One of the central features of the book of Devarim is its frequent repetition of information already known from the first four books of the Torah. From a rabbinic perspective, the most important ramification of this concerns the repetition of specific laws. Yet, whether we are speaking about law or narrative, Devarim’s repetition has understandably drawn a great deal of attention. The very name, Deuteronomy – which comes from the Hebrew, Mishneh Torah – is most commonly understood to mean the second (or repeated) law.
Although there is also much new material in the book of Devarim, many readers have sought to understand why certain items are chosen for repetition and others are not. The most obvious avenue is to search for an overriding theme that would fit both the repeated material as well as the laws that are given here for the first time, but which excludes all the material from the first four volumes that this book ignores. Along these lines, Rabbi S.R. Hirsch forcefully expounds the plausible theory that the laws included in Devarim are the ones most needed for the establishment of a thriving model society in the Land of Israel.38Commentary to Devarim 1:3. See also Ramban’s introduction to Devarim for a similar approach. We will not go into the pros and cons of R. Hirsch’s theory except to point out its intuitive appeal, given that the events in our book take place right before the Jews’ entry into the land.
Our focus, however, is different from that of most other commentators. Whereas the vast majority tries to make sense of the repetition found in Devarim by focusing on content, I would like to suggest that the actual key is not content but rather form. For if the difference between the content of the first four books of the Torah and the book of Devarim is not always clear, the same cannot be said about its style.
Eleh haDevarim
Our approach involves returning to some basic assumptions regarding how to read the Torah in general. Many readers will already be familiar with the principle that “the Torah speaks in the language of men,” meaning that the Torah purposefully uses a standard human manner of communication.39See Introduction to Redeeming Relevance in Exodus (pp. 15–20), where this is discussed in greater detail. While a proper understanding of this principle puts us in a better position to understand the Torah more generally, it is my contention that it will be especially helpful in understanding what is going on in Devarim.
For starters, using the “language of men” means that the Torah cannot be read like a standard law book. Were the Torah just a common legal code, there would have been little room for repeating things, and thus any repetition we might encounter would be attributed to oversight.40Obviously, sometimes, as in the Shulchan Aruch, a law is relevant to two different situations and is thus stated in more than one section. Still, a streamlined and ostensibly preferable system would simply refer the reader to where the law is written for the first time rather than restating all the information again. For the goal of a law code is to store information in as organized, clear and economical a fashion as possible. In order to do so, it lists the laws and organizes them by category. By contrast, the fact that the Torah intersperses its laws with so many narratives is just one glaring indication that it is trying to accomplish something completely different.
In taking a more “human” style, the Torah recognizes that straightforward new information is not always what human communication is about. A great deal of it has more to do with communicating an emotion, meaning that it’s more about how something is said than what is said. This is true of the Torah in general, although the first four books retain the general style and flavor of a written work and thus the emotions evoked are limited. Not so with the book of Devarim.
One of the first obstacles to understanding Devarim is thinking of it as a book. Devarim literally means “[spoken] words.” Even if we might otherwise have missed the centrality of this notion, the book’s orality is brought to our attention right from the start: “These are the words that Moshe spoke.” The text clues us in to the fact that, as opposed to the other four books, Devarim, to its very core, is an oral work.
In light of the book’s strong oral dimension, it would be no surprise to find other ways in which it is tied to orality. We have said that most understand its rabbinic name, Mishneh Torah, as referring to the fact that it contains laws that previously appear in the first four books. But this is not the only way that the term can be understood.
According to some commentaries,41See Netziv’s introduction to Devarim in Ha’amek Davar. See also R. Menachem Liebtag, “Sefer Devarim – Introduction,” at http://www.tanach.org/dvarim/dvarim/dvarintr.htm . it doesn’t refer to the duplication of previously recounted sections of the Torah but rather to a (section of the) Torah that requires our repetition of it and its constant review. Whether this is a correct understanding of the term or not, everyone agrees that it is specifically in the book of Devarim that we find many passages that were constantly recited by the Jews throughout the ages.42We will discuss some of these sections in Chapters Four, Seven, and Eight. Hence the only question is not whether the book had to be recited but rather how much of it encompassed this requirement. This approach differentiates Devarim quite explicitly from the other books, as the recitation and re-recitation of it defines its very essence.
