This week, we begin reading the book of Deuteronomy. It’s a book of laws, a book of soaring poetry, filled with words like the Shema and the V’hafta. But more than anything else, it’s the story of one man – a leader who is approaching the end of his life.

Years earlier, Moses went through a period of loss. His brother and sister died, and in his grief, he became angry at the people – so angry that God sentenced him to die in the wilderness, without ever setting foot in the Promised Land.

And now, as Deuteronomy begins, the Israelites have reached the Jordan. Their lifelong dream of entering the land is about to come true. But Moses knows that he is about to die. He will not go with them.

As we read Deuteronomy, we see the last month of Moses’ life – how he copes with his impending death, and how he grows until the very last minute. And right before our eyes, he becomes Moshe Rabbenu, Moses our teacher.

Moses had no riches to leave behind. And his children disappeared from history. All he had was the love of his people, and his wisdom to leave behind. He would never achieve his dream, but he could leave behind his teaching, hoping that the next generation would turn his dream into reality.

So Moses began to teach, reminding the new generation of their history, teaching them to love, teaching them listen to each other, and to remember that the future is in their hands.

Every religion must deal with the question of mortality. And ours, like many others, believes in an afterlife. But that is not our main focus. “The righteous live forever,” said the sages, “through their good deeds and the Torah they teach.”

By the end of his life, Moses had learned that lesson, and he passed it to the rest of us. But sages and prophets are not our only teachers.

I’ve walked the final journey with many people. I’ve accompanied them as they prepared for death. And in their final weeks and months, each of them had something to teach me. There was a man on his deathbed, clutching to life and suddenly understanding Hebrew. And there was a woman in hospice – a schizophrenic dying of cancer – who suddenly returned to her former self, bright, charming, and aware. In their final moments, each of them left a part of themselves inside me.

Our words, our teachings, and our acts of kindness echo throughout eternity. They never disappear.

And that, perhaps, is the lesson of Deuteronomy: that our words and our acts of kindness can affect the lives of generations not yet born. 

Don’t wait to the end. Share your kindness and your wisdom with the ones you love, and savor the love they give you. Kindness, love, and wisdom – those are the things that remain.

Everyone has something to teach us. And by listening, we give them eternal life.

Shabbat Shalom,
Art