Parshas Eikev: 5785

“He will love you, bless you, and multiply you…” (Devarim 7:13)

The Three Weeks are behind us, and the Yamim Noraim aren’t here yet. So, it’s party time. Concerts, barbecues, hiking in the mountains. Now’s the break between crisis and repentance. A time to breathe. But what’s the proper perspective on the season? (Rabbi Yaacov Haber, TorahLab)

Once upon a time, when I still had an all-girls family, we had girly toys everywhere: dolls, carriages, dollhouses — you name it.

Then, suddenly, our “bechor” was born and we needed boy toys. Trucks, cars, and balls took over.

The Three Weeks are tough, especially when used correctly to commemorate the punishments, pain, and tragedy that have afflicted us for generations.

Now we’ve started a new season: The Seven Weeks of Comfort. We read haftarahs about the closeness between us and Hashem. In our parshah, we read about the comfort of knowing Hashem will bestow upon us such love when we follow His ways.

When these seven weeks end, we enter into two weeks of teshuvah before Rosh Hashanah. So in this quarter of the year, there’s three weeks of crisis, seven weeks of comfort, and two weeks of teshuvah.

But the order’s a bit strange. The Three Weeks represent our violation of our relationship with Hashem. Logically, the natural follow-up for punishment should be teshuvah, indicating we got the message and we’re fixing what needs to be fixed. Only then, once Hashem accepts our teshuvah, we should enter the comfort zone and eat pizza in Woodbourne. Yet our order is pain, comfort, and then teshuvah. Why?

On a visit to the States when Baby Boy was two, my mother presented him with a rag doll dressed in overalls and a baseball cap, with just the right softness for snuggling.

I handed it to Baby Boy, curious what he’d make of it. He poked it a few times, then lifted it high and smashed its head on the tower of blocks he’d been building. Bam! Blocks flew everywhere. Pleased with the noise and mess, he swung the doll once more. It worked well as a hammer, and Baby Boy was pleased.

Still, I refused to give up on Mr. Boy Doll and took it out when each of my successive boys were born. No go. The male progeny are my household is of the bam-bam type.

The Gaon on Mishlei states that there’s a big difference between punishment from a loving father and punishment from a disciplining stranger. The stranger hits and often adds insult to injury through humiliation. The father, however, punishes his child, but then hugs him. He tells the child he loves him and that they’ll get through this together.

When the child receives this comfort, he realizes that the pain, too, was part of the father’s love, and it’s now felt from the perspective of hope. After being comforted, the child amends his ways, not just to stop the pain, but to restore his relationship with his father. After affliction comes comfort. Only then can there be proper repentance.

These weeks of comfort are not a relief from our tragedy, but a perspective on it. An understanding that Hashem wants His relationship with us. A hug of comfort after a few rough weeks. Right now, there’s a special energy flowing from Heaven. It’s hug time.

Recently, I found this rag doll and handed it to my granddaughter. She immediately began fussing over it, hugging it, and wrapping her own security blanket around it to put it schluffy. I sighed with relief that the poor doll was finally getting the love and nurturing it needed from someone wh appreciated its essence rather than its usefulness in demolition. This doll had been used and abused for 20 years as a hammer, but was now getting its comfort.

Now I know a doll can’t go on to the third step, teshuvah, but like most females, my dolls represent something of me. And I can relate. After all I’ve gone through this year (Iran war, anyone?), I’m appreciating these “normal” weeks of quiet. Not that summer vacation is ever quiet. But within this relaxation, I can feel myself leaning into the upcoming Yamim Noraim. I’m appreciating how Hashem keeps showing me His love, and I’m gearing up to try to make Him proud. I’m no doll, but a struggling human. It’s a wonder I’m still deserving of His hugs.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 956)