Belonging: The Torah of Parshat Eikev

Parshat Eikev opens with a promise: “V’haya ekev tishme’un et hamishpatim ha-eleh… And when you listen to these laws, God will keep the Covenant with you (Deuteronomy 7:12).” On the surface, it’s a straightforward cause-and-effect: listen to God, and blessing will follow. In Hebrew, eikev also means “heel,” the lowest and often overlooked part of the body.

In our tradition, that is not a coincidence. Rashi in his commentary offers that eikev can also refer to mitzvot that people “tread underfoot,” referring to commandments we may treat as minor or unimportant. In God’s eyes, these small, consistent acts matter just as much as the headline-making moments. Quiet steps, repeated over time, are what sustain the Covenant and our relationship to God.

This connection to the heel shows up elsewhere in the Torah. The name Ya’akov comes from the same root. Ya’akov was born grasping his twin brother’s heel (Genesis 25:26). Ya’akov’s story begins in the shadow of another, but his persistence and resilience shape him into Yisrael, the one who wrestles with God. Ya’akov’s story assures us that starting at the heel is not a limitation, rather it can be the beginning of transformation.

Moshe, too, encounters the sacred through his feet. At the burning bush, God tells him: “Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground (Exodus 3:5).” Bare feet on holy earth mark the moment when his life’s mission begins. It is an act of vulnerability, intimacy, and readiness to stand fully present before God.

Feet also appear in Abraham’s tent (Genesis 18:4), when he welcomes three strangers and offers them water to wash the dust from their travels. Here, feet represent the weariness of the road and the dignity of hospitality. To care for someone’s feet is to honor the journey they have taken to arrive at your door.

Later in Eikev, God promises: “Every place where the sole of your foot treads shall be yours Deuteronomy 11:24).” In other words, the Covenant is not just a verbal agreement, it is something you claim with your presence, step by step.

But what about those whose journeys are not marked by footsteps? What about the people who move through the world in wheelchairs, on crutches, with prosthetics, or with the support of others? What about those who, because of age, illness, or injury, no longer walk as they once did, or maybe never have? And what about women, who for much of Jewish history were told that certain spaces were not for them to enter, certain leadership paths not for them to walk?

If we take the Torah seriously (and how can we not?), then the Covenant is not measured in physical steps but in spiritual movement. It is measured in showing up, in intention, in commitment, in the ways we move toward God and toward one another. This journey includes everyone, no matter how they travel. The sojourn toward receiving the Torah at Sinai, the march into the Promised Land, the walk into the future of the Jewish people, none of these are complete if anyone is left at the edge of the camp.

This truth is embedded in our most formative story of liberation. On the night of the exodus, the Israelites ate the Passover offering “with your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand (Exodus 12:11),” ready to leave Egypt. But readiness was never only about the ability to walk; it was about the willingness to leave narrow places and step, or roll, or be carried into freedom.

From heel to holy ground, from washing the feet of strangers to claiming the land of promise, the Torah’s “foot” imagery moves us through humility, hospitality, sacred encounter, and action. And it makes space for every kind of traveler.

The question Eikev leaves us with is not, “How far have you walked?” but, “How have you moved?” Have we listened? Have we claimed our place? Have we welcomed others into the journey? And have we walked, or rolled, in ways that leave justice, equity, and holiness in our wake?

Step by step. Heel to heel. Heart to heart.
This is how the Jewish people move together into the Covenant.