This year, being the second consecutive 354 day year, we read Parashat Vayelekh alone on Shabbat Shuva. There are years when we read Vayelekh together with the previous parsha, Nitzavim, and other years when we read it on the Shabbat between Yom Kippur and Sukkot. Like the preceding parshayot, Ki Tavo and Nitzavim, and like the song of Ha'azinu that follows it, Parashat Vayelekh is a parsha of Tochecha, of moral rebuke.
Like many elders who know their time is limited, Moses wants to preach a moral lesson that will last for all generations. He knows his ministry over Israel is coming to an end. He warns us that should we not follow his instructions, things will not go well for us.
Over the past few weeks, I have been studying the parasha with a Bar Mitzvah boy who will read from the Torah on Shabbat. Looking at it with him leads me to reflect on different educational styles. The question arises – are threats and intimidation a successful educational strategy?
On the one hand, threats often bring results. On the other hand, they create a culture of intimidation and violence. And if threatened violence doesn't materialize, they lose their effectiveness – the child learns that threats are hollow, empty, and needn't be heeded.
In recent generations, perhaps since the end of World War II, the accepted educational fashion has been relaxed. Perhaps this began earlier, in the early 20th century, with the research of Freud and especially of his students. Threats and punishment, in the style of "spare the rod and spoil the child" have fallen out of fashion.
That approach is based in the text of the Biblical Proverbs, explained by Rabbi Sa'adia Gaon of the 9th Century: "one might think that [sparing the rod] is merciful, but it is nothing but cruelty, as it leads to evil, to theft, and to corruption."
But modern psychology teaches us that traditional educational methods based on threats and beatings not only don't guarantee good results, but they may also be harmful in the long run. Therefore, and perhaps also in reaction against a very punitive culture in the 19th century, today the fashion requires a gentle approach with children.
So Moses' threats (or God's threats given through Moses) in these last chapters of Deuteronomy may seem to us not conducive to the kind of motivation intended by the ancient writer (whether that was the Ancient of Days or the 120-year-old Moses). The climax of the threat is yet ahead of us, in the song of Haazinu, but the last parshayot,– Ki Tavo, Nitzavim, and Vayelekh – are all chapters of rebuke, threats, and intimidation.
It is impossible to project one-to-one from God’s attitude towards the people of Israel in the Torah to the attitude of modern states, but I see something similar in the rigid and threatening approach heard in the media in recent years, the same sort that guides the current Israeli government in much of its policy, whether in the statements about those who protest against its policies, or about the war against Hamas. The populist media voices that echo these policy also advocates such rigidity. More than once, threats and promises of harsh violence and excessive force are expressed as “punishment” – whether it is to punish enemies, or to punish criminals, or to punish citizens who simply want to voice opposition.
In the monumental book "The Dawn of Everything - A New History of Humanity" by David Graeber and David Wengrow (2021, published in Hebrew in March 2025 by Radical), the authors unfold a fascinating analysis of human history, but also of the main ideas that guide the understanding of the history of the modern era. Graeber, who died in 2021, shortly after the two finished the book, was an economist and historian.
Wengrow is an anthropologist and archaeologist. They analyze the ideas of the French intelligentsia in the Age of Enlightenment that preceded the Revolution and show how the ideas of the period (which led to the basic concepts of the modern state) were influenced by a certain indigenous intellectual from a region that is now southern Canada (Kondiaronk of the Wendat). Much of that indigenous culture (broadly known as the Iroquois), they claim, arose in response to an earlier, violent and coercive culture that dominated central North America a thousand years ago, from a great city-state called Cahokia. Cahokia was known for a culture that included human sacrifice and would conquer surrounding peoples by force to feed its terrible service. The surrounding peoples were so affected by Cahokia's violence and coercion that they developed cultures in which individual freedom was the central ideal, in which communal discussion was the clearest expression of sovereignty, and therefore there was no possibility for the group to force an individual to do anything without verbal persuasion. Of course, a few sentences cannot do justice to ideas put forth in a book of hundreds of pages, but this idea can help us understand a little about what is happening around us.
