֵיכֶם נֹתֵן לָכֶם וִירִשְׁתֶּם אֹתָהּ וִישַׁבְתֶּם בָּהּ:(לב) וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם לַעֲשׂוֹת אֵת כָּל הַחֻקִּים וְאֶת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי נוֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם:

“When Hashem your G-d brings you to the Land to which you are coming to inherit it, you shall place the blessing on Mount Gerizim and the curse on Mount Eival. Are they not on the other side of the Jordan, after the road of the setting sun, in the land of the Canaanites who dwell in the plain, opposite Gilgal, near the terebinths of Moreh? For you are crossing the Jordan to come to inherit the Land that Hashem your G-d is giving you; you shall inherit it and dwell in it. And you shall guard to perform all the statutes and the ordinances that I set before you today” (Devarim 11:26-32).

It is noteworthy that the choice between “life and death,” which refers to our tangible reality in this world, is not mentioned in our parasha. Instead, it is specifically the choice between “blessing and curse” – pointing to our eternal destiny in the World to Come – that is connected with crossing the Jordan, the defining boundary that distinguishes the Land of Israel from all other lands. Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin, the Netziv, explains that the purpose of crossing the Jordan and entering the Promised Land was that this great act would awaken the soul – for just as every significant action leaves a lasting impression on the soul, so too here, their miraculous entry into the Land etched a deep spiritual imprint within them (Ha‘amek Davar, Devarim 11:31). It is therefore no coincidence that the moment the Israelites took the leap of faith – to cross the Jordan into the Holy Land – became the very moment when our choice affecting Olam Haba – the world of souls – was activated.

What Turns a One-Time Miracle into a Life of Blessing?

The miracles of the Jordan’s splitting strengthened our emunah, as Rashi explains: “For you are crossing the Jordan…” – the miracles of the Jordan will be a sign in your hands that you will come and inherit the Land (Rashi, Devarim 11:31). These miracles not only assured us that the Land would be ours – they also awakened our soul. The Imrei Shammai teaches that the miracle was not an end in itself but a charge to live continually with the faith it inspired, for the purpose of all miracles is to draw us closer to Hashem in our daily lives. By the merit that they crossed the Jordan with the intent to drive out the inhabitants of the Land before them (Sotah 34a) – obeying Hashem’s voice and the voice of Yehoshua just as they had obeyed Moshe at the Sea of Reeds – they were rewarded. Both crossings were acts of faith and self-sacrifice, for the waters of the Jordan stood up as one wall, twelve mil high (11.5 km or 7+ miles) straight up! The people of Israel were in danger that the waters might rush upon them and drown them. Yet they believed in Hashem and in Yehoshua, as it is written, “And they feared him as they had feared Moshe all the days of his life” (Yehoshua 4:14). In the merit of this faith, they inherited the Land. The more we live a life of emunah – which can only be fully realized in the Land of Israel – the more we dwell in the spiritual dimension and awaken the eternity of our souls. Experiencing the miracles of the current war likewise strengthens the emunah of our soldiers. This faith is manifest in Israel’s courage to confront evil on multiple fronts, and in the belief that Hashem Himself is fighting our wars. Perhaps this very emunah inspired Israel’s decision on August 8 to conquer Gaza, defeating Hamas and concluding the war. May Hashem bring our complete victory soon!

October 7th has finally made it clear to most Israelis that we can only dwell securely on our land by conquering it completely, as it states: וִירִשְׁתֶּם… וִישַׁבְתֶּ – “you shall inherit it and dwell in it” (Devarim 11:31). Yet it also works the other way around – inheritance only becomes real through dwelling, via the everyday acts that root us in the Land: locking, fencing, planting, repairing. The Sifri teaches that this mitzvah is not complete without dwelling, for the essence of inheriting the Land is to take possession of it in a lasting way, which is only achieved by living there permanently (Torah Temimah, Devarim 11:31, note 47).

The Chatam Sofer deepens this concept by focusing on the miracles of the Jordan as proof of our merit to inherit the Land. He questions Rashi’s statement that these miracles would be a sign of inheritance and answers with the Talmudic story of the River Ginai, which replied to Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair’s command to split: “I certainly do the will of my Creator, but you – perhaps you do the will of your Creator?” (Babylonian Talmud, Chullin 7a). When the Jordan split before the Israelites, it testified that they were indeed doing the will of their Creator, for otherwise the Jordan – which surely fulfills its Creator’s will – would not have split for them. The splitting of the Jordan was thus not merely a miraculous passage; it was Heaven’s public testimony that Israel is worthy to inherit the Land, for the very forces of creation only move aside for those fulfilling Hashem’s will. May we be worthy of continued miracles to conquer the entire Aza and free all the hostages!

