All the current television programs that highlight the use of the latest technology in forensic science to solve crimes, including cold cases, reassure us that most crimes will be solved and that justice will ultimately prevail. But, when we come to the end of this week’s parashah, we remember that our ancestors did not have the benefits of these technologies. And, when a case ran cold, and there was an unsolved homicide in the community, what was to be done?

In a film called “The Recruit,” each young applicant for CIA special operations is asked to respond to a series of rapid-fire questions without taking time to think about them. In this case, the recruit is asked to answer quickly, “Which would you rather do: ride on a train, feel no pain, dance in the rain?” With a slight hesitation he answers, “Dance in the rain.” Then, as he is about to leave the room the recruit turns back to the examiner and says it wasn’t the truth. The real answer is “feel no pain.”

Parashat Re’eh begins with the words “Behold I put before you today blessing and curse. The blessing — that you will listen to the commandments of the Lord your God, which I command you today. The curse — that you will not listen to the commandments of the Lord your God and you will stray from the path, which I command you today to follow, after other gods you have not known.”

In this week’s parsha we have a fascinating mitzvah: “Kol hamitzvah asher anochi m’tzavcha hayom tishm’run la’ason” — All the commandments that I command you today you shall guard and observe to do them, that you will therefore live long and thrive and increase and inherit the land that I swore to your ancestors.

This verse raises several grammatical questions. Why does the Torah not specify which mitzvah it’s speaking about? Why doesn’t it read “All the mitzvot...” (plural), which would then be more readily understood, as opposed to “all the mitzvah…” (singular), which leads to the above question.

Another grammatical difficulty is that the verse begins in the singular “...which I command you” (singular) and then ends off in the plural “you (plural) will have long life, you (plural) will have many children, you (plural) will inherit the land.”

Every so often, there is a renewed push somewhere in the United States to enshrine the Ten Commandments on public property, within a courthouse, or on the classroom wall.

But no one ever seems to ask the questions, “Which Ten Commandments?” or “Whose Ten Commandments?”

This week’s parasha, Va’et’chanan, gives us reason to raise these questions, for within it we find a second iteration of the Ten Commandments (which is one of the reasons the rabbis call the fifth book of the Torah Mishne Torah, and similarly in English it is called Deuteronony — both of names conveying the meaning of repetition or doubling).

The most obvious difference (among several) between the deuteronomic version of the Ten Commandments and the “original” one in the Book of Exodus is found in our fourth commandment — the one dealing with Shabbat. Here we find the word “shamor” (“observe” or “keep” the Shabbat day…) in contrast to the Exodus exhortation “zachor” (“remember”). But this relatively minor difference that looms so large in our tradition overshadows the purpose of Shabbat that follows: in Exodus the reason given for the institution of Shabbat is God’s creation of the world; in Va’et’chanan the justification for Shabbat is our slavery in Egypt and God’s deliverance. (Both reasons are incorporated into the Friday night kiddush: zikaron l’ma’aseh v’reishit and zeicher li’tzi’at mitzrayim — a remembrance of the works of creation and a reminder of the Exodus from Egypt, respectively.)

So, “Which Ten Commandments?” or “Whose Ten Commandments?” — the deuteronomic formulation or the one found in the Book of Exodus?

These questions are actually quite a bit more serious than you may think. The Torah itself never refers to these two passages, which recount the beginning of revelation at Sinai, as “Ten Commandments” — that would be Aseret haMitzvot in Hebrew — but as Aseret haD’varim — the Ten Statements or Utterances (see Ex. 34:28, Deut. 4:13, and Deut. 10:4). This Hebrew title/description accords well with the Jewish tradition’s enumeration of the Aseret haDibrot, which consists of one statement (“I am Adonai, your God”) followed by nine commandments.

But Christians, wedded to the literal notion of Ten Commandments, do not count “I am Adonai, your God” as their first phrase, and consequently, they divide them differently in order to account for their Ten Commandments. Protestants divide our second commandment into two parts: “You shall have no other gods before Me” is their first commandment, and “You shall make no graven images”; after that, their version agrees with ours: (3) Do not take the name of Adonai, your God, (4) Remember/observe Shabbat, (5) Honor your parents, (6) Do not kill, (7) Do not commit adultery, (8) Do not steal, (9) Do not bear false witness, (10) Do not covet. And Catholics, adhering fairly closely to the paragraph divisions found within the Masoretic text, divide “You Shall Not Covet” into two parts to arrive at their Ten Commandments.

