What is the Torah? I thought I knew. The Torah was revealed at Mount Sinai.
The Written Torah is the Five Books of Moses.
The Oral Torah is Mishnah and Talmud, Halachah and Aggadah.
The Torah is the words of the holy commentators, down to this very day.
What is the Torah? Is the answer not obvious? The Torah is what we study. The Torah is the Divine word.
Or so I thought.
“Word” implies content.
I was gifted a different level of understanding of the Torah when I was robbed of the ability to study the Divine word.
When Mishnah and Talmud were absent.
When the Five Books of Moses were absent.
When I could not access the content of the Torah.
When I could not muster the strength to ponder it.
When I could not grasp even its surface meaning, let alone penetrate to its deeper meanings.
When I was ill, I discovered a new meaning of Torah that I had never known.
“Meaning” is the wrong word.
I discovered that even when I could not grasp the meaning in the Torah, even on the simplest level, the
Torah could envelop me. Could elevate me. Could connect me.
To my Creator.
I discovered that within the letters of the Torah, even before they formed into words, and within the words of the Torah, even when I had no strength to fathom them — the holiness of the Torah resided in them, and
I could access this holiness merely by seeing the Torah.
The Torah’s holiness reaches across every barrier.
Merely by the existence of the words of Torah, their Author touched me simply for having scanned His words.
I discovered that beneath even the simplest understanding of a verse of Torah, or of a passage in the Talmud, the Divine Presence hovers.
I discovered that merely by looking at the letters of a verse in Psalms, an Aggadah in Talmud, a line in the prayer book, a phrase as simple and seemingly empty of meaning as “Rabbi Akiva said . . . ,” the infinite warmth of the Torah reached me.
I discovered that even with no kavanah in prayer — because I was too weak to pray — that with no understanding of any verse — because I was too weak to grasp it — the Torah embraced me.
I discovered that there is an overwhelming Presence in the Torah that is accessible simply by being alive; that the words and letters and phrases of the holy writ of Torah encircled me and caressed me, just for their very existence.
I discovered the timbre of the Torah. The substratum of the Torah.
I discovered that as a Jew goes through life he or she may be unaware of how organically and ceaselessly the Torah is a cosmic companion.
Even when I could once again understand the words, could struggle with the reasoning in the Talmud, could sing the prayers, I knew that however inadequately I understood the words, however unsuccessfully I followed the Talmud’s logic, however distractedly I recited the prayers, they penetrated me.
They were there for me.
They did not leave me.
They enlightened and comforted me.
They spoke to me.
What is the Torah?
The Torah is the revelation of the infinite caring of the Creator.
Not only on Shavuot. Not only in the dramatic moments. But after Shavuot.
Always.
