TORAH PORTION: HAAZINU

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Parashat Haazinu

8 October 2022 / 13 Tishrei 5783

Torah: Deuteronomy 32:1-52; Triennial 32:1-52

Haftarah: II Samuel 22:1-51

In this week's Torah Sparks, you'll find a D'var Torah on the Parasha by Ilana Kurshan called "Bright Wings", Vered Hollander-Goldfarb poses questions in her D'var titled "The Pangs of Transition", and Bex Stern Rosenblatt writes a D'var Haftara called "From Moses to David".

Bright Wings

Ilana Kurshan

Parashat Haazinu consists of the poetic song that Moshe sings to the people of Israel before he delivers his deathbed blessing. The song is rich with images that describe God’s relationship with the Jewish people, including a very evocative description of God’s tenderness: “Like an eagle who rouses his nestlings, hovering over his young, so did He spread His wings and take him, and bear him along his pinions” (32:11). The midrash and commentators invoke this verse to link revelation, creation, and redemption, offering us a way of thinking about what it means for God to draw close, and how our actions might bring God closer. 

The first part of the verse, “Like an eagle who rouses its nestlings,” is understood as a reference to God’s compassion for the people during the revelation at Sinai. The midrash (Sifrei Deuteronomy 314) explains that an eagle does not fly straight into its nest suddenly; first it makes its presence known to its young by flapping its wings between one nearby tree and another, so that its young will be prepared to receive it. Likewise at Sinai, God did not descend on Mount Sinai suddenly and unexpectedly. God knew that the experience at Sinai would be terrifying and awe-inspiring for the Jewish people – they would hear God through smoke and fire, and recoil from the magnitude of the experience. And so God prepared the people by arousing them gradually. The midrash adds that at Sinai, God came to Israel from four different directions so as not to concentrate all the divine power in one point and overwhelm the people. Thus the people, like the nestlings, were better prepared to receive God. 

The second part of the verse, “Hovering over its young,” is understood by Rashi as a reference to the way in which the eagle does not bear down with all its weight on the nest, but rather hovers over the chicks, “touching and not touching them.” The term used to refer to this hovering, “y’rachef,” is a rare word that appears most famously at the start of the Torah, where we learn that on the first day of creation, when the world was still darkness and void, the “spirit of God hovered [m’rachefet] over the waters” (Genesis 1:2). At the beginning of time, before God separated the upper waters from the lower waters, heaven and earth were much closer together, and God’s spirit hovered over the world, not bearing down on the waters of the deep, but sheltering them gently. This midrash imagines a primordial time when God was as close to the world as possible while still remaining a separate entity. 

The Tosefta (Hagigah 2:6, see also B. Hagigah 15a) tells a story about the Mishnaic sage Ben Zoma, who lost his mind when he caught a glimpse of this primordial moment. As the Tosefta narrates, Ben Zoma was once walking along the way when Rabbi Yehoshua approached him. Ben Zoma ignored Rabbi Yehoshua, as if seeing right through him. Rabbi Yehoshua realized that Ben Zoma was lost in thought, and asked him what he was contemplating. Ben Zoma replied, “I was looking upon creation, and there was no space between the upper and lower waters except the width of three fingers.” Ben Zoma then quotes both the verse from Genesis about God’s spirit hovering over the waters, and the verse from our parashah about the eagle hovering over its young. When Rabbi Yehoshua hears this, he realizes that Ben Zoma was so caught up in his mystical reflections that he’d lost all touch with reality, and indeed, Ben Zoma died just a few days later. Perhaps the story of Ben Zoma is meant to teach us that we are not meant to spend our days wistfully recollecting a time of God’s maximal closeness, but rather striving to interact with others in a way that brings God close again. 

The final part of the verse, “So did He spread his wings and take him, and bear him along his pinions,” is read by the midrash in light of a well-known metaphor for the redemption from Egypt. The Torah teaches that following the Exodus, God reminded the people of how they had been delivered out of Egyptian bondage: “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings, and I brought you to me.” The midrash (Mechilta 19:4) explains that an eagle carries its young on its wings so that if any arrows are shot at it from below, they will pierce the eagle rather than its young. Likewise, when God redeemed the people of Israel, God was prepared to absorb any arrows from the enemy so that the Israelites would be safe. Elsewhere the midrash (Mechilta on Ex. 14:10) explains that when the Egyptians shot arrows at the Israelites at the Red Sea, those arrows were intercepted by the clouds of God’s glory which accompanied the people throughout the wilderness. Perhaps not surprisingly, Ibn Ezra (on Deuteronomy 32:11) links all these images together in noting that the cloud of God’s glory hovered over the Israelite camp like the eagle hovering over its young in our parashah. 

This imagery of a bird hovering over its young recalls the commandment in Deuteronomy (22:6-7) to send away the mother bird before taking its young. If God is the mother bird hovering over God’s people on earth, perhaps we can think of this commandment as a reminder that we cannot cause harm to one of God’s creatures without effectively sending God away. In order for the bird to hover closely over the nest, and for God’s presence to be felt, we must make sure that we treat God’s creatures appropriately. 

Although writing in a different religious tradition, poet Gerard Manley Hopkins captures the imagery of the mother bird and the divine spirit beautifully in his poem about a world “charged with the glory of God” – a world in which “the Holy Ghost over the bent world broods with warm breast and ah! bright wings.” Just as God’s spirit hovered over the waters of the deep, we can bring God’s presence closer through the way we interact with others and with all of God’s creatures, ensuring that our world remains charged with God’s glory. 

