A D’var Torah for 25 Av 5786, 8 August 2026
There are moments in life when the path before us seems perfectly clear. We know what is right, we understand what is expected of us, and we can see the consequences of the choice we are about to make. Yet there are also times when blessing and destruction arrive disguised. The easier path may lead us away from the life we truly desire, while the more difficult path may carry us toward peace, integrity, and holiness. The challenge is not merely to choose. The challenge is first to see.
Parashat Re’eh begins with that command:
“See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse: the blessing, if you listen to the commandments of YHWH your God, which I command you today; and the curse, if you do not listen to the commandments of YHWH your God and turn aside from the way that I command you today”
(Deuteronomy 11:26–28).
Moshe does not begin by saying, “Hear.” Throughout Devarim, Israel has been commanded repeatedly to listen: Shema Yisrael—“Hear, O Israel.” Here, however, Moshe says Re’eh—“See.” Torah must not remain something that we hear only in the synagogue, read only in a book, or discuss only in moments of study. We must learn to see its truth operating within the world around us. We must recognize how our choices shape our character, our families, our communities, and ultimately the kind of people we become.
The word re’eh is singular: “See, you.” Yet Moshe continues by saying that the blessing and the curse are set lifneichem—“before you,” in the plural. Each individual must see for themselves, but the consequences of our choices are rarely ours alone. Every person possesses moral responsibility, yet every decision also touches the larger community. One person’s dishonesty can weaken public trust. One person’s cruelty can wound an entire family. One person’s courage can inspire a congregation. One person’s generosity can restore another person’s hope.
Torah therefore speaks simultaneously to the individual conscience and to the collective life of Israel. No community can choose righteousness on our behalf if we refuse to choose it ourselves. At the same time, none of us lives so privately that our actions have no effect upon others. Each person must see, but all of us must live with what we choose.
Blessing Is a Way of Life
The blessing and curse described by Moshe should not be understood merely as supernatural rewards and punishments arbitrarily assigned by Heaven. Torah certainly teaches that God judges human conduct, but it also teaches that many consequences arise naturally from the kind of life we choose to build.
Truthfulness creates trust. Discipline produces stability. Compassion strengthens relationships. Justice protects the vulnerable. Gratitude brings contentment. Faithfulness gives direction to life. These are blessings not only because God rewards them, but because they are themselves part of the blessed life.
The opposite is also true. Greed creates anxiety because there is never enough. Dishonesty produces suspicion because no one knows whom to trust. Hatred consumes the person who carries it. Exploitation fractures communities. Idolatry places human beings in bondage to things that cannot love, answer, forgive, or save them. The curse is not always a bolt of lightning from heaven. Sometimes it is the inevitable destination of the road we have chosen.
Moshe therefore does not tell Israel merely to wait for blessing. He commands Israel to choose the way that leads to it. A life of blessing is formed through repeated acts of faithfulness: honoring Shabbat, acting honestly in business, guarding our speech, caring for the poor, teaching our children, remembering the covenant, and refusing to make an idol of wealth, status, ideology, or power.
The Torah places blessing before us, but it does not force us to take it.
“Today”: The Choice Is Always Present
Moshe says, “I set before you today a blessing and a curse.” The word “today” appears repeatedly throughout Devarim. Although Moshe is speaking to Israel on the plains of Moab, his words are addressed to every generation. Torah must never become merely the record of what our ancestors once believed or the description of commandments our ancestors once performed. The covenant must be encountered today.
Every morning places blessing and curse before us again. Yesterday’s righteousness does not excuse today’s cruelty. Yesterday’s generosity does not justify today’s indifference. Neither, however, must yesterday’s failure determine today’s direction. The person who chose poorly yesterday may choose differently today. Teshuvah is possible because the road of blessing remains open.
This is one of the great mercies contained within the covenant. God does not demand that we travel backward and erase every mistake. We cannot undo what has already occurred. We can acknowledge it, make amends where possible, accept responsibility, and choose the right road from this moment forward.
The Torah’s “today” prevents both arrogance and despair. The righteous person cannot rely forever upon past accomplishments, and the person who has sinned is not imprisoned forever by the past. Today, the blessing is again placed before us.
