Buried beneath mountains of mistakes.
Lost in the darkness.
Too far gone to return?
A powerful revelation from Parshas Devarim that uncovers the secret of finding Hashem when He feels furthest away.
Listen on: 
Dedicated by The Weidman Family (Lakewood, NJ) לע״נ משה מרדכי בן יהושע
Dedicated Anonymously (Wesley Hills, NY)
in the zechus of להגדיל תורה ולהאדירה
Parshas Devarim 5786
Sefer Devarim is Moshe Rabbeinu’s review of the Torah and of Klal Yisrael’s journey through the wilderness. There, Moshe explains that after the sin of the spies, Bnei Yisrael’s original plan to enter Eretz Yisrael directly through Mount Seir was abandoned. At Hashem’s command, they turned back toward the wilderness by way of the Yam Suf and spent nearly forty years circling the southern border of Edom. When the decree of wandering came to an end, Hashem told them (Devarim 2:3):
רַב־לָכֶם סֹב אֶת־הָהָר הַזֶּה פְּנוּ לָכֶם צָפֹנָה׃
You have been skirting this hill country long enough; now turn north.
They then traveled north along the eastern side of Edom, passing Moav and Ammon without provoking them, since those lands had already been given by Hashem to their inhabitants. Only then did Bnei Yisrael approach Eretz Yisrael from the east, entering the final stage of their journey.
These are the historical facts. They explain where Bnei Yisrael traveled and how they arrived at the borders of Eretz Yisrael. But the Torah is never merely a history book. Beneath these events lies a far deeper message—one that speaks not only to their journey, but also to our own.
WHEN “FOR ME” BECOMES A MOUNTAIN
Rav Avraham Yissocher of Radomsk, the Chesed L’Avraham, reads the pasuk as a roadmap of the yetzer hara. It begins with “לָכֶם”—when a person’s focus becomes lachem, “for me.” We begin to see our bodies, our eyes, our ears, our hands, our feet, and our minds as our own—to be used for our own desires rather than for the King. We take the greatest gifts Hashem entrusted to us and redirect them toward personal pursuits instead of His mission, contaminating the very כלים He gave us to serve Him. We waste these precious gifts not only on futility, but at times even use them to rebel against the King Himself.
Before long, that לכם becomes רַב—it grows. What began as a small indulgence slowly becomes something immense. Think of the majestic Rocky Mountains in Utah. Standing among them, you’re struck by their sheer vastness. Towering peaks stretch as far as the eye can see, and you feel completely surrounded by their greatness.
So too, our aveiros and unchecked desires can gradually become mountains of their own. What began as something small quietly expands, taking up more and more space in a person’s life until it dominates the landscape of his heart. Eventually, “סֹב אֶת הָהָר הַזֶּה”—he finds himself circling the mountain, trapped within the mountains of sin he himself allowed to rise. The mountain is the yetzer hara itself. He didn’t fall overnight; he built it one indulgence, one compromise, and one selfish decision at a time, until what was once a small hill had become an imposing mountain surrounding him on every side.
TURN NORTH
So what does one do? Even when he feels so small. Even when he is surrounded by mountains of his own making, convinced there is no way out, what is he supposed to do? What could the Torah possibly ask of him in that moment?
The Torah is כי הם חיינו, our lifeline, even in this situation. It prescribes the way out as follows: “פְּנוּ לָכֶם צָפֹנָה.” Turn yourself around. Head north, up, and back to Hashem. Get up. Dust yourself off, shake free from the shackles of despair and failure, and change direction. Get up and start the trek back. Run from the shadows of the mountains of sin. Slowly rise and overcome.
What we learn here is something truly life-changing. Just when you feel you’ve gone as far south as possible, Hashem says, פנו לכם צפונה. Lift your head. Change direction. Remember who you are. You are a צלם אלקים, a חלק אלוק ממעל. No matter how low you’ve fallen, your essence remains untouched. Hashem isn’t asking you to stay in the valley—He’s calling you to turn north and come home.
