Parshat V’Zot HaBracha – Bless Their Becoming - To See Uniqueness, To Bless Wholeness, To Love Without Comparison

The Final Blessing of Moshe

“וְזֹאת הַבְּרָכָה אֲשֶׁר בֵּרַךְ מֹשֶׁה אִישׁ הָאֱלֹקִים אֶת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל לִפְנֵי מוֹתוֹ” — “And this is the blessing with which Moshe, the man of God, blessed the children of Israel before his death” (Devarim 33:1).

Moshe Rabbeinu’s final act is not rebuke, not instruction, not strategy, but blessing. After a lifetime of carrying the people — through complaint and rebellion, through revelation and covenant — he closes not with demands, but with words that uplift. His leadership ends with affirmation.

Chazal note that only here is Moshe called Ish HaElokim — the man of God. Rashi explains: he was “man” from the perspective of Israel, yet “Elokim” in his closeness to Heaven. Ramban adds that this title at his death hints to the integration of both halves of his being: the earthly shepherd and the Divine messenger. The crown of his life’s work was neither miracles nor laws, but the capacity to bless — to bridge heaven and earth in words that endure.

The Midrash (Sifrei Devarim 357) observes that just as Yaakov’s life ended in blessing each of his sons, so too Moshe’s life ends in blessing each shevet. In this, he becomes the spiritual father of the nation. And just as Yaakov’s blessings revealed the unique role of each son, Moshe reveals the unique significance of each tribe.

Moshe blesses not the people as a faceless mass, but each shevet by name. Each one receives recognition of its role, its destiny, its individuality. Some are blessed with courage, some with serenity, some with Torah, some with abundance. Together they form one body, but each limb is distinct, each voice necessary.

The Sfas Emes teaches that true blessing is not invention but revelation — uncovering what already lies within the soul. Moshe’s final vision is to draw out and affirm the inner spark of each tribe, so that they may step into their future with confidence and covenant.

This is the final covenantal lesson: every child, every soul, must be blessed into their own becoming.

The Blessings of the Tribes – The Wholeness of Diversity

The final parsha of the Torah opens and closes with unity — but the unity it ends with is not the same as the one it began with. V’Zot HaBracha traces a sacred movement: from the collective, to the individual, and back to the collective again — from togetherness born of covenant, to distinctiveness born of blessing, and back to a wholeness that can now contain difference. This is not only the arc of Moshe’s final words, but the pattern of all true relationship — between Hashem and His people, between leader and nation, between parent and child.

The parsha itself traces this spiritual evolution in five stages — each verse revealing how individuality and togetherness form one continuous covenantal circle.

Before any individual is named, the Torah reaffirms the nation as a single body: “וַיְהִי בִּישֻׁרוּן מֶלֶךְ בְּהִתְאַסֵּף רָאשֵׁי עָם יַחַד שִׁבְטֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל” (33:5). The Ramban explains that Hashem’s Kingship manifests only when the tribes assemble together — when unity precedes hierarchy. The Sforno adds that this verse sets the foundation for all that follows: Divine Presence rests not upon the isolated individual, but upon a community bound in covenant. This first verse mirrors creation itself — a single, whole light before it is refracted into colors. The covenant begins with oneness, for blessing can only flow through connection.

Then comes the first individual: “יְחִי רְאוּבֵן וְאַל־יָמֹת וִיהִי מְתָיו מִסְפָּר” (33:6). The first blessing does not celebrate triumph, but survival. Rashi explains that Moshe prayed Reuven not be erased despite his failure — that his descendants remain counted among Israel. The Sfas Emes (5631) teaches that life itself is the blessing here: to live, to endure, to still belong even after faltering. V’Zot HaBracha begins its descent into individuality through compassion, revealing that even imperfection has a home in holiness. In blessing Reuven first, Moshe shows that unity begins not with perfection, but with belonging.

