There is a specific word that recurs again and again throughout the Book of Devarim: Hayom—Today. It appears more than seventy times, exceeding all the four preceding books of the Torah combined. A few examples will suffice: “And you shall know today and take it to your heart” (4:39); “And these words that I command you today shall be upon your heart” (6:6); “See, I place before you today blessing and curse” (11:26); “You are standing today, all of you” (29:9). And so on.
What is it about this “today”—the “day” on which Moshe delivers his great discourse—that demands such insistent repetition? Why the repeated emphasis that his words are spoken today? In a few places, Rashi invokes the rabbinic teaching that “every day” the Torah should feel as new (Berachot 63b). The word, in this sense, signals the perpetual relevance of covenant and Torah. But this reading cannot account for most occurrences, and on the plain (peshat) level of the text, the question remains: why today?
The “today” of Sefer Devarim is not an ordinary twenty-four-hour day. It is the moment of transition: the day of crossing from the wilderness into the Promised Land, into Eretz Yisrael
The answer emerges from one of the most striking instances: “Hear, O Israel, you are crossing the Jordan today, to come and inherit nations greater and mightier than you” (9:1). In other words, the “today” of Sefer Devarim is not an ordinary twenty-four-hour day. It is the moment of transition: the day of crossing from the wilderness into the Promised Land, into Eretz Yisrael.
Sefer Devarim is delivered on the threshold of that entry. The repeated use of “today” emphasizes the immediacy of the moment and conveys urgency: it is happening now. The people must be ready.
Crossing the Jordan—Today
As noted, we learn from here that the “today” of Devarim is not a literal twenty-four-hour day. Moshe would soon die, and the nation would mourn him for thirty days before they actually crossed the Jordan. The word signals a period, a threshold: the time of transition into the Promised Land. Knowing he would not merit to enter with them, Moshe delivers his great farewell discourse—the instruction manual for life in Eretz Yisrael—already on the brink of entry, in this liminal moment.
This highlights the grandeur of that crossing. Many verses make clear that Eretz Yisrael is the place where mitzvot reach their true fulfillment: “These are the statutes and judgments that you shall observe to do in the Land that Hashem, God of your fathers, has given you to possess, all the days that you live upon the earth” (Devarim 12:1). As Ramban explains (Vayikra 18:25), observance of mitzvot in exile is but a preparation, a rehearsal, for their real performance in the Land.
But Sefer Devarim goes further: the day of entry is also the day we became a people. “Be attentive and hear, O Israel: this day you have become a people to Hashem your God” (27:9). The surrounding verses emphasize how this is bound up with the concrete enactment of Torah upon the land itself, as represented by the writing of the Torah and the covenantal ceremony upon Mount Gerizim and Mount Eival. Alongside the Exodus and the covenant at Sinai, this moment of entry forges us as a nation.
Crossing into the Land is, indeed, a decisive moment in the national formation of the Jewish People. The day of entry is the day of covenant renewed: the day when our bond with God, and our very Jewish essence, are reaffirmed.
Some have read this as a warrant for the opening words of Israel’s Declaration of Independence: “In Eretz-Yisrael the Jewish People arose; here its spiritual, religious and political identity was shaped; here it lived a life of national dignity; here it created cultural values of national and universal significance and gave to the world the eternal Book of Books.” That, however, is not my claim. The Declaration’s preamble, intentionally or not, destabilizes the foundations that precede entry into the Land—the very foundations that Sefer Devarim insists upon. In this sense, it is deeply problematic.
Yet, it does contain a kernel of truth. Crossing into the Land is, indeed, a decisive moment in the national formation of the Jewish People. The day of entry is the day of covenant renewed: the day when our bond with God, and our very Jewish essence, are reaffirmed. “You have affirmed this day that Hashem is your God, to walk in His ways, to keep His statutes and commandments and judgments, and to hearken to His voice. And Hashem has affirmed you this day to be His treasured people, as He has spoken to you, and to keep all His commandments” (26:17–18). Entry into the Land is the renewal of the covenant: we choose God, and He chooses us.
Entering the Land: A Shift in Mindset
A simple truth calls out to us: we are privileged to live through the very “today” of Sefer Devarim—not a single day, but a long era, the era of return to the Land.
For nearly two centuries, and especially in the last hundred years, the Jewish People has been crossing its Jordan, conquering and settling its homeland. We, the nation, did not arrive prepared. We expected to come on the wings of eagles, with a Temple descending in fire from the heavens. Instead, we received Herzl’s Zionism and Ben-Gurion’s statecraft, and a still-absent Temple whose building depends upon human effort. For thousands of years, we yearned for our return. But not like this.
And yet, to secure our presence in the Land, we need the same “Devarim consciousness,” which is first and foremost a national consciousness. Devarim demands that we keep Hashem’s statutes and ordinances, thereby constructing a society with righteousness and justice at its center. It demands that we live by the great foundations of Divine service (what the Torah calls mitzvah, expounded in Va’etchanan and Eikev) so that we not fall, Heaven forbid, into a modern replay of the Sin of the Spies.
At times of despair, some even whisper: We can always return, en masse, to the Diaspora. Could anything be more profoundly antithetical to Sefer Devarim?
Within Charedi Judaism, a tradition formed in the crucible of struggle and threat, this mindset is not readily embraced. Instead of the recognition of the Land’s goodness demanded by Devarim—“And you shall eat and be satisfied and bless the Lord your God for the good Land He has given you” (8:10)—some in the Charedi fold see Israel’s miracles as the work of Satan (Heaven forbid). Others deny that the State and its achievements belong to the Jewish People at all, since they were wrought under secular leadership. At times of despair, some even whisper: We can always return, en masse, to the Diaspora.
Could anything be more profoundly antithetical to Sefer Devarim?
Instead of the trust in God that should embolden us to seize the Land fully and rectify the Spies’ sin of “they did not believe His word” (Tehillim 106:24), some shrink back, claiming that Divine blessing cannot rest upon a secular state. Instead of the recognition that without Hashem’s power we cannot achieve, some denigrate achievement itself, as though it were somehow beneath us. It’s either the fiery Temple descending from Heaven, or nothing.
Our era demands that we think differently. A tremendous and urgent challenge stands before us: to build a Jewish society—with an army, an economy, institutions of governance, and a culture—that is all firmly grounded in the foundations of Sefer Devarim.
Our Choice—Today
The choice is ours. We can see our presence in the Land as the realization of a secular vision of Pinsker, Nordau, and Ben-Gurion—an irredemible reality standing in opposition to God’s word and will. Or we can see it as an act of Divine providence, a blaze of light after the darkness of the Shoa, and an urgent summons to act.
Even in the midst of strife and fracture, Moshe speaks to us through Sefer Devarim, warning us not to lose sight of the consciousness of “today.”
Yes, there are challenges. There are wars to fight against bitter enemies and internal disputes to resolve. But this is hardly new. The Book of Kings—written in the days of the Temple and of living prophecy—is full of them. Yet even in the midst of strife and fracture, Moshe speaks to us through Sefer Devarim, warning us not to lose sight of the consciousness of “today.”
It is precisely this consciousness to which Tehillim (95) calls us, as it warns against repeating the Sin of the Spies: “Today—if you will heed His voice.” The Talmud notes Eliyahu’s teaching whereby this verse also speaks of the coming of Mashiach. Indeed, it depends on us, our choices. Hayom.
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