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 The locomotive was making its first appearance in a little town of old. 

No one had ever seen a horseless carriage before. 

Every one of the townspeople gathered at the new station to witness history in the making. 

The gun was fired and with a flourish of huffing and puffing the locomotive roared out of the station. 

Well… the engine that is. Unfortunately, the shlemiel whose job it was to hitch the other cars to the engine had forgotten to do so, and the long train of carriages were left behind in a trail of smoke.

Sometimes, the most meticulously laid plans--a business strategy, a football game plan, or even (perish the thought), a synagogue resolution made on Yom Kippur--

fail to come to fruition--all because we neglected to hitch the engine to the train...

The introduction to the Ten Commandments we will read in this week's Parshah is, And G‑d spoke all these words, to say… In Hebrew, leimor. 

Now, when the Torah uses the word leimor, "to say," it is usually because G‑d is telling Moses something important which Moses in turn should pass on and tell the Children of Israel. 

So the word leimor makes perfect sense. 

He said it to him to say it to them. 

But here we have a problem. 

You see, every Jew was present at Sinai, and according to the mystics, that includes even the unborn souls of future generations. 

So there was no need for Moses to pass on anything to anyone. 

All the Jews heard the Ten Commandments directly from G‑d. So why the word leimor?

To say to whom?Rabbi DovBer, the great Maggid of Mezeritch, explained that here the word leimor means to speak to you. 

That these words should not remain mere words, but should resonate and say something meaningful to you personally. 

They should be said and heard so that they continue to reverberate forever after in your minds, heart and deeds. 

The Ten Commandments must not remain an abstract idea, an unhitched engine, a nice philosophy or an interesting cultural practice - something of no more significance to yourself than the rituals of ancient Incas of Peru. 

The Ten Commandments must be relevant enough to make a difference in our lives; otherwise, whom did G‑d say them to and whatever for?

The Talmud describes a thief who prays to G‑d for success before breaking in to commit a burglary. 

The epitome of hypocrisy--G‑d told you, 

"You shall not steal," and you have the audacity to ask Him to help you succeed in defying His wishes? 

This has got to be the ultimate chutzpah! How do we get a handle on this Talmudic thief's hypocrisy? 

The answer is that this thief, too, is a believer, but his faith is superficial and doesn't permeate his being sufficiently to influence his behavior. 

Deep down he has faith but he remains a religious goniff! They tell the story of a rabbi who was in his study when in walked Berl, the town pickpocket. 

"Rabbi, I was walking down the street and found this wallet lying on the ground. 

I know that to return a lost article is a mitzvah of the Torah, so I brought it in. 

Perhaps you can make an announcement in Shul and find the rightful owner.

" The rabbi sees there is a fair amount of cash in the wallet. 

He is so inspired at Berl's change of heart that he embraces him and congratulates him on his reformation. 

Later, the rabbi notices that the gold watch he had in his jacket pocket is missing. 

He calls Berl and asks him if perchance he may have inadvertently taken his watch. 

Berl confesses. "I don't understand you Berl. 

You find a wallet full of cash in the street and you return it, and then you go and steal my gold watch?Berl answers, "Rabbi, a mitzvah is a mitzvah, but business is business.

"We all believe and we all want to do mitzvahs, big and small. 

The trick is to translate our inner piety into outer practice. 

What does my faith do for me? 

Does it speak to me? How does it transform my behavior, my life? 

Does it make any tangible difference in my everyday behavior? 

The Torah must not remain a theory on the drawing board. 

The Ten Commandments do indeed speak to us. The question is, are we listening? 

The Torah describes G‑d as "descending" onto Mt. Sinai1 to proclaim the Ten Commandments.

The expression seems strange on two counts:

Firstly, the fact that G‑d is described as descending, surely G‑d is neither above nor below. 

G‑d is everything and everywhere. 

He is found in all places and all times equally. 

Neither male nor female, neither up nor down, permeating and encompassing alike—

He just is. It is too easy to sit at home and wait for people to come looking for you.

Of even more interest is the fact that G‑d seems to instigate the connection; 

He came down to us without expecting us to come up the mountain to Him. 

I always understood that the purpose of Torah and mitzvot is to energize and elevate the Jews. After all, G‑d started off perfect and hasn't changed since; 

but we're the ones who need to shape up. 

We're the people who should be setting off on the great journey that starts on earth and ends at Sinai. 

Why should we expect G‑d to come down to us?

Obviously this notion of G‑d's descent from on high is metaphorical and not literal. 

However the description is possibly also symbolic of the effort each of us is expected to make when reaching out to others who need us.

We all have information to share and skill sets that others would benefit from learning. 

It is tempting to assume that those who wish to learn will approach you first and request to be taught. 

It is too easy to sit at home and wait for people to come looking for you. 

Yet the lesson of G‑d coming down to the Jews is that we have no right to sit on our hands when those who need us are waiting.

Some people need Judaism, others need faith or love. 

There are hungry souls out there who need to be fed and jobs need to be found for the unemployed. Don't be proud, be generous. People need you. 

You have gifts to share and knowledge to impart. 

Go out and teach. Reach out to others. You may feel that you are going below your current station; it may feel like a physical or spiritual descent from your present position in life,

 yet the good and G‑dly way is to lower yourself into the world and share your bounty with those who need you most.2

It is amazing to me how 10 simple utterances could provide the basis for an entire civilization. And not only did they apply to the people then, but they do just as much for each and every one of us now. 

This is why on Shavuot, we listen to the Ten Commandments as they are read aloud. For these 10 concepts represent our foundation as a people.

While each commandment is worthy of its own individual explanation, 

there is a unique order in which they are conveyed, 

which carries a message that can help us to better understand our relationship to G‑d and to our fellow human beings.

