Vaetchanan, Shabbat Nachamu, Tu b'Av. Daring to hope and choosing love

In the end, it’s all about love or fear.

This is not just a nice New Age statement.

In fact, I believe this is what Moshe is teaching us when he shares his failed prayer in Parashat Va’etchanan.

Va’etchanan means I pleaded.

And indeed, Moshe truly entreats the Source of Life, seeking the merit to enter the “Promised Land” — what a beautiful metaphor for our hopes of a better future.

This is how the parasha opens (Devarim 3:23):

וָֽאֶתְחַנַּ֖ן אֶל־יְהֹוָ֑ה בָּעֵ֥ת הַהִ֖וא לֵאמֹֽר:

“I entreated God at that time, saying...”

And then he shares with us how, immediately, he was met with a hard no:

(...)וְלֹ֥א שָׁמַ֖ע אֵלָ֑י וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יְהֹוָ֤ה אֵלַי֙ רַב־לָ֔ךְ אַל־תּ֗וֹסֶף דַּבֵּ֥ר אֵלַ֛י ע֖וֹד בַּדָּבָ֥ר הַזֶּֽה:

“But God (...) did not heed me. God said to me, 'Enough! Do not speak to Me again regarding this matter.’” (Devarim 3:26)

How brave and powerful of Moshe to share with us his journey into a failed prayer.

I know I sometimes hesitate to pray, afraid my prayer won’t be answered.

Bracing for failure.

But who am I trying to protect, really?

Am I trying to protect God — or rather, my relationship with God — from the resentment I might feel, at least at first, when my prayer finds no favor in God's eyes?

Or am I trying to protect myself from the bitterness of disillusion or hopelessness, if what I hope for doesn’t come to pass?

For me, this has been a very active — though unconscious — way of coping with Life’s uncertainty.

Often I’ve held myself back from hoping too much, from envisioning a future that was too bright — for myself, my community, my country, my people, this planet, all of us as humanity — simply out of fear of disappointment.

Bracing for failure is a very common defense mechanism.

It took me a long time to recognize it.

And then even longer to realize how counterproductive it was:Rather than protecting me from disappointment, it was actually, quite simply, keeping me from living the life I could live — and the one I deserved to live.

Bracing for failure, stopping to pray when the future feels uncertain — this is a way of meeting life with fear.

Moshe chose love.

Deep inside, perhaps he already knew he wouldn’t get to cross into the Promised Land. At the very least, God had already told him — and quite clearly so — in an earlier chapter of this great biblical epic.

And still, Moshe prayed.

Why?

Because even when everything seems lost, we can still pray for grace.

Tachanunim — A Prayer for Grace

This is the essence and raison d’être of tachanunim, as the Hasidic master the Sfat Emet reminds us.

Tachanunim is often translated as a prayer of supplication.It’s traditionally recited around Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur — times when we pray for our lives.

But at the heart of the word lies the Hebrew root חן (chen) — grace.

And what is grace?

The midrash tells us: matanat chinam, a free gift.

To pray for grace is to pray without making any claim on life.Because Life doesn’t owe us anything.

From the lens of the kabbalistic Tree of Life — the sefirot, the divine blueprint of reality — sometimes Life flows from chesed, loving-kindness, and sometimes from din or gevurah, severity and judgment.

Why?

That remains a mystery — one beyond human understanding.And this is why, when life hurts, we still say: “Baruch dayan ha-emet” — “Blessed is the Judge of Truth.”

Who are we to know why some suffer and others are spared?

This truth comes back to me every day, especially in these endless days of war.

But beyond the current tragedy in Israel and Gaza — this is the human condition.

We don’t know why things happen, or why they happen the way they do.We also don’t know what will be.

But even when all seems lost, we can still choose to believe.We can choose to hope.We can choose to pray.

Prayer as Human Agency

This is our space of agency — in a world that is, in so many ways, out of our control.

And this is what the Sfat Emet teaches us about tachanunim and, more broadly, human prayer:Paradoxically, the space of prayer — where I relinquish all attempts at control — might actually be my deepest space of agency.

Jewish tradition teaches that ultimately, it is the Source of Life who puts words in our mouths.

As Proverbs says — and as we sing during Selichot:

לְאָדָ֥ם מַעַרְכֵי־לֵ֑ב וּ֝מֵיְהֹוָ֗ה מַעֲנֵ֥ה לָשֽׁוֹן“The human arranges their thoughts, but the tongue’s response comes from YHVH.” (Proverbs 16:1)

That’s why we begin the Amidah, our standing prayer, with the words:

יְיָ שְׂפָתַי תִּפְתָּח וּפִי יַגִּיד תְּהִלָּתֶךָ “Life Source, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise.”

