In Search of 1 Can Heaven and Earth Really Meet

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And it was on the third day, when morning came, that there was thunder and lightning, and a thick cloud upon the mountain, and the sound of the shofar exceedingly loud; and the entire people within the camp trembled. And Hashem came down upon Mount Sinai, on the top of the mountain. And Hashem called Moshe to the top of the mountain, and Moshe ascended.

(Shemos 19:16–20)

The most momentous event in history took place in the presence of two million men, women, and children—as well as the neshamos of all future generations. Ever since, the event has been marked on our calendar as Shavuos, zeman mattan Toraseinu, the time of the giving of our Torah.

But the Torah we received at Sinai had already been in our possession for many generations. Our ancestors studied and fulfilled the entire Torah even before it was given, observing its every law and ordinance— including eiruv tavshilin! Nothing new was given to us on Har Sinai.

What, then, was so momentous about this day?

Where Two Worlds Meet

To understand this, let’s turn to the following Midrash:

Once there was a king who decreed that the people of Rome were forbidden to go down to Syria, and the people of Syria were forbidden to go up to Rome. Likewise, when Hakadosh Baruch Hu created the world, He decreed and said: “The heavens are the heavens of Hashem, and the earth He has given to mankind.” But when He wished to give the Torah to Bnei Yisrael, He rescinded His original decree and declared: “The lower realms may ascend to the higher realms, and the higher realms may descend to the lower realms. And I Myself will begin, as it is written, “And Hashem descended on Mount Sinai,” and then it says, “And to Moshe He said, ‘Go up to Hashem.’”

(Midrash Tanchuma, Va’eira 15; Midrash Rabbah, Shemos 12:4)

Mattan Torah marked an entirely new phase in the history of the universe, explains Rav Moshe Shapiro. Until that time, spirituality and physicality were two entirely different realms: “The heavens are the heavens of Hashem, and the earth He has given to mankind.”

There were two realms akin to Rome and Syria mentioned by the Midrash. The people of Rome belonged in Rome, and the citizens of Syria belonged in Syria. The spiritual belonged in the hidden realms, which was cut off from the physical world. And the physical world was just that—limited, finite, and material, with no connection to the sublime and the transcendent.

At Sinai, Hashem rescinded the decree that had severed the heavens from the earth. Hashem tore apart the heavens: In a display that shook the physical world—a sound-and-light extravaganza of thunder, lightning, and shofar blasts—Hashem “descended” in the cloud. And while Hashem descended, Moshe ascended the mountain. For the first time ever, there was a meeting place between man and Hashem.

At Sinai, Hashem revoked the decree that had confined matter and spirit to two distinct realms. He came down on Har Sinai, bringing the spirituality of the heavens down to earth. And He summoned Moshe to the top of the mountain, empowering physical man to raise his physical self and the world at large to a higher state of existence. The Torah could now sanctify physical life.

It was a meeting place that would forever change the shape of reality.

Two Stages of Reality

There are two different pesukim that reflect these two stages of reality.

In Tehillim, we read:

הַַשָָּׁמַַיִִם שָָׁמַַיִִם לַַה’ וְְהָָאָָרֶֶץ נָָתַַן לִִבְְנֵֵי אָָדָָם.

The heavens are the heavens of Hashem, but the earth He gave to the children of man.

(Tehillim 115:16)

There are two distinct domains, the pasuk tells us. There is Shamayim, which contains everything spiritual. And then there is earth, the realm of physicality. That’s the place where mankind—and all of physical reality—belongs.

But the navi Yeshayah paints a very different picture:

כֹֹּה אָָמַַר ה’ הַַשָָּׁמַַיִִם כִִּסְְאִִי וְְהָָאָָרֶֶץ הֲֲדֹֹם רַַגְְלָָי אֵֵי זֶֶה בַַיִִת אֲֲשֶֶׁר תִִּבְְנוּ לִִי וְְאֵֵי זֶֶה מָָקוֹם מְְנוּחָָתִִי.

Thus said Hashem :The Heaven is My throne, and the earth is My footstool. Where could you build a house for Me? What place could serve as My abode?

(Yeshayah 66:1)

In this pasuk, Heaven and earth are part of one whole, just as a footstool is an appendage to a throne. Hashem’s light is enwrapped and expressed even in a dimension that seems far, far away. His endless light can suffuse and animate even this opaque world of dimensions and physical reality. No wonder the second part of the pasuk refers to building a house for Hashem: it is only in this condition that His presence can manifest on earth.

Let’s explore this further.

Who Am I?

So far we’ve understood that a fundamental change happened to the world at Har Sinai. The world became a place that could be a container for Hashem’s presence. It could be suffused with light. Cow hide is not just leather, it can become tefillin, which brings down a stream of divine consciousness into this physical word. Food isn’t just fuel for the body: it’s Hashem’s love wrapped up and ingested, and as we recite a bracha over it, it encompasses our gratitude for all that He does—a genuine celebration of the way we bond Heaven and earth.

