Crowned
By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
Shavuos
may be the shortest of the Shalosh Regolim but its impact is
immeasurable. For on this one day (or two, in chutz la’aretz), we
remember and relive the special occasion which defines us: the giving of the
Torah. This is the day for which the world was created, when Heaven touched
Earth and a nation found its purpose. While our footsteps once led to the Beis
Hamikdosh, our hearts still ascend year after year toward that same sacred
encounter at Har Sinai.
“Kofah
aleihem har kegigis.” Chazel tell us that Hakadosh Boruch Hu,
so to speak, held Har Sinai over the Jewish people and told them that either
they accept upon themselves to study and observe the Torah or He would drop the
mountain upon them and they would be buried alive.
Many
explanations are given for why Hashem forced them to accept the Torah under the
penalty of death. One of the many is that the world was created for Torah and
for the Bnei Yisroel to accept it. If they would not agree to study and
be governed by the laws of the Torah, the world would cease to have a purpose
and would be returned to its original inert state.
The
path was laid by the avos, Avrohom, Yitzchok and Yaakov, and passed on
to the shevotim and to their children. In Mitzrayim, their offspring
grew exponentially, but sank to levels of depravity that endangered their
ability to continue their glorious heritage.
Before
they reached the point of no return, Hashem redeemed them, miraculously
removing them from Mitzrayim. They went to the Yam Suf to escape the clutches
of decadence and immorality and began the trek back to the hallowed land of
their forefathers.
After
49 days of preparation, they were ready to fulfill their destiny and accept the
Torah. They proclaimed the immortal words, “Naaseh venishma,” accepting
upon themselves the Torah’s obligations and, by doing so, setting the world on
its proper trajectory.
At
that moment, Klal Yisroel proclaimed that although they were mortals
fashioned of flesh and blood, they were willing to live on a higher and loftier
plane, with the Torah as their guide.
Malochim objected to the notion of giving
the Torah to humans, but after the Bnei Yisroel demonstrated their
worthiness, the malochim placed crowns on their heads (Shabbos
88a). There are different interpretations as to what the crowns consisted of,
what their significance was, and what they accomplished. Most likely, they did
not resemble the adorable golden paper crowns that children wear to celebrate Shavuos
and the receipt of their siddurim and Chumoshim, but those crowns
keep the message alive and remind us of the heights we reached and can still
attain even in our day.
Shavous contains the power and potency
evident on the day the Torah was first given to us. Every year, on Chag
Mattan Toraseinu, the gift that was first given at Sinai is regifted to
those who have undertaken the proper preparations and made themselves worthy.
Even in our day, when tumah is all around, it is possible to live a life
of kedusha.
The
further a person is removed from Torah, the more he is affected by tumah, silliness
and ideas that weaken his inherent goodness.
The
Meshech Chochmah at the end of Parshas Yisro writes
that until Matan Torah, people were only able to serve Hashem through ruchniyus.
When the Torah was given, acts that were previously purely gashmiyus and
physical were invested with kedusha. With the acceptance of the Torah,
people were empowered to sanctify themselves and all human needs and instincts.
That
is why Hashem told Moshe Rabbeinu at the s’neh, the
burning bush, “Shal ne’alecha mei’al raglecha - Remove your shoes
from your feet.” He was saying, “Remove the vehicles for your gashmiyusdike
physical lives as you approach Me.”
After
Matan Torah, Hashem told the Jewish people, “V’anshei kodesh tihiyun
li—And you shall be holy people” (Shemos 22:30). It’s a powerful
instruction that reveals something essential about our identity and mission.
Hashem did not ask us to become malochim. The Torah does not expect us
to transcend our human nature. Instead, it teaches us to live fully human
lives, while elevating ourselves with holiness.
We
are meant to be people: working, building, raising families, maintaining
relationships, facing challenges, and experiencing growth. But as we do so, we
are expected to live as anshei kodesh, human beings who sanctify our
lives through the Torah.
