What’s the Occasion?

Each year the festival of Shavuot is celebrated in commemoration of “the occasion of the giving of our Torah” (zeman matan torateinu):1 the climactic revelation at Sinai to the recently liberated Israelite nation. The Torah and Talmudic sources describe the delivery of the Ten Commandments as a unique experience—complete with thunder, lightning and a smoking mountaintop—and an event of historic significance.2 Yet the Talmudic account itself actually makes it quite difficult to understand what was so earth-shattering about “the giving of the Torah.”

According to the Talmud, our forefather Abraham (and others before him) had studied the Torah3 and fulfilled its precepts centuries before it was “given” to his descendants at Sinai.4 In other words, a significant body of legislation and moral lore was already in existence long before the historic event described as “the giving of the Torah.” Indeed, even without the Talmudic tradition it would seem that all of the Ten Commandments given at Sinai are either philosophical axioms (e.g., monotheism), moral imperatives and ideals (e.g., do not murder, do not steal, honor your father and mother, do not covet), or previously received mandates (e.g., the Sabbath). In other words, not the sort of material that would seem to warrant a divine revelation—and certainly not one of such grandeur.5Does the Sinai revelation carry a game-changing message of universal application?

One might further question why such basic philosophical and moral axioms need be enforced by divine “command” at all. As intelligent and responsible human beings, we should act upon them purely by virtue of their own inherent ethical quality. Surely G‑d Himself desires us to act upon such imperatives because we know them to be good and right, rather than as dutiful executors of His command.

The question begs to be asked: What momentous innovation did “the giving of the Torah” at Sinai embody? Why is this event remembered and celebrated as the ultimate foundation of Torah authority and religious instruction?6

On a different note, was the revelation at Sinai relevant only to the Jewish people, or does it carry a game-changing message of universal application?

Ostensibly, it is its revelatory nature that makes the event at Sinai noteworthy. Abraham, his descendants and disciples had previously adhered to a moral and mystical code inspired by philosophical inquiry into the purpose of existence. Before the revelation at Sinai, Torah study was an effort made by man to gain knowledge of divine intent, and the mitzvot were an attempt to live accordingly. At Sinai, G‑d provided the Jewish people with inside knowledge of that purpose. The foundation of legislative authority is shifted from the relative standards of human logic and judgment to the absolute standard of a divine mandate.7

Upon deeper examination, however, it is difficult to argue that the unique relevance of “the occasion of the giving of our Torah” lies in its revelatory nature alone. Several commandments were given to the Jewish people by G‑d prior to the revelation at Sinai (including the laws of the Sabbath),8 and even Abraham had been a recipient of direct divine instruction.9 Likewise, it is difficult to argue that the unique historic significance of this revelation lies in it being an occurrence of mass prophecy. According to Talmudic sources, this would be the second time that the entirety of the Jewish people experienced prophecy, the first being on the occasion of the splitting of the Red Sea. “A maidservant saw at the sea that which Ezekiel son of Buzi never saw.”10

Cosmic Shift“The lower realms shall rise to the higher realms and the higher realms shall descend to the lower realms, and I will be the initiator.”

In Chabad chassidic literature the answer to these questions is drawn from a midrash whose striking assertion invests the historic significance and eternal relevance of “the giving of the Torah” with an innovation of cosmic magnitude:

“When the Blessed Holy One created the world, He decreed and said, ‘The heavens are heavens of the L‑rd, and the earth He gave to the offspring of Man.’11 When He sought to give the Torah, He nullified the earlier decree and said, ‘The lower realms shall rise to the higher realms and the higher realms shall descend to the lower realms, and I will be the initiator.’”12

Encapsulating an argument central to many Chabad texts dealing with this issue, the seventh rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, paraphrases the Midrash: “Before the giving of the Torah there was a decree . . . that the plane of divinity that is completely above the world shall not be drawn down into the lower realms. After the giving of the Torah, He nullified the earlier decree and said, ‘The lower realms shall rise to the higher realms and the higher realms shall descend to the lower realms,’ to the degree that the lower creations can become united with the dimension of divinity that is completely above the world.”13

The chassidic reading equates the midrashic “higher realms” and “lower realms” with a hierarchical conception of the relationship between divinity and created existence:

To one who creates and sustains a reality out of a complete void, that reality would seem to have no real consequence whatsoever. From this perspective, there is no reason that any of our actions or devotional efforts should bring us into any kind of relationship with divine essentiality. The “higher realms” are entirely transcendent relative to the “lower realms.”The very notions of selfhood and existence themselves are designations drawn from the reality constructed ex nihilo by the creator, and have no bearing at all on the essential “being” of divinity.

True, we speak of divine immanence within creation, and the very act of deliberate creation implies a descent from the divine self into an association with created existence. But to confine our conception of G‑d to the role of creator would be a mistake.

