The Torah tells us, "He was there with the Lord forty days and forty nights; he did not eat bread, and he did not drink water. He wrote upon the tablets the words of the covenant, the ten precepts" (Exodus 34:28). But how could a person survive that long without food or water?

That's the question the ancient rabbis grappled with. In Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus, Rabbi Tanhuma shares an idea in the name of Rabbi Elazar ben Rabbi Avin, citing Rabbi Meir: "You went to the city, follow its conventions." It’s like saying, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

Above, on the mountain, where there’s no eating or drinking, Moses ascended and became like the angels. Below, in our world, where we do eat and drink, the angels themselves came down and partook in food when visiting Abraham, as we see in Genesis 18:8: "He stood over them beneath the tree and they ate."

Of course, there's a fascinating discussion about whether the angels actually ate. Rabbi Yohanan suggests they only appeared to be eating, with each bite mysteriously vanishing!

The text then shares a story involving Rabbi Yohanan himself. He was traveling from Tiberias to Tzippori with his student, Rabbi Ḥiya, when he pointed out a vineyard he had once owned and sold. Rabbi Ḥiya was concerned: "Did you not leave anything for your old age?" Rabbi Yohanan replied, "Is it insignificant in your eyes that I sold an item that was created in six days and I acquired an item that was given in forty days?" He was saying that the fleeting pleasures of this world, created in six days of creation, pale in comparison to the eternal wisdom of the Torah, which was given over forty days on Sinai.

So, if Moses wasn't eating bread or drinking water, what sustained him? The text offers a beautiful answer: "He did not eat bread, but he partook of the bread of Torah. He did not drink water, but he drank the water of Torah." He was immersed in the divine wisdom, studying Torah by day and interpreting it by night. This wasn't just for himself, though. It was, the text says, to teach Israel the importance of toiling in Torah both day and night.

There's a debate about the best time for Torah study. Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish encouraged his students to study during the day so that the material would become clear at night. His idea was that you memorize during the day and analyze at night. Rabbi Yohanan, however, felt that Torah study was best undertaken during the day. Yet, even he conceded that "the song of Torah is only at night," referencing verses from Lamentations (2:19) and Proverbs (31:15) that speak of rising at night to sing or seek wisdom.

The Rabbis, striving for balance, instituted study sessions both morning and evening, echoing the verse from Joshua 1:8: "This book of the Torah shall not depart from your mouth, and you shall ponder it day and night." The goal? Constant connection to Torah.

Finally, the text offers one more perspective, a glimpse into the world to come. In this world, Moses abstained from earthly food and drink. But in the world to come, he—and perhaps we—will partake of the true bread and water of Torah. In the meantime, what sustained him on Sinai? He was nourished by the aura of the Divine Presence, the very same sustenance that keeps the heavenly beasts bearing the Throne alive.

It leaves you wondering, doesn't it? What are we truly feeding ourselves with, day and night? And how can we, like Moses, draw closer to the Divine Presence and find sustenance in the Torah's eternal wisdom?