Parashat Eikev – 5786

The Nation’s Heel

A D’var Torah for Parashat Eikev

By Rabbi Anat Katzir

 

Parashat Eikev begins with a curious word:

וְהָיָה עֵקֶב תִּשְׁמְעוּן “And it shall come to pass because (eikev) you heed these laws…” (Deuteronomy 7:12)

The Torah could simply have said im tishme’un– “if you listen.” Instead, it chooses the unusual word eikev.

Literally, eikev means “because.” But it also means heel.

The rabbis noticed this double meaning immediately. Rashi, quoting the Midrash (Midrash Tanhuma, Eikev 1), explains that eikev hints to those commandments that people trample with their heels—the mitzvot that seem too small to matter.

The Torah’s message is startling. Judaism is not built only on dramatic acts of faith or heroic moments of sacrifice. It is built on the countless ordinary choices we barely notice.

God is found in the details.

Our tradition repeatedly teaches this lesson.

The prophet Zechariah instructs us:

…” דַּבְּר֤וּ אֱמֶת֙ אִ֣ישׁ אֶת־רֵעֵ֔הוּ אֱמֶת֙ וּמִשְׁפַּ֣ט שָׁל֔וֹם שִׁפְט֖וּ בְּשַׁעֲרֵיכֶֽם׃ וְאִ֣ישׁ ׀ אֶת־רָעַ֣ת רֵעֵ֗הוּ אַֽל־תַּחְשְׁבוּ֙ בִּלְבַבְכֶ֔ם וּשְׁבֻ֥עַת שֶׁ֖קֶר אַֽל־תֶּאֱהָ֑בוּ” …

“Speak truth to one another; render true and peaceful justice… Do not devise evil in your hearts against one another.” (Zechariah 8:16–17)

Not grand miracles. Not military victories. Simple acts of honesty and kindness.

Likewise, the prophet Micah reduces the entire covenant to everyday living:

“הִגִּ֥יד לְךָ֛ אָדָ֖ם מַה־טּ֑וֹב וּמָֽה־יְהֹוָ֞ה דּוֹרֵ֣שׁ מִמְּךָ֗ כִּ֣י אִם־עֲשׂ֤וֹת מִשְׁפָּט֙ וְאַ֣הֲבַת חֶ֔סֶד וְהַצְנֵ֥עַ לֶ֖כֶת עִם־אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ׃”

“What does Adonai require of you? Only to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

The Talmud (Makkot 24a) celebrates these prophetic attempts to distill the Torah into its essential moral practices. In a collection of “small acts” of daily righteous acts, it teaches us that greatness is measured not only in extraordinary moments but in ordinary habits.

Even the image of the heel itself appears at the very beginning of the Torah.

After Adam and Eve leave the Garden of Eden, God tells the serpent:

״ …ה֚וּא יְשׁוּפְךָ֣ רֹ֔אשׁ וְאַתָּ֖ה תְּשׁוּפֶ֥נּוּ עָקֵֽב״

“He shall strike your head, and you shall strike his heel.” (Genesis 3:15)

The heel is the part of us that keeps us standing, it serves as our stable base, it bears our weight. A wound to the heel may seem small compared to a blow to the head, yet without a stable foundation, even the strongest person eventually falls.

Modern culture has preserved a similar image in the story of Achilles from the Greek Mythology. Protected everywhere except for one small vulnerable spot – his heel. The mightiest warrior ultimately falls because of the one weakness that seemed insignificant. The stories are, as far as I know, unrelated in origin, yet they remind us of the same human truth: civilizations often collapse not because their strengths disappear, but because they neglect their smallest vulnerabilities.

Perhaps that is why the Torah chose the word eikev. Not because small things are unimportant, on the contrary, because they are foundational and often dismissed.

This symbolism becomes even richer when we remember another biblical figure.

Jacob-Yaakov receives his name because he emerges from the womb grasping the heel (eikev) of his brother Esau. Later, Jacob becomes Israel. The father of our people carries in his very name the image of the heel. The destiny of Israel begins with an eikev.

I recently return from a visit to Israel, spending meaningful time with family and friends who are on different sides of the physical and political map. Who have different relationships with their Israeli and religious identities, they all seem to agree that their biggest challenge is the day-to-day existence (the details of regular life), which seems to be pushed aside and overlooked as the leadership is focused on the larger challenges.

It is true that State of Israel faces enormous challenges. Security threats. Regional wars. Questions of defense, diplomacy, and survival.

These are genuine priorities. They demand courage and wisdom.

Throughout history, Jewish communities have survived unimaginable challenges. We have endured exile, persecution, dispersion, and renewal. We remember the great moments of courage, but our survival has depended just as much on quieter acts: teaching our children, welcoming guests, comforting mourners, visiting the sick, studying together, arguing respectfully, and building communities rooted in responsibility for one another.

The same is true for humanity as a whole.

Civilizations are rarely sustained by power alone. They endure because people continue to tell the truth, care for the vulnerable, honor the dignity of those with whom they disagree, and choose responsibility over indifference. The erosion of these daily habits often begins quietly, almost imperceptibly, until trust is weakened and communities begin to fracture from within.

Across much of the world. including within the Jewish community and within the State of Israel, public discourse has become increasingly polarized. It is easy to view those with whom we disagree as adversaries rather than partners in shaping a shared future.

Parashat Eikev reminds us that respect, humility, and compassion are not secondary virtues. They are covenantal obligations.

The texts ask us to answer difficult questions. While we are occupied with the great battles, what is happening to the “small” things? How do we speak to one another? Can political opponents still see each other as fellow human beings? Do we disagree without humiliating? Can we argue passionately while preserving respect?

Do we still believe that every person is created b’tzelem Elohim—in the image of God—even when they vote differently, protest differently, or pray differently?

These may seem like secondary concerns, but our text make it clear that they are not!

They are the heel upon which the nation stands.

A society rarely falls all at once. It slowly loses the habits that make shared life possible.

The language becomes harsher; contempt replaces disagreement; victory becomes more important than truth.

We are led to identify enemies not only beyond our borders, but within our own people.

By the time we recognize the damage, the wound to the heel has already begun to undermine the entire body.

As pluralistic Jews, we can understand mitzvot not merely as ritual obligations but as sacred disciplines that shape a just society. Every act of dignity, every honest conversation, every refusal to demonize another human being becomes a mitzvah that strengthens the covenant.

Perhaps this is the promise hidden in the opening verse.

וְהָיָה עֵקֶב תִּשְׁמְעוּן

If we heed even the smaller commandments beneath our heels…

If we protect the seemingly insignificant practices of kindness, humility, honesty, and respectful disagreement, we protect the moral foundation upon which Israel itself stands.

We pray for the day when the wars surrounding Israel will end. But peace alone will not save our society.

Even if, through human courage and divine blessing, the weapons fall silent, another task will remain before us: rebuilding trust, restoring civil discourse, and remembering that the covenant is sustained not only through extraordinary acts of heroism but through the quiet holiness of everyday decency.

The future of Israel, the country and Am Yisrael, will depend not only on the strength of its sword, but on the strength of its heel.

For it is often the smallest mitzvot, the ones we are tempted to step over, that carry the greatest weight.