This incredibly challenging year highlighted a remarkable element of our shul, and I am sure other shuls too. Beth Jacob Congregation has a diverse membership of several hundred families, and we initially thought that COVID had completely broken apart the community with members distanced, quarantined, and isolated. Over the course of the year, however, we realized that while it was unquestionably difficult to be unable to join together in regular fashion to daven, learn, do chesed, and support one another through our physical presence, the community was still going strong. It was truly special to see how people were going above and beyond to be there for each other in creative and new ways. 

Davening, learning and personal growth continued, demonstrating the resilience and commitment of our members. An example of this inspiring commitment: a member of our shul walked 25 minutes to shul every Shabbat morning, even during the weeks the campus was closed, because Shabbat for him meant walking to shul! 

With all its devastation, COVID taught us that our shul is not only a physical space but a spiritual home without walls that gives us a feeling of belonging, wherever we might be. It became more evident that the hallmark of a shul is the creation and nurturing of relationships — with Hashem and His Torah, with Israel, with shul clergy and one another — and these connections are more valued than ever. 

In a certain sense, then, COVID compelled us to rethink the notion of community and its place in our lives. As we emerge slowly from the pandemic and have the unique opportunity to rejuvenate our kehillot, perhaps it would be helpful to go back to the basics and reexamine why being part of a community is so central to being Jewish. 

In tefillah and kiddush, we describe Shavuot as “zman matan Torateinu”— the time when the Torah was given to the Jewish people at Har Sinai. A fundamental principle of our tradition1 is that Jews throughout the generations — including all of us living in the 21st century — are obligated to observe the mitzvot based on that original acceptance over 3,300 years ago. 

We could wonder how it is that future generations are legally bound to a transaction they did not consent to. How can there be an execution of a covenant with people who haven’t yet been born?

A well-known mystical tradition2 suggests that all Jewish souls throughout the generations were present spiritually at Har Sinai, when we all committed ourselves to the Torah. Another answer offered by the commentaries is that our obligation today is based on the halachic principle of zachin l’adam shelo b’fanav — we can confer a benefit upon someone even in their absence. The Jews at Har Sinai accepted the Torah, the ultimate privilege, on our behalf. 

The Maharal of Prague3 develops a different answer by explaining the unique character of our covenant with Hashem. Hashem says to Moshe at the burning bush that, “I have seen the affliction of the Jews because I have known their sufferings (machovav).” The Rabbis in the Medrash interpret “machovav” to be the suffering and pain the Jews will cause Hashem when we falter. “I am fully aware of the future rebellions of Israel and nevertheless, I will not refrain from saving them.” 

What are the mechanics of this guarantee that Hashem will be there for us even if we are not worthy? The Maharal explains that Hashem entered into a covenant with Avraham not as an individual but rather in his capacity as founder of the nation. Indeed, several generations later, Hashem entered into a brit (covenant) with the Jews not as individuals but as a collective entity. This helps us understand, writes the Maharal, how the covenant made at Sinai can bind present and future generations. Since the brit is with Klal Yisrael as a nation, anyone born into the nation automatically becomes obligated in the covenant. 

Moreover, because it is a covenant with the collective, if a group of Jews sins or even a generation is unworthy, this will not nullify the relationship. We weren’t chosen because of our unique merits and we therefore cannot forfeit it through misdeeds. Of course, we’re all obligated to observe the Torah to the best of our ability and the level of Divine providence we receive is a function of our behavior. But whatever our level of commitment, the covenant itself is eternal and the special relationship we have with Hashem endures. This is true is because the brit was not made with individuals, which would have made it dependent upon individuals’ behavior, but with a nation, Am Yisrael, unconditionally. 

This new understanding of the covenant teaches us that the core identity of every individual Jew, for each of us, is that we are part of the Jewish people. There is an indivisible entity, with a legal analog of a corporation, called the nation of Israel that spans all the generations, with a covenant that is unbreakable. Our nation’s span is not only vertical, incorporating every single generation, but also horizontal, including every single Jew alive today. 

While we have individual responsibilities, we are bound by a collective covenant, with this dual commitment impacting the way we pray (in plural), how we do teshuva (“aval anachnu v’avoteinu chatanu” — “we and our forefathers have sinned”) and triggers a responsibility to identify with the needs of the Klal, the nation, the community. 

The Rambam4 writes that “haporesh midarchei hatzibbur” — “a person who separates himself from the ways of the community … even though he has not committed any sins but merely disconnects himself from community members, who doesn’t perform mitzvot together with them and doesn’t identify with community challenges … loses his portion in the world to come.” With striking language, the Rambam indicates that shorn of the framework of community, there is no concept of Torah and mitzvot! Even if you fastidiously fulfill all the mitzvot, if you don’t identify with the tzibbur, if you don’t share in the sorrow of the Jewish people, if you don’t actively get involved to help others, if you are on your own, then your Jewish identity is dreadfully deficient.  

Why is this so? Apparently, since the covenant was with the nation, a person who disregards the broader collective ignores our basic foundation. The Sages emphasize5 the benefits of being part of something bigger than ourselves. This may be because individual revelation posits that one person can fathom the whole truth. Collective revelation and communal religious experience provide both humility as well as checks and balances. Being part of a kehilla provides a measure of moderation for what could otherwise become dangerously unrestrained religious fervor for God, which is what occurred with Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai and his son, Rabbi Eliezer, after their years of solitude in a cave. 

In Judaism, our religious expression needs to be applied to the real world, in society and our human interactions. Judaism teaches us to transcend ourselves and stand with others. In a related sense, Judaism teaches us to transcend ourselves and stand with others. When we become part of something bigger, with each person contributing his or her strengths and talents, it helps us achieve our potential and complete one another. 

This past year, we hopefully gained a new appreciation of our blessings, our relationships, and our community. While our personal, communal, and professional lives radically changed, we discovered new strengths as individuals and new dimensions of communal bonds. 

Shavuot, zman matan Torateinu, is a time to reflect on the covenant established at Sinai with the Jewish nation as a collective, and how this defines our identity as Jews today. As we emerge out of this pandemic, our ability to resume in-person shared religious and social experiences will enable us to only further strengthen our bonds and be there for each other with a renewed sense of purpose. During this season, when we celebrate the spirit of “k’ish echad b’lev echad,”6 we must reaffirm our commitment to the community and the Jewish People. While uncertainty remains and challenges lie ahead, we are firm in our belief that the more we connect with Hashem and the more we attach ourselves to the community, the brighter our future will be.  

Endnotes

1 See Devarim 29:14 and Rashi there.

2 Shmot Rabbah 28:6, Tanchuma Yitro 11.

3 Netzach Yisrael perek 11.

4 Hilchot Teshuva 3:11.

5 For example, Pirkei Avot 1:14, 2:5.

6 Rashi Shemot 19:2, “Vayichan.”