My brother and I were at Sinai
He kept a journal
of what he saw
of what he heard
of what it all meant to him

I wish I had such a record
of what happened to me there
It seems like every time I want to write
I can’t
I’m always holding a baby
one of my own
or one for a friend
always holding a baby
so my hands are never free
to write things down

…If we remembered it together
We could recreate holy time
Sparks flying (1)



I recently visited a school in California where, in preparation for Shavuot, the Rabbi, who lives up the mountainside from the synagogue, dresses up like Moses and walks down the mountain to where the children are waiting at the bottom. I have no doubt that this is one of those experiences that leaves an indelible imprint on these children. But in their book, Understanding by Design, Grant Wiggins and Jay McTighe encourage teachers to consider the enduring understandings - the big ideas that remain with us when all the little details disappear from our memories, the concept we really want children to integrate into their beings. So while actually watching “Moses” come down the mountain, tablets in hand, is exciting and memorable, it is only the framework for the enduring understanding we want children to take with them as they leave early childhood and continue developing their Jewish identities.




In recounting when we stood together at Sinai, receiving the Torah, we are told, “But take utmost care and watch yourselves scrupulously, so that you do not forget the things that you saw with your own eyes and so that they do not fade from your mind as long as you live. Make them known to your children and to your children's children” (Deuteronomy 4:9). Merle Feld’s poem points out that this attention, this memory, is not always possible. How do we reconcile the disparity between our desire to preserve and document a moment, and the reality of fleeting moments and demanding priorities? On a much less spiritual level, we early childhood teachers deal with this dilemma every day. We know that documenting the things that happen in our classrooms – the conversations, the block structures, the group art experiences, and so on – will qualitatively improve the educational experience. When we can take notes and capture moments photographically, then we have the opportunity to make the learning visible to parents and other visitors to the classroom, and enable children to review their own experiences and gain more from them. But we also know that this is often hard to achieve. How do we find the time to consistently listen and record conversations in the dramatic play area, or photograph cooperation in the block area, when other children need to be taken to the bathroom, or snack needs to be set up, or a group of children want to embark on a project that requires both of your hands? It is never easy. Experiences that are reflected on are better remembered, gain more significance in the building of the identity. Consider this: you are on a walk with a friend. As you walk and chat, you see a flowering tree or perhaps a child pushing another child on a swing. You may keep walking, and the image will soon fade. But if your friend stops to comment on the beautiful sight, or the act of kindness, the significance of what you saw will grow, and may have an effect on the rest of your day, or even the rest of your life. We as early childhood educators can become skilled in helping our children reflect on the moments in their lives, by taking notes, photos, or simply by bringing up moments in conversation, and allowing children to reflect and expand. We as Jewish educators can seek out those moments which lead to enduring understandings and serve as building blocks of children’s Jewish identities. Knowing that we can not help children reflect on everything, we can focus on creating reflective opportunities for those experiences that connect children to God, Torah, the Jewish community, Jewish time, and Jewish values.

The Torah tells us, “I make this covenant…not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day…and with those who are not with us here this day.” (Deuteronomy 29:13) We all stood at Sinai. The giving of the Torah was intended for each of our ears. We should each view ourselves as a first hand recipient of the gift of the stories and laws and experience of the Torah. Picture yourself standing at Sinai. Are you young, struggling with a baby on your hip or an old woman at the end of her days? Did you come straight from work with paint shmeared on your pants? There is a question that’s been floating around in popular culture lately (on paper weights, bumper stickers, etc) that asks, “What would you do if you could not fail?” What if the question on the bumper sticker was, instead, “What would you do if the Torah was given straight to you?” How would that change how you retold the stories? How you considered the laws contained within?

When we each envision ourselves standing at Sinai, we can each embark on our own connection to the Torah. Once we as educators have played with the feelings of personally standing at Sinai, we can consider the experience for our children. We want children to have a sense that they, too, stood at Sinai, so that they can take ownership of the Torah, all the stories and the laws. The dramatic experience of “Moses” coming down the mountain to the children waiting at the bottom is wonderful, as long as, built into the children’s overall experience, is the enduring understanding of what exactly Moses is bringing down the mountain with him. A corner stone of a Jewish identity is the foundational belief that each one of us stood at Sinai. Not only on that one cool day the rabbi dresses up, but every time a Torah story is shared, or a mitzvah is enacted, or a Jewish value is labeled and woven into the general fabric of life in the classroom. It all comes back to “This is what Moses brought down the mountain to you.”

We all know basic toddler mentality: What’s mine is mine. What’s yours is mine… We can apply this theory to the Torah. This story is yours. God gave it to you at Mt. Sinai. To you and you and you. Of course, the best way to truly communicate this idea to children is to let them play with the Torah. Throughout the year, the more teachers enable children to retell Torah stories, to question them and fill in the gaps as the rabbis have done for generations, to try on mitzvot, even to question mitzvot, the more children will take ownership of the Torah, and begin to feel that they stood at Sinai. Then when we come to Shavuot, and reenact actually standing at Sinai, children will be able to say, “Of course I stood at Sinai. All of these stories are all ready mine.”

Still, young children are very literal. I remember my nephew coming home from school when he was four and commenting to my sister-in-law, “They told us the story about how we left Egypt. But I don’t remember doing that.” We must carefully consider how we can enable children to experience standing at Sinai, while at the same time, actually use the experience to give children a connection to Torah. In schools where children have been sharing Torah stories all year, the task is a bit easier. Older children, threes and fours who by this time of year are actually fours and fives, can grapple with the texts that connect them to Sinai, such as Deuteronomy 29:13 (quoted earlier in this article) and midrashim such as this one:

When Israel stood to receive the Torah, the Holy One said to them:
I am giving you My Torah.
Bring Me good guarantors that you will guard it and I shall give it to you.
And the people replied:
Our ancestors are our guarantors.
But the Holy One said to them:
Your ancestors are unacceptable to Me,
Yet bring Me good guarantors and I shall give it to you.
Israel then answered:
God, our prophets are our guarantors.
And again God said to them:
The prophets are unacceptable to Me,
Yet bring me good guarantors and I shall give it to you.
The people then responded:
Behold, our children are our guarantors.
And God then gently, and with great hope and love, replied:
They are certainly good guarantors. For their sake I give the Torah to you.
All the generations were present at Sinai, even those yet unborn. From Song of Songs Rabbah 1:4

Then, these children can reflect on all the Torah they’ve learned through the year, discuss how the Torah and midrash place them at Sinai, and experience a reenactment with a focus on what it might have been like to actually stand at Sinai. These children might prepare to stand at Sinai by choosing their own favorite or most personally meaningful moment of Torah and creating a picture or prop to take to Sinai with them. Younger children (twos who are now really threes) can join their older school mates in reenacting Sinai as an introduction to the Torah they will share on a deeper level in the coming years.

In schools where the sharing of Torah is not so habitual, the task is harder. For all these children, the celebration of Shavuot and a dramatic experience of standing at Sinai can be an introduction to the “ownership” of Torah for all the children. A book such as Who Knows Ten: Children's Tales of the Ten Commandments by Molly Cone (URJ Press, 1990) can be a nice bridge between Sinai, Shavuot, the Ten Commandments, and children beginning to form a connection with Torah.
If we successfully combine a playful, dramatic, concrete experience of being at Sinai, with the enduring connection to and ownership of the Torah, with opportunities to reflect and revisit the experience, then we too can recreate holy time, sparks flying.



(1) Excerpted from Merle Feld, “We All Stood Together,” A Spiritual Life: A Jewish Feminist Journey [Albany: SUNY Press, 1999], p. 205