Vayikra Rabbah, the great Midrash on the Book of Leviticus, dives right into this question with a startling statement. It says that a Torah scholar without sense – meaning, without wisdom or understanding beyond just knowledge – is worse than a carcass. Harsh, right? But the text isn't trying to be cruel. It's trying to wake us up.
The Midrash uses Moses, no less, as its example. Think about it: Moses, the father of wisdom, the father of the prophets! This is the guy who led Israel out of Egypt, performed countless miracles, split the Red Sea, ascended to heaven, and brought down the Torah itself! He oversaw the building of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, a portable sanctuary for God.
Yet, even he didn't just barge into the Kodesh Kodashim, the Holy of Holies, the innermost chamber of the Tabernacle. No. God called to him first. "He called to Moses, and the Lord spoke" (Leviticus 1:1).
The Midrash contrasts this with another moment of divine encounter: the burning bush. Remember that scene from Exodus 3:4? "The Lord saw that he turned to see; [God called to him from the midst of the bush, and He said: Moses, Moses]." At the burning bush, there's an interruption, a pause, between the call and the speech. But in the Tent of Meeting? No interruption. It’s a direct line.
Why the difference? The Midrash uses a powerful analogy: a king.
Imagine a king who's furious with his servant and throws him in prison. When he wants to send a message regarding that servant, he does so through an emissary, and he speaks to that emissary outside the prison walls. He doesn't want to get too close. He commands the emissary from afar, rather than calling the emissary in to him, because the incarcerated individual is not dear to the king.
That’s how it was with Israel in Egypt, the Midrash suggests. God spoke to Moses from a distance.
But in the Tent of Meeting, things are different. It's like a king who's overjoyed with his children, and his whole household is filled with joy. When he needs to communicate with someone about his children, he pulls them close, speaks intimately. He brings the emissary inside, treating them with the utmost affection, as if they were sitting on his lap, like a son.
That’s why the Torah emphasizes, "He called to Moses, and the Lord spoke to him." It’s not just about communication; it’s about intimacy, about a deep and abiding relationship.
So, what does this all mean for us? It means that Torah study, knowledge, even great accomplishments, aren't enough on their own. We need sechel, sense, understanding, wisdom – that spark of connection, that sense of intimacy with the Divine. Without it, we're like that scholar the Midrash describes – missing a crucial piece. We can know all the rules, all the stories, but without that deeper connection, are we truly understanding what it means to be in relationship with God?
It's a challenge, and a beautiful one at that. How do we cultivate that sense of intimacy? How do we move from knowing about God to truly knowing God? That, my friends, is a journey worth taking.