Deuteronomy - Cycle One - 3301-3412 - VeZoth HaBerakhah

And so we come to the final parasha in the book of Deuteronomy. We learn that Moses dies…without getting to the Promised Land. In my opinion though, he does get there. This parasha goes beyond the outer struggles of one man. It goes beyond the dichotomy of divine consciousness and any tangible place.

VeZoth HaBerakhah brings us into the process. Finally, we become the process of blessing. Look at the first line. This is the blessing that Moses, man of God, bestowed on the Israelites just before his death…. In this sentence, in one moment, we take on the attributes of Moses. We take on the source of blessing. We become the action of bestowing, the Israelites as a whole, the end and the beginning. From these words not only do we feel God as the action of giving light but in the blink of an eye we embrace the divine.

Let’s look closely at the structure and word choice in this sentence. The use of the word death at the end causes all other words to represent the time before. This blessing, therefore, isn’t just now. It is then and forever. It has been happening since Genesis. In a beginning, we read, God created heaven and earth. What is a blessing if not creation? Also, in VeZoth HaBerakhah we read of one blessing. But (as we read on) Moses bestows many. The truth is clear: Many is one. Divine consciousness is defined as the action of one blessing in one moment.

Next, how can we take on the attributes of Moses, a great prophet? A prophet knows God face
to face. The gates of his humanity are open wide. And yet, what we experience right after we read… Moses, man of God…is the opening of our own gates. In granting God a hand (33-1), footsteps (33-3) and words (33-3) God is equated to us. These human characteristics become our openings to Him. Therefore, we suddenly can gift light through our hands, our feet, our words, our hearts, our ability to hear (33-7). Of course there are more openings, many beyond our consciousness. There are (for example) the holy myriads from where Moses comes. There are our thousands of cells, our sefirot. And what if our body, as a whole, acts as a gate of something larger than our humanity? We don’t have any answers here. After all, we don’t know where God buries Moses. Perhaps a prophet transforms his whole body (not just a piece of it). That would place the rest of us merely at the threshold. Still, it is important to recognize how we can be like a prophet. It is important to define ourselves as prophet-like, as conduits of the sacred and as beings capable of blessing others. We can all heal the sick and give to the poor, step forward in times of need, speak against crimes, work for peace.

Even more difficult than becoming like Moses, how can we each become the source of blessing? I don’t think this is as complicated as it might seem. After all, if we each transfer light from God, then don’t we all receive and become that light? As we know from Genesis (where we are headed) we are all made in God’s image. When I think of a person who is the source of blessing I hear a word from his heart that heals one man or a million, I see light flow from his or her eyes and lips with the force and gentleness of rivers rushing to the ocean. I know he can say I love you a hundred times in one day.

This leads us to the act of bestowing. Bestowing demands transformation or even better, alchemy. Nothing can travel from one level to another without experiencing change, either in form or in content. Even when we speak, there is alchemy. We are transforming an idea into a word and giving it vibrations and sound. But how can we become an action? We might want to see ourselves as love manifested. We might want to remember that in VeZoth HaBerakhah, God brings the fire of a religion to us from his right hand. This certainly refers to Exodus when the commandments are carved with fire into rock. We, the Israelites, bring this fire, these words, into our hearts, into our day to day lives. Think of someone in meditation or creation. He or she feels the rush of light. He or she discerns, pays attention, sees with equanimity, steps through fire in the act of loving.

Finally, in recognizing that each tribe is to receive a different blessing (on one level) we discern man from man. Here we are equal but separate. We are each our own inheritance, setting God’s love into the earth. It is crucial that we embrace our core strength, the taste of our souls. As we’ve seen in the parasha Re’eh (for example) the clarity and force of each angle of light is important. The tribes of Israel are united (as it says in VeZoth HaBerakhah)) but only given their distinct differences. Therefore, the strength of one community at the divine center depends on individuality, on the many minds and hearts.

Of course, since many makes one there is conflict at a basic level (see HaAzinu). The conflict creates compression and allows the space for the flow of light. As it says in this one small sentence, the first of the last parasha of the five books of Moses, we can all gift and be light. We can be beyond knowing. We can transform. We can reflect. Rashi says that when God shows the Promised Land to Moses, He is showing future generations of his people. Therefore, Moses is looking at himself. He is looking at the place of divine consciousness, the process of blessing, at us. We are with him if we know where he is buried or not.

So, may we all, this moment, accept ourselves as the Promised Land. May we take a breath. May we feel as it goes deep, as it transforms us, brings us to a place of Moses, of God; of creation and embracing, separation and merging. May this process of blessing take us beyond life. May we know our openings, find more, and reflect God through them to help each other. May we laugh in the last divine sparks and in the first. And may we all rest in the eternal joy of the divine.