After investigating over twenty theories as to the location of Mount Sinai he was sure that history had got the story wrong and the true Sinai was Mount Karkom in Israel in a place strewn with religious relics.

The validity of his argument is now in the hands of the scholars but if it is true there are a number of major historical implications that need to be addressed. There is a dimension of the problem that speaks to ordinary human beings, Jews and non-Jews alike. It is suggested by a D’var Torah I heard many years ago on the subject of the burial place of Moses.

The Torah insists (Deut. 34) that “no-one knows his burial place unto this day”. The D’var Torah I heard – and remembered – asserted, “Despite the Torah, I can tell you where Moses s buried. He is buried here in our own community where his Torah is neglected and spurned. That’s where Moses is buried – in our own midst”.

In similar fashion I might say that I know where Sinai is. Wherever the Sinai message is known, loved and heeded, that’s where Sinai is located. Where is Sinai? Wherever we take it seriously.

Jethro visits Moses, by Gerard Jollain, 1670

Yitro feared that Moses would wear himself out and had to learn how to ration his time. Working from morning to night was not good for anyone.

Rashi, however, is not nearly as critical as Yitro. He thinks it was good for the leader to be engaged in giving judgment all day long. He took every case seriously and didn’t rush through an issue perfunctorily or impatiently.

It is a lesson that we can all learn when we have a decision to make. Recently a problem I had at home illustrated the Rashi principle. We had a blocked sink; I called the plumber and told him, “It’s an easy one: it will only take you a minute”. In the event it took half an hour because the plumber was not prepared to rush through the job without looking at it properly and taking whatever time it needed to solving the problem.

This careful attitude is what Rashi recognised in Moses. Nothing could be rushed, even if it meant devoting a whole day to working things out from morning to night.

Israelites crossing the sea, from the Venice Haggadah, 1609

Maybe she didn’t see with her eyes but with her mind, and she perceived more than Ezekiel did. Impossible, you say? Did she have a better mind than Ezekiel… or Isaiah, or Jeremiah?

Maybe this isn’t what the Midrash is saying at all. It is telling us that the maidservant did not see ideas or arguments, but real facts.

There are two ways to God. Those who work with the intellect see (or perceive) the arguments for the existence and presence of the Divine; the maidservant encountered Him, not as an entity or Presence but as a caring reality. For her the question was not so much, “Does God exist?” but “Does He care?”

Manna was really a magnificent miracle. For forty years it sustained the Israelites in the desert. Not for a day did God leave us to be hungry (though the ungrateful people complained nonetheless). This must be one of the things that the Amidah has in mind when it thanks God for the miracles “which are with us every day, evening, morning and noon”. But can there not be a symbol somewhere to remind us of the miracle?

In truth there is. Think of the two challot that have pride of place on the Shabbat table – a weekly reminder that on the sixth day of each week the Israelites collected a double portion of manna, one for Friday and one for Shabbat. And the challot are covered before being cut and eaten, recalling the layer of dew that covered the manna each day and kept it fresh, though this is not the only explanation for the challah cover.

We appreciate the logic in the choice of this month, but we often fail to notice that the command to place Nisan on a pedestal and celebrate the redemption of the Israelite slaves was given whilst they were still in Egypt in a state of bondage. The Exodus event had not yet happened, but they were already told to celebrate it. It is not simply that the slavery was visibly winding down and the people’s release was inevitable.

The Torah was not just thinking pragmatically but spiritually. Its message was one of faith: “Know that God has heard your cries and will redeem you and protect you!”

It would be a terrible anticlimax if the time of bondage came to an end and the people were left to pick themselves up and fend for themselves. There was a Divine promise: they would march boldly out of Egypt, cross the sea and move into the future with the Almighty smiling upon them and holding their hands.

According to the Midrash (Ex. Rabbah 19:6), it was like a king who arranged a banquet for his friends and told his servants, “Unless the invited guests show my seal on the invitation card, they cannot enter”. Thus God said to the Israelites, “Unless you possess the sign of Israelite identity you cannot eat my paschal lamb”.

The Midrash goes on to say that the uncircumcised elements who accompanied the Israelites immediately sought to be circumcised, and God took each one, kissed him and blessed him. One could suggest that whenever there is a party everyone wants to be there, and that’s how to explain the whole episode.

But the Midrash is probably saying something much more serious, that being Jewish brings with it both agonies and ecstasies. People who did not go through the times of suffering cannot hope to enjoy the times of fulfilment. It seems something like the Biblical law of the Sabbath (Ex. 20): “Six days shall you labour and do all your work, and (if you have carried that out) the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord your God”.

There are, for example, many well-intentioned Christians who say they would like to take part in a Jewish Passover celebration and of course we admire their good will, but a person who has not lived through Jewish history cannot possibly really appreciate the full spirit and meaning of the Seder celebration.

Moses & Pharaoh's magicians (Gerard Hoet, 1728)

In the end, as we all know, the magicians had to give up the struggle, told the king that they were battling a higher power (“It must be the finger of God!”: Ex.8:15) and the plagues took their course.

An ancient contest, but history repeats itself in the idiom of every generation. Our version is the battle between character and charisma, between logic and magnetism.

In a synagogue I knew they rejected an applicant for the post of chazzan, not because he was insufficiently pious or learned or could not sing, but because a different candidate had more television presence. What have we come to if we want the magicians more than Moses?

Ibn Ezra is of the view that he must have died in Egypt or the wilderness, leaving no descendants to be part of Simeon’s group of families.

We wonder whether Jewish history would have been different had Ohad survived and left progeny. It doesn’t really help, though, to apply the word “if” to historical study. If circumstances had been different… if other influences had been at work… if external events had not affected us in the same way… if a certain leader had not been there, if we had reacted differently, chosen a different option, gone somewhere else, married into another family – there are countless speculative possibilities and permutations

Looking backwards in this way is highly intriguing and highly unsatisfying. The realistic course is not to say, “I wish things had been different”, but “Whatever transpires, I have to handle it wisely!”

There is a lesson to be learned from this episode – gratitude. One should not repay good with evil: “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

It’s a good rule, but what happens if the person you show gratitude to didn’t really mean to do you a favour?

Take the case of the Egyptians. The Torah commands us, “Do not hate an Egyptian, for you were a stranger in his land” (Deut. 23:8). “A stranger in his land”? When the Egyptians were treating us so harshly and we were downtrodden slaves in their midst? What were we – their pampered guests? Are we meant to say, “Thank you, Egyptians, for making our lives hell?”

Nachmanides, on the verse in D’varim we have quoted, says that the Torah meant what it said. There were things about the Egyptians which we can never forgive and forget… but there were also (admittedly) minor things which in the end brought us at least a modicum of benefit. According to Nachmanides, in time of severe famine – which must have destroyed many other peoples – the Israelites survived because they were in Egypt where they did not go hungry, even though it was poor-men’s bread that they ate.

Moses and the burning bush (from the Holman Bible, 1890)

Here are some ideas that the event suggests:
• The people of Israel may suffer but they will survive.
• God is with Israel even (or especially) in times of persecution.
• God chooses lowly things and humble people as His agents.
• There is no place devoid of the Divine Presence.
• Small things like a bush in the wilderness can carry a great message.
• Moses had defects like a stutter but he would be a successful leader.