From Reuven onward, the parsha blossoms into diversity. Levi burns with sacred fire and courage. Yehuda speaks with the voice of teshuva. Yissachar anchors himself in Torah’s tents; Zevulun sanctifies his journeys. Dan guards the borders; Naftali radiates serenity; Gad embodies courage; Asher channels abundance; Yosef unites heaven and earth; Binyamin becomes the dwelling place of the Shechinah. Each tribe holds a different middah, a distinct tone in the nation’s song. The Shem MiShmuel (5673) explains that each shevet is a sha’ar — a gate — through which a unique form of Divine service enters the world. The wholeness of Israel is found not in uniformity, but in the harmony of its contrasts.

Moshe’s final act of leadership is to bless that difference — not to flatten it, but to affirm it. He sees the fire and the quiet, the warrior and the scholar, the visible and the hidden — and names them all holy. The Sfas Emes reminds us that blessing does not create potential; it reveals it. Moshe’s words uncover the inner light already waiting in each tribe. Holiness, then, is not sameness but symphony — a chorus of distinct notes held together by love, not uniformity.

When the Shechinah finds its home in Binyamin’s territory, the circle begins to close. “יְדִיד ה׳ יִשְׁכֹּן לָבֶטַח עָלָיו וּבֵין כְּתֵפָיו שָׁכֵן” (33:12). The Zohar teaches that the Temple rests in Binyamin’s portion because he embodied harmony — loved by all his brothers, unbroken by jealousy or rivalry. After the diversity of blessings, Divine Presence returns not above the people, but between their shoulders — within their very togetherness. The Sfas Emes sees in this verse the fulfillment of והיו לבשר אחד — many souls joined into one living body. Difference remains, but it now carries Presence. The nation that once stood כאיש אחד בלב אחד  at Sinai now becomes, through blessing, a living sanctuary for Hashem’s dwelling. Just as the Shechinah rests בין כתפיו — between the shoulders, the meeting point of strength and tenderness — so too does love dwell in the space where difference is carried, not erased.

At last, Moshe’s final cry of joy bursts forth: “אַשְׁרֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל, מִי כָמוֹךָ עַם נוֹשַׁע בַּה׳” (33:29). After blessing each tribe in its individuality, he blesses the whole again — not as an abstract collective, but as a body of distinct souls bound in shared purpose. The Ramban calls this verse the crown of the Torah, where all previous blessings converge. The Sfas Emes adds that the Torah ends in ashrecha — joy — because true unity, born of diversity, is joy itself. Joy is the natural fruit of blessing — when every part is seen, every voice named, and all are gathered back into one heart. The parsha thus closes the circle it opened: from יחד שבטי ישראל  to אשריך ישראל. The wholeness of the beginning has deepened — no longer the sameness of simplicity, but the harmony of a people who have learned to see holiness in difference.

The movement of V’Zot HaBracha mirrors the movement of all sacred relationship. It begins in unity — a collective covenant that binds every soul in shared purpose. From that oneness, the Torah descends into individuality, naming each tribe and honoring the distinct light it carries. Through those differences, Presence begins to dwell among them — not in spite of contrast, but within it. And when all the voices are finally gathered again, the parsha ends in joy: a unity no longer born of sameness, but of harmony.

This is the Torah’s final revelation — that holiness is not static or uniform, but dynamic and relational. True wholeness is achieved when individuality and togetherness coexist; when each spark is recognized yet bound to the flame of the whole. Moshe’s parting act becomes the blueprint for all sacred leadership: to see multiplicity not as fragmentation, but as the very material from which unity is built — to gather the fragments, affirm their uniqueness, and bless them into one radiant people, held together not by fear or law, but by love and covenant.

Appropriately, V’Zot HaBracha is read on Simchat Torah — the day when the Torah’s end becomes its beginning. It is a festival not of endings, but of continuance — a circle of joy where culmination becomes renewal. Just as Moshe’s final words gather the people into harmony, we, too, dance with the Torah in one circle, holding difference and unity together in motion. The blessing of V’Zot HaBracha becomes the heartbeat of Simchat Torah: the joy of wholeness restored, of love that turns endings into beginnings.

