We start a new book of the Torah this week, the final one, and in just the first verse of the parsha, there is a key to a powerful lesson. The parsha starts off by saying, אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל־כׇּל־יִשְׂרָאֵל These are the words (devarim) that Moshe spoke to all of Israel (Devarim 1:1)
It’s an apt introduction to this last book of the Torah, because in fact, the rest of Devarim consists mostly of Moshe’s words to the people. He recounts their journeys, he gives them laws, he offers some poetry, and gives them blessings. He speaks to them; he offers them words - devarim.
If we look at the earlier part of Moshe’s story, it’s actually fascinating that now, at the end of his journey with the people, he speaks words to them. It wasn't something he thought he could do. When God first approached Moshe about approaching Pharoah to liberate the people from Egypt, Moshe pushed back: וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה אֶל־יְהֹוָה בִּי אֲדֹנָי לֹא אִישׁ דְּבָרִים אָנֹכִי Moshe said to God, “my lord, I am not a man of words (devarim)” (Shemot 4:10)
Moshe was, in his own description, not a person of words. Most commentators understand this to mean he had a speech impediment or a stutter, but regardless of what it actually meant, Moshe’s perception is that words do not come easily or comfortably to him. And yet, somehow, that changes throughout his story. Because by the time we get to the end of his time as a leader, he has many, many, devarim - 33 chapters worth of them.
A midrash picks up on this drastic comparison and writes, “Look at how precious the language of the Torah is, for it heals the tongue. Before Moshe received the Torah, he said, ‘I am not a man of words.’ But when he received the Torah, he was healed and he began to speak words.”
I think the midrash is picking up on something powerful here which is that our tradition has the power to help shape us. Our tradition - whatever component that specifically speaks to you - has the ability to help us work through our personal difficulties, and to emerge on the other side. When the Midrash says that Moshe was healed, I don’t think it imagined whatever objective difficulty he had gone away. His stutter, his speech impediment, they didn’t disappear. But somehow, in Moshe finding himself in the Torah, in allowing the Torah to find a space in him, he was also able to find his own words.
Sometimes we are like Moshe and don’t feel like we have the words. Or that we don't have whatever we think it takes. We are unsure of how we can possibly move forward with something that we have never imagined would come naturally. And somehow, if we immerse ourselves in the right Torah, the right values, the right learning, the right community, we might find that we, too, find what we have been missing.