Every society defines itself against a society that it is not, according to Graeber and Wengrow. So if the last generation was a permissive generation, the current generation, in order to differentiate itself and shape itself, may embrace a rebellion against permissiveness, a rebellion that sanctifies rigidity, threats, and intimidation. Leaders may ride on such social processes to strengthen their position, regardless of the details. That is, it should be expected that rigid and violent leadership would develop after the generation of peace and optimism of the 1990s, regardless of the identity of this or that leader.
A Note on the Haftarah
Who is a God like Thee, who pardons iniquity, and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his heritage? he does not maintain his anger for ever, because he delights in mercy. He will again have compassion upon us; he will suppress our iniquities.
And thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea; show truth to Ya῾aqov, loyal love to Avraham, as thou hast sworn to our fathers from days of old.
These three verses, the last in the book of Micah, are an important part of the haftara of Shabbat Shuva. The prophet implores God, “And thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea” – and I want to say – how can sins be cast away? Is it really possible to cast bad things into the sea so that they disappear? Our tradition builds the “Tashlikh” ritual on the basis of this verse, but how can we understand it today? First of all, we know that today there is no place that is completely away – in the environmental movement there is an expression – there is no away – that is, there is no place to escape to, no place we can throw away into, that is not actually here, in the world, as well.
The world is round. Ecclesiastes already teaches us, “All the rivers flow into the sea, but the sea is never full, to the places where the rivers flow, thither they return.” (Ecclesiastes 1:7) In other words, everything we try to throw away will come back to us one day. For example, the water and waste that flows into the sea through the Besor River, also known as the Wadi of Gaza, begins in the Negev Mountains, flows through Israel, then to the northern part of the Gaza Strip, and there empties into the Mediterranean Sea. The currents of the Mediterranean Sea bring the water to the southern coast of Israel, all the way to Tel Aviv. What happens in Gaza directly affects Tel Aviv (A great example of environmental justice work in this area, happening even in this difficult time, during this terrible war, is being led by the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies along with a number of Israeli, Palestinian, and international organizations).
As I was thinking about this, an expression from the Holy Zohar came to my mind – לית אתר פנוי מניה (there is no place free from Him). That is, God is also within our sins, God is also in the sea, God is also in the fish and creatures of the sea – and precisely here I find reason for optimism.
Although the thought that there is nowhere to dispose of our sins can be a pessimistic thought, I choose to see it as an enabling and liberating thought. How? Because I am not alone in the world. Although there is no place to escape to – just as Jonah concludes from his attempt to escape into the heart of the sea, but, it turns out, I am not alone in the world – no one is alone in the world. Not personally – there are other people, nor on a species level – there are other species of living things in the world. And from others, I can ask for help.
You can ask for help from people – like Jonah, who asked the sailors on the ship to throw him into the stormy sea, where he is helped by a fish that spits him out onto the shore, and finally he is also helped by a castor oil, which casts a shadow over him. And through the help of the gourd, Jonah learns his lesson from God Himself,
"And the Lord said, You have pitied the gourd, for which you neither labored nor made it grow, which came to be in a night and perished in a night. Should I not pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than twenty thousand people who do not know between their right hand and their left, and also much livestock?" (Jonah 4:10-11)
So perhaps we too can we learn a lesson in optimism, both in relation to our place in the world, and in relation to our waste – our sins: We are not alone in the world. When we ask God to cast our sins into the sea, we can understand that they will return to us. But we can also understand that we are not able to deal with our sin alone – we need help. God will help us to muster the courage, perhaps, but the rest of His creatures and His creations can also help us – to process, refine, and cleanse the stain.
May we succeed in internalizing the message of these Yamim Noraim – these terrible days – that we will only succeed in existing in the world thanks to cooperation – with other people, with other nations, even with other creatures. What do we lack? Only the humility to understand that we are not alone. Therefore we must go out of ourselves, ask for help from others, and accept help from others when they offer it. May this war end, may the hostages be released, and may life return to a positive path of action, for the sake of the future.