The Collective Benediction

If the earlier verses form the architecture of blessing, this closing verse is its song — Moshe’s final melody of joy, gathering every note into harmony.

“אַשְׁרֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל, מִי כָמוֹךָ עַם נוֹשַׁע בַּה׳ מָגֵן עֶזְרֶךָ, וַאֲשֶׁר חֶרֶב גַּאֲוָתֶךָ; וְיִכָּחֲשׁוּ אֹיְבֶיךָ לָךְ, וְאַתָּה עַל־בָּמוֹתֵימוֹ תִדְרֹךְ.”“

Fortunate are you, Israel! Who is like you, a people saved by Hashem, the Shield of your help and the Sword of your triumph! Your enemies shall cower before you, and you shall tread upon their high places” (33:29).

After blessing each shevet in its individuality, Moshe turns to bless Israel as one people. The diversity of tribes — warriors and teachers, traders and dreamers, fierce and serene, hidden and abundant — now converge into a unity greater than the sum of its parts. Each tribe carries its own significance, yet together they form the singular heartbeat of Am Yisrael.

Rashi explains that Moshe’s cry of “אַשְׁרֶיךָ” is not instruction but exclamation — a voice of wonder and gratitude at the people’s enduring covenant with Hashem. The Ramban adds that Israel’s greatness lies not in strength or number, but in being “נושע בה׳” — saved, sustained, and held by God. Their power is not self-derived; it is relational, born of trust and nearness.

The Midrash (Sifrei 357) hears in this verse an echo of Shirat HaYam, the Song at the Sea, when Israel first lifted a collective voice in praise. Just as then they stood as one — their voices merging in gratitude — so too now Moshe unites them in blessing. His final words are not directives but music: the harmony of distinct souls bound in one shared song.

The Sfas Emes (V’Zot HaBracha 5631) teaches that Israel’s greatness lies precisely in this paradox — every shevet distinct, yet all bound in one destiny. Holiness, he writes, emerges not from sameness but from harmony — from the weaving of many voices into one melody of faith. The Shem MiShmuel adds that this moment completes the circle opened at Sinai. There, Israel stood “כאיש אחד בלב אחד” — as one person with one heart. Here, as Moshe’s final breath nears, he reminds them that this unity is not historical but eternal — not a moment, but a mission.

Thus, Moshe’s life ends as it began: standing before all Israel, blessing not perfection but togetherness. The Torah’s final song is not a command, but an embrace — a melody of difference reconciled through covenant. The ultimate message is clear: individuality must lead to unity, and unity must be held in the arms of Hashem.

Parenting Lens – Blessing Their Becoming

Like Moshe, our final role as parents is not to command or control — but to bless. At the end of all guidance and effort, what remains is the sacred responsibility to see our children as they are and to affirm their significance. The truest expression of love is not direction, but blessing — words that tell a child: you are seen, you are wanted, you belong.

Each tribe teaches us what it means to bless a child in their uniqueness. Reuven reminds us to bless belonging even in failure, so our children know mistakes do not erase their place. Shimon reminds us to bless the hidden ones — the quiet or overlooked children who still long to be seen. Levi calls us to honor the fire of spirit, blessing the child whose passion burns for truth. Yehuda teaches us to bless the voice that admits fault and returns, so our children learn that repentance restores, not diminishes, their worth.

Yissachar shows us how to bless quiet steadiness — the one who holds firm when others waver. Zevulun calls us to bless the child who journeys outward, sanctifying their worldly path. Dan teaches us to channel and bless fierce energy rather than fear it. Naftali blesses us with serenity and joy, reminding us to affirm the child who carries peace. Gad calls us to bless courage, especially when it is used in service of others. Asher blesses us with abundance and generosity, reminding us to name the child’s gifts as blessings for the whole. Yosef teaches us to bless greatness sanctified — abundance held with humility and purpose. And Binyamin calls us to bless intimacy and nearness, to remind our children that they are beloved and securely held.

To bless our children is to see in them what Moshe saw in his people — a mosaic of holiness, each piece irreplaceable. Every child is a different tribe, a different light, a different path through which Divine presence can be revealed. Our task is not to shape them into one image, but to see the image of Hashem within each.

