By Marco Del Monte
The Parashah of Haazinu opens with a cosmic appeal: "Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak; and let the earth hear the words of my mouth". The Sages have always seen in these words an allusion to two dimensions of Jewish life: addressing the Heaven represents the relationships *ben adam laMakom*, between man and G-d; whereas the relationship with the Earth represents the relationships *ben adam lachavero*, between man and his fellow man.
Heaven and earth thus become the eternal witnesses not only of the song of Moses, but of the double covenant that Israel is called to live.
It is no coincidence that the two tablets of the Law were divided into two: five commandments directed to Heaven, five to Earth. But they were not two separate contracts: together they formed a single ketubah, a single pact of love between G-d and Israel. When Moses breaks the tablets on the 17th of Tammuz, it is not merely a gesture of anger: it is a conscious act. The Midrash explains that he did it like someone tearing up a ketubah before it is handed over, because it is better to break the document than to hand it over after a betrayal. The golden calf was an act of infidelity, a spiritual adultery. Handing over the tablets at that moment would have meant sanctioning an already compromised marriage, and therefore an eternal divorce. By breaking them, Moses prevents the final break: the contract was never delivered, and the covenant remains open to the possibility of being renewed. And it is precisely on Yom Kippur that the tablets are delivered anew. The teachers remind us that on that day Moses descended with the second Tablets: not only a sign of forgiveness, but an act of renewed nuptials. It is no case that on Kippur we dress in white: just like in a wedding under the chuppah, we too come before G-d in pristine garments, a sign of purity and of a renewed love. According to Halachah, an unfaithful wife loses the ketubah and must receive the get—the bill of divorce. But G-d is not like men: He breaks the first tablets so as not to have to reject us, and delivers the second ones to us to declare that love is eternal. The ketubah with Israel is never annulled. The Talmud teaches that Yom Kippur atones for transgressions between man and G-d, but not those between man and his fellow, until reconciliation is reached. This is why Moses calls shamayim and aretz together. It is not enough to say: "I am faithful to G-d, but who cares about human beings." Nor: "I am righteous with people, but not with the mitzvot, they do not concern me." The broken tablets are the symbol of this division, not shattered, but broken in half, dividing the first five commandments from the second five, separating the relationship with G-d and with men as though they were two distinct things. Kippur, instead, teaches us to unite them, to recompose the whole heart: only then does the pact become complete once more.
G-d taught the exact same message to the prophet Hosea. Hosea, seeing Israel sin, said to G-d: "Swap this people for another!". Hashem put him to test. He commanded him to marry a woman who would be unfaithful to him. When she actually betrayed him, Hosea could not bring himself to repudiate her: he still felt love, attachment. G-d said to him: "If you, a man of flesh and blood, cannot separate yourself from your unfaithful wife, how can you ask Me to separate Myself from Israel, who is My people?" The prophet's life became a living parabola: even after betrayal, Divine love is not broken, but is renewed with even greater strength. Just as the second tablets were more radiant than the first, so the covenant after sin becomes even more intimate and indissoluble. It is no coincidence that at Minchah of Kippur we read the chapter on forbidden relations. At that solemn moment, we do not limit ourselves to thinking of the celestial dimension, but we remember that Divine love is also reflected in the purity and justice of human relationships. There is no covenant with G-d that is not also a covenant with man: breaking either of the two sides means breaking everything.
And here is the conclusion: life is always suspended between shamayim and aretz. Sometimes we feel G-d close and our fellow man far away, other times we love man and forget about G-d. But Moses and Hosea teach us that we cannot choose: we must unite the two tablets. On Yom Kippur, dressed in white like a bride and groom under the chuppah, we receive the divine ketubah anew. No longer broken, no longer divided, but whole. And G-d holds us close to Him like a groom who takes back his bride and whispers to her: "I have loved you with an eternal love". Heaven and earth, shamayim and aretz, meet once again, and we discover that no betrayal can truly break Divine love, because that love, like the second tablets, is engraved not upon stone but in our hearts forever.
(developed from the Yom Kippur Minchah Derashah)
Shabbat Shalom
Translated from the Italian with Google Gemini. The Italian text is the original.