Where is my agency in that?

The Sfat Emet teaches that there is one step before this — and that step is mine.

All I have to do, he says, is pour out my heart.

וזה הסימן אם הרגיש שהגיע לכוון לבו להיות נשפך לבו נוכח פניה'.זה עיקר התפלה באמת.“This is the sign: if a person feel that their heart is fully directed and pouring itself out before God — that is the essence of true tefilah (prayer).”

If I want God to open my lips, I first have to open my heart.

It’s no coincidence that just after Tisha B’Av, the Sfat Emet points to a verse from Eicha (Lamentations) — one that might mark the turning point of descent into ascent, which Tisha B’Av invites us to travel:

שִׁפְכִי כַמַּיִם לִבֵּךְ נֹכַח פְּנֵי אֲדֹנָי“Pour out your heart like water, in the presence of the Divine.” (Eicha 2:19)

This comes right after Shabbat Chazon, the Shabbat of Vision — when we’re given a vision (and this year, literally so) of horrors already happening or still to come.But also, perhaps, of redemption.

To choose to envision a brighter future in the midst of darkness — that is choosing love over fear.

Choosing Love Over Fear

To ask for grace when everything seems lost can look like an attempt to negotiate with reality.

And yes, I’ve done that many times.And yes, on the surface, it might seem like that’s what Moshe is doing too.

But perhaps there’s a deeper message.

Perhaps Moshe isn’t trying to bargain with God.Perhaps he’s simply doing his part as a human being:Choosing to hope.Daring to ask for grace — even when all seems lost.

Just because, as long as we’re alive, everything is still possible.

Before us lies Life — vast, mysterious, greater than we are.And a future completely unknown.

We can choose to see that as frightening.Or we can choose to see it as possibility — even if it scares us.

Love doesn’t erase fear. It means I just don't act from it.

I can be terrified.And still choose to act from love — not from fear. To let my actions be guided not by emotion, but by the decision to trust Life. To trust in the future.

That’s where my human agency lies.

Love as giving myself

Yes, as long as we’re alive, miracles can happen.Matanot chinam — undeserved gifts — can still be granted.

It is the task of love to keep believing in love — and in Life’s grace.And then, it is our task to surrender the outcome.

This might be one of Moshe’s deepest teachings in Parashat Va’etchanan: Through the very act of his failed prayer, he models what it means to live from love rather than fear.

All of it: The daring to hope.

The daring to pray.

The daring to ask for grace — even when the future feels so uncertain.And then, to let go.

This is love. And perhaps this is where my consolation lies this shabbat.

Love doesn’t make demands.

Love gives itself.

This is Moshe’s surrender — within his prayer.

Love comes undefended. It dares to express its deepest desires.And it understands they may not be fulfilled.

Because it knows, deep down, that the truth of Life is beyond human understanding.That Life’s plan for me is not about what I want or think I deserve.

All I can do is give myself to its mystery.

Maybe prayer is not so much about asking —as about giving ourselves... to Life.

A Prayer for Today

We are at war.

And the Promised Land I pray to enter is a land of peace.

Yes peace is our birthright.

I am praying for the grace to enter a land, a time-space, as soon as possible, in which:

A land in which Young boys on both sides are no longer sent to fight, kill, and die. In which civilians are not sacrificed.

A land in which my country no longer have to live in constant defense of its own existence.

A land in which Jews no longer have to fear for their lives — anywhere in the world, no matter the trend of new arguments why to hate us.

A land in which Hostages are released, and entire populations are no longer held hostage by their own governments.

A land in which No one is starved in captivity and No people famished by war.

Yes — even with the news I received today, which speaks of the opposite — I still pray:

To enter a land where weapons are laid down, and where peace begins to bloom.

Is this too much to ask?

Perhaps. But that doesn’t matter.

Moshe prayed for the impossible.

Perhaps the truest purpose of tachanunim, of supplication, is to pour our hearts out to Life. To choose love over fear.

To pray — even then.

This Shabbat is not just Shabbat Nachamu, the Shabbat of Comfort that follows Tisha B’Av.

It is also Tu B’Av, the fifteenth of Av — the festival of love.

The Talmud reminds us that Tu B’Av isn’t just about romantic love. It’s also about chesed — loving-kindness — between friends.

Only love can heal hate.

Can we choose love?

This is my prayer today.