The kaleidoscope of magical feelings of that night shaped my relationship with my grandfather, and through him, God. The night before Pesach 1965, I woke up in an unfamiliar bed in my grandparents' home, and began wandering the silent and dark house. Tentacles of light and soft drops of sound reached out from beneath my grandfather's study door, and drew me closer to crack it open to see what lay within, what was for me, the holiest place in the world. He was gently swaying before an ancient book, obviously on a different plane of existence. Mesmerized, I sat down at the door watching what I believed was an other worldly apparition. The next thing I remember was my grandfather carrying me in his arms and tucking me back into bed.

When I woke up in the morning, I lay in bed savoring the moment when I found myself in my grandfather's arms, realizing that this man who travelled to other worlds was still my grandfather with the same scratchy beard and familiar smell. I learned that he could soar to secret heavens and still be my Zaidy. The holiest person was still a person. He did not live his special relationship with God at a remove from being a regular grandfather to a little boy.

It was that night that allowed me to feel God, Who was at least as ancient as my grandfather, to hold me in His arms even when I felt my soul soaring in prayer. I can't imagine what the adults experienced at Revelation, but I suspect that the children who went to sleep confused by the powerful experiences at Sinai woke up remembering their parents carrying them from the mountain in familiar arms back to the camp. The world had changed yesterday, yet, they woke up to the same smell of fresh Manna and brewing coffee. The world changed in unknown ways, but all else, from their Moses superhero pajamas to breakfast, remained the same. They too learned that a holier world does not remove us from the familiar.

The adults too needed an anchor. God sent Moses down from the mountain at the very moment that Revelation began: the people needed their au fait leader to stand with them, allowing them a connection with the familiar as they heard God's otherworldly voice.

The camp of this week's portion was the familiar that warmly anchored the people even as they leapt from one intense experience to the next. The camp was not a mass gathering in Citi Field Stadium with assigned seating. Moses counted the people one by one before the camp was mapped out. The individual meetings with Moses were designed to allow each person to become familiar with his soul, his potential, his role in life.

Revelation was not intended to offer a different existence. It was not a rejection of the familiar world. It was God's gift to allow us to live as extraordinary human beings in the world in which we are comfortable. Revelation was a master lesson in using the familiar to discover our internal greatness.

I wish you a Shabbat and Shavuot in which all the familiar sensations, smells, tastes and touch, offer opportunities to connect with our majestic potential.

Rabbi Simcha L. Weinberg
President 
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