The Danger of Idolatry
Much of Parashat Re’eh is concerned with idolatry. Israel is commanded to destroy the places of Canaanite worship, reject false prophets, resist those who entice others to serve foreign gods, and refuse the religious practices of the surrounding nations. These commandments may seem distant from modern life, especially to those who no longer encounter carved images or ancient pagan shrines. Yet the spiritual danger of idolatry remains.
An idol is anything finite that is given the devotion that belongs to God alone. Wealth can become an idol when human worth is measured by possessions. Politics can become an idol when loyalty to a party becomes more important than truth, justice, or Torah. Religious institutions can become idols when preserving their authority becomes more important than serving God and caring for people. Even tradition can be misused when human customs are treated as though they possess the same authority as the commandments of Torah.
Idolatry promises certainty, control, and security. It gives people something visible to possess, defend, and manipulate. The God of Israel, however, cannot be controlled. We cannot purchase His favor, imprison Him within an institution, or claim Him as the exclusive property of our community. We serve God by walking in His ways, keeping His commandments, practicing justice, and remembering that we ourselves remain accountable before Him.
Parashat Re’eh teaches that religious sincerity alone is not enough. A person may be passionate, devoted, and completely sincere while walking toward the wrong altar. Even signs and wonders are not sufficient proof of religious truth if the person performing them teaches Israel to abandon God’s commandments. Torah—not charisma, popularity, institutional prestige, or miraculous claims—remains the standard by which religious teaching is judged.
This warning is especially important in an age of powerful personalities. Torah does not ask whether a teacher is impressive. It asks where that teacher is leading us. Does the teaching lead toward faithfulness, humility, justice, and the commandments of God? Or does it lead toward dependence upon a personality, organization, ideology, or promise of power?
We must learn to see the difference.
Holiness in What We Consume
Parashat Re’eh restates the distinction between animals that may be eaten and those that may not. Kashrut is sometimes dismissed as an ancient dietary system or reduced to a cultural marker separating Jews from others. Yet the Torah places these laws within the larger call to holiness: “For you are a holy people to YHWH your God” (Deuteronomy 14:2).
Holiness enters even the ordinary act of eating. The Torah does not allow us to divide life into sacred and secular compartments, as though God is present in prayer but absent from the kitchen. What we eat, how food is prepared, how animals are treated, how workers are paid, how resources are distributed, and whether we express gratitude are all matters of religious concern.
Kashrut teaches restraint. Not everything that can be consumed should be consumed. Not every appetite must be obeyed. Human freedom is not the absence of boundaries; it is the ability to govern ourselves within righteous boundaries. A person who cannot say no to appetite is not free, no matter how many choices are available.
The discipline of holiness is formed through such ordinary decisions. We become holy not only through dramatic acts of sacrifice, but by remembering God when we sit down to eat.
Opening the Hand
One of the most powerful passages in Re’eh concerns the poor:
“If there is among you a poor person, one of your brothers, within any of your gates in your land which YHWH your God gives you, you shall not harden your heart or shut your hand against your poor brother. Rather, you shall surely open your hand to him”
(Deuteronomy 15:7–8).
The Torah speaks first of the heart and then of the hand. Before the hand closes, the heart hardens. Before we refuse to help, we usually construct a reason why the suffering person does not deserve our concern. We tell ourselves that their poverty is entirely their own fault, that someone else should help, that our contribution would make no difference, or that protecting what we possess is more important than responding to another person’s need.
Torah interrupts these excuses. “You shall not harden your heart or shut your hand.” The closed hand is the outward sign of an inward spiritual condition.
The Torah does not romanticize poverty. It does not suggest that suffering is beautiful or that the poor exist merely to provide the wealthy with opportunities for charity. Poverty is a condition we are commanded to relieve. The Sabbatical remission of debts, the provision of loans, the release of Hebrew servants, and the command to give generously are all intended to prevent hardship from becoming permanent bondage.
At the same time, Torah acknowledges, “The poor will never cease from the land” (Deuteronomy 15:11). This is not permission to accept poverty passively. It is a warning that the obligation of generosity will never disappear. There will never come a time when we can declare that compassion is no longer necessary.
Nor may we limit our concern only to Jews who look, think, worship, or live as we do. The verse calls the needy person “your brother.” Shared covenant creates responsibility, not a test of social conformity. A Jew does not cease to be our fellow Jew because they are less observant, differently observant, uncertain, alienated, or unfamiliar with Jewish life. Our responsibility is not to stand at the gate measuring whether another Jew is worthy of compassion. Our responsibility is to open the hand.
