The Book of Deuteronomy is filled with soaring language, with hope for the future and and teachings that our lives are ultimately in our own hands. But there’s one line – almost a throw-away – that always grabs my attention.

As the Israelites are about to enter the land, Moses reminds them about the miracles of daily life. “And God did not give you a heart to know and eyes to see and ears to hear until this day,” he tells them. “You spent forty years in the desert, and the shirts on your backs did not wear out, nor the shoes on your feet.”

Like our ancestors before us, we often ignore the miracles. The surf, the tides, shoes that don’t wear out – all of them are miraculous gifts from God. And the strength inside us, our ability reach out to others and to heal from life’s traumas – those are the greatest miracles of all.

And Sefat Emet, one of the great Chassidic masters, found an even bigger miracle in the verse:

And God did not give you a heart to know and eyes to see and ears to hear until this day. The entire Torah had been revealed to them, and their very lives had become part of it. The light of their good deeds had become part of the Torah.

This is the gift that God gave to us at Mt. Sinai – that our lives can become Torah. For in truth, the Torah is endless. Our lives and our actions can become garments of light through which the Torah is revealed.

The greatest miracle of all, he says, is that our lives can become garments for Torah.

The Torah was written about ordinary people struggling in the desert, people who were sweaty and thirsty, who ignore the miracles all around them. But somehow, their good deeds became part of the Torah. And perhaps, Deuteronomy is teaching, Torah can be made from our lives, too.

As we approach Elul, we start thinking about our mistakes and our failings. But perhaps, like the generation of the desert, we’ve had our good moments, too. Perhaps we’ve lifted someone up and given them hope. Perhaps, we’ve welcomed the stranger or helped someone to heal. And perhaps, at this very moment, Torah is being made from our lives.

I’ve seen so much suffering in the world. Mothers who have lost children, children who have been battered. And I’ve seen them holding onto life, convinced that they can find meaning by giving others a better life. I’ve seen their moments of grace, and I’ve seen people try and fall and try to stand up again. The greatest miracle of all is is our ability to heal.

This year, as Elul approaches, we see the good and the bad. May we acknowledge our mistakes and grow from them. And may we also see the miracle of the strength inside us.

May our lives and our actions become garments of light through which the Torah is revealed.