The holiday of Shavuot, the Jewish Pentecost, celebrated fifty days after Passover, is perhaps the most forgotten of Jewish holidays today. At first glance, this can be explained simply: it is not associated in popular memory with distinctive ceremonies or rituals. Passover is linked to the search for leavened bread by candlelight, to matzah (unleavened bread), and to the traditional Seder meal during which children sing, “Ma nishtaná ha-láyla ha-zé mi-kól ha-leylót?” (“Why is this night different from all other nights?”). During Sukkot (the Feast of Tabernacles), Jews purchase special plants that they wave during holiday prayers. They also dwell in sukkahs, temporary huts, exposed to rain and cold. On Rosh Hashanah, the New Year, the sound of the shofar—the ram’s horn recalling the binding of Isaac—resounds, awakening us from spiritual slumber. Shavuot, however, is not tied to any such rituals, and it seems this is why so many Jews overlook it.
Two centuries ago, a British statesman admired the tenacity of the Jews, exiled from the Holy Land for nearly two millennia. “Determined to celebrate the harvest festival for so many centuries despite their exile, they deserve to return and resume its celebration in their own country.” These words were spoken by Lord Beaconsfield, also known as Benjamin Disraeli, one of the most famous Jewish converts to Christianity. In truth, his view of Shavuot was Protestant, rather than Jewish. It was based on a literal reading of Scripture, where Shavuot is called “hag ha-katzir“—the “Feast of Harvest.” In Judaism, the interpretation of the Pentateuch, and more broadly Jewish education and jurisprudence, are based on the Oral Torah. In contrast, Protestants, beginning with Martin Luther, take a literal approach to the Bible—Luther himself was the first to translate it into German to make it accessible to ordinary Christians. It is this literal reading of biblical prophecies, particularly regarding the return of Jews to the Holy Land, that explains the support of millions of evangelical Christians for Zionism and the State of Israel.
Jewish tradition, however, interprets the Feast of Harvest as the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai, where God instructed Moses for forty days. Rabbinic Judaism gave momentum to the Oral Torah after the Romans destroyed the Second Temple nearly two millennia ago. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, a witness to Jerusalem’s fall, was a founder of Rabbinic Judaism. In the final days of the Second Temple, he urged the Zealots—Jerusalem’s fearless defenders—to submit to Rome. He shot an arrow with a message to the Roman troops stationed outside the city walls: “I am among the emperor’s admirers.” He had to flee Jerusalem, hidden in a coffin, as the Zealots forbade Jews from leaving the city. Tradition holds that he received Roman permission to teach Torah in Yavneh, a small town southeast of Jerusalem. His legacy is one of devotion to Torah rather than a tenacious fight for political independence.
The Talmud not only approves of his stance but also links it to Jeremiah’s attempts to prevent bloodshed five centuries earlier, when he called on his countrymen to lay down their arms and surrender to Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon. Jeremiah declared it was God’s will for Jerusalem and the First Temple to fall to atone for the Hebrews’ sins. He was immediately branded a traitor—and not only was the Temple destroyed, but thousands of Jerusalemites were killed.
Another pillar of Rabbinic Judaism is Judah the Prince (135–219), known for compiling the Mishnah, the first written record of the Oral Torah. Tradition says he was forced to commit it to writing as Jewish dispersion threatened its transmission from teacher to student. The Talmud recounts that Judah the Prince was a close friend of the Roman Emperor Antoninus. Once again, the Talmud highlights the positive relations with Roman authorities maintained by the two leading figures of Rabbinic Judaism, who established the foundations of its transmission. Centuries later, the Italian rabbi Ovadia Sforno (1470–1550) continued to condemn advocates of armed struggle: “Had the rebels listened to Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, the Temple would not have been destroyed.” Given the central role of Temple memory in Jewish worship, this rebuke carries great weight.
The prayer recited on Shavuot, as well as on Passover and Sukkot, not only describes how Jews used to pilgrimage to Jerusalem during Temple times but also reminds us that the Exile continues: “And because of our sins, we were exiled from our land.” This prayer is recited not only in Paris or Moscow but also in Jerusalem, for the concept of Exile is primarily spiritual, unrelated to one’s postal address—it refers instead to the world’s incompleteness and imperfection. Thus, Rabbinic Judaism emphasizes that the Torah embodies the unity of time and space, becoming not just a “portable homeland” but the collective birthplace of the Jewish people.
