Table for Five: Va’etchanan

Dr. Rena Selya Cohen

Archivist, Cedars-Sinai; Past President of BDJ

Throughout the book of Devarim, we sense a palpable anxiety from Moshe about what would happen to the people and to the Torah after he was gone. In this verse, we see Moshe struggling with balancing his love of the Jewish people and the precious gift they have received from Hashem with his real fears about how they would behave once he was no longer there to guide them.

The idea of commandedness appears three times in this verse. The commandments are Hashem’s but the medium was Moshe, the one who conveyed Hashem’s message with love and dedication. Commandments are Moshe’s legacy, his eternal impact on our thoughts and behaviors, and he must have been terrified that without his guidance, the Children of Israel would lose their moral compass and stray from Hashem’s careful instructions. In cautioning us not to add or subtract from the Torah, Moshe was protecting Hashem’s commandments from what 19th-century commentator Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch called “arbitrariness … any subjective, capricious addition or omission. …” Moshe was painfully aware of the hazards of adding to the mitzvot, even with the best of intentions: he saw first-hand what happened to his nephews Nadav and Avihu when they brought their own fire to the dedication of the Mishkan, and one could argue that his sin of hitting the rock instead of talking to it was also an example of adding to one of Hashem’s commandments. Commandments need boundaries even as they constrain our behavior.

Rabbi Shlomo Seidenfeld

Scholar-in-Residence for Aish/JMI, Freelance Rabbi

Everyone’s looking for the secret sauce. The insider intel for living a vibrant and fulfilling life. Everything we crave is motivated by this search. Every profession. Every relationship. Every possession. Every vacation. In short, everything we seek out is fueled by this quest. To be sure, some people’s search is motivated by a deep need for validation and is driven by insecurities and vanities. But even then, ultimately, what those and all souls crave is a life that is meaningful. So the big question is where’s the sauce and how do I sign up?

For Jews, the Torah and the Jewish tradition of Missionhood is the secret sauce. And like all tantalizing recipes its flavor is complicated, nuanced and zesty. As per the language in our verse, the “Word” of the Torah is divinely designed and calibrated to satiate and empower us in our eternal quest to infuse our lives with the light of higher purpose. The divine ingredients for this recipe are the mitzvot, whose observance guides us towards living the lives we seek.

But there’s a catch. In order to fully access and experience the quest-nourishing and life-enhancing wisdom, you have to follow the recipe. Each mitzvah is a unique flavor that contributes to the sauce. If we add to the recipe or diminish it, no matter how well intentioned our revisions are, the holistic recipe is altered. The secret sauce is no secret! We just need to trust the chef to fully enjoy its taste and impact. Shabbat Shalom

Gila Muskin Block

Executive Director, Yesh Tikva

In this pasuk the Torah teaches “You shall not add to the word that I command you, nor shall you diminish from it.” Rashi explains that we are commanded to observe mitzvot exactly as God instructed, not by adding or taking away from them. Rav Hirsch deepens this idea, teaching that every mitzvah is a communication from God. To add to it or subtract from it is to alter the message itself. Even with the best intentions, we risk replacing divine wisdom with our own. Professionally, I am trained to view life through the lens of supporting people in struggle. When I read these interpretations, they reminded me of a lesson that extends far beyond mitzvot: ask people what they need and then listen.

I often hear that people hesitate to show up for someone in pain because they are afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. Yet the Torah suggests that listening itself is an act of humility. It requires us to hear another person’s words without reshaping them through our own assumptions, experiences, or desire to fix the situation. Perhaps this is one of the lessons we can derive from “do not add and do not subtract.” Whether we are receiving God’s commandments or listening to another person, our first responsibility is to hear what is actually being said. Often, the greatest gift we can offer is not advice or solutions, but rather our presence and willingness to listen.

Rabbi Ilana Grinblat

Ahavat Torah

When my son, Jeremy, was an infant, I remember holding his tiny foot in the palm of my hand, and wondering: how will these feet ever fit in in my husband’s shoes? Now, 22 years later, he and my husband share the same shoe size. The transformation that takes place over a couple decades is remarkable. Jeremy hasn’t added or subtracted from himself, but he has grown. Still his soul – his essence – is unchanged. He has become physically stronger and more capable, but his smile and his inner spark remain the same.

So too with Torah. As Rabbi Harold Kushner of blessed memory explained: Torah is a living organism, constantly shedding dead cells and growing new ones, changing and adapting to new and unprecedented circumstances. Extending the implications of a law to meet today’s needs is not a case of adding or subtracting.

In reflecting on America’s 250th birthday, we can trace how the idea of liberty in the Constitution was originally applied only to white men who owned property and has since been expanded to include us all. Likewise, when we apply Torah more justly in our world, we’re not adding to Torah but only ensuring that its core principle – that each person is created in the image of God – extends to everyone. In this way, we are fulfilling the subsequent verse: “And you shall cling to Adonai, your God, living, all of you, today.”

Sari Abrams

Early Childhood and Parenting Educator

The two halves of this verse are in tension. If Moshe expects the people to “observe the commandments of the Lord,” is it logical for him to expect they will neither “add to” nor “diminish from” them? Would it be possible for the people to observe them precisely as they were divinely presented, when over time they would invariably find themselves in changing circumstances? Obviously this isn’t Moshe’s intent (as the Talmudic rabbis also clearly understood.)

Rather, in his instruction in the first half of the verse, Moshe teaches us that even in changing circumstances, God’s commandments must be our center of gravity, the blueprint for our lives. We are to exercise humility, accepting the basic structures of the commandments while not presuming to read God’s mind. Then, in the second half of the verse, Moshe instructs us to take responsibility for ensuring we can observe the commandments at all times, in all places and in all situations.

This verse provides the framework for a religious observance that is true to God’s word, while remaining vibrant and relevant. It forces us to ask the question: how do we adapt and construct halacha in concert with historical, moral, and social developments, while staying true to God’s laws and commands as given to us in the Torah? How do we remain the people who stood at Sinai declaring “we will do and we will listen” while also standing in places around the globe, thousands of years later?