Today we went up to the resting place of my grandfather, Tzvi Aryeh ben Asher Anshul HaKohen, alav hashalom. After the Six-Day War in 1968, my grandfather moved to Israel and retired. But almost immediately afterward, he did something that defined the rest of his life. He went to learn how to become a tour guide of Eretz Yisrael. Yes, every now and then he would take friends or cousins or relatives who came from America and from all over the world to see the land. But the main reason he became a tour guide was for his family. He wanted to take my grandmother, may she live and be well, his children, his grandchildren, and even his great-grandchildren all over Eretz Yisrael. And he did. From Caesarea to Beit Shearim, from Tzipori in the Galil, all the way down to Eilat, he led us across the land.
One very specific story I carry with me happened when I was about five or six years old. We went on a two or three day trip in the mountains around Eilat. One of the hikes was on Har Shlomo. Before the hike began, my grandfather came over to me and gave me a walking stick, a small staff my height. You can see it in the picture. The only three people who had these sticks were my grandfather, my grandmother, and myself. He turned to me and said, "You can walk the whole way because this is a magic stick. It will give you strength and you'll never get tired." I am sure he carried me for half the way, but I still remember that feeling. Holding that staff, walking beside my grandfather and grandmother, feeling that he had given me strength to keep moving.
This morning, driving to his graveside, that memory came back so strongly. And then I thought about how many times in my adult life, because I merited to have him until I was thirty-five years old, my grandfather would pull me aside. He would put his hand on my shoulder and with tears in his eyes tell me, "Just keep walking. Don't stop. I know it's hard. I know you have questions. I know things aren't how you want them to be. But keep moving. It will come."
In our parasha, the first pasuk says, וַיֵּלֶךְ מֹשֶׁה וַיְדַבֵּר אֶת־הַדְּבָרִים הָאֵלֶּה אֶל־כָּל־יִשְׂרָאֵל. וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵהֶם בֶּן־מֵאָה וְעֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה אָנֹכִי הַיּוֹם לֹא־אוּכַל עוֹד לָצֵאת וְלָבוֹא וַיהוָה אָמַר אֵלַי לֹא תַעֲבֹר אֶת־הַיַּרְדֵּן הַזֶּה. "And Moshe went and spoke these words to all of Israel. He said to them, I am a hundred and twenty years old today; I can no longer go out and come in, and the Lord has said to me, You shall not cross this Jordan."
Why say Vayelech Moshe, "Moshe went"? Why not simply Vayomer Moshe, "Moshe said"? One of the mefarshim teaches that it comes to show us that Moshe never stopped walking. He never stopped moving forward. Even on his very last day, when he could have easily "rested", he walked. He grew. He moved. He kept going.
That is the secret of Am Yisrael too. No matter what has happened in our history, no matter what persecutions we endured, whether from Spain or France, Rome or Babylonia, Baghdad or Assyria, every time we were forced to run, we did not give up. We kept walking. We kept building. We never stopped moving forward.
And that is what Shabbat Shuvah is all about. Teshuvah is not perfection. Teshuvah is not about never falling. Teshuvah is about walking. Taking another step. Doing one more thing today. Even if it is small. Even if it feels weak. But not giving up. Continuing to walk toward Hashem.
My grandfather gave me that lesson through a magic stick. But really what he gave me was faith. The belief that even when it is hard, even when you fall, even when you doubt yourself, you must keep walking. That is what Moshe did. That is what our people have always done. That is what we must do now.
I bless all of us that no matter what challenges we face, we will continue walking. That as a people and as individuals, we will keep moving forward.
May this Dvar Torah be a blessing for the neshamah of my grandfather, Tzvi Aryeh ben Asher Anshul HaKohen, and may his soul have the highest aliyah.
P.S. Grandpa I'll never stop walking…
Shabbat Shalom Rav Shlomo