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vision is connected to the legal, 
halachic content of much of 
Devarim. On the one hand, we 
have this passionate declaration of 
love by God for a people; on the 
other we have a detailed code of 
law covering most aspects of life 
for individuals and the nation as a 
whole once it enters the land. Law 
and love are not two things that go 
obviously together. What has one to 
do with the other?
That is what David Brooks’ 
remark suggests: commitment 
is falling in love with something 
and then building a structure of 
behavior around it to sustain that 
love over time. Law, the mitzv-
ot, Halachah, is that structure of 
behavior. Love is a passion, an 
emotion, a heightened state, a peak 
experience. But an emotional state 
cannot be guaranteed forever. We 
wed in poetry, but we stay married 
in prose.
Which is why we need laws, rit-
uals, habits of deed. Rituals are the 
framework that keeps love alive. 
I once knew a wonderfully happy 
married couple. The husband, with 
great devotion, brought his wife 
breakfast in bed every morning. I 
am not entirely sure she needed or 
even wanted breakfast in bed every 
morning, but she graciously accept-
ed it because she knew it was the 
homage he wished to pay her, and 
it did indeed keep their love alive. 
After decades of marriage, they still 
seemed to be on their honeymoon.
Without intending any precise 
comparison, that is what the vast 
multiplicity of rituals in Judaism, 
many of them spelled out in the 
book of Deuteronomy, actually 
achieved. They sustained the love 
between God and a people. You 
hear the cadences of that love 
throughout the generations. It is 
there in the book of Psalms: “You, 
God, are my God, earnestly I seek 
you; I thirst for you, my whole 
being longs for you, in a dry and 
parched land where there is no 
water” (Ps. 63:1). 
It is there in Isaiah: “Though the 
mountains be shaken and the hills 

be removed, yet My unfailing love 
for you will not be shaken nor My 
covenant of peace be removed” (Is. 
54:10). 
It is there in the siddur, in the 
blessing before the Shema: “You 
have loved us with great love/with 
everlasting love.” 
It is there, passionately, in the 
song, “Yedid Nefesh,” composed in 
the 16th century by Safed kabbalist 
Elazar Azikri. It remains there in 
the songs composed year after year 
in present-day Israel. Whether they 
speak of God’s love for us or ours 
for Him, the love remains strong 
after 33 centuries. That is a long 
time for love to last, and we believe 
it will do so forever.
Could it have done so without 
the rituals, the 613 commands, 
that fill our days with reminders 
of God’s presence? I think not. 
Whenever Jews abandoned the life 
of the commands, within a few 
generations they lost their identi-
ty. Without the rituals, eventually 
love dies. With them, the glowing 
embers remain and still have the 
power to burst into flame. Not 
every day in a long and happy mar-
riage feels like a wedding, but even 
love grown old will still be strong if 
the choreography of fond devotion, 
the ritual courtesies and kindnesses, 
are sustained.
In the vast literature of Halachah 
we find the “how” and “what” 
of Jewish life, but not always the 
“why.” The special place of Sefer 
Devarim in Judaism as a whole is 
that here, more clearly than almost 
anywhere else, we find the “why.”
Jewish law is the structure of 
behavior built around the love 
between God and His people, so 
that the love remains long after the 
first feelings of passion have grown 
old.
Hence the life-changing idea: 
If you seek to make love undying, 
build around it a structure of ritu-
als — small acts of kindness, little 
gestures of self-sacrifice for the sake 
of the beloved — and you will be 
rewarded with a quiet joy, an inner 
light, that will last a lifetime. 

‘Comfort My People’
T

he Jewish calendar is 
designed to ensure that, 
among other things, 
our pattern of Torah readings 
coincides with specific holidays. 
For example, this week’s parshah 
arrives each year 
immediately following 
our observance of Tisha 
b’Av, the day on our 
calendar set aside for 
mourning. 
Yes, we personally have 
yahrzeits throughout 
the year; there are four 
occasions for Yizkor, and 
Yom HaShoah (Holocaust 
Remembrance Day) was 
added to the calendar 
several decades ago. But 
according to tradition, the 
ninth day of Av is the day 
when many of the worst tragedies 
in our history took place: the 
destruction of the First and 
Second Temples in Jerusalem, 
the massacre that ended the Bar 
Kochba revolt, the expulsion 
from England, the Spanish 
Inquisition and more.
Our sages determined that the 
Haftarah for this week would 
be from Isaiah chapter 40. 
Unlike most Haftarah readings, 
it isn’t specifically connected 
to this week’s portion. Instead, 
it was chosen to coincide 
with the calendar. Tisha b’Av 
is considered such a painful 
time in our community that we 
deserve — we need — a sense of 
healing afterwards. So, for seven 
consecutive weeks, we are treated 
to the “Haftarot of Consolation” 
— seven moments when the 
ancient prophets remind us that 
God remains with us through our 
darkest times, and that no matter 
how bad things may get, light will 
return to our lives.
This week, perhaps, is the 

most beautiful of all: “Comfort 
My people, comfort them!” 
says your God. “Speak tenderly 
to Jerusalem; say to her that 
she has served her term, that 
her sin is pardoned for she has 
received from the hand of the 
Eternal more than enough 
punishment for her sins.” 
(Isaiah 40:1-2)
Our ancestors heard these 
words from the desolation 
of exile in the sixth century 
B.C.E., reassured that the 
Persian king Cyrus the Great 
would allow them to return 
to the Land of Israel and 
rebuild the Temple. It may 
have seemed unimaginable 
after the utter devastation 
wrought by the Babylonian 
army a generation before. But 
if our painful history has taught 
us one lesson it is that our people 
have the capacity to weather any 
storm, to overcome any adversity, 
to outlast those who assail us and 
rebuild in magnificent ways. We 
have done it before, and we will 
do it again.
During this week of Tisha b’Av, 
we cannot help but consider the 
terrible events of the past year. 
Oct. 7 was not even a full year 
ago, and the ramifications of that 
day are still unfolding. We may 
not be ready to put these events 
into historical context, but when 
I read the Torah and Haftarah 
this Shabbat, I will gain an extra 
measure of strength to face what 
we must, to hold onto the hope 
that one day we will simply be 
able to live in peace among our 
neighbors, and to believe that the 
best days for our own community 
and for Israel are ahead of us.
May this be God’s will. 

Rabbi Mark Miller is senior rabbi at Temple 

Beth El in Bloomfield Township.

SPIRIT
TORAH PORTION

Rabbi Mark 
Miller

Parshat 

V’etchanan: 

Deuteronomy 

3:23-7:11; 

Isaiah 

40:1-26.