והיו חייך תלאים לך מנגד ופחדת לילה ויומם ולא תאמין בחייך בבקר תאמר מי יתן ערב ובערב תאמר מי יתן בקר מפחד לבבך אשר תפחד וממראה עיניך אשר תראה: והשיבך יקוק מצרים באניות בדרך אשר אמרתי לך לא תסיף עוד לראתה והתמכרתם שם לאיביך לעבדים ולשפחות ואין קנה
רש”י: “בבקר תאמר מי יתן ערב – ויהיה הערב של אמש. ובערב תאמר מי יתן בקר – של שחרית, שהצרות מתחזקות תמיד וכל שעה מרובה קללתה משלפניה
Rashi: “In the morning, you will say if only it was evening – that it would be the previous evening. And in the evening, you will say if only it was morning – of that dawn. Because the tribulations intensify constantly, and every hour’s curse is greater than the one preceding it.”
The ninety-eight kelalos (curses) of Parshas Ki Savo end in somewhat anticlimactic fashion. More than the actual suffering itself, the pesukim describe uncertainty and fear regarding what the future may bring: “And your life will hang against you, and you will fear night and day, and you will not believe in your life”. “In the morning you will say if only that it was evening, and in the evening, you will say if only it was morning, from the fear of your heart which you fear, and the sights of your eyes which you see.” Why emphasize fear of future pain as opposed to the pain itself?
The answer is that for the Jewish nation, there can be no loss as devastating as the loss of the future. When there may be no tomorrow, when, as Rashi writes, there is nothing to hope for, as every hour’s curse is greater than the one preceding it, that is the last and greatest curse. This is the tragedy depicted in the final pasuk: “And Hashem will return you to Egypt in boats… and you will attempt to have yourself sold to your enemies as slaves and slave women, and there will be no buyers.” A group of slaves are assembled in an Egyptian market place. Potential buyers examine them carefully, assessing their health, skills and temperament. One slave is sold for five thousand, a second for ten thousand, but for the Jew, not one shekel. He seemingly has no future, no place in the world, not even as a slave.
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The Jewish nation, almost by definition, exists by virtue of the future. They became a nation in Egypt, at a time when their condition was so miserable, that they had no present; but still, they had a future. Likewise, Hakadosh Baruch Hu revealed Himself to them, at the beginning of the redemption as ““אהי-ה sent me to (redeem) you.” Not “I am”, but rather “I will be”. That is the basis of our Emunah, and our existence as a nation, that there is a future.
Thus, the Passuk relates that because of their fear and doubts regarding the future, Yisroel will not “believe” in their lives: “ולא תאמין בחייך”. At first thought, “ולא תבטח בחייך” would have been a better choice of words, because בטחון—trust—relates to the future, whereas אמונה relates to the present. But that is just the point: without the future, Klal Yisroel has no present. Generally speaking, people relate to the present as being a product of the past, but for Klal Yisroel, the present is a product of the future, of the role we will play in Hashem’s grand plan. We exist by virtue of what will be, just as we became Hashem’s nation in Egypt by virtue of Matan Torah and Yerushas Ha’Aretz. Quite appropriately, the final curse is to return to Egypt, only to find there no future, only a past. And if there is no future, there is no present.