We all have a defining quality, right? Some label, some trait, some quirk, something.
Think of a hobby, and I can guarantee you there are people out there living for it. The world is full of fitness fanatics, gardening gurus, frequent flyers, bird lovers, and trainspotters. It runs deeper than hobbies, though. Most of us crave connection with the transcendent, so we draw on core principles and beliefs that align with a higher purpose. I'm talking about the tenets we live by, the convictions we stand for, or ideals we would die to uphold.
Just as individuals strive to find their niche and focus, so do whole societies. This means that as much as these defining qualities exist on a personal level, they manifest across communities as well. Historically, all nations craft out a coherent identity. Almost like they're setting up a countrywide USP. In France, one finds reverence for high art and philosophy. In the United States, there's rugged individualism and unwavering optimism. Brits are known for their stiff upper lips when facing adversity. Of course, I am painting with outrageously broad brushstrokes here. But you get what I'm trying to say.
The Jewish nation has long been identified as a "people of the book." This designation was originally applied by Islamic scholars to various scripture-centric traditions. Still, the concept acquired special resonance in reference to the singular bond between the Hebrew faith and its sacred texts. Without exaggeration, we can say that for millennia, Jews have obsessed over the Torah and its commentaries. The Torah is our lifeblood, our soul.
But the centrality of the Torah to Judaism raises a fundamental question. If God's word is such an irreducible part of the religion's DNA, why did He take so long before bestowing it upon His nation? Let me flesh out this inquiry.
The Jewish nation traces itself back to Avraham. In calling him the father of our people, we aren't just referring to genetics but to a profound spiritual association. To this day, Jews emphasise entry into Avraham's covenant when circumcising their male children.
Embedded in the iniquity of idolatrous society, Avraham improbably comes to know God. This is a man deemed by the sages as a spiritual colossus and credited with keeping all the mitzvos. The Rambam famously regarded Avraham as the ultimate truth seeker, naming his only surviving son after him. Simply put, he's kind of a big deal.
And yet, the Torah was not transmitted through Avraham. In fact, God's eternal gift would only be accepted by Avraham's descendants over four centuries later at Mount Sinai. Why wasn't our founding father granted the Torah? Who could possibly be a more worthy candidate? For what reason did God wait centuries before finally handing over His immutable word to the Jewish people?
In response to our query, Maharal posits that the belated timing of the Torah has nothing to do with Avraham's lack of credentials. Rather, the reason lies in divine revelation's inherent nature. The Torah is synonymous with unbound eternity. It is God's word, free of confinement or compartmentalisation. Individuals, however magnificent, are inherently limited. Like all men, they eventually age, wither and die. On a more conceptual level, everyone has the potential for failure. For good reason, the sages caution against trusting oneself until the day of death. Avraham, remarkable as he may have been, was just one man.
Okay, I get that. But how, then, could the Torah ever be assimilated as part of a hopelessly finite creation? The answer is that all of the latter shortcomings apply to individuals but not to the Jewish community as a whole. While people do indeed pass away, Israel in its entirety is eternal. Furthermore, whilst anyone can become morally corrupted or even evil, the Jewish people, as an abstraction, remain pure. Every member is theoretically capable of returning to that pristine core.
When the Torah was finally given, it was entrusted to the Jewish people in their collectively timeless capacity. This is the underlying reason for our tradition that every Jewish soul was present at Sinai. It was impossible for the Torah to be transmitted without the involvement of the entire nation, present and future.
We are counting upwards towards Shavuos, that fateful day when God presented us with the Torah. It is incumbent on us all to reflect upon the enormity of the treasure we possess. The Torah, God's eternal teaching, was not given to any single individual, no matter how righteous, but to the Jewish people collectively—for we have been charged as transmitters of a divine light across all generations. So much more than a collection of laws and commandments; Torah is the wellspring of our existence, the DNA of our nation.
It is with a profound sense of humility that we step forward to renew ourselves as links in a chain that stretches back to Sinai, a thread that extends into the boundless future. As much as we are a people of the book, the Torah is a book of the people. In all of its splendid entirety.
Keep Pondering, and Have A Wonderful Shavuos!
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Intelligent and beautifully written article Thank you!
Never ending study and explication of Tanakh and Talmud have forged a nation which cannot be extinguished, no matter how hard empires have tried. Call me bigoted, as an Italian Jew, but if the Romans were unable to squelch the Jewish nation, I highly doubt this mongrel rabble of Fakestinians will get the job done. Am Israel Chai.