Turns out, according to some pretty amazing stories, it wasn't as simple as just saying "yes."
Before that earth-shattering covenant, before the words were etched in stone, Moses, our teacher, read the entire Torah aloud to the people. Think about that for a moment. He wanted to make sure everyone knew exactly what they were signing up for, what they were taking upon themselves. And, just so we’re clear, this wasn’t a one-time deal. The covenant was renewed in the desert of Moab, again by Moses, and then a third time by Joshua on Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal after entering the Promised Land.
Even though the people were enthusiastic, God, in a way, hesitated. "Shall I just hand over the Torah?" He asked, according to the Legends of the Jews. "No, bring Me guarantors, bring Me bondsmen who will ensure you observe it. Then, and only then, will I give you the Torah."
The Israelites, bless their hearts, offered their ancestors. "Our fathers are bondsmen for us!" they declared. But God wasn't convinced. He replied, "Your fathers are My debtors! Abraham questioned Me ('Whereby shall I know it?'), showing a lack of faith! Isaac loved Esau, whom I hated! And Jacob didn't immediately fulfill his vow upon returning from Padan-Aram!" Ouch.
So, they tried again. "Our prophets shall be our bondsmen!" they suggested. But God, again, wasn't having it. "I have claims against them, for 'like foxes in the deserts became your prophets,'" He retorted, citing the prophet Ezekiel (Ezekiel 13:4). It seemed like nothing was good enough.
Finally, the Israelites offered their children. "We will give Thee our children as bondsmen!" This…this finally got God’s attention. "Well, then," He said, "these are good bondsmen. On their bond, I will give you the Torah."
Can you picture the scene? According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, the Israelites brought their wives, babes in arms, and even their pregnant wives. And then…something incredible happened. God made the bodies of the pregnant women transparent, like glass. He spoke directly to the children in the womb.
“Behold, I will give your fathers the Torah," God said. "Will you be surety for them that they will observe it?" And, incredibly, the children answered, "Yea!" He continued, "I am your God." They answered, "Yea!" "Ye shall have no other gods." They said, "Nay!"
In this way, every commandment was met with a "Yea," and every prohibition with a "Nay." The Midrash Rabbah tells us that these unborn children served as the ultimate guarantors. It was on their promise that God gave us the Torah.
But here’s where it gets…sobering. As it was the little children upon whose bond God gave His people the Torah, it comes to pass that many little children die when Israel does not observe the Torah. A chilling thought, isn't it? A reminder of the weight, the responsibility, that comes with this gift. A gift given based on the pure, unblemished promise of the yet-to-be-born.
So, what do we do with this story? Is it a literal account? A symbolic one? Perhaps it's both. It speaks to the profound connection between generations, the immense responsibility we have to uphold our covenant, and the enduring power of even the smallest voices. The voices of our children.