This
concept lies at the heart of Shavuos. On this Yom Tov, we
celebrate not only the giving of the Torah, but the idea that Hashem gave it to
us flawed, growing, learning human beings. The Torah wasn’t given in the
heavens, but here on earth. It wasn’t meant only for the spiritually elite, but
for everyone: the busy parent, the student, the worker, the neighbor, the
friend. Torah is a guide for life in this world, for people who strive to
elevate the physical through the spiritual.
In
fact, the Gemara points out something unique about Shavuos. While
there is a machlokes regarding how other Yomim Tovim should be
divided between spiritual pursuits (laShem) and physical enjoyment (lochem),
on Shavuos, “hakol modim deba’inan nami lochem—all agree that
there must be an element of lochem, of physical enjoyment.” This is not
a contradiction to holiness, but a celebration of it. On Shavuos, we
demonstrate that even our physical desires can be influenced, refined, and
uplifted by the Torah.
Chazal (Pesikta Zutrasa, Va’eschanon)
teach us: “Chayov adam liros es atzmo ke’ilu mekabel Torah miSinai,”
every person is obligated to see themselves as if they are receiving the Torah
today. We are all familiar with this directive regarding Yetzias Mitzrayim.
In fact, a central theme of the leil haSeder is to perceive ourselves as
if we were let out of Mitzrayim. On Shavuos, we need to view ourselves
as if we are receiving the Torah.
Imagine
if today were the day you stood at the foot of Har Sinai.
Imagine
hearing the voice of Hashem, the thunder, the lightning, and the indescribable
awe as the Aseres Hadibros echoed through the universe. Imagine feeling
your neshomah and entire being rise, connecting to something far greater
than yourself. Imagine walking through the wilderness, day after day, step by
step, growing closer to your purpose, until you are finally standing at that
mountain and hearing the truth that would change everything.
Now
imagine your life without Torah. No mitzvos. No davening. No Shabbos
or Yom Tov. No purpose, no anchor. Just an endless cycle of busyness and
noise - meals, meetings, work, posts, clips, chats. A life filled with motion,
but lacking meaning.
Then
imagine discovering Torah for the first time
- today. Imagine being invited to learn Hashem’s word, to feel
its depth, to live by its values. Imagine being given the opportunity to lead a
life that has eternal meaning, clarity, and light. How grateful would you feel?
How inspired would you be?
That’s
what Shavuos invites us to experience. Not as a memory, but as a living
moment.
Hayom
hazeh nihiyeisa le’am.
This is the day. Today, we are once again receiving the Torah. Today, we
recommit ourselves to living as anshei kodesh.
Yes,
we face distractions. Yes, it’s hard to concentrate on tefillah, to
carve out time for learning, to push back against a world that often seems to
pull us in every direction. But that’s the point. Torah wasn’t given to malochim.
It was given to us. To human beings with struggles and limitations, but with
souls capable of greatness.
Holiness
is not a contradiction to humanity. It’s our potential.
Let
us embrace it. Let us live it. Let us become, once again and always, anshei
kodesh.
Hayom
hazeh! Today
and every day. Despite the degeneration of the world, despite the struggles we
experience with every tefillah and the challenge of concentrating fully
when we learn, despite the many forces competing for our attention and time, we
have a new Kabbolas HaTorah.
Human
shortcomings are but a hindrance that we can overcome.
There
was once a time, not so long ago, when reverence for Torah was instinctive,
deeply rooted in the hearts of even the simplest Jews. It wasn’t taught through
slogans or campaigns. It was lived. It pulsed through communities, shaping
their values, their choices, and their relationships with those who carried the
torch of Torah.
In
the town of Volozhin, this reverence was visible and tangible. Before each new zeman
began, townspeople would gather at the train station, awaiting the arrival of
the yeshiva bochurim. They didn’t come to observe. They came to serve.
Competing for the chance to pull wagons loaded with the talmidim and
their luggage, they saw honor in serving those who toiled in Torah.
When
the famed Volozhin Yeshiva made a siyum upon completing a masechta,
it wasn’t only the students who celebrated. The entire town felt the joy. Local
tradesmen would make their way to the yeshiva to take part in the simcha.
But they didn’t come as honored guests. They came as waiters.