So the next time you hear about an effort to erect a Ten Commandments monument on public property, or to place them anywhere else in public, ask its proponents, “Which Ten Commandments?” or “Whose Ten Commandments?” And then tell them they would do better to keep the Ten Commandments “in their hearts,” as the Sh’ma (which is also found Va’et’chanan) commands us.

Four years ago on Shabbat Hazon I wrote the following d’var Torah based upon the opening of Deuteronomy:

This week, we will again read Deuteronomy as we prepare for Tisha B’Av, the day that commemorates our Jewish national calamities. Next week will also mark the 24th birthday of Gilad Shalit, who has now spent 20 percent of his life in captivity with no contact with family, friends, or even the International Red Cross.

As I looked at this week’s Torah reading from Deuteronomy, I was struck by a familiar passage that, in light of the Hezbollah attack four years ago, takes on new meaning for me. Moses, in Deuteronomy 1, repeats to the Israelites that God has informed him that he (Moses) will not enter the promised land. While volumes of rabbinic legend and scholarly commentary have been devoted to the rationale of God’s decision, I have always found them unsatisfying. What I have come to realize this week is that the real message of this passage is that despite the fact that Moses now knows and has publicly announced that he would not live to see the people of Israel at peace in the land of Israel, Moses does not quit. Moses continues to do his part in preparing the Israelites for a future where they would be at peace with each other, at peace with their neighbors, and at peace with God in their own land, the land of Israel. By his example Moses teaches us the lesson explicitly stated by Rabbi Tarfon in Pirke Avot:

“The time is short and the task of redeeming this world is great; even if it is not our privilege to see its completion nonetheless we are required to work toward it.”

Realistically, I do not know if in my lifetime I will see an end to the Arab-Israel conflict. Today, I am a realist; I do not know when peace in the Middle East will “cause a new light to shine upon Zion.” However, Moses, Moshe Rabbeynu, Moses our teacher, has taught me, that like Moses we cannot give up hope; we cannot give up on our people, and we cannot give up on God. Let us all include the name of Gilad Shalit in our misheberach prayers but let us all do more than just pray; let us join together in being Israel’s voice in the public arena of America.

This past month, I assumed the chairmanship of the Jewish Community Relations Council of our UJA Federation of North Jersey. I took on this volunteer position of leadership because of Rabbi Tarfon’s words and Gilad Shalit’s silent call. Israel’s military and moral strength is being attacked today by a campaign of divestment and delegitimization.

On Monday night, with our reading of Lamentations at our Tisha B’Av services, we will begin our countdown to Rosh HaShanah. Our liturgical calendar will take us from the depths of despair to the hope of redemption. However, the words of both our prophets and our sages teach us that God is calling upon us to be partners in the repair of this world, and in our personal and communal redemption.

On this Shabbat Hazon, this Sabbath of Vision, I call upon all of you to join me in becoming more active in being Israel’s voice and God’s hands in our own northern New Jersey community by getting involved in our JCRC activities. As my hero David Ben-Gurion once said: “Time works both for us and against us; depending upon how we use it.”

I invite all of you to use a part of your time in the coming year to join me, through our JCRC, in being a voice for Gilad Shalit; for the children of Sderot; for the Israelis and the Palestinians who seek only to live in peace with security; and for the disenfranchised of Bergen County whose lives we touch through JCRC programs such as Bergen Reads. On this Shabbat Hazon, this Sabbath of Vision, let us not only see the possibilities of improving our world but let us all see that, as Rabbi Tarfon taught, each of us has a role to play and energy to contribute to the process of Tikun Olam. With our efforts and with God’s blessing, may this Rosh HaShanah see Gilad Shalit reunited with his family.

This week a woman was sharing her spiritual journey when she said, “I don’t want to die. There is more for me to do.” She had lived a long life and has a loving and devoted family. She was not sure exactly what she had to do, but she knew there was more. She then explored what was important to her as she tried to figure out what she wanted and needed to “do.” Ever since a recent movie, seemingly more and more people are making lists of things that they want to accomplish before they die.

We might imagine that when Moses hears God’s words in the opening lines of chapter 31 in the book of Numbers that he is in a similar situation. Perhaps he is working with God on a list of what he needs to accomplish before his journey is over.

The greatness of Moshe is apparent not only in his moments of glory leading the Jewish people out of Egypt toward Mount Sinai, but more so in his graceful acceptance of God’s decree that he would not bring the Jewish people into the land of Israel. Since he failed to sanctify God properly and reflect faith in Him during the episode of “the hitting of the rock,” Moshe will not be able to see the final stage of the redemption of the Jewish people with their settlement in the land. And yet, without waiting for a Divine summons, Moshe turns to God and asks Him to appoint the next leader, someone “who shall go out before them and come in before them, and who shall take them out and bring them in, so that God’s community may not be like sheep that have no shepherd.”

