In a way, the Torah ended last week. We finished the book of Bamidbar (Numbers), in which the Jewish people arrive at the banks of the Jordan River, and that is where the Torah ends. But as we know, there is a fifth book, Devarim, which means words. Moshe reviews the last 40 years, tweaking some details, adding others that we had not heard before, and revealing and reviewing conversations he had with God and with the Jewish people that we were not privy to in the first four books.
Why bother with this fifth book of the Torah, mostly speeches and analysis by Moshe? Why not include everything we need to know in the Torah itself, eliminating the need for a separate book consisting of Moshe speaking about the Torah?
Perhaps part of the lesson is that it is not enough to hear the story, to know what happened. We must also question it rather than accept it at face value, and review our past actions in light of their moral and legal implications. We must not only remember what we did but also do as Moshe does in Devarim: analyze, in order to understand why, how, and what could have been different.
This pertains to our life as a nation today also. I am a Zionist and believe the war in Gaza is, as a whole, a just one, so when I saw headlines this week reading ‘Leading Israeli Rights Groups Accuse Israel of Gaza Genocide,’ I was initially angered. But I actually think that this unprecedented accusation by domestic Israeli organizations reframes the conversation in a productive way.
When Israel is accused of genocide in Gaza by international organizations, the messaging comes across as questioning Israel’s legitimacy as a nation—a question often entangled with antisemitic undertones. But when the accusation is internal, from those who are Israelis and who fight in its wars, the focus shifts to a more concrete and necessary concern: whether Israeli leaders made decisions that violated international law, and if so, whether and how they should be held accountable. These are the questions all democracies should confront in the wake of war.
David Ben-Gurion famously said that Israel would be a real country only when it had its own prostitutes and thieves. That line, often repeated, points to a truth many struggle to accept: Israel is a nation like any other. It should not be harassed or singled out more than any other country by its critics, nor should it be placed on a pedestal beyond criticism by its supporters. Internal accusations, unlike external ones, change the tone of the rhetoric to make democratic self-examination possible.
Like all governments, Israel’s leadership is capable of moral and strategic error. Holding leaders accountable does not undermine the country—it affirms its democratic foundation. When calls for accountability come from within, from Israelis themselves, they should be taken seriously. These are not voices calling for Israel’s destruction, but for its integrity.