10 Aug EIKEV: THE SILENT WITNESS

And you shall write
them on the
doorposts of your
homes and your
gates. (Devarim
11:20)
The Mezuzah
stands like a sentinel at the door, we pass
it whenever we enter or leave the room.
What are we to think as we look upon the
mezuzah? What are we to contemplate
when we see the letter shin on the case
and are reminded of the holy scrolls
within?
The Rambam, at the end of his
presentation of the laws of mezuzah, tells
us to think about the eternal nature of the
Almighty. This will inspire us to awaken
from our slumber and come to the
realization that nothing in this world is
permanent other than the Almighty, His
Torah.
Why does the mezuzah remind us of
these concepts?
Perhaps it is because the mezuzah is a
silent witness to the ebb and flow of

history and human events. Think about
the mezuzah of an old shul or some other
venerable edifice. It has been hanging
there for decades if not centuries. It has
seen infants brought into the shul to be
circumcised, and it has seen these same
people grown old brought into the shul to
be eulogized and buried. It has seen
generations come and go. It has seen
empires rise and fall. It has seen the birth
of ideologies and their demise.
In the last century alone, our hypothetical
mezuzah would have seen humanism,
capitalism, materialism, existentialism,
each embraced as life philosophies and
then discredited. It would have seen the
rise of the Soviet Union and Communism
and their ignominious collapse. It would
have seen the creation of the Third Reich,
the Thousand-Year Reich, its perpetration
of the Holocaust against the Jewish
people and its ultimate defeat and
destruction. It would have seen the birth
of Israel and its growth to maturity.
When the railroads were introduced in
the 19th century, people thought the new
technology was so perfect that it would

never change. The railroad companies
sold corporate bonds for centuries in
advance. And where are they all today?
On the scrap heap, along with their rusting
trains.
Human beings are always seeking
immortality. This invention, this idea, this
building, this book, this one will capture
that elusive immortality, this one will
stand the test of time, this is one for the
ages, this one will make me immortal.
But it doesn’t work.
The Torah tells us (Bamidbar 32:42),
“And Novach went and captured Kenas
and its suburbs, and he named it (lah)
Novach in his name.” According to the
rules of Hebrew grammar, the word lah
should end with a mappik heh, a mark of
emphasis, but it doesn’t. It ends with a
weak heh. The Midrash tells us that the
weak heh lets us know that the city did
not last. It was eventually destroyed.
Why does the Torah consider it important
to let us know this information? It is
meant to teach us the futility of
immortalization. Novach wanted to

immortalize himself by creating
something permanent – an entire city, no
less! – and crowning it with his own
name. But he failed. The city was
destroyed, and his name would be
forgotten if it were not mentioned in the
Torah.
Everything constantly changes. Nothing
is permanent. Only the Almighty and His
Torah are permanent. The mezuzah can
bear witness.