The Pangs of Transition

Vered Hollander-Goldfarb

Text: Devarim 32:44

44And Moshe came and spoke all the words of this song in the ears of the people; he, and Hoshea son of Nun. 

• Hoshea son of Nun is better known as Joshua, Moshe’s servant and successor.  Why do you think that the Torah stresses that he is present while Moshe speaks the closing poem of Haazinu? 
• How do you expect the people to react to Joshua now, knowing that Moshe is parting from them, and Joshua was appointed to take over as the leader?
• Why is Joshua called Hoshea here?  Moshe changed his name to Joshua already at the beginning of the spies’ event.  

Commentary: Rashi Devarim 32:44

He and Hoshea the son of Nun – It was the Shabbat of transmission of office (lit., "of two pairs" of leaders): authority was taken from one and given to the other (Sotah 13b): Moshe appointed a Meturgeman* (interpreter, announcer) for Joshua that he (Joshua) should hold a Halakhic discourse in public during his (Moshe's) lifetime in order that the Israelites should not say to him, "During your master's lifetime you did not dare to raise your head!" 

 And why does it call him Hoshea here? To indicate that he did not become haughty, for although this dignity had been conferred upon him, he assumed a humble bearing as at the commencement of his career.

*Having a Meturgeman became a symbol of an official or significant speech by a rabbinic authority in Talmudic times.

• Rashi gives a vivid description of the transition of power from Moshe to Joshua in front of the people.  What future problems does Moshe foresee Joshua facing and how does he deal with them?  How applicable are those kinds of challenges in today’s world when one takes over for a popular leader or head of an organization?
• There is another side of the equation:  How does Joshua view himself now that he is the official leader?  How could and/or should he present himself?  What are the benefits for each approach?

Commentary: Hizkuni Devarim 32:44

And Hoshea bin Nun – when he initially became Moshe’s servant, Moshe called him “Joshua” as it is the habit of kings to change the names of their servants, such as Joseph, Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah.  But now that he became king  (leader), he reverted to his original name; however, in all of Scripture he is called “Joshua” since we have become accustomed to this form of his name.



• In what situations may one give a name to someone?  What is implied by the giving of a name? 
• Hizkuni suggests viewing the name changes that Joshua goes through as a reflection of his life and career.  Why is he now called Hoshea? Should we consider the continued use of “Joshua” an insult or a term of endearment? Why?

From Moses to David

Bex Stern Rosenblatt

This week, as we approach the end of the Torah cycle, we juxtapose two of our leading men - Moses from the Torah portion and King David from the haftarah. We read their penultimate songs, their declarations of thanks to God. David’s song, which he would have spoken hundreds of years after the song of Moses, seems to echo and expand on what Moses once said. 

Both songs describe God as a tzur, a rock, and also occasionally as a sela, a crag. Moses had seen God as all good as rock, an everlasting steadiness against which the people of Israel rebelled and crushed themselves. We read in Ha’azinu, as translated by Robert Alter, “The Rock, His acts are perfect, for all His ways are justice. A steadfast God without wrong, true and right is He.” Moses goes on to say of Israel, “you fattened, you thickened, grew gross— and abandoned the God Who had made him and despised the Rock of his rescue… the Rock your bearer you neglected you forgot the God Who gave you birth.” Instead, Israel chased other gods foolishly, “for not like our Rock is their rock, our enemies’ would-be gods.”

David picks up on Moses’s description of God as a rock. But for David, God the rock is not an abstract metaphor. David opens his song, saying, as translated by Robert Alter, “The Lord is my crag and my fortress and my own deliverer. God, my rock where I shelter, my shield and the horn of my rescue, my bulwark and refuge, my rescuer, saves me from havoc.” When David speaks of rocks and crags, he recalls the literal hiding spots he used while on the run from King Saul. Saul had lost the support of God and David had gained it. Saul, displeased with the situation, kept trying to kill David, but David refused to kill him. Rather, David hid, seeking shelter in caves and crevasses. We read of David being saved by spending time with rocks and crags. It is fair therefore to read David’s discussion of God as a rock and as his delivery as a song of personal thanksgiving. David is attributing to God his success in hiding from Saul, in being his rocky shelter. 

Moses’s relationship with literal rocks is a little more “on the rocks.” The word for crag, sela, appears in the story of the waters of Meribah, when Moses hits a rock with his staff to bring forth water for the community and God punishes him by refusing to let him enter the land of Israel. To say that God is the rock of Moses contains some bitterness too. God is the foundation, the stronghold, the source of water and life, but also the unyielding wielder of punishment, the reason that Moses is prevented from achieving his mission. This duality is reflected in Ha’azinu. When Moses speaks of God as a rock against whom Israel has crushed itself, he speaks also of himself, of his relationship with God. 

It is refreshing to read David’s pure song of praise after Moses’s song. David, who has his fair set of trials and tribulations, speaks of God the rock only with praise. Moses and David are perhaps the two most well-known figures from the Tanakh. They are the leaders of the nation, the forgers of covenants with God. David’s repurposing of Moses’s words gives Israel another chance, just as David has received so many second chances after his mistakes. After Moses’s song of doom and redemption, David gives a glimpse of what happiness could look like.