KEEP HASHEM AT THE CENTER
The Midrash on this pasuk echoes the very same message (Devarim Rabbah 1:16):
דָּבָר אַחֵר, רַב לָכֶם סֹב. זֶה שֶׁאָמַר הַכָּתוּב (תהלים לז, ז): דּוֹם לַה׳ וְהִתְחוֹלֵל לוֹ וגו׳, מַהוּ וְהִתְחוֹלֵל לוֹ, צַפֵּה לְהַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא.
Another interpretation of ‘You have circled long enough’: This is what the verse says, ‘Be silent before Hashem and vehitcholel for Him’ (Tehillim 37:7). What does ‘vehitcholel for Him’ mean? Place your hope in the Holy One, blessed be He.”
The Midrash links our pasuk, “רַב לָכֶם סֹב”—“You have circled this mountain long enough”—with the words “דּוֹם לַה׳ וְהִתְחוֹלֵל לוֹ.” The word והתחולל means “make a circle.” The Midrash is teaching that even when you find yourself going in circles, circling the same mountain of failure again and again, don’t let your orbit be around your aveiros. Let it be around Hashem.
When life feels repetitive and directionless, when you feel trapped by the mountains you’ve built and don’t know how to climb them, והתחולל לו—keep coming back to Him. Stay close to Him. Place your hope in Him. No matter how many times you’ve gone in circles, make sure the center of those circles is Hashem, because the one who keeps returning to Him is never truly lost.
HASHEM MEETS US IN THE STREET
One may wonder why we always read Parshas Devarim—the beginning of a new sefer, filled with fresh direction and hope—immediately before Tisha B’Av, the saddest day of the year.
The Baal Shem Tov reveals that there is something unique about Tisha B’Av that cannot be experienced even on the Yamim Noraim or on Simchas Torah. The pasuk says, “כמים הפנים לפנים”—just as a face is reflected in water, so too one heart reflects another. The way we turn to Hashem is reflected in the way He, so to speak, turns toward us.
On Tisha B’Av, when we sit on the floor mourning the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, Hashem is, כביכול, mourning with us. He weeps alongside us. In truth, His pain is even greater than ours. It is His home that was destroyed and His children who remain in exile.
Usually, we picture Hashem as the King seated upon His royal throne. But on Tisha B’Av, He is not distant in the palace. He is, כביכול, in the street with us, sharing our pain. The day that appears to represent the greatest distance from Hashem is, paradoxically, the day of His greatest accessibility.
Perhaps this also explains why Parshas Devarim is always read before Tisha B’Av.
Yes, Devarim marks a new beginning. But before Moshe leads Klal Yisrael forward, he first brings them back. He revisits the tragic episode of the meraglim, the generation’s refusal to enter Eretz Yisrael, and the painful consequences that followed. Before a new chapter can begin, the old wounds must be acknowledged.
Yet hidden within that rebuke is one of the most hopeful messages in the Torah. Even when we feel most distant, abandoned, or unworthy—when we feel buried beneath the consequences of our mistakes, convinced that Hashem wants nothing to do with us—that is often when He is calling to us most powerfully.
Rise. Turn northward. Move forward.
Perhaps the greatest lie the yetzer hara ever tells us is that our aveiros have become our identity, that the mountain we created through our failures has become our permanent address. It whispers, “Stay where you are. You’ve gone too far. Hashem isn’t interested anymore.”
But Hashem says the exact opposite. He leaves His palace and comes into the street. He sits beside us on the floor of Tisha B’Av and calls out, “פנו לכם צפונה.” Don’t remain where you fell. Get up. There is still a future. There is still a journey to Eretz Yisrael. There is still a relationship waiting to be rebuilt.
No matter how crushed beneath the Rocky Mountains of aveiros we may feel, Hashem never asks us to stay under the mountain. He comes down to meet us there, extends His hand, and calls us to rise.
May we merit to hear Hashem’s call of “פנו לכם צפונה” and to rise above every failure and every barrier. And just as He mourns with us on Tisha B’Av, may we soon merit to rejoice with Him when “ישלח לקץ הימים משיחנו לפדות מחכי קץ ישועתו,” and together witness the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash במהרה בימינו, אמן. •
