The locomotive was making its first appearance in a little town of old. No one had ever seen a horseless carriage before. Every one of the townspeople gathered at the new station to witness history in the making. The gun was fired, and with a flourish of huffing and puffing, the locomotive roared out of the station. Well … the engine that is.
Unfortunately, the shlemiel whose job it was to hitch the other cars to the engine had forgotten to do so, and the long train of carriages was left behind in a trail of smoke.
Sometimes, the most meticulously laid plans—a business strategy, a football game plan or (perish the thought) even a synagogue resolution made on Yom Kippur—fail to come to fruition all because we neglected to hitch the engine to the train ...
The introduction to the Ten Commandments, which we will read this coming Friday on the first day of the festival of Shavuot, is “And G‑d spoke all these words, to say … ” (in Hebrew, leimor). Now, when the Torah uses that term, it is usually because God is telling Moses something important, which Moses, in turn, should pass on and tell the Children of Israel. So the word leimor makes perfect sense: He said it to him to say it to them.
Translating our inner piety into outer practice.
But here we have a problem. You see, every Jew was present at Sinai, and according to the mystics, that includes even the unborn souls of future generations. So there was no need for Moses to pass on anything to anyone. All the Jews heard the Ten Commandments directly from God. So, why the word leimor? To say to whom?
Rabbi DovBer, the great Maggid of Mezeritch, explained that here, the word means “to speak to you.” And that they should not remain mere words, but resonate and say something meaningful to you personally. They should be said and heard so that they continue to reverberate forever after in your minds, hearts and deeds.
The Ten Commandments must not remain an abstract idea, unhitched engine, nice philosophy or interesting cultural practice—something of no more significance than the rituals of the ancient Incas of Peru. The Ten Commandments must be relevant enough to make a difference in our lives right now; otherwise, to whom did God say them and whatever for?
The Talmud describes a thief who prays to God for success before breaking in to commit a burglary. It’s the epitome of hypocrisy. God said, “You shall not steal,” and you have the audacity to ask Him to help you succeed in defying His wishes? This has got to be the ultimate chutzpah!
How do we get a handle on this Talmudic thief’s hypocrisy? The answer is that this thief, too, is a believer, but his faith is superficial and doesn’t permeate his being sufficiently to influence his behavior. Deep down, he has faith, but he remains a religious gonif.
They tell the story of a rabbi who was in his study when in walked Berl, the town’s pickpocket. “Rabbi, I was walking down the street and found this wallet lying on the ground. I know that to return a lost article is a mitzvah of the Torah, so I brought it in. Perhaps you can make an announcement in shul and find the rightful owner.”
The rabbi sees there is a fair amount of cash in the wallet. He is so inspired by Berl’s change of heart that he embraces him and congratulates him on his reformation. Later, the rabbi notices that the gold watch he had in his jacket pocket is missing. He calls Berl and asks him if perchance he may have inadvertently taken his watch. Berl confesses.
“I don’t understand you, Berl. You find a wallet full of cash in the street, and you return it, and then you go and steal my gold watch?”
Berl answers: “Rabbi, a mitzvah is a mitzvah, but business is business.”
We all believe, and we all want to do mitzvahs, big and small. The trick is to translate our inner piety into outer practice.
What does my faith do for me? Does it speak to me? How does it transform my behavior, my life? Does it make any tangible difference in my everyday conduct?
The Torah must not remain a theory on the drawing board. The Ten Commandments do indeed speak to us. The question is: Are we listening?
With acknowledgments to Chabad.org.