What Makes the Inheritance of the Holy Land Endure?

Parashat Re’eh summons us to see – to cultivate inner vision that recognizes how Hashem’s blessing becomes tangible, specifically in Eretz Yisrael. The Torah anchors this vision in place: the Jordan, the Gilgal, Har Gerizim, and Har Eival. Geography becomes pedagogy. We do not inherit abstractions – we inherit a holy Land through revealed miracles and sustained emunah. The declaration at the entrance to the Land of Israel about the curses that follow transgressing the mitzvot, and the blessings we merit by keeping them, teaches that the inheritance of the Land is dependent on performing its mitzvot. When we live in the Land for the sake of its mitzvot, the Land answers. Miracles become signs, signs become memory, and memory becomes a life in which וְעַמֵּךְ כֻּלָּם צַדִּיקִים – לְעוֹלָם יִירְשׁוּ אָרֶץ – “Your people are all righteous; they shall inherit the Land forever” (Yeshayahu 60:21). The Jordan still whispers to those who listen: walk forward – the dry ground of inheritance is waiting.

Parashat Eikev: How is the Goodness of the Promised Land a Portal to Deeper Blessings?

 

Parashat Eikev
How is the Goodness of the Promised Land a Portal to Deeper Blessings? 

What Is Better – A Rainy Day or a Sunny One, and Why Don’t I Own a Summer Raincoat?

Before flying to Denmark to celebrate my mother’s 90th birthday, she gently reminded me to bring a raincoat. In Denmark, even the month of August often comes with grey skies and a damp chill. Rain isn’t exactly a blessing – it’s more of a spoiler, dampening beach plans and family outings. Unlike in Israel, where rain is received like a kiss from Heaven, in Denmark, sunshine is the prized rarity. People even say that if the sun shines on your birthday, it means you were good all year round.
The truth is, I don’t even own a summer raincoat – except for the one I left hanging in my mother’s closet. In Israel, I’ve never needed it. From June through October, most years, not a drop of rain falls. Our summers are dry and searing, and the heat of Av can be overwhelming. But in this arid rhythm, I’ve learned something precious: the absence of rain awakens an intimate relationship with Hashem, our Provider. Rain isn’t just weather here – it’s a prayer, a yearning, a spiritual barometer. We feel its absence in our gardens and in our hearts. Unlike northern countries, where water flows endlessly from the faucet, here we collect the first cold splash of shower water in buckets to nourish our plants. After Sukkot, if the earth still cracks beneath our feet and our cherry tomatoes wilt in protest, we lift our eyes to Heaven. And so, begins our season of beseeching – a nation taught by its Land to treasure every drop and to remember the Source from which it flows.

What Do the Waters of the Land Reveal and How Do They Allude to Its Goodness?
In Parashat Eikev, Moshe prepares Am Yisrael to enter the Land by describing its unique nature in loving detail. He doesn’t just say the land is “good” – he shows us why:

ספר דברים פרק ח פסוק ז כִּי הַשֵּׁם אֱלֹהֶיךָ מְבִיאֲךָ אֶל אֶרֶץ טוֹבָה אֶרֶץ נַחֲלֵי מָיִם עֲיָנֹת וּתְהֹמֹת יֹצְאִים בַּבִּקְעָה וּבָהָר:

“For Hashem your G-d is bringing you to a good land, a land with brooks of water, fountains and depths, that emerge in valleys and mountains” (Devarim 8:7).

 

But what does it mean for a land to be “good”? These verses reveal that Eretz Yisrael is not just agriculturally rich – it’s spiritually alive. This isn’t simply a geographic description. The Land provides not only physical sustenance but also inner alignment with Divine flow. Moshe paints a rich, sensory image of the Promised Land’s unparalleled blessings – a land of water sources, rivers, springs, and subterranean depths (Devarim 8:7).

The Malbim explains that the Torah’s emphasis on dynamic, flowing waters – נַחֲלֵי מָיִם/nachlei mayim – “streams,” and תְּהֹמוֹת/tehomot – “underground depths” – evokes vitality, joy, and spiritual delight. This explains the spiritual energy available in Bat Ayin, which is so named for its many wellsprings. These waters are not merely practical resources, but expressions of the Land’s essence – constantly renewing and giving, like the Torah itself. Eretz Yisrael is not just a backdrop for holiness – it is a partner in it. It is not simply a place where good things happen. It is itself good – inherently, perpetually, and in a way that is meant to awaken the soul.