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Rabbi Daniel Burstyn has been a member of Kibbutz Lotan since 1990. For many years he divided his time between farm labor and Rabbinical work. Since 2019, he serves as the regional Rabbi of the Reform Movement in the Arava. He is a teacher of spiritual and practical topics, facilitator of Batei midrash, and a talented singer. He teaches youth and adults in his Kibbutz and in other communities of the Arava.
Like many elders who know their time is limited, Moses wants to preach a moral lesson that will last for all generations. He knows his ministry over Israel is coming to an end. He warns us that should we not follow his instructions, things will not go well for us.
Over the past few weeks, I have been studying the parasha with a Bar Mitzvah boy who will read from the Torah on Shabbat. Looking at it with him leads me to reflect on different educational styles. The question arises – are threats and intimidation a successful educational strategy?
On the one hand, threats often bring results. On the other hand, they create a culture of intimidation and violence. And if threatened violence doesn't materialize, they lose their effectiveness – the child learns that threats are hollow, empty, and needn't be heeded.
In recent generations, perhaps since the end of World War II, the accepted educational fashion has been relaxed. Perhaps this began earlier, in the early 20th century, with the research of Freud and especially of his students. Threats and punishment, in the style of "spare the rod and spoil the child" have fallen out of fashion.
That approach is based in the text of the Biblical Proverbs, explained by Rabbi Sa'adia Gaon of the 9th Century: "one might think that [sparing the rod] is merciful, but it is nothing but cruelty, as it leads to evil, to theft, and to corruption."
But modern psychology teaches us that traditional educational methods based on threats and beatings not only don't guarantee good results, but they may also be harmful in the long run. Therefore, and perhaps also in reaction against a very punitive culture in the 19th century, today the fashion requires a gentle approach with children.
So Moses' threats (or God's threats given through Moses) in these last chapters of Deuteronomy may seem to us not conducive to the kind of motivation intended by the ancient writer (whether that was the Ancient of Days or the 120-year-old Moses). The climax of the threat is yet ahead of us, in the song of Haazinu, but the last parshayot,– Ki Tavo, Nitzavim, and Vayelekh – are all chapters of rebuke, threats, and intimidation.
It is impossible to project one-to-one from God’s attitude towards the people of Israel in the Torah to the attitude of modern states, but I see something similar in the rigid and threatening approach heard in the media in recent years, the same sort that guides the current Israeli government in much of its policy, whether in the statements about those who protest against its policies, or about the war against Hamas. The populist media voices that echo these policy also advocates such rigidity. More than once, threats and promises of harsh violence and excessive force are expressed as “punishment” – whether it is to punish enemies, or to punish criminals, or to punish citizens who simply want to voice opposition.
In the monumental book "The Dawn of Everything - A New History of Humanity" by David Graeber and David Wengrow (2021, published in Hebrew in March 2025 by Radical), the authors unfold a fascinating analysis of human history, but also of the main ideas that guide the understanding of the history of the modern era. Graeber, who died in 2021, shortly after the two finished the book, was an economist and historian.
Wengrow is an anthropologist and archaeologist. They analyze the ideas of the French intelligentsia in the Age of Enlightenment that preceded the Revolution and show how the ideas of the period (which led to the basic concepts of the modern state) were influenced by a certain indigenous intellectual from a region that is now southern Canada (Kondiaronk of the Wendat). Much of that indigenous culture (broadly known as the Iroquois), they claim, arose in response to an earlier, violent and coercive culture that dominated central North America a thousand years ago, from a great city-state called Cahokia. Cahokia was known for a culture that included human sacrifice and would conquer surrounding peoples by force to feed its terrible service. The surrounding peoples were so affected by Cahokia's violence and coercion that they developed cultures in which individual freedom was the central ideal, in which communal discussion was the clearest expression of sovereignty, and therefore there was no possibility for the group to force an individual to do anything without verbal persuasion. Of course, a few sentences cannot do justice to ideas put forth in a book of hundreds of pages, but this idea can help us understand a little about what is happening around us.
Every society defines itself against a society that it is not, according to Graeber and Wengrow. So if the last generation was a permissive generation, the current generation, in order to differentiate itself and shape itself, may embrace a rebellion against permissiveness, a rebellion that sanctifies rigidity, threats, and intimidation. Leaders may ride on such social processes to strengthen their position, regardless of the details. That is, it should be expected that rigid and violent leadership would develop after the generation of peace and optimism of the 1990s, regardless of the identity of this or that leader.
