In the Talmud, in Tractate Sotah, there is a beautiful section that begins,
"Every one who is haughty -- it is as though he had erected an idolatrous
altar." The Talmud then brings a contrasting statement: that God goes to be
with one who is humble, for "the Holy One, blessed be God, ignored all the
mountains and heights and caused the Shechinah to abide upon Mt. Sinai, but
did not raise Mt. Sinai up. Rabbi Yosef said: A person should always learn
from the mind of the Creator; for behold, the Holy One, blessed be God, ignored
all the mountains and heights and caused the Shechinah to abide upon Mt. Sinai."
Shavuot is the culmination of a trip through the desert, a difficult journey, reaching Mt. Sinai -- this apparently unprepossessing mountain. At Passover, we received the grace of being brought out of the baseness of Egypt. But Passover is only the beginning of the journey. The passage to freedom must include the refinement of our souls in order that we can renew the world. The days of counting the Omer represent the long path to creating, both within and without ourselves, a world which allows us to serve God, until we are finally able to stand before Mt. Sinai at Shavuot and receive the Torah.
There is a midrash that at Mt. Sinai God held the mountain over the nation and said, "If you do not accept the Torah, here I will bury you." In the Talmud in Tractate Avodah Zarah, Reish Lakish explains that God made a condition with the works of creation, that if Israel would accept the Torah, then all would be well. However, if Israel did not accept the Torah, then the world would be returned to chaos and nothingness. The sage based this explanation on Genesis 1:31: And there was evening, and there was morning, the sixth day. Why did it say the sixth day (the other days just said "a second day", or "a third day")? Because God was referring to the sixth of Sivan, the day of the giving of the Torah at Sinai.
Currently, in the Middle East, we see what is variously said to be a war about religion, land, economics, survival, or rights, and both sides couch their claims in the language of victimhood. Both sides have valid points to make: B'tselem, Rabbis for Human Rights, Brit Tzedek v'Shalom, Yesh G'vul, Women in Black -- and many others -- have pointed out the political miasma in which both nations are plunged. At Shavuot, we learn that freedom requires humility. Mt Sinai is a symbol of humility rather than pride. Humility requires us to take responsibility for our actions by accepting the rule of law. When God said, "I will bury you here if you do not accept the Torah," it is a parallel to the midrash that says, "I will return the world to chaos." Why? Because the Jewish people are a holy nation -- and a microcosm of the world. When we stiffen our necks in false pride, then the world becomes a place of chaos in which rights take precedence over responsibility. When we cannot lower ourselves, we are idol worshippers, sacrificing lives on the altars of our pride, rather than seeking justice, and rather than Torah being brought -- we are buried by it.
The passage in Sotah with which I began continues, "Everyone who is haughty, the Holy One, blessed be God, declares, 'I and he cannot both dwell in the world.'" So with those who refuse to abandon the false pride of victimhood; God says, "He and I cannot dwell together in the same world…" because there is no room for God to bring peace and Torah to the world. Right now, we see the result of that pride. Victimhood masquerades as, but is not, righteousness. It results in an attitude that anything one does is acceptable, because the victim is convinced that everyone is "out to get him." Thus every critique is understood by the victim as a mortal attack, and any response the victim makes he rationalizes as a defense, even when the evidence is to the contrary -- even when the so-called victim is the one with a great deal of power. But humility is the opportunity not to be a victim, to evaluate carefully the reality of a situation, and to make moral choices.
When we read the Torah portions concerned with sacrifices, it is inevitable that someone will comment that it seems odd that the Torah commands us to atone for accidental transgressions. But God, with these commands, gives back into our hands the ability to respond. We are not responsible for accidents, but we are responsible not to leave broken glass lying where a passerby could step on it. Even when it is "no one's fault" one is still required to fix what is broken. Shavuot gives us the chance to undo disaster, to take upon ourselves responsibility, and in so doing, to give back order to the world, and bring peace to its inhabitants.
