From Sinai to Sioux Falls

Last Shabbos, we had our monthly community lunch following the weekly service. It was a very cold day—snowing and windy. I walked half an hour to shul that morning with Shaina and Levi, bundled up against the harsh weather. The streets were empty. No one was jogging or walking their dogs—it was that cold.
I initially hesitated to bring the children out in such weather, but they begged to go because they love the atmosphere at shul, knowing they would see friends and enjoy the Davening and Shabbos lunch. I figured that even if the walk would be less than pleasant, it would be a powerful lesson in endurance and in going the extra mile for Shabbos observance.
Walking with the children reminded me of what a dear friend, Stephen Schloss, once shared with me as a memory of growing up in Sioux Falls: walking with his father in the snow on Shabbos.
This week, we read about the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, where we received the Ten Commandments. Since that time, they have been a cornerstone (no pun intended) of Jewish life and, indeed, for all people—the values within them extend beyond the Jewish community. The fourth of these commandments is to keep Shabbos. As G-d said:
"Remember the Sabbath day, keeping it holy. Six days must you labor and do all your work. The seventh day is a Sabbath dedicated to God, your God. You must not do any work..."
The beauty of Shabbos has been a central part of the Jewish story ever since. In both good times and difficult times, there are countless stories of people willing to give up their livelihood rather than work on Shabbos, and many who were even willing to risk their lives for it.
Today, thankfully, we live in a time and place where we can keep Shabbos peacefully, where we are respected for keeping it, and where friends and family can gather and spend this sacred time together in prayer, community, and connection. As we say in the morning liturgy: “Fortunate are we! How good is our portion, how pleasant our lot, and how beautiful our heritage!”
Taking that walk in the cold made it all feel very real for me and my children. This wasn’t just something our ancestors heard in a desert in the Middle East thousands of years ago. It is something we are living today—right here on the prairie.