Say you get a child a gift. You say, “I got you something!” The kid lights up and exclaims, “Awesome, what is it?!” In a flash, the wrapping paper is in shreds and the kid is gone with the gift, immersed in the joy of it all. The kid’s mother calls after him, “Hey, come back here and say thank you!” The kid speeds back to you, says, “Thank you!” and is gone once more, back to the gift.
Now, say you get an adult a gift. You say, “I got you something.” The guy’s face lights up and he says, “You got me something?! Wow, I’m so touched, that is so nice of you!” And for a few minutes, all he can say is various versions of the same sentiment; he’s deeply, sincerely touched that you thought of him.
Eventually, you have to remind him, “Open it, open it!” So slowly, he starts tearing open the wrapping paper, and then carefully opens the gift, saying all the time, “So nice of you to think of me!” And even after opening the gift, his attention is still focused on the fact that you thought of him.
Eventually, a kid is expected to grow up and react not so much to the gift as much as the giver. Show appreciation for the generosity, for the love and care. Of course, enjoy the gift because that’s what the giver wants to see, but he thought of you, so you think of him.
G-d gave us the Torah and this question of how we respond to unexpected gifts comes to mind. In the days leading up to the revelation, G-d informed us that He “got something for us!” We were floored. The aroma of Egyptian idolatry still lingered on us and we were shocked by G-d’s announcement, in the spirit of “You got us something? You thought of us?”
Far from asking, “What is it!?” we reacted with a resounding, “Wow, that’s amazing! Whatever it is - thank you!!”
The Giver overwhelmed us and eventually He needed to prod us, “Open it, open it!” The simple fact that He thought of us and wanted to give us something - that was more than enough for us. The actual gift was a bonus.
To this day, every time we read the Torah in Shul, we perform a reenactment of that marvelous moment at Sinai.
First, we remove the Torah from its wrapping the way an adult unwraps a gift. We open the doors of the Aron Kodesh; we open the curtains; we remove the Torah. Then we kiss it, sing with it and dramatically declare our love for G-d with the still-wrapped Torah in our arms.
Eventually, we get around to unwrapping the Torah and actually reading what it says.
And yet, even then, if you watch the person getting the Aliyah, he says the blessing over the Torah while the Torah is closed.
After all that pomp and ceremony, G-d says, “Open it! Open it!” And so we open it. We read it, we see what He got us. And after a few minutes, we’re back at it: we close the Torah and declare, “Thank you our dear G-d, King of the whole world, for giving us the Torah of truth, the gift of life!”
