Shavuot, by all reason, should be the pinnacle of Jewish holidays. After all, this was the cataclysmic “day the Earth stood still,” when the Torah was given to Moses – and, by extension, to the entire Jewish people – on Mount Sinai. God-given law was being passed down to humanity, and the world would never be the same again.
The scene was dramatic and spellbinding, as, amid thunder and lightning, with the great shofar sounding in the background, the 10 Commandments – the basis of our beliefs – were finally revealed.
Say the rabbis: Birds stopped in mid-flight, waterfalls were suspended, and all went silent so that the majestic divine voice could be heard without interruption, and the message could be indisputably transmitted. And yet, despite all this hoopla, Shavuot remains the “poor sister” in the family of festivals.
Rosh Hashanah, with the shofar its icon, and Yom Kippur, with the 25-hour fasting its trademark, are the acknowledged, dramatic Days of Awe. Sukkot has its lulav (palm branch) and etrog (citron) to wave, its unique sukkot to dwell in, and the revelry of Simchat Torah. Purim brings out raucous partying and audacious costumes, while Hanukkah is aglow as it basks in the light of its beloved hanukkiah, as we bid goodbye to our diets amid eight oily days of doughnuts and latkes.
But Shavuot? Where are its visible signs of celebration? We don’t make pilgrimages to Mount Sinai, there are no truly outstanding foods to lust for (with apologies to cheesecake), and even the study of Torah is an everyday occurrence to most people of faith. In fact, the Torah never even provides the date of Shavuot, only identifying the festival as it relates to Passover’s conclusion.
Furthermore, while all the other holidays have their own Talmudic tractate, Shavuot has none. Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Purim, and Passover each have a tractate specifically devoted to it; even Hanukkah has a small section within Gemara Shabbat. Shavuot? Nada!
Ah, but you will tell me that there is indeed a tractate named Shevuot. True, but it is not about the holiday; it is part of the larger Order of Damages section of the Talmud focused on laws regarding sacred vows and oaths (shevuot). The Festival of Shavuot connects to the completion of seven weeks – also called shavuot – of Counting the Omer, which begins after the second day of Passover.
But I want to suggest that perhaps, in the dual meaning of the term “shavuot” – “weeks” and “oaths” – there is an important connection between Shavuot, the holiday, and shevuot, the vows, after all.
For what are we commemorating on this festival? It is the moment we stood up as one and swore to God, soon after the 10 Commandments were given: “Na’aseh venishma” – “We shall observe [the mitzvot], and we shall listen to them.” We made a sacred promise to follow the Torah, to make it our “guidebook and God-book” for all of eternity.
Pledge of allegiance
I have vivid memories of reciting the Pledge of Allegiance every morning in our Jewish day school when I was a child. We would line up at the beginning of class, face the Stars and Stripes as we placed our right hand over our hearts, and recite, along with the teacher:
“I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
Composed in 1892 by Baptist minister Francis Bellamy, the pledge gained popularity throughout the early 1900s. The controversial phrase “under God” was added in 1954, in legislation signed by president Dwight D. Eisenhower. It led to numerous legal battles over whether this brief statement imposed religious beliefs on non-observant citizens. As a result, a number of states chose to either delete the words or make them optional.
We Jews have our own “pledge” which we recite every morning – the “Modeh Ani.” This one-line sentence reads “Modeh ani lefanecha, Melech hai vekayam, shehehezarta bi nishmati behemla, raba emunatecha.” It means, “I give thanks – or testimony – before You, the living, eternal King who has restored my soul to me with compassion; abundant is Your faithfulness.” Thus, after emerging from our semi-comatose state of sleep, we begin our day by acknowledging that there is a God who faithfully watches over us, who guards and guides us each day.
Others suggest that our daily recitation of the “Shema” is also a type of vow, as we proclaim the oneness of God – “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One” – and then list a number of essential mitzvot (e.g., loving God, mezuzah, tefillin) we are to perform. In fact, in the traditional text, the letters ayin and dalet in the words “Shema” and “ehad” are enlarged, forming the Hebrew word “ed,” which means “witness” or “testimony.”
There is also the statement of loyalty to Israel – as a Jewish, democratic state – that is administered only in certain specific situations to selected individuals: naturalized citizens, non-Jews seeking citizenship, diplomats, and civil servants.
A number of legal experts have questioned the requirement of non-Jews to declare their allegiance to a religion not their own, while others are reluctant to affirm Israel’s form of government as truly “democratic.”
I am not advocating that we institute an official, across-the-board pledge; Israelis don’t react well to policies crammed down – or forced from – their throats. In fact, making such a pledge a strict requirement for all citizens – even the Jewish, democratic ones – may have the exact opposite effect. It may cause the populace to resent yet another government-instituted ordinance.
What I am suggesting is that we voluntarily take upon ourselves a sentence or two each day, a verbal reminder to ourselves that we are amazingly fortunate to reside in the reborn, free State of Israel. An affirmation that we are blessed to have such a courageous army defending us, that we can live Jewishly without fear, that we have the merit of living in an age of redemption that our ancestors could only dream about.
Pledges are just words, yes. But words, in Jewish belief, create reality. Indeed, the Hebrew term for “word” is “mila,” which also is the term for ritual circumcision; the brit milah is, in itself, a physical statement that we are proud Jews.
Our forebears stood at the foot of Mount Sinai, in a barren and desolate desert, as they made their pledge. We, who inhabit one of the most unique and beautiful places on Earth, should certainly do no less.
The writer is director of the Jewish Outreach Center of Ra’anana. rabbistewart@gmail.com