At
the celebratory meal, it was these upstanding members of the community who
moved from table to table, serving food to the bnei hayeshiva. And when
the celebration ended, they stayed behind to clean up. This wasn’t done
begrudgingly. It was done with pride, with love, and with a sense of profound
privilege. They may not have known every daf, but they knew what it
meant to honor Torah. They set aside time to learn what they could and
cherished those who spent their days and nights learning.
Today,
we hear stories like this and we smile. There’s a sweetness to them, a charm
that feels almost quaint. But more than that, they are windows into a world
that understood something deep and eternal. A world that recognized the
holiness of Torah and the people who bear its burden. A world that viewed
service not as subservience, but as sacred opportunity.
Stories
such as this one are not just nostalgic vignettes. They are a call to remember
who we are and what we value. They are gentle reminders of a world that was,
and of a world that we can, and should, strive to recreate.
Shavuos
is a time to
refocus on what Torah means to us and on how blessed we are to be able to spend
time by a Gemara or Chumash or Shulchan Aruch, surrounded
by more talmidei chachomim and yeshiva bochurim than there
have been since the days of Sura and Pumpedisa.
We
open our arms wide and accept the Torah just as those who came before us have
done for thousands of years. We cherish its words, raising our children and
helping guide them to see the honey under each letter.
It
is who we are and what we are about. Our lives revolve around it. It is Torah.
With
our feet dragging through the dust of life, temptations, parnossah and
health challenges, we persist in walking with our eyes on Him and on His Torah,
knowing that it is meant for us, to give us the tools to climb higher.
Modim
anachnu loch shesamta chelkeinu m’yoshvei bais hamedrash. Thank You, Master of the
universe, for allowing us to have a connection with Torah, to have tasted the
truest joy of all.
We
are the most blessed people, living in a blessed time. Let us show Hashem, our
families and ourselves that we appreciate all that we have been given to be
able to realize our purpose in this world.
Let
us demonstrate that we are worthy of all that we have and use what Hashem has
given us to enhance our own lives and those of our families and those around
us. Let us show through our actions that we strive to become holier and better.
On
Shavuos and throughout the year, we are called to draw closer to the
Torah by learning more, by learning deeper and understanding better. To engage
with Torah in a way that stirs our hearts and touches our souls, bringing us
back to that sacred moment at Har Sinai, where everything began. To perform mitzvos
with love, happiness and precision.
When
the Bnei Yisroel gathered to receive the Torah and proclaimed, “Naaseh
v’nishma,” 600,000 malochim descended from heaven and placed two
crowns upon each person, one for naaseh and one for nishma. These
were not just symbols of acceptance. They were testaments to our greatness,
potential, and deep-rooted connection to Hashem.
But
then came the sin of the Eigel. In its aftermath, 120,000 angels of
destruction came and removed the crowns. It appeared as though the radiance was
lost, the holiness withdrawn, the glory stripped away.
Rav
Dovid Cohen, rosh yeshivas Chevron, offers a deeply comforting insight
in his Beiurei Chochmah (p. 75), quoting the teachings of the Leshem.
The malochim, he explains, only removed the crowns that adorned our
physical bodies, our guf and chomer. The spiritual crowns, the
ones embedded in our neshamos, our inner essence, were never taken. They
remain, even now, resting within our souls, quietly shining.
We
may not fully understand the depth of this mystical teaching, but one thing is
clear: the kedusha inside us was never erased. Despite mistakes, despite
pain, despite all we’ve been through, we are still crowned. We are still holy.
That spark remains intact.
And
so, we must stop saying that we’re not capable of reaching those heights. We
must stop believing that holiness is out of reach, reserved for others but not
for us. It is not true. We were at Har Sinai. Our neshamos were at Har
Sinai. We carry that memory in our spiritual DNA. We carry those crowns within
us.
Especially
now, after all the challenges we’ve endured, it is time to rise. To remember
who we are. To believe in what we still hold inside.
Let
us show that we are more than resilient, that we are sacred. We are strong, we
are good, and, yes, we are holy. We are an am kadosh comprised of anoshim
kedoshim, looking to improve, to rise, and to fulfill our mandates of being
anshei kodesh.