Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech: The Future We Cannot Control

Faith, Responsibility, and the Courage to Move Forward

Introduction

Much of life is spent preparing for what comes next. We make plans, build relationships, and make decisions with the understanding that what we do today matters for tomorrow. Our choices have consequences, and our actions can influence what follows.

The difficulty begins when responsibility becomes confused with control. Because our choices matter, we can begin to assume that their outcomes belong to us as well. We want to know where a decision will lead, whether the people we love will make good choices, whether difficulties will resolve, and whether the future we have worked toward will resemble the one we hoped for. When those answers remain uncertain, we often search for something more we can do to protect against an outcome we fear.

There is a difficult boundary between doing everything that belongs to us and accepting that not everything does. The more something matters, the more natural it becomes to reach beyond our responsibility and try to secure the result itself. Even after we have acted thoughtfully, sought guidance, and made the best decisions available to us, uncertainty can leave us wondering whether there is still something we have missed or something more we should do.

Living with that boundary requires more than knowing that we cannot control everything. We still have to decide what belongs to us, act when action is required, and care deeply about what happens. The challenge is learning how to move forward when we have done what we can and still do not know what comes next.

I. The Return That May Already Have Begun

Teshuvah in Nitzavim begins before any outward return has taken place. "וַהֲשֵׁבֹתָ אֶל לְבָבֶךָ" — "You shall take it to your heart" (Devarim 30:1). Only afterward does the Torah say, "וְשַׁבְתָּ עַד ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ" — "And you shall return to Hashem your God" (30:2). The order places an inner movement before the change that becomes recognizable in a person's actions. Something within the heart has already begun to change.

The Sforno understands "וַהֲשֵׁבֹתָ אֶל לְבָבֶךָ" as an act of inner discernment. A person begins to reconsider what has happened, bringing conflicting experiences and conclusions back into the heart in order to distinguish truth from falsehood. Assumptions that once seemed settled can begin to weaken before a person has reached any new certainty.

The Sfas Emes takes us deeper. He writes that within every Jew there remains a "נְקֻדָּה מְקֻדֶּשֶׁת" — an inner point of holiness, the נשמת חיים that belongs to Hashem. Sin does not extinguish that point. It places the weight of חומר וגשמיות over it until its light can no longer emerge. Beneath everything that has accumulated, something essential remains. Teshuvah can draw upon a relationship with Hashem that may have become obscured without having been entirely erased.

The Abarbanel finds room for incompleteness within the language of the pasuk itself. He distinguishes between returning עַד ה', toward Hashem, and returning אֶל ה', to Hashem. The first describes a person who has moved closer but has not yet reached the fullest form of return. Moshe begins with that more limited return. Torah makes room for a person who has changed direction without having completed the journey.

A person may appear unchanged even while something within has begun to shift. The same choices and habits may continue as an old certainty weakens or something once dismissed begins to matter again. These may be small developments, far from anything we would call complete teshuvah. What is visible at a particular moment may reveal very little about that process. The story of a person's return may have started long before anyone else could recognize it.

II. From There

The possibility of return becomes more difficult to hold onto when distance is no longer subtle. Moshe continues: "אִם יִהְיֶה נִדַּחֲךָ בִּקְצֵה הַשָּׁמָיִם, מִשָּׁם יְקַבֶּצְךָ ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ וּמִשָּׁם יִקָּחֶךָ" — "If your dispersed will be at the ends of the heavens, from there Hashem your God will gather you, and from there He will take you" (Devarim 30:4). The distance described could hardly be greater, and the promise begins from that very place: "מִשָּׁם" — from there.

The Kli Yakar notices a change in the Torah's language. Earlier, Moshe speaks of Hashem scattering the people among the nations, using words that describe something being done to them. Here the Torah says "נִדַּחֲךָ," which the Kli Yakar understands as a distance the person himself has helped create. A person can make choices that carry him far from where he once stood. Even here the Torah says, "מִשָּׁם יְקַבֶּצְךָ ה'." Hashem will gather him from the place to which his own choices have helped bring him.