There is a unique order in which they are conveyed.

The Talmud explains that the first five commandments reflect our obligations to G‑d, while the last five instruct us regarding our relationships with other people. 

The medieval commentator 

Abraham Ibn Ezra further explains that all the commandments can be put in one of three categories: emotion, speech and action. 

While the Ibn Ezra does not tell us which commandment fits into which grouping, 

Nechama Leibowitz, a brilliant 20th-century Israeli biblical scholar and commentator, provides us with a fascinating theory on the order of the Ten Commandments. 

According to Nechama1 (as she always referred to herself), the order of the Ten Commandments follows a triple chiastic2structure using the three elements of emotion, speech and action.

The first two commandments, 

1) Belief in G‑d and 2) Not worshipping other gods, both have to do with what is in our hearts, what we feel to be true. 

We are then told not to take G‑d’s name in vain; this is clearly speech. 

Keeping the Sabbath is all about action.

What about the fifth commandment, honoring one’s mother and father? 

Does this continue with action as the structure would suggest? 

Surprisingly, Jewish law defines respecting parents entirely through our actions toward them. We are not commanded to love our parents, but to honor them. 

This means behaving towards them in a respectful way: 

getting them water when they are thirsty, 

not sitting in their designated chair and standing when they enter a room (they may excuse us from this action). 

This commandment appears on the side of the tablets which is our obligation to G‑d, 

for if we disrespect our biological creators, we are in essence dismissing our Divine Creator. 

This commandment also serves as the perfect bridge to the commandments concerning our fellow human beings.

Beginning with the top of the second tablet we have: 

Murder, Adultery and Stealing, which are all sins completely mired in action. 

Bearing false witness against your neighbor is a transgression through speech. 

The final commandment, coveting that which belongs to your neighbor, is contained within one’s heart, one’s emotions.

While the pattern is chiastic in reference to the emotion, speech and   action, we can see a parallel structure in regard to level of difficulty. 

Belief in G‑d seems relatively easy. 

In fact, recent polls show that 92 percentage of Americans believe in a higher power. 

Transforming that belief into our speech is more difficult. 

How often am I truly sincere in my prayers? 

How many times have I made bargains with G‑d if something will go my way, only to forget about it once I have achieved my goal?

Yet the most difficult of all is carrying out the actions

And yet, the most difficult of all is carrying out the actions. 

It is one thing to learn how a Jew should live according to the Torah, and something else altogether to implement that into one’s life. 

We may know in our heart that something is true, and yet not live our daily life in accordance with those feelings. This is the reason for that order. 

For if we can focus on strengthening our beliefs, then we will be better able to work on the sincerity in our speech, which will then lead to a stronger commitment in our ability to live our lives properly.

For me, on the human relationship side of the commandments, I find it pretty easy to refrain from killing people, cheating on my husband or stealing from others. 

Bearing false witness is another story.

While I may not be lying in a court of law, little white lies seem to slip off my tongue with virtually no effort. Who is to say no one is harmed by any of my half-truths? 

Almost impossible is the last commandment, coveting. How can I possibly control my thoughts not to be jealous of other people?

Perhaps, with a stronger foundation in the first five commandments and my relationship to G‑d, this will carry through to my human relationships. 

Aren’t we all created in G‑d’s image? 

If I am more sincere in my actions towards G‑d, will I then nurture a greater appreciation for all He has given me and have less need to be jealous of others?

Through this literary analysis, we discover a very deep lesson from the Torah. 

When it comes to our relationship with G‑d, we need to work on our belief so that we can control our speech, which will help to refine our actions. 

This will then further control our actions towards other people, which will help to control our speech, as well as refine our thoughts and beliefs about ourselves. 

This is what it is all about. 

We cannot respect and treat one another properly unless we respect and care about ourselves, and we can only truly care about ourselves when we recognize that we were created for a reason and that we need to have a relationship with our Creator.

So as we listen to the Ten Commandments again this year—and as we once again experience the revelation of the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai on Shavuot—may we merit to truly internalize its message and use it to become that much closer with ourselves, our fellow human beings and our G‑d. 

Jews are known as bright people. In fact, we've been a people of books and wisdom for 4,000 years. Which makes for a lot of books and wisdom. 

What kind of wisdom? Well, there's the basic what-to-do-and-what-not-to-do stuff. 

Then there's the stories and legends. 

And there's the real deep what-is-life-all-about wisdom, including the secrets of the Kabbalah and Chassidic masters. 

It's all there waiting for you. In fact, it's your personal heritage.

It's called Torah.Torah shares the same etymology as the Hebrew word orah, "light"—its teachings shine a light on life and show you which way to go. 

And its study is a mitzvah—actually, the greatest mitzvah we have.

When:

"You shall teach [it] to your children and speak its words when you sit in your house, when you walk on the way, when you lie down and when you rise"—Deuteronomy.

Its study is a mitzvah—actually, the greatest mitzvah we have.

A Jew is always studying Torah—24/7/365. We take breaks to eat, sleep, pray, make a living and reenergize. 

The remainder of the time we connect to G‑d through studying His wisdom.

The minimum requirement is that you fix some time for study once a day and once a night. Can't devote as much time as you'd like? Support a yeshivah and be a partner in their study.

Who: The rich and the poor, healthy and sick, old and young, smart or dim. Torah is every Jew's personal heritage.

What:

"It is not your job to finish the task, but neither are you free to absolve yourself from it..."—Ethics.

Start with the rules that impact daily life, Shabbat, holidays, etc. And then keep on learning; there's more than enough material to last several lifetimes.

Articulate the words you study. 

Allow the holiness to impact and refine your body.