🥧 Pienomy

Last night was erev Shabbat, and as is our tradition, the girls made dessert. This week's treat was brownies and ice cream. My daughters have become quite proficient in the kitchen and create tasty delicacies, sometimes without strictly following the recipe. They've learned that they can use the ingredients and tweak them slightly, substitute one ingredient for another - as long as the function of the ingredient is met. However, there are times when an ingredient is completely forgotten, with no adequate substitute made - such as sugar in the challah. The result looks very close to what challah should look like, but is far from it.  

The discussion last night and the beginning of Devarim (Deuteronomy) this week got me to consider the book of Deuteronomy like a recipe. Perhaps you are like me, and your mother or a grandparent made a special meal or dessert for certain celebrations. For me, it was my mother's raspberry pie.  

Now...this was the desert growing up.

I pictured it being passed down from one generation to the next. If there was only one thing which could be eaten, it would be this pie. She made it for birthdays, Thanksgiving, when we finished haying season—any reason, really. Strange how the thought of raspberry pie and vanilla ice cream can bring back memories of my family packed around the table.

The recipe card had precise instructions: sift the flour, thicken the filling, whisk this and that long enough—not too much. But here's the thing: when my mother pulled out the recipe, it was never just about making the ultimate pie.

It was about what the pie created—a moment, a memory, a meal that drew people in.

Reading Deuteronomy Like a Recipe Card

That might seem like a strange way to talk about the book of Deuteronomy, but stay with me.

This book—tucked at the end of the Torah—is one that most bible readers often skip or speed-read through. It's full of laws, repetition, and speeches from Moses that seem to go on forever. It's easy to think, "Didn't we already cover all this back in Exodus and Leviticus?"

But the more I've sat with "Law of the Lord", the more I think Deuteronomy is kind of like that recipe card.

At first glance, it appears to be instructions. A list. A lot of "do this, don't do that."

But it's not about the instructions.

Dare I say, it's not even just about what those instructions produce - a righteous life.

It's about the experience those instructions make possible—the joy of table fellowship, eating the fruits of our labours, laughing and celebrating with people you love.

Covenant, Not Code

Biblical scholar Daniel I. Block has done extensive work demonstrating how Deuteronomy is structured like a covenant treaty—not just a random collection of sermons, but a deliberate, purposeful document between a divine King and His people.

Here's how it flows:

1. Preamble – Who's speaking, and why it matters (1:1–5).

2. Historical Prologue – The story of what God has already done (1:6–4:43).

3. Stipulations – The commands, broad and detailed (4:44–26:19).

4. Blessings and Curses – What comes of faithfulness or rebellion (27:1–30:20).

5. Succession and Farewell – Moses hands off the story (31:1–34:12).

It reads like a relational contract, the kind ancient kings made with their people—not to burden them, but to formalize a shared life.

So when Moses lays out the laws in the middle section? He's not trying to create a new religion.

He's pointing to a way of life—a way to enjoy torah pie together.

Why Pie Isn't the Point

You can follow every step of the recipe perfectly and still miss the point if it is never eaten, or you eat it alone, disconnected from the celebration.

The laws of Deuteronomy were never the finish line. They were the means to something greater:

• A people where justice wasn't optional.

• A land where the poor weren't ignored.

• A nation that knows the story of where they were and the God who rescued them.

The goal wasn't just compliance—it was communion.

The feast.

The joy of life lived in sync with God's heart.

The Table Still Stands

When Moses gets to the end of the book, he basically says:

"I know you're going to mess this up...big time."

And yet, he speaks of a future hope—when God will circumcise their hearts (30:6), transforming them from the inside out.

That's the long game of the covenant. Not behaviour modification, but heart renewal.

Not rule-following for its own sake, but a life that tastes like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. A life that is saturated with the fragrance of loving God and neighbour.

And centuries later, a Jewish teacher named Yeshua would sit at another table and say:

"This is the new covenant in my blood…" (Luke 22:20)

Not a new recipe, but the fulfillment of the one that's been baking since Sinai.

So Here's the Takeaway

Deuteronomy isn't just about rules. Yes, there are rules...lots of rules. But they aren't in and of themselves the point.

Faith isn't just about following instructions.

It's about remembering who you are.

It's about responding to God's love.

It's about learning how to live with others in a way that brings more disciples to the table—where we share the goodness of a God who's been faithful, even when we weren't.

So, over the following weeks, when we open to Deuteronomy — just pause.

Picture my mother's stained recipe card.

Then picture the table at the marriage of the lamb...it's sure to have her raspberry pie.

That's where it's all headed.  

Bon appétit