The orality of Devarim means that it comes with its own rules. When a writer repeats himself it generally goes against the conventions of writing. But in an oral presentation the opposite holds true, as the repetition itself is a convention.43Repetition in the Torah can more generally be attributed to its poetic style. In fact, Netziv suggests that the Torah is actually more similar to verse than to prose (see his introduction to Ha’amek Davar). Nevertheless, he later points out that Devarim is even more in the category of verse than the other four books. In our own lives we are aware that people purposefully repeat themselves in everyday speech. Whether it is a parent repeating important instructions to a child or a politician turning back to a catch phrase, it is even often tellingly prefaced by the words, “I repeat.” When the parent or politician repeats him- or herself, the words are not meant to convey new information, as they’ve already been heard by the listeners. Rather, the speaker is using the words this time to convey emphasis, as if to say, “The following is so important that it bears repeating.”
I suggest that the Torah is doing exactly the same here. Although it could have written “this is important” (as does Maharal, for example, in his writings) or “note this” (as does Rabbi Chaim Vital), it would have been less colloquial and, therefore, less like the “language of men.” The Torah explicitly strives to be colloquial, even as it tries to echo the highly refined message of God. And this is all the more true in its most oral of books.44See Meir Weiss, The Bible from Within (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1984), p. 37, note 24, where he makes a similar critique about many medieval commentators. According to Weiss, they show literary insensitivity when they write that nothing is added when prophets express themselves about the same matter in more than one way in the same verse.
This approach is consonant with the view that certain commandments are repeated because of their importance specifically at the time that they are reiterated, e.g., as the Jews get ready to enter their land. Still another approach, which we also see earlier in the Torah, emphasizes not the context in which a commandment is repeated but rather its own intrinsic importance.45Although rabbinic leaders have always been reticent to express this, there are some commandments that are clearly more important than others. See Maharal’s Derech Chaim, Avot 2:9, as well as Tosafot Yom Tov, ibid., who express this quite clearly. See also Chapter Three, note 19. The Ten Commandments, for example, carry obvious extra importance, and still would even if they had been stated only once. Nevertheless, their being repeated accentuates their importance. In other cases, however, it is only a commandment’s repetition and not the commandment itself that brings this to our attention. One example might be the daily sacrifice (Shemot 29:38–41; Bemidbar 28:3–5),46Note that this repetition actually precedes the book of Devarim. as the rabbis appear to note.47There is an unidentified midrash citing R. Shimon ben Pazi to this effect quoted in the introduction to R. Ya’akov Ibn Chaviv’s Ein Ya’akov.
Of course, one could question my approach in view of how the rabbis deal with repetition in many places. There is no question that the rabbis saw repetition in the Torah as “unnecessary” information in and of itself. They understood repetitive passages as clues for additional, hidden meaning. This is a fundamental working assumption of rabbinic Judaism and we have no reason to question it. At the same time, it would be fair to say that the Torah can avail itself of many ways to transmit information. Repeating words verbatim is certainly one way for it to transmit oral traditions not otherwise found more explicitly in other parts of the Torah as well as to derive new laws that appear warranted. But since there are other ways it could have accomplished this, the reader is correct to look for other reasons repetition is used to present some laws and not others.
Why Devarim?
What necessitated the Torah to diverge from its usual manner so drastically in this book? Perhaps just as endnotes and appendices are placed in the back of books so as not to disturb the flow of the main idea, so too might colloquial style and repetitions, which don’t fit well into the standard flow of the Torah’s first four books, need to wait until the end. But there is something more.
In line with our introduction, we should not forget that Devarim is a stylistic bridge between God’s direct word in the first four books of the Tanach and the human renditions of prophecy in the post-Pentateuchal works that follow. Indeed, many prophetic books are remarkable for their idiosyncratic styles, wherein the character of the prophet stands out, often simply by how he expresses himself. To the extent that Devarim is Moshe’s prophetic book, we would also expect it to reflect Moshe’s necessarily human way of speaking. But even this is not enough to fully justify the radical shift in presentation that occurs here.
Perhaps the answer lies in looking at Devarim’s situational context. Moshe’s departure from the Jewish people is not merely the catalyst for giving the Jewish people last-minute instructions and a “pep talk” before entering the land. It is also his last chance to ensure the Jewish future more generally. But for that Moshe had to have a strategy.
It is certainly important for the Jews to keep all of the commandments given them by God and to be aware of the Torah’s entire contents. Yet Moshe understood that when push comes to shove, there are only a limited number of things that can remain at the forefront of a person’s consciousness. About to leave the stage, Moshe needed to finally formulate what those things must be. Deciding which commandments were most central to the Jewish people’s identity was a momentous undertaking, with extremely serious ramifications. It required choosing which laws most needed to be protected against their being transgressed in the future.48See Rav A.Y. haKohen Kook’s Guide for the Perplexed of the Generation, Chapter 23A.