It is often easier to hold onto hope when circumstances explain how someone arrived where they did. Pain, confusion, hardship, or forces beyond a person's control can make compassion come more naturally. Deliberate and repeated choices present a greater challenge. Responsibility can begin to sound like finality: he chose this road, and this is where it has taken him.

The word "מִשָּׁם" carries much of the weight. The gathering begins from the place of distance itself, before the person has made his way back to more familiar ground. "בִּקְצֵה הַשָּׁמָיִם" describes a distance the Torah takes seriously. Hashem's promise reaches him there.

There are times when we know a great deal about the road a person has taken. We may understand the choices that brought him there and the consequences that followed. That knowledge still tells us only where he stands now. Nitzavim leaves his future unwritten.

III. What We Cannot Change by Force

Several pesukim later, the Torah's description of teshuvah reaches a surprising point: "וּמָל ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ אֶת לְבָבְךָ וְאֶת לְבַב זַרְעֶךָ, לְאַהֲבָה אֶת ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ בְּכָל לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל נַפְשְׁךָ לְמַעַן חַיֶּיךָ" — "Hashem your God will circumcise your heart and the heart of your offspring, to love Hashem your God with all your heart and all your soul, for the sake of your life" (Devarim 30:6). The Torah has already described a person returning to Hashem and listening to His voice. What remains in the heart that requires Hashem Himself to intervene?

The Ramban connects these words to the teaching of Chazal, "הבא לטהר מסייעין אותו" — one who comes to purify himself is assisted. The person has already turned and begun the work of teshuvah when that assistance comes. The assistance comes within a process the person has already entered through his own choices.

The Ramban understands "וּמָל ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ אֶת לְבָבְךָ" as a change that reaches desire itself. He describes desire as an ערלה, a covering over the heart. In the world as we know it, a person can want what is wrong and still choose what is right. He may repeatedly choose a different path while continuing to struggle with what he wants. Ramban understands Moshe's promise as pointing toward a future in which Hashem removes the obstruction itself. Something changes within the heart at a level that choice alone could not reach.

The word "וּמָל" captures the nature of that change. Milah is an act of removal. The heart has been there all along, covered by something that prevents what lies within from emerging. The choices and struggles that preceded this moment remain meaningful because they brought the person this far. Hashem's intervention begins where those efforts can go no further.

There is a limit to what human determination can accomplish. A person remains responsible for the choices available to him and for the work of teshuvah he is able to undertake. Even sincere effort cannot command every part of the heart to change. Some transformations take place beyond the reach of force.

IV. The Boundary of Our Role

The opening of Vayelech appears to offer a simple explanation for why Moshe's leadership must end: "בֶּן מֵאָה וְעֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה אָנֹכִי הַיּוֹם, לֹא אוּכַל עוֹד לָצֵאת וְלָבוֹא" — "I am one hundred and twenty years old today; I can no longer go out and come in" (Devarim 31:2). Ibn Ezra understands Moshe's age as part of the explanation. After forty years of leading the nation, the words can naturally be read as an acknowledgment that age has begun to restrict what he can continue to do.

Rashi rejects physical incapacity as the meaning of "לֹא אוּכַל." The Torah later tells us that at the time of Moshe's death, "לֹא כָהֲתָה עֵינוֹ וְלֹא נָס לֵחֹה" — his eye had not dimmed and his vitality had not left him. Rashi explains Moshe's words with two words: "אֵינִי רַשַּׁאי" — I am no longer permitted. The authority has been taken from Moshe and given to Yehoshua.

Moshe must relinquish his role while still possessing the strength and experience to occupy it. Physical weakness would have made the need to step aside clear. Here the limit is defined by what Moshe has been given permission to do. His ability remains even as the authority he exercised for so long has come to an end.

