Earlier this week, Jews around the world observed the holiday of Shavuot. Although it was sadly overlooked by many, arguably it is the most important of all Jewish holidays because it commemorates God giving, and Jews receiving, the Torah.
Indeed, one of its names is z’man matan Torateynu—“the time of the giving of our Torah.” And of course, without the Torah, there would be no Judaism and (again, arguably) no Jewish people.
Those who were in synagogue for the holiday read and heard Exodus 19 and 20, the traditional Torah selection for this holiday. Exodus 19 tells of the extensive physical and spiritual preparations the people made as they awaited the Divine revelation at Sinai, and begins with God’s explanation to Moses as to why He has chosen this people to receive what they are about to receive:
This is what you shall say to the House of Jacob, and what you shall tell the people of Israel. You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians: How I lifted you up on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me. Now, if you faithfully listen to My voice and keep My covenant, you will be My treasure among all the peoples …a kingdom of priests and a holy nation you shall be to Me. (Exodus 19:3-5)
Long ago, our ancestors asked the obvious question: “Why did He choose us?” In response, our sages suggest in a midrash that we were not God’s first choice. Other nations were offered the opportunity to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation,” but each declined, citing God’s own words about their respective destinies. Finally, He approached us, and in gratitude for liberating us from Egypt, we agreed to be God’s eternal covenant partners. But with the privilege would also be responsibilities—613 of them, to be exact. And, as our sages tell it, apparently, there was some reticence on our part at the last minute as our ancestors gathered and God was about to speak:
“They stood at the foot of (literally “under”) the mountain.” (Exodus 19:17)
Interpreting the phrase “under the mountain,” the sages imagined God’s lifting Mount Sinai above the heads of all the peoples, and telling them: “If you accept My Torah, fine and good. If not, this will be your burial place.” (Talmud, Avodah Zarah 2b)
Sounds kind of harsh, no? Of course, it does. But why would God feel the need to threaten us with mass annihilation, especially since that wasn’t His response to the other nations He had approached? What comes to mind are these words spoken much later to the prophet Amos:
Hear this word, which the Lord has spoken about you, children of Israel. Regarding the entire family I brought up from the land of Egypt, say: It is only you that I have known from among all the families of the earth. Therefore, I will hold you (more?) responsible for your sins. (Amos 3:1-2)
We were the ones chosen for His purpose. And after others declined to accept the Torah with its privileges and responsibilities, His offer to us came with a threat born out of desperation:
I need you to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” I need you to be My “walking commercials”—to promote in the world what I’m about: justice, compassion, truth, order, My sense of what is good and what is not. In a word: holiness. But know that if you don’t accept, if you don’t understand and appreciate how much I need you as a presence in this world, then you will be telling Me that your presence in My world is not necessary … and I will act accordingly.
Years ago, a wag observed: How odd of God to choose the Jews. To which another wag responded: Not so odd; the Jews chose God.
The choice we made so long ago at Mount Sinai has been a blessing to the world, but also a challenge. Some celebrate it and want (expect?) us to be faithful to our millennia-old assignment; others curse us and attack us. As my friend and teacher, Rabbi Chaim Capland, has observed: We Jews are like Teslas; there are those who want to destroy us because of Whom we represent.
“It’s time for the chosen ones to choose.” So often, I have referenced this lyric from a song by the late Kinky Friedman: Certainly, current events are underscoring how true this is. Responding to our current challenges, some of us will choose to remain faithful, and others will choose to leave. It won’t be the first time. Another midrash teaches that when it was time to leave Egypt, only one-fifth of the Jews left. The rest chose to stay. Still, God went with “the saving remnant.”
Those of us who choose to be a part of the “saving remnant” can only trust that He will do the same now. At the same time, that saving remnant must continue to have a critical mass. Otherwise, the mountain, as it were, may certainly drop.
Meanwhile, those of us who are choosing to stay still have a job to do.