Sforno emphasizes the superiority of these waters: unlike stagnant canals and artificial reservoirs of other lands, the waters of Eretz Yisrael are alive – constantly flowing and renewing, a fitting metaphor for the Torah itself. The Land’s water nourishes with purity and vitality, just as Torah nourishes our inner life.

Rabbeinu Bachaya and the Shivtei Kohen reveal even more hidden meaning: these flowing waters are not only physical but also spiritual. The “depths” recall the primordial depths of creation – a reminder that unseen, buried forces sustain us. The streams and springs rising from valleys and mountains symbolize the full spectrum of Hashem’s blessing, emerging from both exalted heights and the most concealed places.

In our personal spiritual journeys, we often draw strength from visible streams – moments of inspiration and clarity. But the Torah here is teaching that in the Land of Israel, we are nourished even by that which is not seen. Hashem embeds His blessing in every layer of the Land – in the bubbling spring and the subterranean current. Life in the Land of Israel invites us to trust in the unseen, to believe that what feels barren may yet be overflowing with blessing.

Just as the physical waters of Eretz Yisrael well up from underground, so too its spiritual nourishment often comes from hidden places. The Land teaches us that even when the surface appears dry, Hashem’s blessing is flowing below – waiting to rise and renew. Now isn’t that true goodness?

What Does It Mean to Lack Nothing?

ספר דברים פרק ח פסוק ט

אֶרֶץ אֲשֶׁר לֹא בְמִסְכֵּנֻת תֹּאכַל בָּהּ לֶחֶם לֹא תֶחְסַר כֹּל בָּהּ אֶרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אֲבָנֶיהָ בַרְזֶל וּמֵהֲרָרֶיהָ תַּחְצֹב נְחשֶׁת:

“A land in which you will eat bread without poverty – you will lack nothing in it…” )Devarim 8:9).

This verse expresses not only abundance but fullness – a wholeness that is uniquely tied to Eretz Yisrael. According to Sforno, the Torah here reveals a progression of blessings: not only do the people have food, but they have dignity while eating – no poverty or humiliation accompanies their sustenance. And not only is there food, there is currency – not only survival, but stable prosperity. The phrase “you will lack nothing” includes the assurance of economic health – a subtle promise that the economy of the Land supports well-being without anxiety. We see this blessing unfolding even today. Despite nearly two years of warfare on multiple fronts, the Israeli stock market has remarkably outperformed its regional peers. After plunging 23% following the October 2023 Hamas attack, the Tel Aviv Stock Exchange rebounded within months, more than doubling its wartime low – a living testament to the Divine blessing embedded in the Land’s economy. Thus, more important than material prosperity is spiritual and emotional sufficiency.

Rabbeinu Bachayei brings another layer: the phrase “you will lack nothing” refers to the land’s inherent completeness. He notes that the word אֶרֶץ/eretz – “land” – appears six times in this short passage (Devarim 8:7-9), alluding to the six climatic zones of the earth. Each of these receives spiritual sustenance from Eretz Yisrael, pointing to the centrality of the Land in the cosmic design. The seventh mention, however – “you shall bless Hashem, your G-d, for the good land He has given you” – highlights the sanctity of the seventh realm, the inner dimension of the Land, corresponding to Yerushalayim. This is the navel of creation, praised by David HaMelech as “the joy of all the earth” (Tehillim 48:3). Only here is the soul fully at peace, for only here is the physical landscape in alignment with the Source of blessing.

I’ve often marveled at how this small strip of land contains so many climate zones – from the snowy slopes of the Hermon to the arid heat of Eilat, from the tropical springs of Ein Gedi to the Mediterranean coastline, from the lush valleys of the Galilee to the cool Judean hills. This variety reflects the Land’s role as the spiritual root of all creation – a microcosm of the world’s goodness, concentrated in one sacred place. Indeed, the flora and fauna of Israel, situated at the crossroads of three continents, mirror its geographical and spiritual diversity.

In exile, we may gather much yet still feel empty. If it wasn’t my mother’s birthday, I would never want to vacation anywhere else than in Israel. Because here, the bread we eat is not just nourishment – it is a reminder that we belong. Here, physical blessing and spiritual identity merge. And that is what it truly means to have nothing lacking.

