Sermon 8.5.07 - Parshat Ve'etchanan: Shabbat Nachamu and Dealing with Our Loved Ones' Mistakes

I was 12 years old when my grandfather made his first mistake. Or I should say, I was 12 years old when I witnessed his first mistake and had the presence of mind to acknowledge it. The event itself was rather trivial – sitting at a fancy restaurant, my Aunt asked the waiter to add bread to the portion of her food she wanted wrapped up. And while the focaccia at this place was excellent, it struck my grandfather as inappropriate to ask for more bread simply in order to take it home. His ensuring tirade, however, was completely unexpected and left my Aunt in tears and the rest of the family stunned. Family members slid away from the table and gently placed their napkins on their seats, like burglars sneaking away from a tripped alarm. But I sat there watching my Aunt dry fresh tears with wrinkled tissues, and my grandfather sitting stoically, still buzzing with anger. I realized then and there that the man who gave me sage advice, picked me up from school and took me out for hamburgers, was not perfect.
The realization of our mentors’ and loved ones’ flaws is a seminal moment in the process of maturity. Personally, the initial feelings of grief and letdown gave way to relief. What was I so relieved about? Well, if my grandfather wasn’t perfect, then nobody could be perfect because he was the most perfect person I knew. And if nobody was perfect, then I didn’t have to be either. It was okay to mess up, have doubts, and face anger, fear and depression. I didn’t have to bottle up my emotions and hide my imperfections from the world. If failure was okay for my hero, then it was okay for me.
Today we recognize imperfection with a special Shabbat in the Jewish calendar – Shabbat Nachamu or the Shabbat of comfort. Having observed Tisha B’av, the holiday commemorating the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, we now move towards reconciliation and healing. On Shabbat Nachamu, our haftarah includes the famous words of the prophet Isaiah, who says, “Nachamu, nachamu, ami – Be comforted, be comforted, my people.” The temple has been destroyed and the people sent into exile in Babylon, yet the prophet offers hope with the promise of eventual redemption. Yes, the people have erred significantly, ultimately leading to the destruction of their city, but a better day will come.
But for me, perhaps the most important image of the week comes from today’s Torah portion, Ve’etchanan. In this week’s portion, Moses recounts the travails of the Israelites, out of bondage and into the 40 years of wandering in the desert. The ten commandments are restated and we even find the shema and veahavta in this portion. But I would like to focus on a specific passage spoken by Moses. Recounting the story of the Golden calf, Moses says:

21 Now the LORD was angry with me on your account and swore that I should not cross the Jordan and enter the good land that the LORD your God is assigning you as a heritage.

Now I’ll ask you all - What’s wrong with what Moses is saying? Why was Moses forbidden from entering the land of Israel? Right! Back in the book of Numbers, the people cry to Moses that they lack water. God commands Moses to order the rock to produce water. But instead he strikes the water with his staff. Even worse, Moses addresses the Israelites, speaking as if he is responsible for the water. In response to this reprehensible act of idolatry and rage, Moses is prohibited from entering the land with the people.
So here on Shabbat Nachamu we are given a torah portion which shows Moshe Rabbeinu, our teacher and leader, lying through his teeth. Even worse, he blames his audience – the very people who witnessed the original transgression! Why would this story be read today on this Shabbat of comfort?
Like my grandfather was to me, Moses is the closest example of perfection we Jews have. Moses is a symbol of courage, integrity and patience. He espouses the values which many of us strive to exhibit ourselves. And yet he too makes mistakes – and not just tiny mistakes but enormous glaring lie your pants off mistakes. And yet his mistakes do not strip him of his title or honor. The torah still ends by declaring that Moses was the greatest prophet of all time, as evidenced by all the signs and wonders God sent him to perform. And herein lies our comfort and relief: As we leave Tisha B’Av and prepare for the high holidays, we are reminded that nobody, not even our greatest heroes are perfect. And we are no less special or significant because of these faults. On the contrary, it is our faults and imperfections which define us and distinguish who we are. Love is not about finding perfection in the other, but rather embracing limits and imperfections. Many of us spend our days dwelling on our faults and missed opportunities. As we move towards Yom Kippur, the point is not to revel in misery, but to acknowledge where we have erred, repair what can be fixed, and then learn to move on.
The early rabbis were intrigued my Moses’ pain in being forbidden from entering the promised land. Midrash Rabbah shows Moses pleading with God for forgiveness. Now while the usual tendency in Rabbinic literature is to clean up the errors of biblical heroes, the rabbis choose instead to highlight Moses’ hurt and imperfection. He lashes out at God, saying, “You manifestly turn to fraud. Is such the reward for forty years of labor that I labored until Israel became a holy people loyal to their faith?” (Midrash Rabbah, Deut 3:27) When Moses’ plea is rejected, he asks that his bones be brought into the land. Again, God refuses. Finally, Moses asks that he be transformed into a beast of the field or a bird which flies by day but returns to its nest in Israel at night. We see Moses grasping for straws, trying to claw his way into the promised land. He is desperate, panicked and hopeless.
Why do the rabbis illustrate Moses in such a way? Because they too know what its like to be desperate, panicked and hopeless. Because like us, they know what it means to fail; to wish that somehow they could turn back time and change the past. And finally, because they find in Moses a piece of themselves, a teacher, a leader, and yet ultimately a flawed human being just like everyone else.
I never confronted my grandfather over his tirade at the restaurant. And in time, I saw him make many other worse errors of judgment. But his status as a hero only grew in my eyes. Despite his limitations, he did his best to judge right from wrong and to treat others kindly. He passed away 5 years ago, yet remains a steadfast example for me. In the end, his flaws only enhanced his stature and I remember him now only with love. I respected him more because of his imperfections, because I knew his kind hearted manner did not always come to easy for him. Like the rest of us, he had to fight for it.
On this Shabbat Nachamu, may we be comforted by our own limitations and the limitations of those around us. We ought not expect perfection from ourselves or our loved ones. This would be an act of idolatry. Like Moses, they are our teachers and leaders despite their errors or even their lies. On this Shabbat of comfort, may we accept each other, not despite but rather because of the imperfections that make us who we are. After all, like Moses, we are only human. Shabbat Shalom.