While the plain sense of the Torah paints a portrait of a retiring leader with no misgivings or qualms, the rabbis are sensitive to a literary issue that indicates that there is more going on under the surface. After all, why does Moshe take the initiative in broaching the subject with God? And why now, when there is much of the Torah left to go? The Midrash explains that after Moshe observes how the daughters of Tzelofchad rightly inherited from their father, Moshe begins to think about the possibility of his sons succeeding him and so he broaches the issue. But God quickly replies, “He who tends a fig tree will enjoy its fruit” (Proverbs 27). Moshe’s children are noticeably absent as active players in the Torah’s narrative because, unlike Yehoshua, they didn’t serve their father and learn all they could from him. Since Yehoshua was a faithful disciple of Moshe he would be the successor.

The harsh reality that Moshe faces about his children is an enduring lesson that the spiritual leadership of the Jewish people is not an inherited position; it is open to all. Everyone has an equal opportunity to study the Torah and guide the Jewish people with its teachings. True, there are positions in Jewish life that are hereditary, such as the monarchy and the priesthood. But the leader that influences the destiny of the Jewish people is the spiritual leader, a position held first by Moshe and then by Yehoshua.

This egalitarian notion was best expressed by the most famous rebel and malcontent in the Torah. Korach was right when he said that all are holy and all have God in their midst. Moshe agrees in his response to the report that Eldad and Meidad were prophesying in the camp in which he says, “If only God would make everyone prophets, by causing His spirit to rest on everyone.”

This will also help us to understand a difficult period in Jewish history that I am currently studying with a group of women in my community. In our study of the Prophets, we have recently begun studying the book of Shoftim (Judges). The period of the judges who led the Jewish people after the death of Yehoshua was a turbulent era in which the Jewish people are settled in the land but succumb many times to the temptations of the idolatry that surrounds them. A vicious cycle courses through the book whereby the Jewish people become corrupt; God punishes them by delivering them into the hands of foreign neighbors; the Jewish people cry out to God in their suffering; they are saved by a shofet (judge) who leads them militarily and spiritually; they return to follow God and the Torah for the duration of the judge’s reign; and upon his or her death the Jewish people quickly regress into corruption once again and the cycle begins anew. This cycle repeats itself no less than 13 times throughout the book before the monarchy is started in the next book, Samuel. This leads us to ask: What point is there to the period of the judges? It is nothing more than a tragic era of decline. Furthermore, the Torah makes no mention that a shofet will be the spiritual leader of the Jewish people. The Torah lists a king and a high priest — but there is no mitzvah to appoint a judge as a spiritual and military leader and not just as an adjudicator.

Clearly, the leader called a shofet is someone who is in the model of Moshe and Yehoshua, someone who has developed a personal relationship to God to the degree that he or she has become a prophet and a transmitter of the Torah. These qualities are not inherited but open to all. And so the period of the shoftim is one in which the Jewish people are challenged to create a society in which Torah study flourishes and people have the opportunities to raise themselves to the level of leadership. Before putting them under the rule of a divinely ordained king from the line of Judah, the Jewish people first have the opportunity to have leaders that earn their position through their own efforts and based on their own merits. The shofet is someone who earns his position just as Yehoshua earned his as the disciple of Moshe.

Parshat Balak offers us a unique view of the nascent Israelite nation. For the past several weeks we have been visitors inside the Israelite camp as they made their way from Sinai to the Promised Land. There were the complaints of the Israelites about their lack of food and water. We have seen jealousy spur Aaron and Miriam to make accusations against their brother Moses. Civil war threatened to erupt around the question of leadership of the nation. In the middle of their wanderings, a popular revolt arises around the ability to conquer the land and a large number of the Israelites want to return to Egypt. On the whole it is a discouraging picture that has been painted of our ancestors. Now, for the first time in Sefer Bamidbar, the Book of Numbers, we get a different perspective and a different view of our people.

With all that has happened, it is easy to forget that the dor ha-midbar, the generation of the desert, was a special, unique, holy generation. These were the people who cried out to God from Egyptian slavery. God heard and answered their prayers. They were the beneficiaries of the 10 plagues, they saw the miracle at the Red Sea, and they stood at Sinai. This was a generation that merited Divine salvation. For all their perceived shortcomings, the generation of the desert was lauded by our rabbis as a holy generation who merited Divine reward and Divine punishment. Our tradition tells us that no other generation in our people’s history could match them and no other generation is as meritorious as they.