This is Significance, the fifth S. A child becomes safe, seen, soothed, and secure — but their journey is not complete until they know they matter. To bless a child’s significance is to say: I see you in your uniqueness. I affirm the holiness of your becoming. You are not measured by sameness, perfection, or comparison. You are irreplaceable. You belong.

When we bless our child’s becoming, we echo Hashem’s own promise of geulah: “והבאתי” — I will bring you. I will carry you toward your place. Moshe’s final legacy was not a command but a blessing; our own must follow the same path. To bless is to release control and replace it with trust — to believe that Hashem Himself is carrying our children into their becoming. Our words of blessing become the bridge that holds them steady, roots them in belonging, and lights their way forward with love.

Hashem’s Model – “והבאתי”

Hashem’s final promise of geulah is: “וְהֵבֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם אֶל הָאָרֶץ” — “And I will bring you into the Land” (Shemot 6:8). This is the culmination of the four expressions of redemption. Not only “והוצאתי” — I will take you out; not only “והצלתי” — I will save you; not only “וגאלתי” — I will redeem you; and not only “ולקחתי” — I will take you as My people. The journey ends with “והבאתי” — I will bring you. To be brought is to arrive — to be led into one’s destiny, to be carried into significance.

The Sfas Emes (Shemot 5631) explains that true redemption is not defined by what we leave behind — slavery, suffering, constriction — but by what we are brought into. Hashem does not only remove us from danger; He brings us into covenant, into belonging, into future. Redemption is not escape, but embrace.

The Midrash (Shemot Rabbah 6:4) deepens this further: “והבאתי” is not only about entering the Land, but about entering relationship. Hashem brings us not just to a place, but into His nearness — into His promise that “וְהָיִיתִי לָכֶם לֵאלֹקִים” — I will be your God. The final blessing of redemption is not safety, but significance: to be chosen, wanted, and held.

Parenting, too, is a form of redemption — the slow, faithful bringing-forth of a soul into its promise. We cannot walk the whole path for our children, nor can we shield them from every stumble. But we can bless their steps, honor their uniqueness, and trust that Hashem is carrying them toward their own “והבאתי.” Just as Hashem promises not only to redeem us but to bring us into our place, so too the parent blesses: I will not abandon you to your struggles. I will walk beside you until you find your place. And even where I cannot go, I trust Hashem will bring you.

This is the covenantal model of parenting: not only to save, protect, or soothe, but to affirm and to bless — to trust in the unfolding of the child’s soul and to believe that Hashem Himself is carrying them into their becoming.

Closing Message

Moshe Rabbeinu’s last words were words of blessing. He did not leave Israel with new laws or strategies, but with vision and affirmation. He named each tribe, honored their individuality, and bound them all together in one covenant. His legacy was not law, but love; not control, but blessing.

This is no accident. The Torah’s final chapter teaches us that the truest strength of a leader — and the deepest gift of a parent — is not to mold or command, but to bless. To look beyond flaws and comparisons, beyond fear of the future, and to call forth the holiness already living within each soul. Moshe teaches us that blessing is not the reward of achievement, but the recognition of essence — to see others as Hashem sees them: whole, worthy, and beloved.

So too for us. Our final task as parents is not to dictate, but to bless. To look at each child and say: I see you. I honor you. I bless your becoming. You matter, and you always will. When we bless our children, we step into Moshe’s final posture — hands outstretched, eyes soft with faith — trusting that even when our part of the journey is complete, Hashem will continue to carry them forward.

This is the covenant of parenting: to end as Moshe ended — not with anxiety over what has not been achieved, but with blessing for what is still unfolding. Like Hashem’s promise of “והבאתי” — I will bring you — we place trust in our children’s journey, believing that their significance is secure, their path is holy, and their place is forever within the covenant of love.

The Torah begins with creation — and ends with blessing. So may every home, too, begin with nurture and end with love.

Chag Sameach!!!

Yaakov Lazar