What Is Hidden in the Mountains?

ספר דברים פרק ח פסוק ט 

אֶרֶץ אֲשֶׁר לֹא בְמִסְכֵּנֻת תֹּאכַל בָּהּ לֶחֶם לֹא תֶחְסַר כֹּל בָּהּ אֶרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אֲבָנֶיהָ בַרְזֶל וּמֵהֲרָרֶיהָ תַּחְצֹב נְחשֶׁת:

“A land in which you will eat bread without scarcity, you will lack nothing in it, a land whose stones are iron, and from whose mountains you will mine copper” (Devarim 8:9).

The Torah now reveals another layer – the wealth hidden in the very terrain. Rabbeinu Bachaya views these stones and mountains as metaphorical as well as literal: even the hardest elements of the Land – its rocks – become sources of strength, construction, and wealth when sanctified through human effort. HaEmek Davar teaches that while physical sustenance once came through miracles in the desert, in the Land of Israel it flows through our work and our words – and even after the Temple’s destruction, our blessings and prayers become spiritual mining tools.

The Shivtei Kohen links these verses to the redemptive power of labor in the Land. Though the desert offered ready-made food and shelter, in the Land, we engage in the holy process of extracting, refining, and elevating the material. Even the metals for our pots and tools must be mined, shaped, and sanctified. But here lies the miracle: the more we dig, the more we discover that holiness lies within. In Eretz Yisrael, the mundane becomes a vessel for the sacred.

When digging the entrance road to Bat Ayin, workers uncovered an ancient mikveh and winepress from the Second Temple period – a literal unearthing of our sacred past, still embedded in the Holy Land. The physical beauty of the mountains hints at their inner purpose: to draw us upward. And as we climb them – both literally and spiritually – we chip away at the coverings of our own souls, revealing the gleaming essence Hashem planted within.

How Does This Land Nourish the Soul?

Through its natural features – its waters, grains, fruits, and precious minerals – the Land of Israel whispers its secrets to us. The list of seven species of the Holy Land (Devarim 8:8) mentioned between these verses is not just agricultural bounties – they are channels of spiritual repair. Each one represents a different sefirah, a facet of Divine light, and collectively they nourish all dimensions of the Jewish soul.

This is why Sforno teaches that only in Eretz Yisrael are all forms of goodness found together – from essential food to royal delicacies, from water that quenches to minerals that build. The Land is complete in a way no other region is. It not only sustains the body – it awakens memory, destiny, and the yearning to return to wholeness.

Hashem is bringing us into a Land unlike any other. A Land where valleys and mountains both carry blessings. Where water and wheat, pomegranates and copper, are more than resources – they are reminders. Reminders that even in physicality, holiness pulses. And when we live with that awareness, we find ourselves not only in the Land – but aligned with the Divine plan for our people and for the world.

Parashat Va'etchanan: How Does Moshe’s Longing to Enter the Land of Israel Affect Us Today?

 

Parashat Va'etchanan
How Does Moshe’s Longing to Enter the Land of Israel Affect Us Today?

How Can We Ever Appreciate the Privilege of Living in Israel – a Gift Even Moshe Didn’t Merit?

During the four years we lived in the United States, I cried and yearned for the Land of Israel every single day. Before coming to Israel, learning in yeshiva and marrying me, my husband had committed to serve in a physician shortage area in exchange for a scholarship to medical school. He managed to delay fulfilling this obligation for seven years, but eventually, the time came: either work as a prison doctor or face legal consequences. When he consulted with Dayan Eliashiv zt”l, we were surprised to learn that there was no halachic way around it – we would have to leave the Land.

After making Aliyah in 1980 and firmly establishing our home in Eretz Yisrael, the decision to leave in 1988 felt like a personal exile. We found ourselves in the heart of the Big Apple, where my husband began his medical internship. Two years later, in 1990, he was transferred to the Memphis Correctional Center. I had never even heard of Memphis, Tennessee, but to my surprise, it was home to a vibrant and welcoming Jewish community.

Still, despite the Southern warmth and hospitality, I never felt at home. My soul longed for the kedushah – the holiness – of the Land of Israel. Every place I visited outside the Land felt somehow flat, two-dimensional, like living inside a movie set rather than a real, rooted life. Despite the beauty of its lush forests and lovely beaches with their fresh, cooling waters, I never felt a sense of belonging in Denmark. Something essential was missing – and that longing was what propelled my journey toward truth.

