Thought of the week:
Don’t give ‘til it hurts. Give ‘til it feels good; until you crave the pleasure of doing the right thing.
“And you shall be to Me a kingdom of lords and a holy nation. These are the words, [not less and not more] that you shall speak to the children of Israel.” (Shmos 19:6)
This is the lead-up to Matan Torah, the giving of Torah at Sinai, the most important day in the history of the world, before or after. Even the days of Creation pale beside it, because, if not for the constant study of Torah, the world would return to its state of nothingness. Later, we will be adjured to tell our children of this day, and to remember always the day we stood before Hashem at Sinai.
But for now, several days prior, Hashem said, “This is what I want you to tell the Jewish People.” Moshe came down with the message that Hashem wants us to become a treasured, exalted nation. What was it about this message that was so powerful? Why would these words convince the Jews to accept the Torah of their own free will?
The simplicity of the answer is mind-blowing. Hashem was telling us His “end-game.” What was the plan of giving the Torah to the world, and specifically to the Jewish People? That we become more than human.
Human beings are frail by nature. However, by working on themselves, they can transcend boundaries no one would imagine possible. On a physical level, you have athletes who train themselves to do things others can only dream of. They run extremely quickly, or perhaps for extended periods of time. They can lift great weights, or swim for miles. They have increased endurance and strength, but they weren’t born that way. Instead, they had to work for it, and they set themselves goals.
When you see an athlete doing some of the things they do, you imagine they’re superhuman. They’ve found a way to tap into a power far beyond that of mortal men. That method is not simply physical; it requires mental and emotional conviction – but it works.
Hashem told Moshe, “the point of giving the Jews the Torah is not so I have a legion of followers. I have myriad servants and messengers. What I want to do is give these people the ability to be more than they are now; to tread among the angels, to reach top spiritual form.” The way to do that is by accepting the Torah. Just as a coach trains an athlete, the Torah trains us and gives us the tools to become the superhumans Hashem described. Just as an athlete makes the mental choice to pursue these goals, so did the Jewish People make the decision, as they said, “Naaseh v’Nishma, we will do and we will listen.”
The word “naaseh” doesn’t only mean, “we will do.” It can also mean, “we will become.” We made a decision on that day, 3,337 years ago, to morph into the best version of ourselves; to become more than human.
When you follow the Torah, and it tells you to do something, or not to do it, who is controlling your choices? YOU. Lightning won’t strike you instantly if you don’t do what you’re supposed to. But with training and effort, you become your own coach, knowing what is expected and necessary to win the race, and strengthened to control yourself.
Hashem to Moshe, “Tell the Jews not to ascend the mountain.” Moshe replied, “They cannot ascend it, for You have forbidden it.” At that moment, the Jews had already begun the transformation. Angels have no free will and serve Hashem. Man who has free will and chooses to serve Hashem is greater than an angel.
If you don’t eat cheese because you just ate meat, or you help someone you don’t like, simply because it is the will of Hashem, you are a champion. When you can do things with no one stopping you but yourself, you have become that special treasured person Hashem knows is inside you, who has risen above nature, and recreated yourself as the best version of humankind. This was the message Hashem gave the Jews. Don’t accept the Torah for Me – do it for yourselves.
Baron Rothschild had purchased five apples from a grocer and as he walked down the street with his young grandson, a beggar asked for some food. Mr. Rothschild handed the man two apples then asked his grandson, “How many apples do we have?” The boy, proud to show off the math he was learning, said, “We had five apples and gave away two, so we have three.” His grandfather corrected him. “We have two apples,” he said. “The apples we will eat will be gone in a few moments, but the apples we gave to that poor man will live on as a merit forever.” He paused for emphasis as he looked into the boy’s eyes: “We only have what we’ve given away.”