Only insofar as G‑d does condescend to perform that role may we surmise that created existence does serve some divinely ordained purpose. Through philosophical inquiry, Man may even achieve knowledge of that purpose and make effective efforts towards its realization.

There is yet no apparent reason to suggest that this is more than a “divine whim,” rather than something of essential value to the divine self. We might assume that the divine self far transcends the peripheral role of creator, and is only mildly interested in the outcome of the creative project. Certainly, there is no way for the created being—however intelligent—to attain knowledge of the essentiality of divine selfhood and existence, which might have no association at all with the created realm. The very notions of selfhood and existence are themselves designations drawn from the reality constructed ex nihilo by the creator, and have no bearing at all on the essential “being” of divinity.14 There can be no way to enter into coherent discourse with the utterly ineffable.

This was the state of affairs before the giving of the Torah at Sinai. Man’s purpose, Man’s attempt to perfect the world, indeed the very concept of perfection, remained apparently irrelevant to the essentiality of the divine self. For all we knew, it may have been no more than a peripheral whim. Created reality may have sought meaning, but in the face of the utterly unknowable, meaning itself—a concept that, like all others, is authored from the void—may be left bereft of true meaning.

At Sinai—the Torah tells us—“G‑d descended upon the mountain.”15 This From a legislative perspective the Ten Commandments are not revolutionary, but from a theological perspective —in terms of the subversion of the cosmic hierarchy embodied in these commandments—they are.is a vision of hierarchical disintegration and collapse. The mountain is the bridge that leads across the infinite gap between created earth and the ultimate transcendence of the loftiest heaven. From this point on, man would be able to enjoy a direct relationship with the essentiality of the divine self. This is the moment when a cosmic shift of immense significance occurs: “The lower realms shall rise to the higher realms and the higher realms shall descend to the lower realms, and I”—says G‑d—“will be the initiator.”

The significance of the Sinaitic revelation as the moment when the essential ineffability of the divine self is communicated within the created realm is alluded to in the opening statement of the Ten Commandments—“I am the L‑rd your G‑d.” Here uniquely, the word used for “I” is the Egyptian anochi rather than the Hebrew ani used elsewhere in the Torah. According to the Talmud,16 the word anochi is employed because it is an acronym for ana nafshi ketavit yehavit, an Aramaic phrase that expresses the unique depth and intimacy embodied in the giving of the Torah. G‑d is saying to the Jewish people, “I have written My very self into the Torah and given it over to you.17 In giving you the Torah, I am giving you My deepest essentiality.”18

The true significance of the innovation embodied in “the giving of the Torah” is difficult to articulate precisely because it transcends any quantitative or qualitative measure. The innovation does not lie in the details: not in the precepts that were communicated, nor in the earth-shatteringly spectacular nature of the revelation. This is not about the path, but about where the path leads. The giving of the Torah at Sinai was the event that revolutionized the significance of organized religion and reinvented the relationship between Man and G‑d. From a legislative perspective the Ten Commandments are not revolutionary, but from a theological perspective—in terms of the subversion of the cosmic hierarchy embodied in these commandments—they are.The Rebbe’s answer was breathtaking in its simplicity. “It’s not for G‑d,” he said, “it’s for us.”

In a video interview recently published by Jewish Educational Media (JEM), a lawyer by the name of David Stauber recalled his 1973 meeting with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. By his own account, Stauber “had [at the time] a very skeptical and aggressive attitude towards Judaism.” He asked the Rebbe a single question: “If G‑d is so great, why does he insist on all these tiny details?” Reflecting on the conversation years later, he enlarged on the point: “It seemed to upset Him [G‑d] if you missed one . . . if you used a meat spoon in the cottage cheese, you have to bury it and pull your hair out . . .19 I could never get that; it really was beyond me . . .” The Rebbe’s answer was breathtaking in its simplicity. “It’s not for G‑d,” he said, “it’s for us. G‑d wants us close to Him, and this is the path that He gives us.” The Rebbe’s response cast the commandments of the Torah in a whole new light. As Stauber puts it, G‑d is providing us with “a means to find proximity”—a means to create the deepest possible relationship with the divine self.

No longer must we resort to any kind of philosophical, mystical, sociological or psychological rationalization to justify the rituals mandated by the Torah. The real significance of such precepts lies not only in their quantitative or qualitative value, but in the divine essentiality with which they are imbued.20

Endless Possibility

Such a view of the Sinaitic revelation and its significance forces us to re-examine the very nature of morality. Given the supreme moral authority of the divine mandate, what role does natural moral intuition play? Led into discourse with the unknowable essence of the divine self, can the moral compass of human instinct maintain bearing and relevance, or is it rendered useless in the face of directionless inconceivability?Led into discourse with the unknowable essence of the divine self, is the human moral compass rendered useless by directionless inconceivability?

