G-d's appearance at Mount Sinai was not subtle. Mountains shook, thunder
crashed. The divine voice reverberated through the galaxies. The world was
shocked into stillness. And the people present, those who were supposed to
receive this great revelation, dropped dead at the first intimation of His
presence. They were revived shortly thereafter, only to be knocked out again by
commandment number two.
Now, I can assure you that I would be happy to drop dead myself if G-d made a
personal visit. But He's not making a personal visit and He doesn't want me
to die. G-d started the whole business with a big bang, but He's kind of
disappeared since. Yes, there have been a couple of selected appearances: a
cloud on the tabernacle, a fire on the altar, a something here, there. But it
seems that the grand personal appearance, where we heard G-d's voice, felt G-d's
presence, was a one-time thing.
So here I am, some three thousand years later, and I'm left with this book
called a Torah and its many, many instructions, but none of the instructor. I'm
left with a G-d who doesn't want me to drop dead at the sight of Him, but
wants me live with Him -- in His absence. So the question I'd very much like to
put to this G-d of mine is, What are You thinking?
Nothing doing. We're dealing with a G-d who's not available for comment.
He's already given that comment, and all the commentaries along with it.
So I open the book. "In the beginning G-d created the heavens and the
earth. And the earth was bare and empty, and darkness covered it." And I read
and read and read. I read about how G-d created the world as an extension of
Himself and why He did it. I read about a world, just a few centuries later,
alienated not just from this purpose, but from the creator Himself. I read about
a little boy who defied conventional wisdom with the assertion of G-d's
existence. I read about his descendants, sure in their identity, proud of their
heritage, but barely able to cling to the remembrances of these in a strange and
hostile land. I read about their struggles to retain that shard of elusive G-dliness
in their lives -- elusive because they could talk and communicate
with G-d, but no matter what they did, they themselves were not touched, their
souls and surroundings remained unchanged. And I read about a nation in Egypt,
six hundred thousand strong, that was raised and saved as it was about to slip
below the horizon of existence into oblivion.
And then I read about the mountain and the thunder, the revelation to all of
mankind at which this book was given. That not-so-subtle revelation.
And I read in the commentaries that indeed G-d shook the world's foundation
with His appearance, changing the very nature of existence. That indeed this was
for us an out-of-body experience, in which G-d took each of our souls and
altered its make-up, changing forever who we are and what we could do. That G-d
rewrote the codewords of creation, enabling us to be, forever after, receptacles
to a different type of revelation -- a revelation so subtle, that although it is
earth shattering, I feel only the slightest tremor.
I read on. How after Mt. Sinai, the Children of Israel settled into a
different type of existence. One in which their Torah could speak to them, and
their actions to G-d. An existence that was enabled by that earth-shattering
event, and that empowers us, to this day, to do our own earth shattering.
And I understand finally that G-d made the most unsubtle revelation so
that afterwards His presence should become so subtle that it could fit in my
mind, my heart. So subtle I could live with it.
