This post appeared in another format on the Hillel International blog on May 20, 2026

Shavuot celebrates a time of receiving. After a long period of wandering in the vast, empty desert, the Israelites arrived at Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah. This was the great revelation after our liberation. It was the moment of our becoming a people. 

There are many beautiful commentaries that explore how Torah was given and received, and who was there to receive it.  Midrash Tanchuma says that the Torah was received in the wilderness because “Just as the wilderness is ownerless, available to all, so too the words of Torah are ownerless, available to all.” Midrash Shemot Rabbah teaches that “Not only those who were in the wilderness stood at Sinai, but also the souls of all future generations.” Shemot Rabbah also says that God’s “voice went forth and divided into seventy voices, in seventy languages, so that each and every person would hear according to their capacity.” 19th century Hasidic master, Sefat Emet, took this a step further: “The voice was for each person according to their capacity…And so within each and every person there is an aspect of the giving of the Torah…for the utterance is heard both outside and within.” Sefat Emet also wrote that the Torah was both given once, and that its giving is ongoing in the present. 

Together, the text and commentaries teach that we were all there, together in that ownerless wilderness, receiving a message that was both personal and communal, a message that belonged not only to one person or even one group of people – but to everyone. Each time we interpret, innovate, or uncover a message from our ancestral tradition or from the torah within, we become part of the great unfolding story of our people’s revelation at Sinai. 

I’ve been reflecting recently with graduating seniors who are facing their ownerless wilderness – the uncertainty of life after college. A memory from one of my own times of wandering, as well as these teachings about Shavuot, have been a helpful framework for them as they prepare for their next steps. 

In June 2008, I had just finished a master’s degree in history at UC Santa Cruz. I had planned on pursuing a PhD and becoming an academic historian, but throughout my time in the program, it became clear that this wasn’t the right path for me.  But I didn’t know what else I could do instead, and I was terrified in the uncertainty of this wilderness.  My story was ownerless and wide open. I felt lost as I frantically applied for jobs. To make matters worse, it was 2008, and the country was in its own desert: an economic recession. 

At the same time, a beloved rabbi was preparing to leave Santa Cruz Hillel, where I had been an involved participant throughout undergrad and graduate school. I felt honored when a committee asked me to join them in a hiring process for the new staff member. I cared about the future of our Hillel, and I figured that it would help to see the other side of a hiring process while I applied for jobs. Then, after we had interviewed a couple of candidates, one of the people on that committee turned to me and asked, “Heather, why haven’t you applied for this position?” It was a Sinai moment. 

I had never considered working for Hillel, but the more I thought about it, the better it felt. I didn’t know what to do with my life, so why not give back to an organization that had given me so much?  Hillel had always been there for me, a reliable, loving space, no matter what happened in the rest of my life, and I was excited about the opportunity to create that space for others. When I look back, I realize that Hillel was there for me in that moment as well, a path forward in the wilderness of my job search and identity crisis. Like so many in our ancestral tradition – including Moses when he encountered God in the burning bush – it wasn’t just that I happened to be in the wilderness. I had to be in that vast unknown before the path forward was revealed. I am grateful every day that I was open to receiving this message that guided me into my future. I never would have predicted it, but 18 years later, I’m still working for Hillel, and I’m a rabbi. 

This story has become part of my own torah, a moment I return to whenever I’m facing another wilderness, or when I’m speaking with a student who is facing theirs. When we are in the ownerless wilderness, it can be tempting to narrow our vision, to focus on the familiar because the unknown is so scary. But Shavuot and the commentaries on this holiday teach us that we are all at Sinai,  receiving the Divine voice according to our own capacity. Sometimes it arrives in the voice of a friend or mentor, who sees something in us that we couldn’t see in ourselves. 

Shavuot celebrates our receiving, but that moment at Sinai was not only a moment.  As Reb Zalman Schachter-Shalomi (z’l), taught, the divine broadcast is eternal; “the question is whether we have our receivers turned on and tuned to the right frequency.”  The Torah is still being given. We are still receiving – and creating! – Torah. It’s all a matter of how attuned we are, how open we are, to receive what’s coming through. What might you receive if you make yourself open, free, and ownerless like the desert? What is the torah, the wisdom of your heart, that reveals itself to you when you are ready to truly listen? 

The Kabbalists taught that we should read “midbar,” wilderness, as “midaber” – “to speak.” To tell. To create worlds with our words. Revelation is not only about what we receive, it’s about how we respond. What we do with what we receive. How many times have you ignored or tried to brush off some piece of advice, some internal, deep knowing? What would change if you not only noticed, but acted meaningfully in response? 

You are most likely in your own wilderness right now, and with Shavuot approaching, I encourage you to tune in to the Divine broadcast. Notice who is standing with you at Sinai, and open yourself to receiving whatever message comes through. Torah belongs to all of us, and the Divine voice is all around you and inside of you. What is the message that is meant for you? How will you respond when you receive it?