The Symbol of Mt. Sinai

One morning, more than fifteen years ago while in Israel for the summer, I packed my backpack and set out on another hike. This trek was particularly exciting. Our climb was actually easier than many of the others we had done that summer, but much more intriguing-we were going to ascend Mt. Sinai! Looking out at the low mountain, and the sandy, rough terrain, I wondered how it was that this was the place chosen by God for Moses and the Israelites to receive the Ten Commandments.

A fleeting thought: What if the archeologists were wrong? What if this wasn't Sinai? Because our ancient tradition left us no map, no direction to this defining place, modern science, through research, has declared this mountain to be the place.

It is curious that we have no clear indication of Sinai's location in our tradition, given the magnitude of the event that occurred there. According to the account in Exodus, the people experienced God by seeing thunder and hearing lightning. By connecting and making demands upon the Israelites, “. . . the covenant at Sinai become the permanent incursion of God into the lives of a nation that pledged its faith to God.” ( Plaut)

After the Israelites heard the lightning and saw the thunder, they said, “na'aseh v'nishma”. We will do and we will hearken. They accepted the yoke of Torah upon themselves, Gods' promises now turning to a covenant, mutually sustainable. Plaut: “From this day forth, there would be a standard whereby to measure good and evil in all the corners of the earth, for all men and for all generations until the coming of the great day of God. “

Some say that Sinai did not become a permanent physical locale Judaism so that the Temple and Jerusalem could remain of primary physical importance to our ancestors. Gunther Plaut, renowned Reform Rabbi, wrote: “Its unusual importance is heightened by the vagueness of its site-its timelessness unfettered by an identifiable place.” In other words, what happened at Sinai is more important than where it happened. Sinai is a timeless experience, for all to share. We are obligated to see ourselves as if we are all part of the covenant-those that were physically present at that time, and every generation after, and every generation yet to come. Sinai remains indelibly ingrained into our religious consciousness as our pivotal experience. Plaut taught: “A Jew, by the very condition of his Jewishness, pays the continuing price of Sinai. If Jewishness remains his fate, Judaism remains the framework of his native spiritual existence and God his partner. And therefore as long as the people as a continuing organism in history keep alive the consciousness of Sinai, each Jew can find his/her roots. . . “ For me, fifteen years ago, climbing Mt. Sinai was exciting, but it didn't, truly, matter if I was actually climbing Mt. Sinai-what mattered was my hand in upholding the covenant.

I find that Sinai, as a symbol of God's direct experience in our lives is beloved and embraced. However, I also find that we avoid the deeper meaning behind the covenant a t Sinai: obligation. Peter Knobel writes: “Much of the community responds better to the message of redemption and liberation carried by the Pesach story than to the discipline of the . . .mitzvot of Mount Sinai.” Today, I believe we are much more concerned with having a personal experience of God than we are concerned about what God demands of us. In our contemporary world, we ask: “What am I owed?” rather than, “What is it that I owe?”

There is a midrash that describes God going from nation to nation asking each to accept the Torah. When God approached one nation, they asked, "what is in the Torah?" and God replied, "You shall not murder." They said, "we live by the sword, so we cannot accept Torah." God then went to another nation and they also asked what was in the Torah. God told them, "You shall not steal." They answered, "It is our very nature to live off only what is stolen, so we cannot accept the Torah." (Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginsberg, Vol. III, pp.80-82) Each nation declined to accept the Torah because they did not want the task of keeping the mitzvot. God then went to the people of Israel, and asked them to accept the Torah. The people responded "All that Adonai has spoken we will do.”

The midrash paints the Israelites in a rosy light; eager to accept obligation upon them. And yet, we know, the Israelites were not without issues while wandering in the desert; they complained, they whined, they wanted to return to slavery in Egypt. Could it really be true that they so readily accepted responsibilities from God?

Another midrash shows this realistic side of our psyche:

At the foot of Mt. Sinai, Gods words boomed down upon them. The people stood, flabbergasted and stupefied with fear. Slowly, apprehensively, they moved closer. As they drew nearer, God lifted Mt. Sinai and held it over their heads: IF YOU ACCEPT MY TORAH, FINE! God said. IF NOT, YOUR GRAVES WILL BE UNDER THIS MOUNTAIN! The people shouted, WE ACCEPT!

In this midrash, they accepted Torah, under duress-much as I believe we would today. In our society of “me, me, me”, who can imagine embracing such intense obligation with a smile, as the first midrash implies?

A more contemporary, but perhaps odd example: I cant' help but think of the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as an example. In this movie, Charlie, who wins the golden ticket, ascends to the nirvana of the candy world, along with a number of other children. All of the other children, through their personal faults, do not succeed in passing the requirements ( while perhaps quite ridiculous) that Willy Wonka places upon them. Veruca, the infamous spoiled child whines effectively to her father, upon seeing an Oompa Loompa for the first time: Veruca Salt: Hey, Daddy, I want an Oompa Loompa. I want you to get me an Oompa Loompa right away.

Mr. Salt: All right, Veruca, all right. I'll get you one before the day is out.

Veruca Salt: I want an Oompa Loompa now!

We laugh at Veruca, and nod our heads at her spoiled, horrible, demanding manners. Yet, it is not without some reality that we can compare today's society to Veruca: we proudly boast about our need for instant gratification, we are often coerced to become laden with debt in our quest to have the best and most toys, and every media form screams at us to “take care of our selves”. Our society has more than a little Veruca Salt embedded within it. After all, all good humor has a kernel of truth, no?

And the hero of our movie: Charlie Bucket --A selfless, caring little boy, helping his mother to care for his four grandchildren, poor and quite often lonely. Why does Charlie Bucket end up with a Golden Ticket, and, at the very end, winning the final prize? According to what Willy Wonka says: "I had to find a child, a very honest, loving child..."

We must strive to be more like Charlie Bucket, and less like Veruca Salt. What we owe God is to remember the covenant, and to become more comfortable reaching outside our selves, to ask: God, what do you want from us?

In Etz Hayim, a Torah commentary, teaches, “ . . Sinai is not a geographical location. It is a symbol of Israel's awareness of having stood in the presence of God and having come to understand what God requires of them. Whenever a person hears the commanding voice of God and commits oneself to live by that voice, that person can be considered to be standing at Sinai.”

Each of us, generations past, present, and future, stand at Sinai. And so, tonight, I urge you to reconnect with the symbol of Mt. Sinai, and ask yourself: “What is it that God wants of me?”

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