Va’etchanan: Revelation and Love
It would seem to be one of the most powerful and intimate moments in the entire Torah: The revelation. God doing God’s powerful, intense thing and the people standing to witness and participate in all of it. A people being told they are loved, they are chosen, and standing in the midst of the powerful energy of that connection.
Only this week, we learn with much more nuance in Moses’s recounting of the story that it was a mediated connection. The Israelites could not stand in the nakedness of that intimate encounter with God. They balked. They hedged. And that movement away from a connection with God (or, what is) and their slow and wandering return becomes a repeated motif in their (and our) lives.
When we first read about the Israelites’ response to “seeing the thunder-sounds, the flashing-torches, the shofar sound, and the mountain smoking” at Mount Sinai, we are told that the Israelites “faltered and stood far off.” (Exodus 20 :16). They ask Moses to serve as the intermediary between themselves and God “lest we die.”
What does it mean to “falter and stand far off?” We receive a much clearer picture in this week’s parsha (Torah portion) as Moses explains:
20 And it was, when you heard the voice from the midst of the darkness, and the mountain was burning with fire, that you approached me, all the heads of your tribes and your elders.
21 And you said, "Behold, YHVH, our God, has let us see all its glory and greatness, and we heard its voice from the midst of the fire; we saw this day that God speaks with humans and they can remain alive!
22
So now, why should we die? For this great fire will consume us; if we continue to hear the voice of the ETERNAL, our God, anymore, we will die!
23 For who is there of all flesh, who heard the voice of the living God speaking from the midst of the fire, as we have, and remained alive?
24 You go near and hear all that the One our God says; and you speak to us all that the One our God speaks to you, and we will hearken and we will do (it).
There are several confusing turns of logic in the Israelite response at Sinai. First, even though they get a taste of the power and intensity of the explicitly living God, and they don’t die, they are convinced that somehow, if they continue to hear its voice, they will. Second, they argue that no human can hear this overwhelming voice, and yet they ask Moses, a human, to be their intermediary and to go closer to God when they cannot.
Avivah Zornberg addresses this enigma at Sinai: “It is almost as if it is life, and not death, that [the Israelites] fear,” she writes, “as though the oscillation of their response expresses a visceral ambivalence about the life-gift that is offered at Sinai.” (Particulars of Rapture, 266).
I understand the desire to hide from the light of that much intimacy. In each moment where my heart was about to expand – before I got married, before my children were born, even before I started my business, I felt my anxiety rising in near equal measure to my excitement. What will be revealed as people get to know me and see me that closely? What will happen when my careful construction of myself blows apart? What if what exists underneath is undesirable, unpleasant, or underwhelming? And perhaps most importantly, what if my raw and vulnerable heart gets attached, only to get hurt or damaged in the end? Each new step of self-expansion and growth requires breathing into these terrifying questions of intimacy and exposure. I will surely die if I am really seen and known, and get hurt in the end, some part of me has said to myself. I cannot withstand it.
Moshe agrees to serve as the intermediary between the people and God, but his (and God’s) deepest wish is for the people to find the courage to return to life and love, the living God, with all the danger and possibility that that entails. Love is mentioned six times in this parsha: “because
[God] loved your ancestors and chose their seed after them” (4:37), “[I] perform loving kindness to thousands [of generations] of those who love Me” (5:10) “And you shall love the One, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul, and with all your means. ” (6:5), “But because of the One's love for you” (7:8) “Who keeps the covenant and loving kindness with those who love [God].” (7:9). Moses could not be clearer. Love is right there – waiting to be experienced. We don’t need intermediaries! We don’t need to wait until we are more successful, or more beautiful, or more holy. We don’t need to be anything other than who we are.
Brene Brown calls this “daring greatly,” which she defines as the willingness to show up and be seen. “It’s about owning our vulnerability and understanding it as the birthplace of courage and the other meaning-making experiences in our lives,” she writes. We, like the Israelites, cannot protect ourselves from loss, failure, exposure and pain. It will happen whether we like it or not. The only thing we can do is to let go into that vulnerability, risk our hearts and love anyway.
The Institute for Jewish Spirituality’s mission is to develop and teach Jewish spiritual practices so that individuals and communities may experience greater awareness, purpose, and interconnection.
Learn more: jewishspirituality.org
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