When I finally found my way back to Israel, I felt enveloped in a deep sense of peace and security, as though I had returned to my spiritual source. No other place has ever offered me that feeling of being truly at home. Yet, in the heart of my Memphis exile, I found comfort in a teaching from Rav Kook: that every Jew who longs for Eretz Yisrael awakens a spiritual ripple that inspires others to make Aliyah. Indeed, I have been blessed to see many friends from America eventually return home to Israel.

To live permanently in the Holy Land – the place that even Moshe Rabbeinu longed for yet did not merit to enter – is an extraordinary privilege. We must never take it for granted. The depth of Moshe’s yearning, expressed through his 515 heartfelt prayers, reminds us that Eretz Yisrael is not merely a place to live – it is the deepest expression of connection to Hashem.

May we live here with that awareness – with love, gratitude, and a burning desire to sanctify every moment upon this holy soil.

What Can We Learn from Moshe’s Deepest Yearning to Enter the Land?

Moshe Rabbeinu, the greatest of prophets and the most faithful servant of Hashem, had one unfulfilled dream: to enter the Land of Israel. Parashat Va’etchanan opens with a poignant and deeply personal moment – Moshe’s heartfelt plea to Hashem:

ספר דברים פרק ג פסוק כג וָאֶתְחַנַּן אֶל הַשֵּׁם בָּעֵת הַהִוא לֵאמֹר:

“I pleaded with Hashem at that time, saying…” (Devarim 3:23)

Why does the Torah use the term וָאֶתְחַנַּן/va’etchanan – from the root חִנּוּן/chanun – to describe Moshe’s supplication, rather than וָאֶתְפַּלֵּל/va’etpallel? Chazal explain that this word denotes a plea for a matnat chinam – a completely undeserved gift. Moshe, despite all his unparalleled merits, asks not in the merit of his deeds but out of sheer humility, begging for Divine compassion.

The commentaries reveal even deeper layers. The wordוָאֶתְחַנַּן /Va’etchanan shares the numerical value of 515, alluding to the 515 prayers Moshe offered. This is also equal to the words תְּפִלָּה/tefilah – ‘prayer,’ שִׁירָה/shirah –‘song,’ teaching that his prayer was offered with melody and deep emotional expression, setting an example of the highest way of prayer (Pe’anach Raza). The Siftei Kohen notes that Moshe chose the word va’etchanan rather than va’etpallel to indicate his approach: not just a formal prayer, but a heartfelt entreaty rooted in praise and longing. He addressed Hashem first as Adnut, Master of Compassion, and then with the Divine Name of Mercy, expressing his hope to arouse Divine favor.

Why did Moshe pray so intensely? According to Siftei Kohen, he sought not only to enter the Land himself but to elevate its value in the eyes of the people. If he – the greatest of men – longed for it so deeply, offering hundreds of prayers despite knowing a decree had been issued, it must be that Eretz Yisrael is of immeasurable worth. His plea was not only personal; it was national and eternal. By showing how much he yearned for the Land, he taught all generations to long for it, cherish it, and never take it for granted. 

Why Was Moshe So Desperate to Enter the Land?

I’m always moved deeply when I read Moshe’s deepest prayer for entering the Promised Land. It inspires me in the greatest sense and inculcates within me the immeasurable value of Eretz Yisrael.

ספר דברים פרק ג פסוק כה אֶעְבְּרָה נָּא וְאֶרְאֶה אֶת הָאָרֶץ הַטּוֹבָה אֲשֶׁר בְּעֵבֶר הַיַּרְדֵּן הָהָר הַטּוֹב הַזֶּה וְהַלְּבָנֹן:

“Pray let me cross over and see the good land that is on the other side of the Jordan, this good mountain and the Levanon” (Devarim 3:25).

Moshe’s longing to enter Eretz Yisrael was not driven by personal comfort or curiosity. Rather, his yearning for Eretz Yisrael was ultimately spiritual. He longed to fulfill the many mitzvot that can only be kept in the Land – such as terumot, ma’asrot, and shemitah – as Chizkuni notes. His soul thirsted to connect to Hashem in the unique way only possible in the Holy Land, where the physical and spiritual are deeply intertwined. The Ralbag explains that Moshe hoped to increase his own spiritual completeness – both in prophecy and in wisdom – through the Divine influence present in the Land, as it states, “There is no Torah, like the Torah of the Land of Israel” (Midrash Bereishit Rabbah 16:4).

