Parshat Va’etchanan – August 8, 2025 / 14 Av 5785

I was reading a journal article this past week from the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health. To simply summarize: the scientific study described found that the more interested in material things people are, the more incompatible they become internally with sustainable and healthy functioning. This eventually impacts the greater world, hence the environmental bend of the research. Additionally, directly following the recession of 2008, an article called “How Greed Outstripped Need,” was published by the American Psychological Association. The article highlights how our society seems to be set up in a way that encourages materialistic values and rewards greed. I am not here to offer a critique of capitalism. This is a Torah observation. 

In this week’s Parsha, Va’etchanan, we continue to hear the final voice and pleas of a dying Moses. Moses makes it very clear in this portion that once the promised land has been acquired, once the people have become settled in, complacency will also settle in. This is not complacency of a physical nature. It is not that people will stop moving and progressing, but perhaps they will move and progress in a direction that is not spiritually healthy. Moses lets us know that we will become scattered around in a galut, an exile. Why? Because we will lose sight of our God. We will serve gods that are made by the hands of people. Wood and stone are brought up as the materialism of the ancient world, which will begin to be worshipped. How about today’s materials of money, fame, extravagant houses, cars, likes and views on social media? Many people have become addicted to the material and the accolades of the public square, be it the physical or digital milieu. Wealth and status are worshipped. We don’t know God’s true and ineffable name, but we know the names of the wealthiest people. They are recorded on innumerable lists. We know their names because they have a lot of things. Is the dominant god of today, the god of things; of stuff? 

This is not a new issue to contend with. There is a midrash about our great ancestor Abraham, which takes place before he set off for a new land. He was working in his father Terach’s idol shop. Part of the story goes like this: Once a woman came to Terach’s shop with fine flour. She said to [Abraham]: “Here, offer this before these gods.” [Abraham] picked up a staff and broke [the idols] and placed the staff in the hands of the largest of them. When his father returned, he asked him: “Why did you do this to them?” [Abraham] replied: “Would I hide it from you? A woman came carrying a plate of fine flour and she told me to offer it before them. Each one of them said, ‘I will eat first’ until the largest of them picked up the staff and shattered the others.” [Terah] responded: “Why are you trying to fool me? I know what they are!” [Abraham] retorted: “Do your ears not hear what your mouth is saying?!”

Does the deepest part of us know that some of the materials held in such high esteem today are not the stuff that ultimately matters? Does the Divine Spark within us have knowledge when we lose sight? Of course there is a time and a place for involving ourselves in the world-at-large. The Reform movement of Judaism prides itself on being able to reconcile keeping our Judaism alive and vibrant while also being able to live as members of the secular world. This is a balancing act on what can be a very narrow bridge! How much of our Judaism are we willing to cast aside in order to feed flour to the idols? The Torah tells us that when we get too comfortable that we will lose our way and become exiled. Perhaps our modern answer might be, “We don’t live in exile. We live here. This is where we want to be!” This is, I believe, a completely reasonable way of thinking. But, if we look below the literal, let us ask ourselves. Is the exile really physical? Can we become spiritually disconnected from our Jewish traditions, our Jewish practice, our Jewish spirit when we become too involved in the rat race of the modern material world? 

The research mentioned earlier points out the negative correlation between materialistic values and sustainable well-being. I don’t think that this is a finding that we can ignore. If we live in the proverbial blinding neon of a spiritual times square, it can be very difficult to feel the quietude of a moment with our God. Our God is not the God of the eye-turning Greek statues or the ornate ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. We can appreciate the beauty of these aesthetic wonders, but do we really think these things are where God resides? In a collection of money, things, and stuff, we can reach low points in our lives. Our Torah tells us that if we are exiled from God, from the land of God, we will eventually cry out in need of God. When we despair, when we are in trouble, when someone is suffering, we will return to the God of our people- A God that lives between the black and white our brains often crave.

Let’s be honest, the God of Israel has never been popular. The God of Israel has always been puzzling to most, even to our Jewish people themselves. We hear the famous words of the Shema this week. Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad. Hear, O Israel, Adonai our God. Adonai is One.” Doesn’t this mean that God exists in everything, even in the material? Doesn’t God exist in the clicks on social media, the views on Tik Tok, the expensive cars, the big houses? Yes, God exists in everything. But God is not those things. 

If we ever plan to repair the world, can’t we see God in the hand used to pull someone else up, the dollar spent on tzedakah in anonymous silence. The small decision to pray at a Shiva Minyan instead of making an extra dollar somewhere. We do not have to become martyrs or ascetics to live in a relationship with God. We do need to understand that the Torah knows how difficult it is to live a life filled with God when the world props up Terach’s idols at every turn. 

Let us be blessed to find some solace in the spiritual desert. Let us not view the journey through Ha-Midbar as a trek through a wasteland, but as an opportunity to circle back from any micro-spiritual exile from God. When the lights of the glamorous material world go out, only the ner tamid remains. The eternal light that shines through a God we can only hear in the ruach, the wind, the bat kol, the small voice. When the statues fall, the buildings crumble, the likes and views on social media become antiquated…whent the material moves on, Our God remains. We can always return. We can always come home.