Observance should make the heart softer, not harder. Torah knowledge should increase humility, not contempt. The more seriously we take the commandments, the more seriously we must take the dignity of every person standing before us.
Generosity Without Resentment
The Torah goes further: “You shall surely give to him, and your heart shall not be grieved when you give to him” (Deuteronomy 15:10). It is possible to perform the correct action while cultivating the wrong spirit. A person may give while humiliating the recipient, help while complaining, or fulfill the letter of the commandment while making another human being feel ashamed for having needed assistance.
Torah seeks more than reluctant compliance. The hand must open, but the heart must open with it.
This does not mean that every request must be granted without wisdom, accountability, or discernment. Genuine compassion seeks what will truly help rather than what merely relieves our immediate discomfort. Yet even when we must say no to a particular request, we must not permit ourselves to become cruel. Boundaries may sometimes be necessary. Contempt never is.
The blessing promised in this passage is deeply connected to generosity: “Because of this thing YHWH your God will bless you in all your work and in all that you undertake.” Blessing is not found in clutching everything we possess. It is found in becoming the kind of person through whom blessing flows.
Rejoicing Before God
Parashat Re’eh also speaks repeatedly of rejoicing before God. Israel is commanded to bring offerings, celebrate the festivals, eat together, and include children, servants, Levites, converts, orphans, and widows in communal joy. The Torah does not imagine holiness as perpetual severity. Covenant life includes gratitude, food, family, music, rest, and celebration.
Yet Torah’s joy is never selfish. The festivals are not complete if the vulnerable are left outside. We cannot claim to rejoice before God while ignoring those who have no place at the table. Sacred celebration widens the circle.
This is an important test of religious community. Do our practices bring people closer to Torah, prayer, fellowship, and hope? Do our homes and congregations make room for the lonely, the convert, the widow, the person with little Jewish education, and the Jew who is trying to find a way back? Or have we made holiness feel like a private possession guarded by those already inside?
The answer is not to abandon standards or pretend that mitzvot are unimportant. The answer is to teach with patience, welcome with warmth, and encourage growth without humiliation. Torah should never be diluted, but neither should it be weaponized. We are called to hold firmly to the covenant while extending an open hand.
Seeing the Person Before Us
The command re’eh asks us to look beyond categories and see the human being before us. It is easy to see “the poor,” “the unobservant,” “the outsider,” “the convert,” or “the person who disagrees with me.” It is harder to see a brother, a sister, a neighbor, or a person created in the image of God.
Judgment often begins when we stop seeing people as people. We reduce them to a failure, an opinion, an affiliation, or a label. Torah calls us back to moral vision. See the person. See the consequences of your words. See the burden they may be carrying. See also the possibility of growth that God has placed within them.
This does not mean that all choices are equally wise or that wrongdoing should never be named. Parashat Re’eh clearly distinguishes blessing from curse, truth from idolatry, and obedience from rebellion. Compassion does not require moral confusion. But moral clarity does not require cruelty.
We can believe strongly without despising those who disagree. We can teach commandments without humiliating those who are not yet ready to observe them. We can encourage repentance without declaring ourselves superior to the person who needs to repent. Indeed, because every one of us stands daily before blessing and curse, none of us has grounds for arrogance.
Choosing the Blessing
At the beginning of the parashah, Moshe places two roads before Israel. By the end, we understand that choosing blessing is not one dramatic decision made only once. It is a pattern of daily choices.
We choose blessing when we refuse to make an idol of power. We choose blessing when we place limits upon appetite. We choose blessing when we release another person from crushing debt rather than exploiting their desperation. We choose blessing when our hand opens before our heart can invent a reason to close it. We choose blessing when our celebration includes the forgotten. We choose blessing when Torah makes us more faithful to God and more compassionate toward one another.
The command is not merely to look at the roads. It is to see where they lead.
Moshe’s words remain before us today: “See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse.” The blessing is not hidden. It is present in the commandments, in acts of justice, in the discipline of holiness, in the courage to reject idolatry, and in the open hand extended toward another person.
May God grant us the wisdom to see clearly, the humility to examine our own path, and the courage to choose the blessing. May our observance deepen our compassion, our convictions strengthen our integrity, and our love of Torah increase our love for the people whom Torah commands us to serve.
Shabbat shalom.
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