Parashat Eikev: The things we step on

As we stood poised to enter Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel), Moses looked toward the future with apprehension. We were about to leave the sheltered environment of the desert and enter a new land, surrounded by unfamiliar cultures and powerful influences.

The first of these covenants appears in Parshat Eikev and is introduced by the word that gives the parsha its name. In the context of a covenant, Eikev means “as a consequence of.” The blessings promised by the Torah are presented as the consequence of faithful observance.

That meaning, however, grows out of the word’s literal sense. Literally, Eikev refers to the heel of the foot. Just as our footsteps leave a trail behind us, this word Eikev came to denote what follows an action – its consequence.

Building upon the image of the heel, our Sages uncovered a deeper meaning in the word, and in the covenant. They explain that Eikev refers to those mitzvot that people “trample under their heels” because they regard them as insignificant or simply overlook them.

Moses reminds us that no mitzvah is too small to matter. The Torah asks us to pay as much attention to the ordinary mitzvot as to its larger ideals.

There is a natural tendency to think that what is lofty is important and what is detailed is secondary. The Torah insists that great ideals are lived through ordinary actions. They are not an afterthought.

Religion must be a delicate blend of belief and action. It offers sweeping ideas about God, human identity, morality, history, and destiny.

These grand visions inspire us, giving life meaning and purpose. Yet lofty ideals can never stand on their own. They must be translated into action, and those actions often become remarkably detailed.

For some, the broad ideas are inspiring, while the details feel far less compelling. It is easier to embrace a vision than to pay careful attention to the countless small acts through which that vision is expressed. Great ideals only change us when they are translated into concrete behavior.

Shabbat is a perfect example. At its broadest level, it reminds us that the world was created by one God and that human beings are not masters of creation. It provides a weekly opportunity for spiritual renewal, family, and community. These are compelling and inspiring ideals.

Yet Shabbat also descends into remarkable detail. For 25 hours, we become mindful of nearly every activity we perform, carefully avoiding those acts that the Torah defines as Shabbat violations. For some, the larger ideas are deeply attractive, while the detailed restrictions can seem meticulous or even burdensome.

The details of religious life also shape the way we experience mitzvot. They create an atmosphere that lends our experiences a fuller meaning, reminding us of where we stand. Take prayer, for example.

At its core, prayer is our opportunity to stand before God, open our hearts, and present our hopes, fears, and requests. Yet not every prayer is equally heartfelt or focused. Our minds wander, distractions intrude, and some days we simply struggle to concentrate.

Judaism never assumed that prayer depends only upon inner feeling. The setting and the conduct surrounding prayer also matter. Prayer is not an ordinary conversation but an encounter with the Divine.

Treating the synagogue with reverence, refraining from conversation during the service, dressing appropriately, and conducting ourselves with dignity all reinforce that awareness. These practices do not replace kavanah, but they help cultivate it, even when our concentration falls short.

The value of details alongside big ideas extends well beyond religion. The importance of details applies just as forcefully to our moral and public lives.

Modern culture places enormous emphasis on grand moral causes. We are drawn to sweeping visions of justice, equality, human rights, and social change, and we often judge ourselves and others by the ideals we champion. Those causes deserve our passion. But they can also distract us from the ordinary ways we treat the people around us, where moral character is often revealed.

When people become deeply invested in an important cause, they tend to excuse forms of behavior they would otherwise reject. Winning the argument becomes more important than treating opponents with fairness.

The urgency of the goal can justify harsh language, personal attacks, or simple discourtesy. Yet the Torah insists that lofty ideals never lessen our obligation to act with honesty, patience, respect, and kindness. If anything, they make those obligations even greater.

We are experiencing a similar phenomenon in Israel today. As Moses repeatedly reminds us, we are a stubborn people. We hold our convictions deeply and defend them passionately. We do not easily give ground or cede our positions. When issues touch our deepest values, disagreement quickly becomes intense.

In our pursuit of these great ideals, we too often allow the heel of ideology to trample the ordinary decencies on which every healthy society depends. These are consequential issues that deserve serious public discussion. Yet the quality of our public conversation has steadily deteriorated.

Too often, principled disagreement gives way to personal attacks, caricatures, sarcasm, and demagoguery. When we become deeply invested in an important cause, we can begin to excuse forms of behavior we would ordinarily reject.

That is why Moses chose the image of the heel. The greatest threats to religious life do not usually come from rejecting our ideals.

They begin when we stop paying attention to the ordinary practices that sustain them. It is often there, in the ordinary demands we scarcely notice, that our deepest commitments are put to the test.