Benjamin Disraeli, the renowned prime minister of the Victorian Era, is often credited with the creation of the British Empire. Though of Jewish lineage, and having been baptized, he nonetheless still suffered from those prevalent anti-Jewish attitudes of his time. Once, when he was locked in bitter debate in Parliament, his opponent, in the heat of argument, lost his Anglo-Saxon composure and remarked,

We cannot really accept seriously what Disraeli says;
after all, he is a descendent of Jews.

My dear sir, while your ancestors were still naked savages grunting about the Cliffs of Dover, mine were standing at the foot of Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments.

the most decisive leap forward
ever discernible in human history.

The Bible writers certainly thought so! Because the Bible is filled with theophanies-a fancy word for the temporal manifestation of God to men and women involving visible or audible elements that signal God's real presence.

Let me make it clear.

Remember George Burns in Oh God? Well, there were several theophanies in that enjoyable movie in which God suddenly shows up to talk with a grocery clerk played by John Denver.

We read of Biblical theophanies all the time in Scripture. Throughout our people's history, we have always thought of ourselves as a called people. And it was not a wordless call. We read-

God spoke to Abraham and said. . . .

And God spoke to Moses out of the burning bush. . . .

Alas, none of this is "on tape," and we sophisticates are often moved to dismiss it all as but the quaint imaginings of primitive people. Some just relegate it to the weird world of disordered minds who "hear" voices and who "see" things.

Remember how in Shaw's play, Saint Joan, the cynical King of France attempted to belittle Joan of Arc, taunting:

Oh, your voices, your voices!
Why don't I hear any voices?

You would, if you listened.

For instance, the medieval French commentator and Biblical exegete, Rashi, insisted that God never again revealed Himself, and never would, in the way revelation took place at Sinai. Says Rashi, it was a one-time event, and all you and I can do is to learn from it and live its lessons.

The direct opposite is expressed by the Maharal, Rabbi Judah Loew of 16^th century Prague. In his commentary Derech Chayim, devoted to the Pirke Avot, the Sayings of the Fathers, Rabbi Loew asks why it says

Moses received the Torah from Sinai

And the Maharal explained:

Had it said that Moses received the Torah from God, we might conclude that only Moses was uniquely qualified to hear God's voice; the use of Sinai as symbol implies that just as Mt. Sinai is available to anyone who would climb its heights, so will the Divine word become accessible to anyone who earnestly strives to hear it still!

I like that interpretation, though I wouldn't want to mislead you. It's not a simple thing, or a necessarily painless process by which we hear God's voice in our lives.

I know very well that for many of you, it is too unscientific or difficult to accept a belief in Divine revelation. Many of you struggle with God's existence, let alone speech! This whole notion that God speaks which, for us is, of course, a physical action implying the use of mouth and voice, is quite at variance with our belief in an incorporeal, invisible Creator.

And yet, I confess to you that I cannot believe in a God who spoke once and forever after took a vow of silence; that as one writer put it, "God stopped speaking after His Book went to press."

I found this unattributed quote in my files, simply marked "from the book, On hearing the Word." I like what this author teaches us:

God's voice is not heard easily.
People begin to listen when they work at
their jobs, when they play, when they suffer,
when they think, when they reach-with
their whole body and mind and soul and listen.

To hear the soft voice of God in a
little child, or that Awful Word of God in
death, or that beautiful voice of God in
love, or that comforting word of God in
pain, requires nothing less than one's
entire strength.

Mozart described this so well, and no, you don't have to be a genius like Mozart to understand it. He elaborated upon this wondrous process in these words. Says Mozart:

When I am, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone. . . My ideas flow best and most abundantly. Whence and how they come I know not, nor can I force them. . . . All this fires my soul . . . What has thus been produced, I do not easily forget; and this is perhaps the best gift I have my Divine Maker to thank for.

I feel the stirring of a gift divine;
Within my bosom glows unearthly fire,
Lit by no skill of mine.

Blessed are You O God. . . who chose us from among all nations and gave us the Torah.

Baruch atah Adonai, Notain Ha torah.

Blessed are You O Lord, giver of the Torah.

Perhaps Rabbi Sidney Greenberg, in a modern meditation, suggests some of the best answers:

Through the dew that sparkles on the morning grass,
The million stars that shine on high,
You speak to us anew.

Through the ocean waves beating against the silent shore,
The mountains raising their heads to the sky,
You speak to us anew.

Through the tiny seeds that become mighty oaks,
The newborn infant who grows and matures,
You speak to us anew.

Through the orderly march of the seasons of the year,
The unfailing regularity with which day follows night,
You speak to us anew.

Through the love within us so tender and strong,
The urge to become more than we are,
You speak to us anew.

Through the miracle of our bodies so marvelously fashioned,
The mystery that points to realms yet unknown,
You speak to us anew.

Through the ability to fashion things of lasting beauty,
To sing new songs, to dream new dreams,
You speak to us anew.

Through the dark despair that yields to the light of hope,
The pain that time softens and turns into gain,
You speak to us anew.