How far does this go?

On Shavuos, we read the incredible haftorah from Yechezkel, where he tells of his glimpse of Heaven.

וּמִִמַַּעַַל לָָרָָקִִיעַַ אֲֲשֶֶׁר עַַל רֹֹאשָָׁם כְְּמַַרְְאֵֵה אֶֶבֶֶן סַַפִִּיר דְְּמוּת כִִּסֵֵּא וְְעַַל דְְּמוּת הַַכִִּסֵֵּא דְְּמוּת כְְּמַַרְְאֵֵה

אָָדָָם עָָלָָיו מִִלְְמָָעְְלָָה.

Above the expanse that was over their heads was the semblance of a throne, like the appearance of a sapphire stone, and on top, upon this semblance of a throne, there was the semblance of a human form.

(Yechezkel 1:28)

This is a startling pasuk. The highest place possible, the Kisei Hakavod, and what was there? Mareh adam—the likeness of man. Chazal and the mefarshim go to great lengths to explain this. 

The Malbim explains that at his essence, man is formed in the likeness of Hashem—b’tzalmo u’bidemuso. He contains all Hashem’s middos, all His attributes and traits, within him and so can be likened to the Creator. Moreover, man is considered an olam katan, a microcosm of the universe: just as Hashem governs all of creation—the greater world—through His attributes (known as the Sefiros), and He is essentially the soul of the universe, so does the human soul govern its body, the olam katan. In this way man mirrors the Divine in this world.

The Malbim offers a mashal to demonstrate this:

A person can’t stare at the sun. Not only would the brightness blind him, but the intensity of the light takes away the possibility of seeing and identifying the sun. But what can a person do? He can look in the mirror and see the sun. Through the reflection, he can grasp an inkling of the very source of light.

The same is true of mankind. We can’t know Hashem. What we can do, though, is to recognize Him through His creation. We can find Hashem in the tiny microcosm that Hashem created from the highest of places and sent down to the most distant of destinations.

We can receive a glimpse of the Divine through mankind.

The Pinnacle of Creation

The Midrash highlights a powerful question regarding this pasuk from Yechezkel:

Rabbi Yudan said, “Great is the power of the prophets, who liken the image of the Almighty to the form of man, as it says, ‘And I heard the voice of a man’ (Daniel 8:16).” Rabbi Yudan bar Rabbi Simon said, “We have another pasuk that is even clearer than this one: ‘And upon this semblance of a throne, there was the semblance of a human form’ (Yechezkel 1:26).”

(Bamidbar Rabbah 19:4)

The Maharal asks:

Usually, we say that man is like Hashem [as in: “In the image of Hashem He created man”]. But here the prophets compare Hashem to man. That is why the Midrash states, “Great is the power of the prophets, who liken the creation to its Creator.”… The Midrash wants to emphasize the greatness of prophetic power—so that the prophets liken the form—the image—to the One who created it. This is unlike the pasuk that states, “In the image of Hashem, He created man” (Bereishis 9:6), where man is compared to the Creator—because it is the way of analogy to compare the lesser to the greater. But when the greater is likened to the lesser—as in “like the

semblance of a human form”—that is why it says, “Great is the power of the prophets.”

(Derech Chaim 3:14:9)

The Maharal discusses a Midrash that praises the boldness of the neviim in describing Hashem in human-like terms, as epitomized by the phrase from the pasuk in Yechezkel: “there was the semblance of a human form,” comparing the image of Hashem to the form of man, rather than the opposite. The novelty here is that Hashem is described using human imagery—something that reverses the normal direction of metaphor (where the lesser is likened to the greater).

This reversal is what the Midrash considers a remarkable prophetic feat—one that highlights the unique stature of the human being, whose form and qualities are used to symbolize the Divine. And, as the Maharal points out, only a prophet can do that.

The vision described in Yechezkel was one of the greatest prophecies of all times: Yechezkel was granted a glimpse of the Divine chariot, what is known as Ma’aseh Hamerkavah. It’s a nevuah that is set aside to be studied by the greatest mekubalim. And what is found there?

“K’mareh adam—the semblance of a human form.”

Human? What place does a human being have in this mystical and exalted experience?

But that is exactly the point.

The Maharal emphasizes that even Hashem’s revelations to the neviim were couched in terms of the human form—because the human form is the most exalted image available to convey spiritual truths. To describe Hashem using any other creature or form would be a diminution. The boldness of the neviim lies in using the highest form in creation—the human—to metaphorically portray the Divine.

With these words, “k’mareh adam,” Yechezkel shows us the incredible place that mankind has in creation. Humanity is not merely a part of creation like all other creations—it is its culmination, the being in whom Heaven and earth meet and through whom the Divine is made known.