A limit of this kind can be particularly difficult to accept. Experience and the ability to intervene easily create a sense that we should continue using them. Stepping aside can even feel irresponsible when we remain capable of helping. Moshe's transition introduces another consideration into our understanding of responsibility: ability alone does not determine what remains ours to do.

Ramban reads Moshe's words as a source of reassurance for the nation as well. They are about to enter the Land without the leader upon whom they have depended throughout the wilderness. His departure could easily leave them fearful of what they will face without him. Ramban understands Moshe as assuring them that his absence will not leave them exposed as they enter the Land.

V. What Continues When We Cannot

Israel now stands before a future that Moshe will not enter with them. "ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ הוּא עֹבֵר לְפָנֶיךָ" — "Hashem your God, He will cross before you" (Devarim 31:3). Moshe's role in their journey is coming to an end as the nation prepares to cross the Jordan. His words direct their attention toward the One whose presence will continue beyond his own.

Moshe had been the constant figure in the nation's journey from Egypt to the edge of the Land. An entire generation had known no other leader. His departure meant entering a future in which the figure who had accompanied them throughout the wilderness would no longer be there.

The Meshech Chochma finds significance in the Torah's changing language of leadership. Moshe's leadership possessed a singular character, while Yehoshua would lead within a different structure, together with the elders. Israel was entering a new stage of its history, and its leadership would take a different form.

Familiar people and structures can become so closely associated with what they provide that their absence can feel as though the security they carried has disappeared with them. Israel had experienced Hashem's guidance through Moshe. They would now encounter that guidance under very different circumstances. "ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ הוּא עֹבֵר לְפָנֶיךָ" reminds them that Hashem's presence was never confined to the form through which they had known it.

Moshe can bring them to the Jordan, prepare Yehoshua, and teach them what they will need. The next stage will unfold without his presence at the center of the nation. His words remain with them: "ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ הוּא עֹבֵר לְפָנֶיךָ."

VI. The Courage to Be Accompanied

The prospect of entering the Land without Moshe gives new weight to his words: "חִזְקוּ וְאִמְצוּ, אַל תִּירְאוּ וְאַל תַּעַרְצוּ מִפְּנֵיהֶם, כִּי ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ הוּא הַהֹלֵךְ עִמָּךְ, לֹא יַרְפְּךָ וְלֹא יַעַזְבֶךָּ" — "Be strong and courageous; do not fear and do not be broken before them, for Hashem your God is the One Who goes with you; He will not release you and He will not abandon you" (Devarim 31:6). Their courage is connected to the assurance that Hashem will accompany them through what lies ahead.

The uncertainty facing the nation is real. They are about to confront powerful nations and establish a life in a Land they have never inhabited. "חִזְקוּ וְאִמְצוּ" is spoken to a nation that understands something of the difficulty of what it is about to undertake.

The Kli Yakar pays close attention to the Torah's different descriptions of walking. Israel is told that Hashem is "הַהֹלֵךְ עִמָּךְ" — the One Who goes with you. He compares this language to Noach, of whom the Torah says "אֶת הָאֱלֹקִים הִתְהַלֶּךְ נֹחַ." Chazal describe Noach as "מִקְּטַנֵּי אֲמָנָה," and the Kli Yakar understands walking with Hashem as a form of closer support for one who still requires it. Yehoshua, by contrast, is told that Hashem goes "לְפָנֶיךָ" — before you, while Moshe is described simply as "וַיֵּלֶךְ מֹשֶׁה." The language changes according to the kind of support each requires.

That comparison adds something important to "חִזְקוּ וְאִמְצוּ." Israel is being asked to assume responsibilities they have never carried before. They will fight for the Land, establish communities, and begin a national life very different from their years in the wilderness. At this moment of increased responsibility, the Torah describes Hashem as going with them. Their need for that support does not delay what is being asked of them. They are still called upon to move forward and undertake what now belongs to them.

