Today, we take certain values as self-evident truths: that every human life has inherent worth, that all people deserve equal treatment under the law and that societies must care for their weakest members. We debate the parameters of these principles, how far social responsibility should extend, when life begins and ends, and the limits of governmental power, but rarely question the principles themselves.
Democrats, Republicans, communists, capitalists, socialists, liberals, and conservatives in almost every nation, religious believers, and secular humanists all accept these fundamental premises.
Yet if we traveled back just 2,000 years, and certainly 3,000 years, we would struggle to find any society that embraced these ideas. The values we consider universal were, in fact, revolutionary concepts introduced by the Torah and ancient Israel.
Consider what passed for normal in the ancient world. Every known ancient society practiced infanticide, killing children for population control or because of disabilities. Even the great philosopher Aristotle wrote that in an ideal city-state, "there must be a law that no maimed or imperfect children be raised, and such children should be exposed (left to die) for a limit must be fixed for the population of the state." (Politics Book 7)
Class systems and societal hierarchies were rigid and legally enforced. Conquering groups enjoyed vastly superior rights to the conquered. Education was reserved for elites, not to enlighten, but to maintain control. Peace was seen as weakness; war as glory. Alexander wasn't called "the Great" for building hospitals or schools, but for conquering, pillaging, and plundering vast territories.
The Roman historian Tacitus actually criticized the Jews for their strange practices: refusing to kill disabled children, insisting on resting every seventh day, and rejecting the values of their time. He assumed we were backwards, clinging to ancient superstitions. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks observed, they always accused us of not being with the times. They were right, we were ahead of them.
Against this backdrop, the Torah introduced ideas so radical they must have seemed absurd to ancient ears. The Torah was the first text to outlaw all murder, establishing the revolutionary principle that every human being is created in the divine image. The Talmud then expounds this principle by stating: "Whoever saves a life, it is as if they saved an entire world."
The Torah also insisted on universal education. The Talmud mandates that any town without a school must be excommunicated, and every child, rich or poor, must have access to education. It demanded equality before the law, that the same law must apply to rich and poor, native and stranger. Even kings are subject to the law, a concept that would have baffled ancient rulers.
The Torah further established limits on governmental power. Kings couldn't accumulate excessive wealth or power. Priests couldn't own land. No one stood above the courts. It created extensive charity laws, the sabbatical year, and the jubilee's redistribution of land, all reflecting a revolutionary idea that society must be judged by the way it treats its most vulnerable members.
While others dreamed of conquest, Isaiah envisioned a time when "they shall beat their swords into plowshares… nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore." These weren't just nice sentiments; they were a complete reimagining of human aspirations.
These ideas, once considered absurd, have now become the foundation of modern civilization. They spread through Christianity and Islam, influenced the American Founding Fathers, who declared that all men are created equal, and even shaped communist ideologies that borrowed biblical values while deleting God's name.
Today, when we look at a world that often seems dark and difficult, we can draw inspiration from this remarkable transformation. In the relatively short span of a few thousand years, humanity's moral landscape has been completely revolutionized. The heroes of this transformation were not great Jewish conquerors or even renowned philosophers, but our great great grandmothers and grandfathers, living in Iraq or Yemen, Poland or France, Babylon or Rome, who simply tried to live up to Torah values.
On Shavuot, we are reminded that while evil fights with gas chambers, horrific weapons, murder and rape, good fights through the accumulated deeds of ordinary humans. Each act of kindness, each moment of justice, each gesture of compassion adds to the moral transformation that began at Sinai.
The historian Paul Johnson asked what the world would be like had Abraham "kept his higher notions to himself, and not passed them on to us." The answer lies in comparing the values of the ancient world with those we hold today. John Adams, despite the prejudices of his time, insisted that the Jews "have done more to civilize man than any other nation, ancient or modern."
This Shavuot, as we stand again at our modern Sinai, we can take pride, not boastful superiority, but humble satisfaction, in knowing that the Torah's moral revolution continues. The same values that once seemed impossibly idealistic have become humanity's shared aspirations. And just as our ancestors' faithfulness changed the world, our continued commitment to these ideals can shape the future.
The miracle of Shavuot didn’t stop when we received the Torah, it continues with its revolutionary ideas and vision to transform humanity, one deed at a time.
Rabbi Daniel Rowe currently serves as the educational visionary of Aish, a global Jewish educational institution.
