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.
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.
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