The promise "לֹא יַרְפְּךָ וְלֹא יַעַזְבֶךָּ" accompanies them into what lies ahead. Israel cannot know how circumstances will unfold or what each stage will demand. Moshe sends them forward with the assurance the pasuk gives them: "ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ הוּא הַהֹלֵךְ עִמָּךְ."

Parenting Reflection: When Their Future Is Not Ours to Secure

Few things make the boundary between responsibility and control more difficult to accept than parenting a struggling teenager. We have spent years responsible for their safety, education, values, and development. When they were young, much of what happened in their lives really did depend upon us. We made decisions, addressed problems, and intervened when something went wrong. Parenting trained us to notice what needed attention and do something about it.

That instinct does not disappear when our children become older, even though the nature of our responsibility begins to change. When a teenager is struggling, the stakes can make that transition especially difficult. We may watch choices that frighten us or movement away from things we worked hard to give them. We begin searching for what might turn things around: another conversation, a different approach, the right person who might finally reach them. Some of those interventions may be necessary. The search becomes something else when it is driven by the belief that if we find the right thing to do, we can secure the outcome.

There are parts of our child's life to which we do not have that kind of access. We cannot know every question being asked internally or what an experience may come to mean months or years from now. We cannot determine when something once rejected will become important again. We cannot force insight, faith, motivation, maturity, or the desire to live differently. We may influence the conditions surrounding change, but we cannot produce every part of the change itself.

This can be especially difficult when our teenager has made choices that contributed to the distance. Parents may understand the consequences of those choices and still have no way of knowing what those experiences will eventually become in the life of their child. What appears fixed may not remain fixed. A road we desperately wish they had never taken may become part of a story whose later chapters have not yet been written.

None of this asks parents to become passive. There are times to intervene, establish limits, seek professional help, protect other members of the family, or say clearly that something cannot continue. The harder question is whether every action available to us is still ours to take. Being able to intervene does not always tell us whether we should, and greater pressure cannot reach every place inside another human being.

One of the hardest tasks of parenting an older child is learning to remain deeply invested in a future we cannot secure. We continue doing what belongs to us while leaving room for changes we cannot yet recognize, roads back from places we never wanted our child to reach, and work within the heart that no parent could accomplish by force. Our role remains meaningful even as its limits become clearer, because the boundary of a parent's reach is not the boundary of Hashem's reach. The future of the child we love has never rested in our hands alone.

Closing: The Hearts We Cannot Reach

Elul is hidden in an unexpected place in Nitzavim. On the words "אֶת לְבָבְךָ וְאֶת לְבַב זַרְעֶךָ" — "your heart and the heart of your offspring" — the Baal HaTurim notes that the first letters spell אלול. The allusion appears within a pasuk describing something that will happen not only within our own heart, but within the hearts of those who come after us.

Elul is a month filled with demands upon the self. We examine our choices, reconsider the year that has passed, repair what we can, and prepare ourselves to stand before Hashem. There is much that belongs to us during these weeks. Our own teshuvah cannot be delegated to anyone else.

The pasuk, however, reaches beyond "לְבָבְךָ" to "לְבַב זַרְעֶךָ." There are hearts we care about deeply whose movement we cannot determine. We may teach, influence, pray, remain present, and hope. We cannot enter another person's heart and remove what has settled over it. The Torah places אלול inside those very words and then tells us Who can reach there: "וּמָל ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ."

There are things we will carry into the coming year without knowing how they will unfold. We will continue to act where something is asked of us, and there will also be places where our efforts can go no further. Elul does not ask us to resolve that uncertainty before the year begins. It asks us to take responsibility for the heart entrusted to us and to place before Hashem what lies beyond our reach. "אֶת לְבָבְךָ וְאֶת לְבַב זַרְעֶךָ." Both are contained within אלול. We enter the new year responsible for what is ours, without having to believe that everything depends upon us.

Have a Wonderful Shabbos!!!

Yaakov Lazar