Like Sukkot, which lasts seven days and culminates in Shemini Atzeret (the “Eighth Day of Assembly”), Shavuot—celebrated after 49 (7×7) full days from Passover—can be seen as its “conclusion” (atzeret). The Talmudic sages saw Shavuot as deeply connected to Passover, extending and completing it. The Counting of the Omer does not separate Passover from Shavuot but binds them together. Moroccan Jews preserve some matzah after Passover and eat it on Shavuot with milk and honey, which, according to the Pentateuch, flowed in the Promised Land. Honey cakes and sweets, given to children when they begin Torah study, are also part of Ashkenazi Shavuot traditions. Several commentators also see an allusion to the Torah verse “milk and honey are under your tongue” (Song of Songs 4:11).
Accepting the Torah requires preparation. This is the spiritual meaning of the counting of the Omer, which Jews observe between Passover and Shavuot. Jewish tradition transforms the biblical agricultural significance of this commandment to seeking moral and spiritual growth. There are even guidebooks dedicated to self-improvement in anticipation of Shavuot.
During these forty-nine days, many communities study the Mishnaic tractate Pirkei Avot, which lists the moral qualities every Jew should cultivate. This same tractate defines a wise person as one who can learn from anyone, a strong person as one who masters their passions, and a rich person as one who is content with what they have. Another Oral Torah source, Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, defines a strong person as one who can turn an enemy into a friend.
In other words, while an external enemy—Pharaoh—disappears on Passover (thanks to divine intervention rather than a “national liberation movement”), moral teachings should guide Jews in confronting internal enemies like base desires, bad habits, complexes, and other weaknesses. It is this effort that defines Jews as a community dedicated to Torah. We have already noted that even though the Torah often highlights Israel’s transgressions and neglect of divine commandments, the definition of a Jew remains invariably tied to the Torah as the source of law and life rules. It is this commitment to divine commandments that should make Jews a “kingdom of priests.” The possibility of conversion to Judaism also shows that Jews are not an exclusive club whose members are “chosen by blood.” The concept of chosenness in Judaism reflects responsibility toward fulfilling the Covenant. This chosenness vanishes when a Jew abandons their religious obligations.
Traditionally, the Jews are defined as the community of adherents of Judaism—those committed to the Torah and its commandments, a group with a unique way of life, both spiritually and materially. Jewish identity, if we may use this anachronistic term for the time, consists of religious and tribal dimensions, often intertwined throughout human history. The question arises: Do Jews belong to the same “people”? An insightful answer is provided by the Israeli philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz (1903–1994):
“The historical Jewish people were defined neither by race, nor by a specific country or political framework, nor even by a common language, but as the people of the Torah and its commandments—a people with a unique way of life, both spiritually and practically, expressing acceptance of the yoke of Heaven, the yoke of Torah and its commandments. This consciousness exerted its effect from within the people. It was their national essence, preserved through generations, maintaining their identity across time and circumstance. The statement made by Saadia Gaon over a thousand years ago—’Our nation is only a nation by virtue of the Torah’—was not normative but empirical. It acknowledged a historical reality whose force was felt until the 19th century.”
It is this consciousness that shaped generations and preserved a sense of Jewish identity through often difficult times.
Yet, from the 19th century onward, a divide emerged between Judaism and Jewishness, which has only widened since—especially with the official adoption of “Jewish nationality,” first in the USSR and then in Israel, a concept unknown in most other countries. Both the Yevsektsiya (Jewish section of the Communist Party in the Soviet Union) and Zionist pioneers sought to eradicate religion to create, respectively, a “New Jew” and a “New Hebrew.”
Shavuot marks the transition from external freedom to internal freedom. The Oral Torah recounts a strange conversation on the eve of the Revelation at Mount Sinai. The angels, aware that God was about to give the Torah to the Israelites, tried to stop Him so they could receive it instead. God then invited Moses to respond to the angels. He did so… with a question: “Why do you need the Torah? Are you tempted by theft? Do you struggle with idolatry?” God approved of this reasoning and gave the Torah not to the angels—celestial automatons—but to humans, known for their inclination toward sin.
