In Sifrei Devarim, we find this little gem: "Much to you dwelling in this mountain." It sounds straightforward. Like a simple acknowledgement of gratitude. But, as always, there’s more than meets the eye. The text is talking about the Israelites’ long stay at Mount Sinai after the Exodus from Egypt.
What exactly did they gain from their time at the mountain? The text lists a whole bunch of things! First and foremost, it was there that they accepted the Torah, the five books of Moses, upon themselves. Talk about a life-changing moment! That alone is reason to celebrate their time there.
But the benefits didn't stop there. God appointed seventy elders to help Moses lead the people. A whole system of governance was established, with "officers of thousands, officers of hundreds, officers of fifties, and officers of tens" bringing order to the Israelite camp. We also saw the creation of the Mishkan, that portable sanctuary, the precursor to the Temple in Jerusalem. God’s presence dwelled there!
So, dwelling at the mountain was a good thing. A time of immense spiritual growth, of receiving the Torah, and establishing a community. Seems pretty clear-cut.
But then comes the twist. Sifrei Devarim also offers an alternate reading: "dwelling at this mountain is bad for you." Wait, what? How can the same experience be both a blessing and a curse?
Perhaps the time at Sinai became too comfortable. Maybe the Israelites lingered too long, basking in the glow of divine revelation. The text implies that idleness is a problem. As it concludes: "Turn, pick yourselves up and come - idleness is bad [as well]." It’s as if the text is saying, "Okay, you've had your spiritual retreat. Now it’s time to get moving! Time to take what you've learned and apply it to the world." Sometimes, we get stuck in our comfort zones, clinging to the familiar, even when it’s time to move on. We might stay in a job too long, or hold onto old habits, or remain in relationships that no longer serve us. We might tell ourselves we are still "dwelling on the mountain" when really we are just afraid to move on.
The message is clear: revelation is powerful, but it’s only the beginning. The real work comes in taking that revelation and using it to build a life of meaning and purpose. The mountain can be a place of incredible transformation, but it's not meant to be a permanent home. We have to eventually pick ourselves up and go.
So, what's your mountain? What's the place, or situation, where you've received great blessings but might be lingering a little too long? And what's your call to "turn, pick yourselves up, and come?" It’s something to ponder, isn't it?