A Note on the Haftarah
Who is a God like Thee, who pardons iniquity, and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his heritage? he does not maintain his anger for ever, because he delights in mercy. He will again have compassion upon us; he will suppress our iniquities.
And thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea; show truth to Ya῾aqov, loyal love to Avraham, as thou hast sworn to our fathers from days of old.
These three verses, the last in the book of Micah, are an important part of the haftara of Shabbat Shuva. The prophet implores God, “And thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea” – and I want to say – how can sins be cast away? Is it really possible to cast bad things into the sea so that they disappear? Our tradition builds the “Tashlikh” ritual on the basis of this verse, but how can we understand it today? First of all, we know that today there is no place that is completely away – in the environmental movement there is an expression – there is no away – that is, there is no place to escape to, no place we can throw away into, that is not actually here, in the world, as well.
The world is round. Ecclesiastes already teaches us, “All the rivers flow into the sea, but the sea is never full, to the places where the rivers flow, thither they return.” (Ecclesiastes 1:7) In other words, everything we try to throw away will come back to us one day. For example, the water and waste that flows into the sea through the Besor River, also known as the Wadi of Gaza, begins in the Negev Mountains, flows through Israel, then to the northern part of the Gaza Strip, and there empties into the Mediterranean Sea. The currents of the Mediterranean Sea bring the water to the southern coast of Israel, all the way to Tel Aviv. What happens in Gaza directly affects Tel Aviv (A great example of environmental justice work in this area, happening even in this difficult time, during this terrible war, is being led by the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies along with a number of Israeli, Palestinian, and international organizations).
As I was thinking about this, an expression from the Holy Zohar came to my mind – לית אתר פנוי מניה (there is no place free from Him). That is, God is also within our sins, God is also in the sea, God is also in the fish and creatures of the sea – and precisely here I find reason for optimism.
Although the thought that there is nowhere to dispose of our sins can be a pessimistic thought, I choose to see it as an enabling and liberating thought. How? Because I am not alone in the world. Although there is no place to escape to – just as Jonah concludes from his attempt to escape into the heart of the sea, but, it turns out, I am not alone in the world – no one is alone in the world. Not personally – there are other people, nor on a species level – there are other species of living things in the world. And from others, I can ask for help.
You can ask for help from people – like Jonah, who asked the sailors on the ship to throw him into the stormy sea, where he is helped by a fish that spits him out onto the shore, and finally he is also helped by a castor oil, which casts a shadow over him. And through the help of the gourd, Jonah learns his lesson from God Himself,
"And the Lord said, You have pitied the gourd, for which you neither labored nor made it grow, which came to be in a night and perished in a night. Should I not pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than twenty thousand people who do not know between their right hand and their left, and also much livestock?" (Jonah 4:10-11)
So perhaps we too can we learn a lesson in optimism, both in relation to our place in the world, and in relation to our waste – our sins: We are not alone in the world. When we ask God to cast our sins into the sea, we can understand that they will return to us. But we can also understand that we are not able to deal with our sin alone – we need help. God will help us to muster the courage, perhaps, but the rest of His creatures and His creations can also help us – to process, refine, and cleanse the stain.
May we succeed in internalizing the message of these Yamim Noraim – these terrible days – that we will only succeed in existing in the world thanks to cooperation – with other people, with other nations, even with other creatures. What do we lack? Only the humility to understand that we are not alone. Therefore we must go out of ourselves, ask for help from others, and accept help from others when they offer it. May this war end, may the hostages be released, and may life return to a positive path of action, for the sake of the future.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rabbi Daniel Burstyn has been a member of Kibbutz Lotan since 1990. For many years he divided his time between farm labor and Rabbinical work. Since 2019, he serves as the regional Rabbi of the Reform Movement in the Arava. He is a teacher of spiritual and practical topics, facilitator of Batei midrash, and a talented singer. He teaches youth and adults in his Kibbutz and in other communities of the Arava.