At the moment of Revelation at Sinai, one is said to reach an exceptional peak of sensory perception—”seeing the sounds” (Exodus 20:18)—and a high degree of spirituality. Maintaining such a level is not easy; one must strive to harmonize the sublime with the mundane, bridging religious consciousness and daily life. After all, Judaism is not limited to Sabbath rituals and holidays, nor is it practiced only in the synagogue. Its commandments cover all aspects of life, from the kitchen to the bedroom, from shopping to casual conversation.
The responsibility imposed by the Torah is immense. Some deem it strange and outdated. This is why it is not just the lack of memorable rituals, like those of Passover, but above all the reluctance to assume this responsibility that explains why so many Jews today overlook Shavuot.
Yakov M. Rabkin is Professor Emeritus of History at the Université of Montréal. His publications include over 300 articles and several books: Science between Superpowers, A Threat from Within: a Century of Jewish Opposition to Zionism (there exists a Turkish edition), What is Modern Israel?, Demodernization: A Future in the Past and Judaïsme, islam et modernité. His most recent book on Israel and Palestine has appeared in French, Japanese and Spanish, and is to be published in English in Fall 2025. He did consulting work for, inter alia, OECD, NATO, UNESCO and the World Bank.
He studied Judaism at religious institutions and in private sessions with rabbis in Montreal, Baltimore, Paris and Jerusalem. In Israel he frequented Yeshivat Dvar Yerushalaim, Machon Pardes, Shalom Hartman Institute, Beth Morasha as well as weekly classes with Rabbi Yosef Kapah. He has grown closer to the Sephardic community in Montreal and has written a few articles about Sephardic approaches to modernity. In 1988, at the request of Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz he took part in organizing the first yeshiva to be founded in the Soviet Union.
E-mail: [email protected]
Website: www.yakovrabkin.ca
The holiday of Shavuot, the Jewish Pentecost, celebrated fifty days after Passover, is perhaps the most forgotten of Jewish holidays today. At first glance, this can be explained simply: it is not associated in popular memory with distinctive ceremonies or rituals. Passover is linked to the search for leavened bread by candlelight, to matzah (unleavened bread), and to the traditional Seder meal during which children sing, “Ma nishtaná ha-láyla ha-zé mi-kól ha-leylót?” (“Why is this night different from all other nights?”). During Sukkot (the Feast of Tabernacles), Jews purchase special plants that they wave during holiday prayers. They also dwell in sukkahs, temporary huts, exposed to rain and cold. On Rosh Hashanah, the New Year, the sound of the shofar—the ram’s horn recalling the binding of Isaac—resounds, awakening us from spiritual slumber. Shavuot, however, is not tied to any such rituals, and it seems this is why so many Jews overlook it.
Two centuries ago, a British statesman admired the tenacity of the Jews, exiled from the Holy Land for nearly two millennia. “Determined to celebrate the harvest festival for so many centuries despite their exile, they deserve to return and resume its celebration in their own country.” These words were spoken by Lord Beaconsfield, also known as Benjamin Disraeli, one of the most famous Jewish converts to Christianity. In truth, his view of Shavuot was Protestant, rather than Jewish. It was based on a literal reading of Scripture, where Shavuot is called “hag ha-katzir“—the “Feast of Harvest.” In Judaism, the interpretation of the Pentateuch, and more broadly Jewish education and jurisprudence, are based on the Oral Torah. In contrast, Protestants, beginning with Martin Luther, take a literal approach to the Bible—Luther himself was the first to translate it into German to make it accessible to ordinary Christians. It is this literal reading of biblical prophecies, particularly regarding the return of Jews to the Holy Land, that explains the support of millions of evangelical Christians for Zionism and the State of Israel.
