Last night, I stood there at Mt. Sinai, as the shofar sounded, the lights twinkled brightly, my heart shook, and we again received Torah from the Holy One. Time morphed as simultaneously I found myself in our sanctuary in 2010 and at the foot of the holy mountain 3000+ years before. I stood with our congregation at the same time as I stood with our post-Exodus people. That's what it means, I think, to be Jewish. So simultaneously in the present and in the past, all the while looking forward to the future. That's what happens to me on Shavuot, our holy day of matan Torah, receiving the Torah again and again.
In the Rosh Hashana morning service (in our Sha'arei Am machzor), I love the poem that articulates the mystery of Torah as the juxtaposition of a mundane human creation and eternality:
Torah for me is humanity striving for holiness, for godliness.
Two wooden sticks, the skin of a kosher animal and some chemicals mixed together. That’s all it takes to make a Torah.
That and four thousand years of wandering, searching, learning, following, leading, loving, and blessing.
Two wooden sticks, the skin of a kosher animal and some chemicals mixed together. That’s all it takes to make a Torah.
That and four thousand years of teaching, hoping, remembering, planting, praying, praising.
That’s all it takes to make a Torah.
That and four thousand years of living with God.
Torah for me is the Holy One striving to guide us toward goodness.
Torah for me is a plan for partnership between the Holy One and our holy people.
What's Torah for you?
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