Moshe’s imploring prayer confirms the Talmudic lesson never to give up: “Even if a sharp sword is placed at a person’s neck, he should not withhold himself from seeking mercy” (Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 10a). As the Midrash (Pesikta Zutreta Devarim 3:25) explains, even after Hashem had decreed, “You shall not bring this congregation into the Land” (Bamidbar 20:12), Moshe continued to plead for mercy. Just as Hashem had forgiven Israel, perhaps He would also forgive him for the sin at Mei Merivah (the Waters of Contention), for striking the rock instead of speaking to it, as commanded.

According to the Kli Yakar, Moshe’s request encompassed both the physical land and its spiritual epicenter – “this good mountain and the Levanon,” referring to Yerushalayim and the Beit HaMikdash, which the Pesikta Zutreta identifies as the source of spiritual cleansing (“Levanon” from melabein, to whiten sins). Thus, Moshe’s 515 heartfelt prayers (equal in number to the gematria of וָאֶתְחַנַּן/va’etchan) were not for personal gain but a passionate desire to serve Hashem more fully in the holiest place on earth. Hashem’s response, רַב לָך/rav lach – “It is too much for you” (Devarim 3:26), was not a harsh rebuke, but a tender redirection: Moshe’s mission was not to enter the Land himself, but to prepare the next generation to inherit and reveal its holiness. 

Seeing the Land from Afar

Though Moshe was denied physical entry, Hashem granted him a unique consolation: to ascend Har Nevo and gaze upon the entire Land from a distance:

ספר דברים פרק לד פסוק א-ב וַיַּרְאֵהוּ הַשֵּׁם אֶת כָּל הָאָרֶץ… עַד הַיָּם הָאַחֲרוֹן:

“Hashem showed him the entire Land… until the Western Sea” (Devarim 34:1–2)

This panoramic vision was far more than a geographical glimpse. According to the Sifrei and other Midrashim, Hashem showed Moshe not only the Land itself, but also its future – every generation that would dwell there, every exile and Redemption (Sifrei Devarim 357, on Devarim 34:1). In a deep spiritual sense, Moshe did enter the Land – not physically, but spiritually, and prophetically – planting his soul within its soil for eternity.

Rabbi Yosef Bechor Shor explains that Moshe’s request was not driven by personal desire for landownership – he was a Levite and received no inheritance. Rather, he yearned solely to behold the Land with his eyes, so that his longing might be fulfilled (Rabbi Yosef Bechor Shor, Devarim 3:25). Rabbi Ovadia ben Ya’acov adds that Moshe hoped to bless the Land through his vision – that his seeing it’s goodness would establish its enduring blessing for Israel (Sforno, ibid.).

Rabbi Shemuel Bornsztain offers a profound insight: through seeing, one becomes connected to the object seen. Moshe’s gaze upon the Land bound it to his soul and infused it with blessing. Although he was not permitted to cross into Eretz Yisrael, his vision was answered – and through it, Heaven and Earth were realigned. His seeing sanctified the Land, enabling its holiness to flow into future generations (Shem Mishemuel, Parashat Vayigash, 5675).

How Do We Carry On the Legacy of Moshe?

Moshe’s deep desire to enter Eretz Yisrael teaches us the extraordinary spiritual stature of the Land. Even the greatest prophet was not ‘complete’ without it. If Moshe was willing to plead 515 times just for the opportunity to perform mitzvot in the Land, how much more should we cherish the privilege of living here, walking its hills, and fulfilling the Torah in its natural setting.

Parashat Va’etchanan reminds us that the Land of Israel is a gift – not an entitlement. Just as Moshe asked for it as a matnat chinam – “a free gift,” we too must approach it with humility and gratitude. The Land is not merely a national inheritance but a Divine trust, to be guarded, cultivated, and uplifted.

Today, we carry Moshe’s longing in our own hearts. Every Jew who dreams of Tzion, every prayer facing Jerusalem, and every mitzvah performed in the Land continues his legacy. Moshe’s unfulfilled yearning awakened a spiritual ripple that continues to inspire us to make Aliyah. Although his 515 prayers did not overturn the decree that barred him from entering the Land, each of his prayers bore fruit for the sacred mission of his descendants: to live in the Land with holiness, to elevate its earth with Torah, and to prepare it for the final Redemption.

As we read Parashat Va’etchanan during the Shivah D’Nechemta – the seven weeks of consolation after Tisha B’Av – we are comforted by knowing that although Moshe could not enter the Land in his lifetime, his spirit remains woven into its mountains and valleys. And we, his spiritual heirs, are privileged to carry on what he began.