Jewish tradition, however, interprets the Feast of Harvest as the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai, where God instructed Moses for forty days. Rabbinic Judaism gave momentum to the Oral Torah after the Romans destroyed the Second Temple nearly two millennia ago. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, a witness to Jerusalem’s fall, was a founder of Rabbinic Judaism. In the final days of the Second Temple, he urged the Zealots—Jerusalem’s fearless defenders—to submit to Rome. He shot an arrow with a message to the Roman troops stationed outside the city walls: “I am among the emperor’s admirers.” He had to flee Jerusalem, hidden in a coffin, as the Zealots forbade Jews from leaving the city. Tradition holds that he received Roman permission to teach Torah in Yavneh, a small town southeast of Jerusalem. His legacy is one of devotion to Torah rather than a tenacious fight for political independence.
The Talmud not only approves of his stance but also links it to Jeremiah’s attempts to prevent bloodshed five centuries earlier, when he called on his countrymen to lay down their arms and surrender to Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon. Jeremiah declared it was God’s will for Jerusalem and the First Temple to fall to atone for the Hebrews’ sins. He was immediately branded a traitor—and not only was the Temple destroyed, but thousands of Jerusalemites were killed.
Another pillar of Rabbinic Judaism is Judah the Prince (135–219), known for compiling the Mishnah, the first written record of the Oral Torah. Tradition says he was forced to commit it to writing as Jewish dispersion threatened its transmission from teacher to student. The Talmud recounts that Judah the Prince was a close friend of the Roman Emperor Antoninus. Once again, the Talmud highlights the positive relations with Roman authorities maintained by the two leading figures of Rabbinic Judaism, who established the foundations of its transmission. Centuries later, the Italian rabbi Ovadia Sforno (1470–1550) continued to condemn advocates of armed struggle: “Had the rebels listened to Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, the Temple would not have been destroyed.” Given the central role of Temple memory in Jewish worship, this rebuke carries great weight.
The prayer recited on Shavuot, as well as on Passover and Sukkot, not only describes how Jews used to pilgrimage to Jerusalem during Temple times but also reminds us that the Exile continues: “And because of our sins, we were exiled from our land.” This prayer is recited not only in Paris or Moscow but also in Jerusalem, for the concept of Exile is primarily spiritual, unrelated to one’s postal address—it refers instead to the world’s incompleteness and imperfection. Thus, Rabbinic Judaism emphasizes that the Torah embodies the unity of time and space, becoming not just a “portable homeland” but the collective birthplace of the Jewish people.
Like Sukkot, which lasts seven days and culminates in Shemini Atzeret (the “Eighth Day of Assembly”), Shavuot—celebrated after 49 (7×7) full days from Passover—can be seen as its “conclusion” (atzeret). The Talmudic sages saw Shavuot as deeply connected to Passover, extending and completing it. The Counting of the Omer does not separate Passover from Shavuot but binds them together. Moroccan Jews preserve some matzah after Passover and eat it on Shavuot with milk and honey, which, according to the Pentateuch, flowed in the Promised Land. Honey cakes and sweets, given to children when they begin Torah study, are also part of Ashkenazi Shavuot traditions. Several commentators also see an allusion to the Torah verse “milk and honey are under your tongue” (Song of Songs 4:11).
Accepting the Torah requires preparation. This is the spiritual meaning of the counting of the Omer, which Jews observe between Passover and Shavuot. Jewish tradition transforms the biblical agricultural significance of this commandment to seeking moral and spiritual growth. There are even guidebooks dedicated to self-improvement in anticipation of Shavuot.
During these forty-nine days, many communities study the Mishnaic tractate Pirkei Avot, which lists the moral qualities every Jew should cultivate. This same tractate defines a wise person as one who can learn from anyone, a strong person as one who masters their passions, and a rich person as one who is content with what they have. Another Oral Torah source, Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, defines a strong person as one who can turn an enemy into a friend.
In other words, while an external enemy—Pharaoh—disappears on Passover (thanks to divine intervention rather than a “national liberation movement”), moral teachings should guide Jews in confronting internal enemies like base desires, bad habits, complexes, and other weaknesses. It is this effort that defines Jews as a community dedicated to Torah. We have already noted that even though the Torah often highlights Israel’s transgressions and neglect of divine commandments, the definition of a Jew remains invariably tied to the Torah as the source of law and life rules. It is this commitment to divine commandments that should make Jews a “kingdom of priests.” The possibility of conversion to Judaism also shows that Jews are not an exclusive club whose members are “chosen by blood.” The concept of chosenness in Judaism reflects responsibility toward fulfilling the Covenant. This chosenness vanishes when a Jew abandons their religious obligations.
