 | We haven't yet reached our destination. We still act like travelers battling traffic, anxiety, regrets, cruelty, endless customer-service hold times, and whatever else we carry within. We'll be our best when we reach our destination, we tell ourselves. But what are we waiting for? Isn't the destination we await already within? |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
P. Re'eh 5786 (2026)
Many spiritual liberals tend to dislike being told what to do, especially by religion! Spiritual "commandment" (literally, mitzvah) morphs into "good deed" – a choice rooted in identity, not a duty rooted in mandate. A mitzvah becomes an extra, a gold star on the chart.
Even so, we know that altruism, integrity, generosity, compassion, kindness and grace tend to reflect our best selves – in Abraham Lincoln's 1861 words, the "angels of our better nature." Usually these behaviors feel good. These behaviors also help make meaning in our lives and repair our broken world. But a command to behave in those ways? Not so much.
Whether we embrace traditional ideas of commandment or we understand Judaism (or any spiritual system) as offering deep wisdom rooted in choice, we need to understand two lines of this week's Torah portion that place commandedness before us. And we need to receive them through the prism of when they appear – now, on the runway to the High Holy Days.
Now 40 years after liberation from Egyptian bondage, our spiritual ancestors have reached the Land of Promise. Moses assembles the Children of Israel for final words before they cross the River Jordan – final words that fill much of the Book of Deuteronomy. Among them are this week's commandment issued on the far side of the Jordan (Deut. 12:8-9):
P. Re'eh 5786 (2026)
Many spiritual liberals tend to dislike being told what to do, especially by religion! Spiritual "commandment" (literally, mitzvah) morphs into "good deed" – a choice rooted in identity, not a duty rooted in mandate. A mitzvah becomes an extra, a gold star on the chart.
Even so, we know that altruism, integrity, generosity, compassion, kindness and grace tend to reflect our best selves – in Abraham Lincoln's 1861 words, the "angels of our better nature." Usually these behaviors feel good. These behaviors also help make meaning in our lives and repair our broken world. But a command to behave in those ways? Not so much.
Whether we embrace traditional ideas of commandment or we understand Judaism (or any spiritual system) as offering deep wisdom rooted in choice, we need to understand two lines of this week's Torah portion that place commandedness before us. And we need to receive them through the prism of when they appear – now, on the runway to the High Holy Days.
Now 40 years after liberation from Egyptian bondage, our spiritual ancestors have reached the Land of Promise. Moses assembles the Children of Israel for final words before they cross the River Jordan – final words that fill much of the Book of Deuteronomy. Among them are this week's commandment issued on the far side of the Jordan (Deut. 12:8-9):
| לֹ֣א תַעֲשׂ֔וּן כְּ֠כֹ֠ל אֲשֶׁ֨ר אֲנַ֧חְנוּ עֹשִׂ֛ים פֹּ֖ה הַיּ֑וֹם אִ֖ישׁ כָּל־הַיָּשָׁ֥ר בְּעֵינָֽיו׃ כִּ֥י לֹא־בָאתֶ֖ם עַד־עָ֑תָּה אֶל־הַמְּנוּחָה֙ וְאֶל־הַנַּחֲלָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־יה׳׳ה אֱלֹהֶ֖יךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לָֽךְ׃ | Do not act [when you cross the Jordan] as we now act here, each as they please, for you have not yet come to the rest and inheritance that YHVH your God is giving you. |
A command to change our ways—gotwww.sefaria.org/Deuteronomy.12.9?lang=bi&with=Rashi&lang2=en&p3=Zevachim.119a&lang3=bi it. For spiritual liberals, say "call" instead of "command." Change our ways as we cross into the Land that is our destination (whether the Land of Israel or, metaphorically, the Land of the New Year up ahead) – sure.
But what's this of "rest" and "inheritance"? We must change our ways because we haven't yet come into the "rest" and "inheritance" that God is giving us? What's that?!
I've come to understand these words in a new way, which turns out to be a very old way.
We haven't yet reached our destination. We act like travelers battling traffic, societal cruelty, anxiety, endless customer-service hold times, and inner demons of hurt and regret. We tell ourselves that we'll be our best when we reach our destination, when things are better, when there aren't so many reasons to try our patience and so much on fire to stoke our embers.
But life needn't work that way. In fact, if we wait for everything to be fine, we might end up waiting a long time. And even when things supposedly are fine, do we suddenly act like the better angels of our nature? Wherever we go, there we are.
Our ancient teachers understood this, so they turned these words inward. Often we act as we do because, conscious or not, there's a war afoot within us (Rashi, Deut. 12:9). We conquer to-do lists, social status, health concerns, fiscal worries, or whatever else is next. Amidst it all, we don't feel completely settled and safe: we're always on the move (Ibn Ezra, Deut. 12:9).
