Devarim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Deuteronomy, tackles this very question. It starts with a verse from Proverbs (2:1): "My son, if you take my sayings and store my commandments with you." But what does it truly mean to "take" God's sayings?
Rav Huna, quoting Rav Aḥa, offers a powerful analogy. Imagine, he says, God telling Israel: "Don't let My Torah be for you like a person who has an adult daughter and seeks to marry her off to just anyone!" In other words, don't treat the Torah as something God is just trying to get rid of, giving it to whoever happens to be around. Instead, treat it as something precious, something you have to toil to acquire.
Why this emphasis on effort? Because according to this midrash, true understanding and connection with Torah aren't just handed out; they're earned. "If you will have merit," the text implies, "you will receive My Torah." Even the angels desired it, but it wasn't simply given to them!
The text then refers to Psalms (68:13): "The kings of hosts flee again and again." The midrash interprets these "kings" as angels. "And the wives [unvat] at home divide the spoils," the psalm continues. The angels, according to this interpretation, questioned God: "Master of the universe, the beauty [hanaya] that You have in the upper worlds, are You distributing it in the lower worlds?" The implication? The Torah is a treasure, not to be given away lightly.
And what about storing God's commandments? Rabbi Abba bar Kahana explains that if we store Torah and mitzvot (commandments) for God in this world, God will store a good reward for us in the World to Come. It's an investment, a reciprocal relationship. As Psalm 31:20 says, "How great is the goodness You have in store for those who fear You."
Rabbi Yehuda bar Shalom offers another perspective: "When are you called My children? It is when you take My sayings." He compares it to a king whose son wants to be recognized. The king says, "Wear my purple garment and place my crown on your head, and everyone will know that you are my son." Similarly, engaging in Torah study and mitzvot is how we show, and solidify, our connection with the Divine.
Rabbi [Yehuda HaNasi] brings us back to the Israelites in the wilderness. He describes the pillar of cloud, the smoke rising from the altar, and the sparks of fire that miraculously cleared the path of serpents and scorpions. The nations around them, witnessing these wonders, exclaimed, "These are gods; all their functioning is only with fire!" But Moses clarifies that all this goodness was a direct result of receiving the Torah at Sinai.
Moses then reminds them of the "great masot" they witnessed in Egypt, referring to the plagues. The text explains that masot means plagues that "dissolve" [memisot] the bodies of Egyptians. The "signs" left impressions, like blood, frogs, and lice. And the "wonders [vehamofetim]" were that the plagues "enticed [mefatot]" the Egyptians, meaning they hardened their hearts. Despite periods of relief, they refused to change their ways.
So, what's the takeaway from all of this? The Torah isn't just a gift freely given; it's a relationship that requires effort, commitment, and a willingness to "take" God's sayings seriously. It's about recognizing the immense value of this inheritance and actively engaging with it. And perhaps, in that effort, we not only receive the Torah, but we also become something more ourselves – children of the Divine, connected to something far greater than ourselves.
What does it mean for you to "take" God's sayings? How can we treat the Torah as a precious treasure to be earned, rather than something simply handed to us? Maybe the answer lies in the effort itself, in the journey of learning and growing, and in the commitment to a lifelong relationship with the Divine.