To be an adam is to carry the structure of the universe within and to reflect Hashem’s middos in miniature. No wonder that humanity is the crown and pinnacle of creation—not only as the last being created, but as the one who can help us to find Hashem’s endless light.

Infant’s Milk

When we say that mankind is the pinnacle of creation, it would be easy to assume that we’re talking about great spiritual giants: people of incredible caliber in learning or mesirus nefesh, those faced with unspeakable challenges who cling to their emunah and find a way through.

What about normal, regular people? What about people like you and me?

On Shavuos, Rav Yosef would say: “Prepare me a third-born calf….” And he said: “Were it not for this day, how many Yosefs would there be in the marketplace!” (Pesachim 68b).

For Rav Yosef, Shavuos was an intensely personal day. It was the day he received meaning as an individual. What does this mean?

When we look at Rav Yosef’s personal biography, we can find one way to understand his intense connection to Shavuos.

Rav Yosef became very ill and forgot all his Torah knowledge (Nedarim 41a). A sage without Torah knowledge seems like a contradiction in terms. If a talmid chacham has forgotten his learning, then surely he loses his identity as a talmid chacham. Who, then, was Rav Yosef after his devastating illness?

On Shavuos, we received the first set of the luchos, which were then broken. And yet these luchos retained their holiness and were given a place next to the second set of luchos in the Aron. On Shavuos, Torah became more than knowledge, than an intellectual understanding that could be gained or lost. It became something that we are. Hashem’s light suffused our souls and transformed us.

Torah knowledge or not, Rav Yosef was still Rav Yosef—because of the gift of mattan Torah. Because Heaven was split open and Hashem’s light enveloped the earth.

In fact, Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev teaches: “When Hashem Himself said ‘Anochi Hashem Elokecha’ and ‘Lo yiheyeh lecha,’ the words were imprinted in the heart of every Jew, so that even the most ordinary Jew will give up his life for kiddush Hashem” (Kedushas Levi, Yisro).

Perhaps this is one of the reasons we consume milk products on Shavuos. It reminds us that we can regress all the way back to infanthood, to little babies who drink milk, yet we are still Hashem’s nation who received the Torah at Sinai. Which means that we are carriers of Hashem’s majesty, by virtue of our very essence, through the gift of Shavuos.

Being at Har Sinai changed who we were. It shaped our character, changed our inner world, imbued us with the strength and capacity to change the world.

Why do we have a mitzvah to remember mattan Torah? Why are we obligated to remember what happened at Har Sinai? It’s not just one command; it’s emphasized again and again: take utmost care, don’t forget, don’t let it fade from your heart, and you should actively tell your children and grandchildren about it.

Because in doing so, we remember who we are. We remember that we are people of emunah, for whom the existence and constancy and goodness of Hashem are the core of who we are. And we can’t be separated from that, because then we will be cutting ourselves off from our deepest selves.

Duality and Dialogue

Now we return to our meeting of worlds.

The Midrash notes, “Why was the world created with the letter beis? Because it is the language of berachah” (Bereishis Rabbah 1:10).

The letter beis has the gematria of two, the number of relationship. In contrast to alef, which is one and represents unity or the Divine alone, beis (2) implies two entities in a relationship. That is the essence of blessing: it requires a giver and a receiver, a world and a soul, Creator and creation, Hashem and humanity.

That the beginning of creation is marked with beis signals that the world is meant to be a space of relationship. We were placed here to take two and make it one—to see the duality of Heaven and earth and find the Oneness of the Creator. To find ourselves, the I, and then enter into a relationship with our Creator. The heavens belong to Hashem— and in the heavens, there is the image of the demus adam, everything that we can be, everything that we have been created to become, when we embrace the beis: berachah, gratitude, bonding.

To become I, to step into the fullness of who we are, is the gift of Shavuos. On this day, not only was emunah imprinted on our souls, but it enabled us to be people who can be the merkavah for the Shechinah. We are people of paradox: we experience the world through our five senses; we are acutely aware of our physical needs. At the same time, we are filled with longing to be more, to be uplifted, to be filled with the joy of Hashem’s love and light. We are the one creation who can consciously choose to turn existence into blessing, to live life as a dialogue with the Divine.

The world begins not with an alef, but with a beis—not with solitude, but with relationship. Beis, the letter of berachah, of blessing, is the first letter of the Torah, signaling that creation itself is an invitation to give and receive, to live not in isolation, but in connection.

This is the purpose of creation: our union of Heaven and earth, of neshamah and guf, Creator and creation.

And in this endeavor we find the true dignity of the human being: in our capacity for relationship, in our ability to utter blessing, and to turn the ordinary acts of eating, working, living into moments of connection.

This Shavuos, may we be zocheh to accept the Torah, and in doing so reconnect to the I—to what it means to stand at the pinnacle of creation. And from that space, from that perspective, to see the world as a place of bonding and berachah, of relationship and light, and to be the one to elevate the world and receive Hashem’s gifts with gratitude.