D’var Torah – D’varim / “Shabbat Chazon”
This Shabbat has a unique and weighty character. It is named Shabbat Chazon, the “Shabbat of Vision,” named for the opening word of our Haftarah from the prophet Isaiah. It is the final Shabbat before we enter the solemn day of Tisha B’Av, when we mourn the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem and countless other tragedies that have befallen our people. The vision Isaiah shares is not a pleasant one; it is a harsh rebuke of a nation that has gone astray, a society filled with injustice. “Ah, sinful nation, people laden with iniquity… They have forsaken the LORD, spurned the Holy One of Israel.”
Simultaneously, we read Parashat D’varim, the beginning of Moses’s farewell address to the generation poised to enter the Promised Land. He begins by looking back, recounting the journey from Egypt. Critically, he reminds them of the catastrophic failure of the spies. That generation, upon hearing the spies’ report of giants and fortified cities, lost faith. Their vision was clouded by fear. They saw only the obstacles, not the promise. Their despair, their failure of vision, cost them entry into the Land of Israel. The word that begins the book of Lamentations, which we will read on Tisha B’Av, is ‘אֵיכָה‘ (Eicha) – “How?” How could this happen? It is the same word Moses uses in our parashah when expressing his inability to bear the people’s burdens alone: “אֵיכָה אֶשָּׂא לְבַדִּי” (Eicha essa l’vadi) – “How can I alone carry…?”
This confluence of texts—of a vision of ruin, a memory of failed vision, and the question “How?”—resonated with me profoundly this past week. As most of you know, my wife, Jodi, and I just returned from Israel. We went as part of a Birthright volunteer mission, helping in a warehouse (Support Bridge Israel) and a branch of the national food bank (Leket) that work to clothe and feed those who are displaced during this war and who are in emergency mode; and we assisted farmers of pomegranites, grapes, and salad vegetables, whose workforce, mostly Palestinian and Thai, had vanished after the horrific attacks of October 7th. Our presence was appreciated immensely by the farmers. There is a tradition that “kosher farmers” (that is, those who observe the ancient Torah/Mishna laws of Sh’mitah – leaving their land fallow every 7 years – and Pei’ah – leaving the corners of their fields unharvested for the poor), merit to bestow blessings on people that always come true! They blessed us in their holiness for good health, a good living, thriving communities, and all other blessings. It was very touching, emotional, and spiritual.
We spent our days under the HOT Israeli sun, doing the physical work of protecting the produce and clearing fields. We were working the very land that the spies once feared and that Isaiah saw as desolate. And all around us were the signs of the current trauma—a mandatory trip to the saferoom at my cousins’ home during Shabbat dinner; the stories of loss (we visited the Nova Festival site), the palpable sense of a nation still in shock. It would have been easy to see only this—to have a vision of despair, much like the spies.
But that is not what we saw. We saw a nation mobilized by love, energized simply by being in our homeland – in Israel. We saw farmers, their livelihoods on the brink, refusing to give up on the soil they cherish. We heard about volunteers from all over the world—Jews and non-Jews alike—who answered the question of “אֵיכָה” not with a cry of despair, but with the response of “הִנְנִי” (Hin’ni) – “Here I am.” Instead of recoiling from the challenge, we all ran towards it.
The destruction we mourn on Tisha B’Av is said to have been caused by שִׂנְאַת חִנָם (sinat chinam), baseless hatred. The antidote, therefore, must be אַהֲבַת חִנָם (ahavat chinam), baseless love. What we witnessed and were privileged to be a small part of was pure ahavat chinam in action. It was the refusal to let the land lie truly fallow, the commitment to rebuilding, not with grand pronouncements, but with calloused hands and shared work.
On this Shabbat Chazon, as we look back at the destruction of our past, we are challenged to decide what our vision for the future will be. Will it be one of fear, like the spies? Or will it be one of action and hope? Our parashah is called D’varim, “Words.” But Moses’s words were a call to action. Our tradition teaches that true comfort and redemption come not from words alone, but from righteous deeds. By planting and harvesting, by showing up for our brothers and sisters, we offer a living response to the desolation we mourn. We are participating, in some small way, in the ultimate vision of Isaiah, the vision that concludes his prophecy of rebuke with a promise of redemption: “Zion shall be redeemed with justice, and her returnees with righteousness.” (צִיּוֹן בְּמִשְׁפָּט תִּפָּדֶה וְשָׁבֶיהָ בִּצְדָקָה).
May we all find the strength to turn our mourning into action, and our memory into a commitment to build a future worthy of that ultimate vision.
Please enjoy some photos from our trip.
Shabbat Shalom and may you have a meaningful fast.
Cantor Jason Green