Parashat Yitro 5786
Rabbi Shmuel Rabinowitz, Rabbi of the Western Wall and Holy Sites
One of the greatest and most formative moments in human history is described in Parashat Yitro – the Revelation at Mount Sinai. This is the moment when the people of Israel do not merely receive a system of laws, but a mission: to carry a message of faith in one God and universal moral values. This is the event upon which all of Jewish faith rests; a faith not based on a distant myth, but on a living story passed from generation to generation, from father to son. As the Ramban famously wrote: “A father does not lie to his son.”
Precisely for this reason, the astonishment is great. Only a short time after that exalted moment, merely forty days later, the very same people who witnessed the Revelation with their own eyes and heard the voice of God commit the sin of the Golden Calf. They forget the first commandment of the Ten Commandments, turn to idol worship, and lose the merit of receiving the first Tablets.
Many have grappled with the question of how an entire nation could descend from such a lofty spiritual height to such a deep low in so short a time.
Some have suggested that the spiritual ascent was simply too abrupt. Within fifty days, the Children of Israel rose from the lowest possible spiritual state to the highest level of holiness, to the point of being able to hear the voice of God. And the principle is that what comes easily can disappear easily. That which is not acquired through gradual effort does not become deeply engraved in the soul. Yet a more precise reading of the Torah’s verses offers a deeper insight into human psychology.
The Torah describes the moment following the proclamation of the Ten Commandments as follows:
“And all the people saw the sounds and the flames and the sound of the shofar and the mountain smoking; and the people saw and trembled, and they stood from afar.”
“And the people stood from afar, while Moses drew near to the fog where God was.
(Exodus 20:14,18)
The verses describe this clearly: the people are overwhelmed by the intensity of the sounds, lightning, and fire, and they retreat. Moses, by contrast, does not recoil. Out of faith and a deep sense of mission, he draws near – precisely to the place where God dwells. This description is not merely historical; it conveys an existential message. When a person encounters obstacles, difficulties, and fear, the natural inclination is to withdraw. But the Torah teaches that this is an illusion, and that the God one seeks is found precisely there, in the confusing and unclear place.
In the teachings of Hasidut, an additional deep layer is added. The people are swept up by the power of the moment. Not long ago they were slaves without status, and now they are gathered to hear the voice of God and receive the identity of a chosen people. It is a once-in-a-lifetime experience: a mountain blooming in the heart of the desert, thunder and lightning, fire from heaven. The excitement is immense, but because it is based on emotional exhilaration, the moment fear or difficulty appears, everything dissipates. “And they trembled” – the people sway, like those who are fervent in their service of God, but “they stood from afar.” There is no true inner closeness.
Moses, by contrast, understands that genuine service of God is not found in thunder and lightning, but rather in the place of fog, confusion, and lack of clarity. That is where God must be sought. As the prophet Elijah said:
“Not in the earthquake is the Lord… not in the fire is the Lord… and after the fire, a still, small voice.”
(I Kings 19:11-12)
When the noise subsides and the excitement fades, when the routine of daily life returns – that is where godliness begins. This is one of the profound foundations of Judaism: do not seek the Creator only in dazzling moments, but in the small details of everyday life.
When the bond with faith is built on thunder and lightning, it is no wonder that when the excitement disappears, a void is created, one that a person seeks to fill with an immediate and thrilling substitute, in the form of a golden calf. But a deep connection, built on understanding and quiet internalization, endures even in times of doubt and fog, and is even strengthened by them.
So too with Jewish festivals: on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur it is easier to believe and to observe the commandments. Everything is elevated, festive, and emotionally stirring. But the true challenge lies in the gray winter days, when it is harder to feel meaning and harder to find godliness. There we find the truly righteous, those whose truth is not a product of great lights and booming sounds.
In a modern world of instant gratification and rapid stimulation, it is difficult to persist in quiet, sustained endeavors. Yet history, both religious and human, teaches that those who left a lasting mark are the ones who knew how to find meaning and renewal precisely in daily action. Winston Churchill is often credited with the idea that success means moving from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.
If we invest meaning and effort in every action, and preserve the ability to renew ourselves at every moment, we can draw closer to God even within the routine of everyday life.