Put another way, of course we act out. Life is busy, we are busy, and we get wrapped up in it.
But, our teachers continue, there is a "rest" and an "inheritance" that "God is giving [us.]." It lies not at another time or another place, but deep within. It's there awaiting us.
Then as now, the geographic represents the spiritual. After the Children of Israel crossed the Jordan into the Land, they set up a first spiritual "capital" at Shiloh ("town of tranquility") (Joshua 18:1, Judges 21:19, 1 Samuel 1:3). That was the next stop of their journey: coming to "rest" and re-center. But it wasn't their final destination or "inheritance." That was Jerusalem ("city of peace") where, finally, for awhile our spiritual ancestors had genuine peace (Rashi, Deut. 12:9, Sifrei Devarim 66:2, B.T. Zevahim 119a). May peace return speedily and soon.
It's much the same for us today. If we adopt practices of a rousing kind of tranquility (learning, contemplation, soulful rest, prayer, meditation, acts of care), we can reach an inner Shiloh. Shiloh is wonderful – a beautiful respite, a great teacher, a terrific place to visit. But Shiloh is not Jerusalem, the all-encompassing experience of total inter-being with the Sacred that feels, like I wrote last week, like we all share one heart – because ultimately we do.
That place has a geographic symbol, but ultimately it's a place deep within. It's where the angels of our better nature dwell – our place of soul, our spark of the Sacred that we share.
We tune into that place by shifting. We begin by rousing, by attuning to how we behave, by not having the same ol' way. We begin by crossing our inner Jordan River of routine of habit.
We turn inward. We adopt practices of arousing tranquility.
Slowly at first, we move toward Shiloh on our way, at last, to our City of Peace.
Rosh Hashanah 5787 begins September 11, 2026.
But what's this of "rest" and "inheritance"? We must change our ways because we haven't yet come into the "rest" and "inheritance" that God is giving us? What's that?!
I've come to understand these words in a new way, which turns out to be a very old way.
We haven't yet reached our destination. We act like travelers battling traffic, societal cruelty, anxiety, endless customer-service hold times, and inner demons of hurt and regret. We tell ourselves that we'll be our best when we reach our destination, when things are better, when there aren't so many reasons to try our patience and so much on fire to stoke our embers.
But life needn't work that way. In fact, if we wait for everything to be fine, we might end up waiting a long time. And even when things supposedly are fine, do we suddenly act like the better angels of our nature? Wherever we go, there we are.
Our ancient teachers understood this, so they turned these words inward. Often we act as we do because, conscious or not, there's a war afoot within us (Rashi, Deut. 12:9). We conquer to-do lists, social status, health concerns, fiscal worries, or whatever else is next. Amidst it all, we don't feel completely settled and safe: we're always on the move (Ibn Ezra, Deut. 12:9).
Put another way, of course we act out. Life is busy, we are busy, and we get wrapped up in it.
But, our teachers continue, there is a "rest" and an "inheritance" that "God is giving [us.]." It lies not at another time or another place, but deep within. It's there awaiting us.
Then as now, the geographic represents the spiritual. After the Children of Israel crossed the Jordan into the Land, they set up a first spiritual "capital" at Shiloh ("town of tranquility") (Joshua 18:1, Judges 21:19, 1 Samuel 1:3). That was the next stop of their journey: coming to "rest" and re-center. But it wasn't their final destination or "inheritance." That was Jerusalem ("city of peace") where, finally, for awhile our spiritual ancestors had genuine peace (Rashi, Deut. 12:9, Sifrei Devarim 66:2, B.T. Zevahim 119a). May peace return speedily and soon.
It's much the same for us today. If we adopt practices of a rousing kind of tranquility (learning, contemplation, soulful rest, prayer, meditation, acts of care), we can reach an inner Shiloh. Shiloh is wonderful – a beautiful respite, a great teacher, a terrific place to visit. But Shiloh is not Jerusalem, the all-encompassing experience of total inter-being with the Sacred that feels, like I wrote last week, like we all share one heart – because ultimately we do.
That place has a geographic symbol, but ultimately it's a place deep within. It's where the angels of our better nature dwell – our place of soul, our spark of the Sacred that we share.
We tune into that place by shifting. We begin by rousing, by attuning to how we behave, by not having the same ol' way. We begin by crossing our inner Jordan River of routine of habit.
We turn inward. We adopt practices of arousing tranquility.
Slowly at first, we move toward Shiloh on our way, at last, to our City of Peace.
Rosh Hashanah 5787 begins September 11, 2026.
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