I am G‑d, your G‑d who took you out of the land of Egypt to be your G‑d…Do not steal. Do not kill. Do not covet.

If Torah is divine wisdom, you would expect it to enter the world in a serene voice. You would expect to hear that voice speak of the mysteries of life and open wide paths of profound contemplation.

Instead, amidst thunder and lightning, we heard simple, obvious morals: don’t steal, don't kill, don't covet.

Because G‑d was telling us that from this point on, everything will be turned on its head.

Before Sinai, where did you find divine wisdom?

Within an enlightened soul sitting beneath a tamarisk in deep contemplation, communing with the oneness of the universe.

After Sinai, you can find Torah in a human being enslaved to a substance that kills, incapable of escape—until thrown this rope of divine wisdom and choosing of his own will to pull himself out with it and rewrite his entire journey.

For him, G‑d said, "I am G‑d who took you out of Egypt."

You can find Torah in the guy who is tempted to theft and murder, who sees these as convenient alternatives—but refrains because G‑d said, "Do not steal. Do not murder. Do not even covet."

And if you can’t find Torah there, because you haven’t sunk to that extreme, and you don't know anyone who has...

...then find Torah by changing the way you live day to day, the things you speak, the actions you take. By disrupting your everyday world. By leaving nothing as it is.

That is why Torah was given with lightning and thunder.

Because, post-Sinai, Torah is found in this busy, noisy world. Torah is where the action is.

Post-Sinai, everything has changed. Because Torah has to change everything.

Maamar B’sha’ah Shehikdimu 5732.