Chabad of Northern Beverly Hills, 409 Foothill Road . Beverly Hills, CA 90210

Rabbi Yosef Shusterman 310/271-9063

SHAVUOT

The giving of the Torah took place in the month of Sivan - the third month. Since this was clearly part of the Divine plan, there must be a significant connection between the event and the date, between Torah and the third month.The point is made explicitly in the Talmud: "Blessed be the Merciful One who gave a threefold Torah to a threefold people through a third - born on the third day in the third month."

The figure three is the constant motif. The Torah is in three parts: Pentateuch, Prophets and Hagiographa (Torah, Neviim, Ketubim). Israel consists of three kinds of Jew: Kohen, Levite and Israelite. Moses was born third, after Miriam and Aaron. The Torah was given in the third month, on the third day of the Israelites' separation from their wives. Why, then, the figure three? Surely the Torah was intended to be unique and to reveal the oneness of G-d. The number one is what we would have expected.

To take the point further. The principal event of the third month was the giving of the Torah in itself. The commandments, as such, were not an entirely new disclosure. There had been commandments before: The seven Noachide Laws, circumcision, and the things that were commanded at Marah. Sinai certainly changed the nature of a Mitzvah, but the idea of a Mitzvah was not new. But the Torah was. And the difference between Torah and the commandments is this: through a Mitzvah one becomes nullified in the face of G-d's will, as a "chariot to its rider." But through Torah we become one with G-d. The two things are not the same. A chariot has no will other than that of its rider, but chariot and rider are not one. The innovation at Sinai was radical - now the Jew could become at one with G-d.

And if so we must ask again: Why is three, not one, its symbol? The purpose of the giving of the Torah was indeed unity. But what is a true unity? When a person recognizes the One in the many, then he perceives unity in the midst of diversity. If he knows only one kind of existence, we do not know what his response will be when he discovers another kind. Perhaps he will then say: There are two realities, G-d and the world. It is only when he has encountered more than one form of existence and still maintains that G-d is the only reality that he has seen the true Oneness of G-d.

There is a traditional analogy. If we want to know how close is the bond between a prince and his father, the king, we will not discover it in the palace but only by taking him from it and setting him amongst ordinary men. If he still behaves like a prince, he is a true son of his father. So with a Jew, it is not within the Sanctuary but within the diversity of the world that his sense of G-d's unity is proved. And he can preserve it in two ways. He can suppress his awareness of other things besides G-d. Or he can be fully aware of other things of the world and in them discover G-d. It is the latter which is the deeper response. The person who suppresses his senses and closes his eyes to the ways of the world, believes that they form something apart from and in opposition to G-d, and must be kept at a distance. The unity of his religious life is neither deep nor secure.

There are, as we can see, three phases in the growth towards the sense of the unity of G-d. And they correspond to the three months from Pesach to Shavuot. Nissan is the month of the Exodus itself, when G-d was revealed to the Israelites. They "fled" from Egypt, both literally and metaphorically - fled from the knowledge of the world and were filled only with the revelation from above. Their unity was of the world-denying kind. G-d was One because they knew only one thing, because the world had ceased to have being in their eyes. Iyar, the second month, is the month wholly taken up with the Counting of the Omer, and preparing ourselves for the coming events at Sinai. We are aware of ourselves and our world as something apart from G-d which had to be suppressed. Like the chariot and its rider, G-d and

 

 

 

 

 

the world were one will but two things. Sivan, the third month, was the time when the Torah was given, when G-d and the world became one thing. This was the moment of genuine unity, when what had seemed two things became a third, including and going beyond both. This is why the Torah was given on the third month. For, through fulfilling a commandment we efface our own existence, but we are not yet at one with G-d. The ultimate unity comes only through (learning) Torah, when the mind of man and the will of G-d interfuse. The two become a third thing, a complete unity. This is why Moses received the Torah at Sinai. The Rabbis said that Sinai was chosen because it was the lowest (i.e., the humblest) of the mountains. But if lowness was the sought-for virtue, why was the Torah not revealed on a plane or a valley? Because Sinai represented the fusion of two opposites, the high and the low, G-d and man. And this is the significance of the Torah. (Source: Likkutei Sichot, Vol. II, pp. 301-303)

The Giving of the Torah on Mt. Sinai is not only an event of the distant past. Every Shavuos, and - to a lesser extent - every day, we relive that experience. This is reflected in our praise of G-d as "the Giver of the Torah," using the present tense, and in the mandate of our Sages that we always view the Torah as "something new which we received today." In this light, the physical setting of the Giving of the Torah becomes prominent, for its metaphoric significance shows us how to approach the Torah at all times and in all places. Mt. Sinai and its surroundings symbolize the personal qualities that enable an individual to acquire the Torah. The Midrash, relating that G-d chose Mt. Sinai for the Giving of the Torah because it was "the smallest of all mountains," emphasizes the importance of humility. If then one would ask why G-d did not give the Torah on a plain or in a valley, the answer will be that the choice of a mountain indicates the need for a certain degree of self-esteem. For both these qualities - humility and self-esteem - are necessary to our acquisition of Torah.

…Mt. Sinai is situated in a desert. Every year the relationship between the Torah and the desert is reestablished by the reading of Parshas Bamidbar ("in the desert") before Shavuos. Our Sages point out that the desert has no owner. By giving the Torah in the desert, G-d showed that no one person or tribe can control it; every Jew has an equal claim to Torah. The ownerless desert teaches us another lesson. To approach Torah, we must reflect this ownerless state; i.e., we must step beyond our individual personalities. The Torah, reflecting G-d's infinite nature, transcends our limited human potential. In order to relate to G-d's infinity, we must leave the confines of our personal selves. At Mt. Sinai, our ancestors expressed such a commitment. When asked whether they would accept the Torah, they replied, "We will do and we will listen." Instead of first listening to G-d's commandments and then deciding whether or not to accept them, they showed no hesitation and promised to obey them regardless of what would be entailed.

…The desert can also be understood as a metaphor for feelings of spiritual barrenness and emptiness. A person who experiences such feelings would do well to remind himself that the Torah was given in a desert; that in his present circumstances, G-d descends and gives him His most precious possession, the Torah. No matter what an individual's state, let him recognize that he is constantly given the opportunity to relate to G-d through the medium of the Torah. This concept also applies in our relations with others. We can - and must - share Torah with all Jews, even those who appear as barren as a desert. Our Sages urge us to "be counted among the disciples of Aharon, loving [your fellow] creatures and bringing them close to the Torah." In Tanya, the Alter Rebbe explains that this wording teaches

that we must love every Jew, even one whose only redeeming characteristic is that he is G-d's creation. Our Sages relate that during the Jewish people's forty years of wandering, they were able to transform the desert into "settled land" to the point where trees flowered and gave fruit. Our study of Torah can produce a similar effect. Those aspects of ourselves and of others that are seemingly barren can become productive through the influence of Torah. This recalls the Era of the Redemption, when even "shade trees will be laden with fruit." At that time, the fruits of the Jewish people's divine service throughout the exile will blossom forth and all of mankind will be able to appreciate that the world is G-d's dwelling place. May this take place in the immediate future. (From: Chabad Gopher site, Adapted from Likkutei Sichos,Vol. I, pp. 276-280;Vol. VIII, p. 237)