Yitro 5774 - English

By Rabbi Rami Pavolotzky
B´nei Israel Congregation, Costa Rica

What is valuable is not the vessel, but its content

This week’s parashah brings us the story of the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai.  Without a doubt, it is one of the highpoints of the biblical story, perhaps the most intense approach between God and man throughout the entire history of humanity.  God reveals Himself before the people of Israel, in order to offer it what will be their guide and most valuable treasure: the Torah.  The laws and teachings included in the Pentateuch light up the path of the Jewish people until the present day.

Nowadays, when somebody wants to celebrate a great act, a transcendental and impressive event, one of the first things that need to be done is to find the perfect place to do so.  The places where important announcements are made, large celebrations, political or cultural acts of the highest level are done, are not randomly chosen but handpicked for their landscape beauty, meaning, and value.

Let us think, then, about the giving of the Torah: which place would have been worthy of this act?  In modern terms, maybe we could think of a huge public park, full of meaning and beauty; or perhaps a great classic theater or a beautiful architectural site.  In ancient terms, it could have been in front of the Nile River and the splendor of ancient Egypt, or at one of the holy places, such as those where God spoke with Abraham.  If the divine purpose was to put together a “great show” for such a great event, the place selected should have been very special.

However, God determined that the Torah should be given in the wilderness, or more exactly, at a mount in the desert.  If you think about this for an instant, the wilderness is a place where life tends to be hard and difficult, it is not an attractive place to be on; during the day, the heat is stifling, whereas at night, the cold lurks about.  It does not offer a nice view, wind and sand are certainly dangerous, and when all is said and done, it is a place where solitude and death can be met around every corner.

Why, then, did God choose the wilderness to deliver the Torah?  Wasn’t there a better place?  Couldn’t He wait for the people of Israel to reach the beautiful Mediterranean beaches, or the majestic mountains of the central part of Israel?  Why did the most important event in the entire Torah story have to occur precisely in the wilderness?

The answers to this classic question are many and varied, but I would like to comment here on just one of them.  According to a Midrash, God chose the desert because He wanted human beings to appreciate the Torah for its own glory, and not for the ornaments surrounding it.  What is important about the Torah does not lie in what covers it, but in what makes it up.

If we understand this Midrash in a broad sense, we can apply it to the relationships between human beings: a person, ultimately, should not be judged by his/her outward appearance, but by his/her inner qualities.  Though we are often judgmental (or prejudiced) about people for the way they dress or look, only if we get to know them really well can we judge them adequately.  No one is what he/she pretends to be, but what he/she does, says, and feels.  As is written in the Pirke Avot, we should not look at the vessel but at its content: a good container does not mean a good product, nor a bad external aspect discredit whatever is inside.

A Talmudic story can help us understand this idea:

It is said that the daughter of a Roman emperor once approached a Jewish sage who showed a rustic and disheveled appearance, and asked him: “Why did God place so much wisdom inside such an ugly vessel?”

The wise man answered with another question: “Where do you store your wine?”

“In vessels made out of clay,” was the answer.

“But, why don’t you store it in gold containers, which would be more appropriate for delicious wine?

The princess considered this for a moment, and decided that it was good advice.  She immediately ordered the wine to be transferred from the clay vessels to gold containers.  A few weeks later, during a party, the servants poured the wine out of the new and bright vessels.  The guests, however, suffered a great surprise, for the wine tasted sour.  The gold vessels, which looked so magnificent on the outside, were not useful for keeping the wine in good conditions.

The next day, the princess went to the sage’s home and asked him about what had happened.  The wise man replied: “The clay vessels seemed unworthy, but kept the wine sweet and pleasant, something that the bright gold vessels were unable to do.  Similarly, you should not judge your fellow men by their looks, for appearances can be deceitful.”

In these times when fortunes are spent to improve our looks, when a good appearance can be seen as the supreme value, we should remember that our worth does not lie on our appearance but rather on what we are.  We should not judge people prejudiced by their dress or looks, but struggle to get to know them better, beyond their outward appearance.

An orchard does not necessarily store riches, but the arid dessert can be the crib for the most precious treasure: the Torah.  In like manner, a person can own great internal riches, even when their outward looks are very different from the models used in advertisements.  Perhaps that was why the Torah was given in the wilderness: to teach us that we should not value it for its location or external beauty, but for its true and extraordinary wealth, which is its content.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Rami Pavolotzky

B´nei Israel Congregation, Costa Rica