To phrase the question slightly differently: While the path of Torah may allow us to embody divine essentiality, can the Torah communicate such absolute ineffability in terms coherent to, and consistent with, human sensibilities and rational considerations?21 Are we forced to treat Torah as pure and absolute dogma to which any human reason must surrender absolutely? Is any attempt at reason futile and self-defeating in the face of the ineffable essence of the divine self?

To answer these questions, we need to digress into the most esoteric of theosophic abstractions. In Kabbalistic literature, the most essential core of divine selfhood is referred to as “without limit” (ein sof). In the words of the fifth rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, Rabbi Shalom DovBer Schneersohn (Rashab), this term “negates all descriptions: it is the negation of finitude and the negation of infinitude, the negation of positive designation and the negation of negative designation.”22

Free of any definition, the possibilities are endless. As Rashab puts it, the term “without limit” (ein sof) precludes all descriptions “and by extension includes all within it.” At its very apex, the hierarchy of divine transcendence may itself be transcended, and the ineffable may be communicated.

In giving us the Torah, G‑d chose to communicate the ineffable, chose to become coherently accessible.23 The revelation at Sinai created a situation where man’s rational mind and moral compass can fully assimilate and reflect the ultimate potency of the divine self. Revelation does not render our moral compass obsolete. Revelation is the magnet that provides the compass with direction.24

But revelation is only half of the equation; by descending upon the mountain, G‑d began a process. It is incumbent upon us, however, to finish the job. After telling us that “G‑d descended upon the mountain,” the Torah tells us that Moses followed the instruction to “ascend” the mountain.25 Just as G‑d transcends the bounds of infinitude, so must we transcend our own limitations. It is for us to apply ourselves with rigor of mind and openness of heart to objectively discover and subjectively assimilate the mandated precepts of the Torah. It is for us finite beings to walk the bridge across infinity.

A “Higher” WorldWhile the Torah was given to the Jewish people, the revelation at Sinai was of momentous import to all of humanity.

In several instances the Rebbe pointed out that while the Torah was given to the Jewish people, the revelation at Sinai was of momentous import to all of humanity. In a classic piece of rabbinic hermeneutics, the Rebbe highlighted a passage in Maimonides’ code of Jewish law, Mishneh Torah,26 which carries two apparently opposing messages. The passage begins with an exclusionary statement: “Moses our teacher did not bequeath the Torah and the commandments to anyone but the Jews . . . and to anyone who wishes to convert from the other nations.” Maimonides continues, however, to assert that the commandments to the Jewish people include a mandate to enforce a universal code of law for all mankind. While the universal code consists entirely of moral precepts and civil ordinances, Maimonides writes that a non-Jew who lives according to the code can be considered “a righteous gentile” only if he or she does so “because G‑d commanded so in the Torah, and made it known through Moses our teacher that mankind had previously been commanded such.”

This seems rather strange: Since the command delivered at Sinai is directed at the Jewish people specifically, it would appear that the non-Jew is not actually obligated by that command. It is only the Jew who is obligated by divine command to promote the universal code. Why, then, is it not sufficient for the non-Jew to follow such a civil and moral code simply by virtue of his or her own moral instinct? Why must the non-Jew consciously act in fulfillment of a mandate prescribed to the Jewish people at Sinai?

This anomaly is resolved if we take into account the cosmic theological shift embodied in the revelation at Sinai: The Jews were given the Torah in order to bridge the gap between heaven and earth, and raise the entirety of the “lower realm” into the “higher realm.” Such a project calls for a collaborative endeavor in which all the people of the world work to build a “higher” form of society. Many of us envision a civilization that upholds a moral code for the just governance and mutual good of all the world. But the Torah vision of a higher world is far more ambitious. The Sinai mandate is to make all existence utterly transparent to the ineffable core of the divine self.If all mankind acted out of the reverential volition that such awareness might inspire, the world would be a higher place indeed.

A universal code of moral and civil legislation can reflect and communicate the absolute potency of the divine self only if it is consciously practiced in fulfillment of the mandate prescribed at Sinai. Without that condition, the significance of such ordinances may be reduced to selfish utility. Reduced to selfish utility, such a code is left bereft of real significance and potency, and risks deterioration or manipulation into amoral barbarism.27 With that condition, even the smallest act for the good is imbued with the absolute significance invested in it by the very essence of the divine self. If all mankind acted out of the reverential volition that such awareness might inspire, the world would be a higher place indeed.28

It was the Jewish people who were charged with the Torah mandate, but in order to achieve its implementation, they must enter into a partnership with all of humanity.29 According to the Midrash,30 the Ten Commandments were transmitted in all the seventy languages of the world, a mark of the universal relevance of the Sinai revelation to all of mankind.31 By harnessing ourselves to the divine cause revealed to the Jewish people at Sinai, all of humanity may rise higher than any human ideal. Together, we are empowered to walk the bridge across infinity, so that all reality embodies and communicates the infinite potency of divine being.32 Together, we can achieve the ultimate subversion of the cosmic hierarchy.