Parshas Vayechi 5780
The pasuk of “Shema Yisrael” may well be the best-known in the entire Torah. Taught from the earliest of ages and then repeated multiple times in our daily tefilos, it is a verse embedded in our Jewish consciousness.
So we’ve memorized our lines, but do we know our audience?
Shema Yisrael appears in the Torah in Parshas Va’eschanan, as part of Moshe’s last charge to his people before they cross into Eretz Yisrael without him. In this context, the “Yisrael” that Moshe refers to is the Nation of Israel. Moshe is addressing the gathered nation and informing, reminding, reiterating to them the importance of belief in one, unified G-d.
When we repeat these words as part of our morning and evening tefilos, we likely step right into Moshe’s shoes. The “Yisrael” in our declaration matches that of his. We call out to the rest of the nation to remind them that “Hashem Echad”.
The Rambam (Hilchos Tefilah 1:4) informs us of another moment in history in which the same words were spoken to a completely different audience. In this week’s parsha, Parshas Vayechi, Yaakov gathers his children as he lays on his deathbed. According to the Midrash, Yaakov intended to reveal to his children when the Messianic Era would commence, but his ruach hakodesh—his holy spirit—departed, and he was rendered incapable of accessing the information he wished to share. Yaakov was concerned that this was perhaps a function of the company he was keeping; had one of his sons veered from the path of service to Hashem? Yaakov boldly poses the question to his gathered children and receives the resounding answer: “Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad.” In this version, the “Yisrael” referred to is not the Nation of Israel, but Israel himself, i.e., our patriarch Yaakov. Yaakov’s children address their father and resolutely insist that they have remained dedicated to the covenant.
Why does the Rambam mention the context in which this verse was originally recited? What difference does it make if we recite the Shema of Moshe or that of the sons of Yaakov?
The answer is the audience. When we recite Moshe’s Shema, we’re speaking to the nation about their faith. When we recite the Shema of Yaakov’s children, we’re speaking to Yaakov Avinu, responding to an inquiry about our own faith. To step into their shoes is to feel our ancestor questioning our own religiosity, faith, and observance.
What kind of Shema do we typically recite? Do we spend more time saying the Shema of Moshe Rabbeinu, or that of the B’nai Yaakov? Is our religious expression defined more by our questioning of why others aren’t doing more, or of why we aren’t doing more ourselves? Do we comfort ourselves through the assertion that others need to take “Hashem Echad” more seriously, or do we own up to the need for a personal assessment, detached from comparison to others?
In reminding us of the first Shema ever recited, the Rambam is guiding us to consider the declaration contained within these holy words as one that is deeply personal. “Hashem Echad” is a credo that I must be personally responsible for, not only dictate to others. In this light, Shema is a twice-daily exercise in personal ownership; an opportunity to assess what steps I myself could be taking to solve life’s greatest problems, before assessing how others have fallen down on the job.
There is an old quip that tells of an elderly man relating how his view of life changed as he aged: “When I was a young man, I thought I would change the world. When I grew older, I thought I would change my community. When I grew older still, I thought I would change my family. I now hope that I can just change myself.” Rav Yehuda Amital, the late Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Etzion, would comment that, unfortunately, this assessment is all wrong; it is precisely those who cannot change themselves who attempt to change the rest of the world.
Reciting the Shema is meant to remind us that if the world needs change, we best look first to change ourselves.