Soup and the Promised Land

Sermon Shabbat Hazon 5783 Parshat Devarim

Rabbi Samuel M. Cohon

There is a famous old soup joke that we Jews tell. A restaurant customer calls over the waiter and says to him, “Waiter, taste my soup.”  The waiter says, “Look sir, is there something wrong with it?  Is it cold?”  And the customer says, “Taste the soup.”  The waiter says, “Is it too salty, perhaps?”   And the customer says, “Taste the soup.”  The waiter says, “Is it too watery?”  And the customer says, “Taste the soup.” The waiter is now getting a little annoyed.  “Is the flavor off?  What’s wrong with the soup?”  But the customer just says, “Taste the soup.”  Finally, in frustration the waiter says, “Alright already, fine, sir, I’ll taste the soup.”  The waiter looks around the table and says, “So where’s the spoon?”  And the customer says, “Aha!”

It’s a great joke, a true classic.  But my favorite soup joke goes like this: a customer is ordering food in a kosher restaurant, and he asks for the borscht.  But the waiter says, “No, don’t get that; order something else, that’s so awful even the flies won't go near it.”  So, the customer says, “What do you recommend?”  And the waiter says, “Get the chicken soup with matzah balls.” And when the chicken soup with matzah balls arrives the man assures the waiter that it’s delicious.

A customer at the next table hears this conversation between the waiter and the guy who tried to order the borscht, and when it’s his turn he orders the split pea soup.  But the waiter gives him the same story, “Don’t order that, it’s terrible, even the flies won’t go near it.”  So, this customer, too, asks the waiter to recommend something else, and he says, “Get the barley soup.” But when the barley soup arrives it’s terrible, chaloshes.

"Hey, waiter,” the customer demands, “Why didn't you tell me to order the chicken soup?"

"Because," the waiter replies, "you didn't order the borscht."

I love this story, one of the classic Jewish jokes that probably only works in our culture and might just be better in Yiddish.  It reminds me of the ways in which we so often find ourselves missing the mark and even failing at things through a kind of process of disconnection. 

Without seeking too much wisdom in an old joke, the problem lies in what we seek as opposed to what we need, or more accurately what we ask for as opposed to what we really want.  You see, if that customer had only known that if he ordered the borscht—which was terrible—instead of the pea soup—which was also terrible—he would have gotten the matzah ball soup, which was great, instead of the barley soup, which was terrible.  In other words, if he had only asked for the right wrong thing he would have gotten the right right thing.  Or something like that.

To make it a little clearer, think about Moses at the beginning of this week’s Torah portion of Devarim, the start of the Book of Deuteronomy.  He has spent the past 40 years trying to get the people of Israel into the Promised Land, and to honest about it, trying to get himself into the Promised Land.  And now he knows he simply isn’t going to be allowed to get in.  God has decreed that he will be able to bring this fractious group of Jews right up to the border, and they will be allowed to enter and conquer and inherit this beautiful land of Israel.  But he himself will have to lay down his burden on the mountains at the boundary of the land. 

And so, Moses launches into a long set of speeches that compose the Book of Devarim, Deuteronomy.  He reminds the people of their last 40 years of travels, trials and travails.  He urges them to remember “the days of old,” challenges them with their failings, urges them to follow the commandments.  Moses tells them—not for the first time and certainly not for the last time—that he himself can’t go into the Promised Land in large part because their inability to be good finally goaded him into the mistake that made him ineligible for entry into Canaan.

And as Deuteronomy works its way out over the next few weeks, Moses will make it clear that all he really wants at this point in his life is to go into Canaan, to see with his own eyes his people inherit their own beautiful land.  He wants to know that his legacy is secure, that the yerushah, the inheritance of his people, is established.  He wants to see it with his own aged eyes.

In other words, Moses keeps asking for what he cannot have.  And he keeps kvetching about not having it.

But the funny part about all of this is that if Moses is concerned about his legacy, well, it is already well established.  He is actually seeking something that he will never achieve, entry into the Promised Land—but if only he asked for what he really wants, even needs, which is the regard of posterity, the establishment of the people of Israel in the land of Israel, his own status as the most important Jew in all of history, well then, he would realize that he already has what he really needs.

It’s like this: if instead of asking for the barley soup he would just ask for the borscht, he would end up with what he really needs, which turns out to be chicken soup with matzah balls…

Now to leave soup completely—“Finally,” you say, “rabbi; enough with the soup… it’s too hot for soup now anyway!”—what Deuteronomy will ultimately teach us is something remarkable.  We often seek what we think we want when what we really need is close at hand.

As the Rolling Stones once put it, you can’t always get what you want but you just might find you get what you need…

Moses never will enter the Promised Land.  But in reality, he has been traveling in the promised land for a long time.  It is the quality of the journey, the sacredness of the transit, that he never quite learns to appreciate.  He has had an unprecedented and unequalled career as leader.  He has accomplished so much!  We just wish he realized that, and that it was enough for him.

We may be able to learn something critical from Moses, and from God, over the weeks to come when we will be reading this amazing book.  Often, we seek things we don’t have simply because others have them.  And as we seek them, we neglect what we already have, and what we should value for its own qualities.  The blessings we enjoy now are always so much easier to forget than the things we think we desire.

It's ingrained in our American culture, of course.  If you have a nice house, you are told that you should wish you had a better one.  If you own a good car, you are convinced by advertising that there is a fancier, more advanced, preferable one out there.  The articles on your news feed teach that you can always be thinner, better looking, happier if you only purchase another item, try another diet, move to a better place, adopt a new program of behaviors.  Everyone on Facebook looks like they are having a better time than you are, and you should try to be more like them… 

Of course, that’s not true in any objective sense; none of it is real.  We each have many things in our own lives that we should learn to appreciate, to celebrate, to enjoy while we have them.  We have people who love us, friends who respect us, lives worth living. 

Look, Moses was, quite literally, the greatest Jewish leader in history.  Wouldn’t it be nice if he realized that was, indeed, enough of a life’s accomplishment?  He brought our people from abject slavery to religious and political success.  Would it be so hard for him to just sit back and enjoy it?

This Shabbat is called Shabbat Hazon, which means “the Sabbath of Vision” and its name is taken from the Haftarah for tomorrow.  It always precedes the commemoration of Tisha B’Av, the 9th of Av, a mournful day of remembrance of destruction and loss.  Certainly, in Jewish history, there is plenty of loss to recall. 

But perhaps we can see this Sabbath of Vision through a different lens tonight.  You see, we live in a country in which we exercise our Judaism freely and openly.  It’s hot outside now, but we also live in a beautiful place here in Tucson that we can enjoy even in the middle of summer.  We each have goodness in our lives to appreciate and celebrate. We have people to embrace, a congregation to participate in, love to give and receive.      

My friends, try to discern, over these coming weeks in which we will read the great book of Deuteronomy, what it is you really need, and what it will take for you to realize just how precious this world can be for you as it is now, without magical thinking or radical changes in your own life.  Whether or not you get the right kind of soup.

Because then, unlike Moses, you may come to recognize your own Promised Land in the life you have now.