Parshat Eikev

“ותאמר ציון עזבני ה’,וה’ שכחני”—Of the various responses of Israel to the promised redemption prophesied by the Navi Yishayahu, none are more painful than the opening words of our haftarah: “Hashem has abandoned me; He has forgotten me.” More than once, I have been brought to tears upon hearing them read in shul and wondering how the nation could ever believe that is true! Even God Himself seems amazed when He answers the people and tells them that He could no more abandon His beloved children than could a mother forget her child!

And yet, upon more serious contemplation, the reaction of Israel was actually quite understandable.

Hashem Himself appears to express that very idea in the Torah, when He states (Shemot 29: 45): “ושכנתי בתוך בני ישראל והייתי להם לא’לוקים”—that He would “dwell” in the Mishkan/Mikdash “in the midst of Israel” as a constant proof for the nation that He is their God! But when the Beit Hamikdash would no longer stand and He would no longer dwell there, the people would assume that Hashem had abandoned them and forgotten them.

In fact, it is the Abarbanel who—in the 15th century—suggests that Israel’s feelings of abandonment are based upon the “God-inflicted” galut to which they were condemned. He writes: “It is as if Zion is complaining about the extended exile, saying that just as a husband abandons his wife—so has Hashem abandoned Zion—and all this is due to the protracted galut!”

How, then, can Yishayahu hope to comfort a nation so despondent? How can he breathe a spirit of optimism and faith into their hearts so that they don’t fall into the state of complete despair?

Rabbi Moshe Lichtenstein lays out the Navi’s “blueprint” of comfort. In the earlier perakim of nechama—consolation, the prophet tells the people that exile is not meant to be their permanent state of existence and, since Hashem regards them as His beloved nation, they will certainly be redeemed. In our haftarah, Yishayahu hears the desperate cries of Israel in the opening pasuk—cries that were a result of the extended galut—so he does not respond by merely repeating the promise of Geula but by describing and the future redemption. He then goes on by urging them to respond quickly to his charge (“Miharu banayich”) for, he promises, the redemption is quickly approaching—so quickly, in fact, that there soon will be insufficient room for the returnees.

But the Navi realizes that promises for the future and visions of what would soon be might not suffice to console the suffering masses. For this reason, notes Rav Lichtenstein, Yishayahu describes a threefold relationship that God has with His people:

The first is that of parent to child, as expressed in the outset of our haftarah:

“התשכח אשה עולה … —Can a woman forget her infant …?”

The second is that of a conqueror to his treasured captive:

“היוקח מגיבור מלקוח … ”—as Rashi explains it refers to Israel—God’s treasured nation

The third relationship is that of husband and wife:

“אי זה ספר כריתות אמכם…”—“Show me the divorce document I gave your mother.”

The Navi’s multi-pronged approach to comfort Israel—i.e., the promise of redemption, the guarantee of its approach and the unique relationship that Hashem has with the Jewish nation—may not have succeeded in consoling the millions who suffered through the churban and galut. And yet, today, we look back with wonderment at the fact that these words continued to echo through time and place for 2,000 years and have brought solace and hope to generations of grief-stricken.

Which is why we can still declare: “עוד לא אבדה תקוותינו—we have never lost our hope,” the hope instilled into our hearts by Yishayahu HaNavi.

Rabbi Neil Winkler is the rabbi emeritus of the Young Israel of Fort Lee, and now lives in Israel.