In describing Moshe's descent from the mountain with the second set of luchos, the Torah famously informs us that Moshe was unaware that "karan ohr panav" - his face had become radiant (34:29).

The Midrash (Shemos Rabbah #47) is puzzled by the origin of these "karnei hod," rays of splendor, and questions where this radiance came from. While a number of answers are suggested - each one fascinating - I want to focus on the final answer given in the Midrash.

"Ad she'haya kasav be'kulmus,"while writing (the Torah) with a quill, "nishtayer kimah," some ink was left over, "ve'he'eviro al rosho,"and he passed it over his head, "u'mimenu na'aseh karnei ha-hod,"and from that the rays of splendor were created. In other words, Moshe's radiance was the result of the left-over ink from the quill with which he wrote the Torah.

This is a remarkable Midrash and a vivid metaphor, but its ultimate meaning remains mysterious. Why was there extra ink and what does it have to do with Moshe's "rays of splendor"?

The Ohr Ha-Chayim explains that the quill was filled with exactly the right amount of ink necessary to complete the Torah as Hahsem had intended it to be written but, shockingly, Moshe made a slight change to the Torah text. When writing the words, "Ve'ha-ish Moshe anav me'od mikol ha-adam asher al pe'nei ha-adamah" (Bamidbar12:13), the man Moshe was exceedingly humble (anav), more than any man on the face of the earth,Moshe spelled theword "anav" differently than usual and omitted the letter yud. In his humility, Moshe could not bring himself to write the word in its complete form and it was that little bit of extra ink which was the source of Moshe's radiance.

Thus understood, the Midrash is highlighting Moshe's exceptional humility - from among all of his other wonderful middos - as the source of the "karnei hod."

This should serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of the middah of anavah. Almost by its very nature, humility is often underappreciated when people consider the various character traits which they want to work on and, as a result, many fall prey to the opposite character trait, ga'avah, arrogance.

And it isn't only true the brilliant, rich, or famous. The reality is that many of us are arrogant even when we know that there is no rational basis for our arrogance. One of the great "Mussar Masters" used to enjoy telling the following fable: "When I get to Heaven," he said, "they'll ask me, why didn't you learn more Torah? And I'll tell them that I am slow-witted. Then they'll ask me, why didn't you do more kindness for others? And I'll tell them that I am physically weak. Then they'll ask me, why didn't you give more to charity? And I'll tell them that I didn't have enough money. But then they'll ask me: if you were so stupid, weak, and poor, why were you so arrogant? And for that I won't have an answer." (Climbing Jacob's Ladder, pp. 90-91)

However, beyond a lack of appreciation for the importance of anavah, perhaps the most common obstacle to following Moshe's example is simply a misunderstanding of the true meaning of humility.

Far too many people have a notion similar to something I once saw quoted from a Church sermon, "The supreme height of spiritual loveliness is to be lovely and not to know it."

I think that this is the conventional understanding of humility; we must deny our own talents and accomplishments and any awareness of our own "loveliness" is in and of itself a mark of arrogance.

This is actually a profound error and the reason is simple: It is inconceivable that anavah come at the expense of emes; we don't barter honesty for humility. We are called upon to strive for truth in all areas of our life and this includes being honest with ourselves. Furthermore, to deny that God's gifts is the ultimate ingratitude.

In fact, humility, true anavah, is the awareness that Hashem is the ultimate source of one's talents and success and that those gifts have been given to us to be used for a constructive purpose.

The Kotzker Rebbe used to illustrate this point with an observation about, of all things, Har Sinai, the very mountain that Moshe was descending when his greatness radiated for all to see.

The Talmud (Sotah 5a) notes that the Torah was given on Har Sinai because it was a low mountain and more "humble" than other mountains. This should teach us, the Talmud continues, to be similarly humble if we want to "receive" the Torah.

But if that's the intended lesson then why not give the Torah on flat land or in a valley? If we are supposed to learn about anavah why use a mountain at all? The Kotzker explains that this teaches us that humility is not supposed to come at the expense of greatness or accomplishment. We should all strive to become "mountains" but even if so, we should humbly understand the source and purpose of our talents and blessings. Humility doesn't obligate us to deny the truth of our gifts and success. On the contrary, humility requires us to acknowledge that these berachos come from Hashem and to use them accordingly.

Similarly, when the Torah says that Moshe was the most humble of men, it doesn't mean that he was oblivious to his own abilities or accomplishments. It means that Moshe was constantly aware that all of his achievements were the result of the Ribbono Shel Olam's munificent kindness.

This was the awareness that Moshe possessed, this was the awareness that was the ultimate source of his radiant greatness, and this is the awareness that is required of all of us.