Traditionally, the Jews are defined as the community of adherents of Judaism—those committed to the Torah and its commandments, a group with a unique way of life, both spiritually and materially. Jewish identity, if we may use this anachronistic term for the time, consists of religious and tribal dimensions, often intertwined throughout human history. The question arises: Do Jews belong to the same “people”? An insightful answer is provided by the Israeli philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz (1903–1994):
“The historical Jewish people were defined neither by race, nor by a specific country or political framework, nor even by a common language, but as the people of the Torah and its commandments—a people with a unique way of life, both spiritually and practically, expressing acceptance of the yoke of Heaven, the yoke of Torah and its commandments. This consciousness exerted its effect from within the people. It was their national essence, preserved through generations, maintaining their identity across time and circumstance. The statement made by Saadia Gaon over a thousand years ago—’Our nation is only a nation by virtue of the Torah’—was not normative but empirical. It acknowledged a historical reality whose force was felt until the 19th century.”
It is this consciousness that shaped generations and preserved a sense of Jewish identity through often difficult times.
Yet, from the 19th century onward, a divide emerged between Judaism and Jewishness, which has only widened since—especially with the official adoption of “Jewish nationality,” first in the USSR and then in Israel, a concept unknown in most other countries. Both the Yevsektsiya (Jewish section of the Communist Party in the Soviet Union) and Zionist pioneers sought to eradicate religion to create, respectively, a “New Jew” and a “New Hebrew.”
Shavuot marks the transition from external freedom to internal freedom. The Oral Torah recounts a strange conversation on the eve of the Revelation at Mount Sinai. The angels, aware that God was about to give the Torah to the Israelites, tried to stop Him so they could receive it instead. God then invited Moses to respond to the angels. He did so… with a question: “Why do you need the Torah? Are you tempted by theft? Do you struggle with idolatry?” God approved of this reasoning and gave the Torah not to the angels—celestial automatons—but to humans, known for their inclination toward sin.
At the moment of Revelation at Sinai, one is said to reach an exceptional peak of sensory perception—”seeing the sounds” (Exodus 20:18)—and a high degree of spirituality. Maintaining such a level is not easy; one must strive to harmonize the sublime with the mundane, bridging religious consciousness and daily life. After all, Judaism is not limited to Sabbath rituals and holidays, nor is it practiced only in the synagogue. Its commandments cover all aspects of life, from the kitchen to the bedroom, from shopping to casual conversation.
The responsibility imposed by the Torah is immense. Some deem it strange and outdated. This is why it is not just the lack of memorable rituals, like those of Passover, but above all the reluctance to assume this responsibility that explains why so many Jews today overlook Shavuot.
Yakov M. Rabkin is Professor Emeritus of History at the Université of Montréal. His publications include over 300 articles and several books: Science between Superpowers, A Threat from Within: a Century of Jewish Opposition to Zionism (there exists a Turkish edition), What is Modern Israel?, Demodernization: A Future in the Past and Judaïsme, islam et modernité. His most recent book on Israel and Palestine has appeared in French, Japanese and Spanish, and is to be published in English in Fall 2025. He did consulting work for, inter alia, OECD, NATO, UNESCO and the World Bank.
He studied Judaism at religious institutions and in private sessions with rabbis in Montreal, Baltimore, Paris and Jerusalem. In Israel he frequented Yeshivat Dvar Yerushalaim, Machon Pardes, Shalom Hartman Institute, Beth Morasha as well as weekly classes with Rabbi Yosef Kapah. He has grown closer to the Sephardic community in Montreal and has written a few articles about Sephardic approaches to modernity. In 1988, at the request of Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz he took part in organizing the first yeshiva to be founded in the Soviet Union.
E-mail: [email protected]
Website: www.yakovrabkin.ca
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