“Re’eh anochi notein lifneichem b’racha uklalah — See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse.”
The Torah insists that blessing and curse are both before us — but it does not say we will always choose blessing. Often we cling to the curse we know, out of fear of the unknown. The abused woman who cannot leave. The man stuck in a dead-end job, afraid to risk his dream. Fear keeps us caged.
Neuroscience explains this. When we anticipate danger, our brains send out “no-go” signals that freeze us. Doing nothing feels safer. Action — choosing blessing — requires encouragement, hope, reward.
A study in a New York hospital makes this clear. Staff knew handwashing saved lives. Signs warned them of disease, but only 10% complied, even under cameras. Then the hospital tried something new: a board that lit up with praise — “Good job!” — every time someone washed. Within weeks, compliance soared to 90%. Fear of curse did not move them. The joy of blessing did.
Our sages knew this too. Rabbi Zusya of Anipoli once pointed to a bird in a cage. “Here it has food, water, safety. But its wings ache. The cage is its curse. If it dared to fly, the sky would be its blessing.” Fear cages us more than circumstance. Blessing requires courage to act — and often, encouragement from others.
The Torah is our Rabbi Zusya. It shows us the cage, and it points to the open sky. It tells us: see blessing, choose it, act on it. And it reminds us — the way to help each other is not only by warning of the curse, but by lifting up the beauty of the blessing, the hope of what could be.
There is so much today that could keep us frozen, fearful, resigned to curses. But Re’eh — see. See the blessings God has set before us. Encourage each other to act, to fly, to risk, to hope. For only then do we choose life.