We have alluded to the fact that commentators who address the issue of repetition in the book of Devarim also point out that most of the laws appearing in the book are actually new, and their inclusion has to be explained as well. It seems to me that this is open to challenge. One need not necessarily find one grand theory that explains the place of both the new laws and those previously stated. Could there quite simply be two different things going on here? Laws relevant to entering the land and creating a new society were saved for the point in time where they would be most relevant. Simultaneously, there was a need to repeat laws that were already discussed in order to reinforce cardinal principles that would be relevant for all time.
Such an approach reminds me of a childhood ritual I remember quite well. When I was in middle school, the first two orders of business every morning were the Pledge of Allegiance and the daily announcements. The only thing they had in common was that they were both appropriate for the beginning of the day – but for dramatically different reasons. The Pledge was thought to be of cardinal importance, and that gave it priority. The announcements were often trivial and lost their value the very next day, but they involved information that had immediate relevance and thus needed to be taken care of right away. It is quite possible that Moshe’s speech contained these two elements as well: cardinal principles such as the Ten Commandments and what was learned from the failure with the spies, as well as laws immediately relevant even if not necessarily central, such as those pertaining to kings and wars. Hence, proximity does not always imply commonality.
While we have shown that different issues can be urgent for different reasons, in the process, we have also shown that what they do have in common is their urgency. Whether that urgency is limited to those about to enter the Land of Israel or whether it applies to all those engaged in the creation and maintenance of an elevated and well-functioning community is open for discussion. But at least for the former, the book of Devarim is, more than anything else, a book of urgency. From that perspective, it represents a mini-Torah – a practical summary of how to live as a religious Jew in an independent state. And it is with this in mind that we will address the various themes we will come across.
Is a Non-Verbatim Repetition Still Repetitive?
There are a few additional points with regard to repetition in the Torah. First of all, we should acknowledge the possible difference between verbatim or near verbatim repetitions, and what only appears to be repetitive but is in fact a different – and hence novel – perspective on the same idea or event. In the latter case, two different perspectives on the same story or commandment will always add new information and therefore cannot, strictly speaking, be called repetitive.
One could take the last observation to an extreme and challenge the existence of verbatim repetitions altogether. For example, even if certain verses in the first rendition of the Ten Commandments are repeated verbatim in the second rendition,49See Shemot 20:2–14; Devarim 5:6–18. one could argue that the differences before and after the static verses infuse even the repeated ones with new meaning. But such a claim would be hard to make. It is difficult to see any new meaning added from the second appearance of these verses simply based on context. Likewise, the changes in the Shabbat commandment in the second rendition of the Ten Commandments seem to have no bearing on the commandments that come before and after them. In light of this, we can only conclude that if the Torah were looking to avoid the repetition of texts that do not add any new content, it could have spared us most of these verses, or at least cut away much of their verbiage.
Near pure verbatim repetitions are actually quite rare in the Torah. Our discussions in the rest of this book, however, will assume that there is always a need to justify repetition. And so, even in the case where a verse, concept, or law is repeated without being verbatim, we still need to explain the need for a second treatment of certain things and not of others, as well as why they need to be said specifically in Devarim.
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Far from creating distance between us and the Torah, the repetition of certain sections of Devarim should further connect us to it – speaking to us, as it does, on a very human level. In the last chapter of our volume on Shemot, we already discussed how the Torah teaches us the need for an uneven distribution of focus.50“The Zikaron of Pesach: Productive Selectivity,” in Redeeming Relevance in Exodus, pp. 127–136. Our discussion here reminds us of this concept, but it also takes us elsewhere.
We live with much variety in our lives, from the food we eat to our interaction on social media. We are also surrounded by conflicting priorities from work, school and family. In short, there are many things we need to put our minds to. The more crowded our schedules and our minds become, the more we are in danger of losing perspective. This chapter illustrates the need to find concrete ways of prioritizing those things that should be most important to us. And this is exactly what the Torah does, by repeating – sometimes several times – those things that deserve a larger share of our attention.
Curiously, in spite of the many other strategies that have been devised over the ages, repetition may still be the most effective way to make sure that we put forward what needs to be put forward. Meditation practices, such as those used by the Mussar school, use repetition to point our focus toward needed changes in our lives. By saying something over and over or by repeating a behavior on a constant basis, we not only bring it to the forefront of our attention, we also integrate it into our very personalities. It is for this reason that Rambam suggests it is better to give small amounts of charity many times over than to give one big lump sum.51Commentary to the Mishna, Avot 3:15.
Focusing on that which is most important is not the same as discarding what is less central. Minor things have their place. But so do major things. And those two places are very different. The challenge that the Torah tries to help us with is how to maintain that uneven balance, even while living rich and varied lives.