‘I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop... And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!’

Thus ends Martin Luther King’s last speech before he was assassinated. The imagery he evokes with these lines is that of Moses’ last address to the children of Israel, standing before them on mount Nebo.

These two men had more in common than similar speeches before their death. Both missed out, just, on seeing their vision being fulfilled. Moshe died mere sentences before b’nei yisrael crossed over the Jordan into the land of Israel, and Dr. King  died a few months before the passing of the civil rights bill of 1964 that outlawed segregation in the USA. Both left a long struggle for their followers to grapple with as time progressed. It’s now 3,414 years since we first crossed the Jordan, and we have still not achieved the society we desire. We have come a long way, but we’re still not there.

But that is not this week’s Parshah, this weeks Parshah is the last speech of Moses. It must be an incredible challenge. A challenge  none of us know, to address people you have led from the shackles of slavery to the cool running water of the Jordan, through sickness and health, celebrations and sadness, and to know that this is what you will leave them with. What message do you leave them?

Moshe has a clear aim. He doesn’t want the people to forget what God did for them after he is dead. He did a pretty good job. 3,414 years after his death, 13.2 million of us have not forgotten (the numbers are a bit of a guestimate, but you get the idea). What Moshe did was to proscribe a way of living that we still try to emulate today

He begins by calling on heaven and earth to witness his speech. By bringing both heaven and earth to the equation, Moshe is telling us something. He is telling us several things but I want to concentrate on just one. The combination of ‘heaven and earth, mundane and spiritual, the ideal and the concrete’ the combination of vision and action. Moshe is telling us that having a vision will sustain us and keep us going through difficulty, as long as we keep the goal in mind. He also tells us that the only way this vision can be achieved is by making it part of our everyday normal behaviour.

The halachic Jew knows this. Through eating, resting, sleeping, living, celebrating and mourning as part of their  community, they draw closer to their ultimate vision.

Martin Luther King knew this, calling for boycotts and acting to help support 1300 workers who were striking for fair working conditions. Asking people to do something for a small number of people in one part of their country as part of the larger goal of full equality.

Those of us who live in the Noam Bayit know this. Through trying to  live according to the values we as a movement hold dear. To live according to modern halacha, to have a social conscience, to be a part of a community. To live this way is only possible if we let it shape our actions. To go to shul, or to volunteer, rather than sleep-in. To keep our home kosher despite the extra expense. To open our house up to the movement as a communal space. Likewise the vision is what gets us through the drudgery, or the rain on the way to shul, when your umbrella has just broken, and your coat has a hole in it, and your shoes are white. The vision makes the difficult bits of life that bit more easy, it provides meaning to actions I used to do without thinking about them.

This is Moshe’s legacy, not only the land, but how to live in it. To maintain the lofty heavenly goal, keeping it in your thoughts, and simultaneously using your every action to try to make it a possibility. It is a lesson that many have re-taught, and the way that those who have their goals fulfilled live, even if they do not  live to see it happen.

By Adam Berkley

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