Shnei Luchot Habrit through Jewish history’s lens
As a neurologist, specializing in Alzheimer’s and related diseases, I often give talks on memory. I usually begin by pointing out the unique relationship of Jews to the concept of memory. We Jews are consumed by memory.
•We call our New Year Yom Hazikaron, the Day of Memory, with zichronot, memories, a prominent feature of the afternoon Mussaf prayer.
•We have another Yom Hazikaron, recalling the fallen soldiers and victims of terror and murder throughout our history.
•We have a list of “six memories, shesh zechirot,” said by some, daily after morning prayers, shacharit (give yourself six points if you’ve ever said it!).
•We say yizkor in recalling our passed loved ones.
And there are other examples.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, zt”l, has pointed out that there is no Hebrew word for “history.” We use the hebraicized Greek and English word historiya, but that’s not of Hebrew origin. For us, memory — zikaron — is history.
We’re approaching Shavuot, which the Torah says occurs after we’ve brought the Omer offering and counted 50 days. It doesn’t give us a specific date. Furthermore, it says nothing about Matan Torah at Har Sinai being given on that day; Chazal have given us that tradition, but that too is shrouded in mystery and controversy. Even Chazal can’t agree on the date! Was it the 6th or 7th of Sivan (Shabbat 86a-88a)?
It’s almost like we have a case of national Alzheimer’s Disease — we can’t even remember the date of our national foundational event, the giving of the Shnei Luchot, the Ten Commandments, the Torah! (so don’t feel so bad the next time you forget something).
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While the reasons for this mystery are fascinating and even mystical, that’s not what I want to talk about. Rather as I sit in holy Jerusalem, with Sivan and Shavuot approaching, I would like to examine their relationship to our own role in Jewish history and destiny.
Earlier this morning we were informed of the terrorist murder of a precious young couple, Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Milgrim Hy”d (oh, how I tire of writing those letters!) and later we all were dutifully summoned by a siren to the protected areas, courtesy of our latest and newest adversary, the Houthi’s. Just a “typical morning” in Jerusalem.
We never met these wonderful young people, but each of us feels as if somehow we knew them; their murder affected us personally, their families’ pain is our pain. Why?
The answer is maamad Har Sinai (standing at the foot of Sinai). That is where we stood, ready to receive the Torah as Am Echad, k’ish echad b’lev echad (as one people, as one person, with one heart). That is where we were forged as a nation, by Hashem, accepting the idea of areivut, of Kol Yisrael areivim zeh lazeh (all Israel are responsible for one another).
Just works not only in painful times, such as described above, but also in the glad times.
How many of us felt the joy of victory and accomplishment, pride and togetherness when we heard of the phenomenal “beeper operation” of Mossad that changed the course of the war. We had nothing to do with it but felt as if we did! Those of us old enough to remember the Six-Day War recall the sense of elation when we learned of Israel’s lightning victory, when only days before we felt we were on the verge, chalilah, of another Holocaust.
We are one people. When we hate one another, chas v’shalom, our nationhood falls apart.
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Which leads me to another thought. The Shnei Luchot Habrit, the Two Tablets given at Sinai, can be written and spoken as an acronym — shin, lamed, heh, pronounced SheLaH. This was also the name given by Rabbi Yeshayahu ben Avraham Halevi Horowitz to his sefer, a book that became so popular he became known not by his real name, but by the acronym, the Shelah HaKadosh (1555-1630).
Born in Prague, a disciple of the great posek for Ashkenazic Jewry, the Rema, the Shelah served as Av Beit Din in Austria, then Rabbi of Frankfort, and then Chief Rabbi of Prague. In 1621, after the passing of his wife, he moved to Yerushalayim, where he became Rabbi of the Ashkenazic community.
In 1625 he was kidnapped by the Pasha Ibn Faruh, and when released in 1626 moved to Tzfat, becaming a devoted kabbalist. He died in 1630, in Teveria, where he is buried near the kever of the Rambam.
His eponymous magnum opus reaffirms that both Torah’s — written and oral — were handed down at Sinai. This multi-volume encyclopedic work, dealing with halacha, ethics and mysticism, has had a profound influence on Chasidism years later, through its influence on the Baal Shem Tov and Rav Shneur Zalman of Liadi (Chabad). This is evident in the Shelah’s teachings that one should have “joy in every action” and “convert the yetzer hara to good.”
What an incredible concept, connected directly to our oneness as a people, to our shared experience at Har Sinai!
Despite our pronounced pain from recent horrors, we must strive for “joy in every action.” Despite our marked differences, we must work “to convert our yetzer hara to good.” Success in both of these areas shows us that history, memory, is not destiny.
That is the real meaning and message of Shavuot, when we figuratively stand once again together at Sinai and recommit to accepting ol malchut shamayim (the yoke of Heaven) b’yachad — together.
Only by standing together will we will bring about our geulah.
Shabbat shalom v’chag sameach!
Dr. Alan A. Mazurek is a retired neurologist, living in Great Neck, Jerusalem and Florida. He is a former chairman of the ZOA.
Write: Columnist@TheJewishStar.com
