From Revelation to Covenant: Maggid Devarav leYaakov

Three millennia ago, God gave us the Torah. The way in which He did this, and the significance of the division between the Ten Commandments and the large body of rules that closely govern our daily lives has continued to fascinate us. What does this historical teach us for our lives today? Here our member Rabbi Paul Bloom reflects on this topic.

Every morning, in Pesukei deZimra, we recite familiar words from Tehillim:

מַגִּיד דְּבָרָיו לְיַעֲקֹב חֻקָּיו וּמִשְׁפָּטָיו לְיִשְׂרָאֵל

“He relates His words to Yaakov, His statutes and laws to Israel.”

On a simple level, the verse describes God transmitting Torah and law to the Jewish people. But Chazal, and later commentators, hear something far deeper embedded within this single pasuk. The Midrash understands this verse as referring to two great Torah moments, read in close proximity in the annual cycle: Parashat Yitro and Parashat Mishpatim:

• “Maggid devarav leYaakov” refers to the dibbur—the divine speech of Sinai, the Aseret HaDibrot, the overwhelming revelation of God breaking into human history;
  
  
• “Chukav umishpatav leYisrael” refers to Mishpatim—the detailed laws governing civil society, Shabbat, festivals, damages, property, and responsibility.

The Torah itself forges an indelible link between these two events.

Revelation Must Enter Life

Sinai is transcendence: thunder, fire, sound without source, heaven touching earth.
Mishpatim is immanence: courts, contracts, workers’ rights, personal injury, agricultural rhythms, Shabbat observance. Judaism insists that these are not two stages, but one unified Torah. Indeed, Rashi famously comments on the opening word of Mishpatim—וְאֵלֶּה (“and these”) — that the letter vav connects what follows directly to Sinai. These laws are not social convention; they are divine. The light of revelation must flow into the texture of daily life. This is precisely what Judaism has often been accused of: too much law, too much detail. But in truth, this is the genius of Torah. Infinite ideas—about God, faith, providence, redemption—are not left abstract. They are translated into action, embedded into how we treat one another, how we rest, how we eat, how we work the land.

Shemitah: Holiness Through Withdrawal

It is no accident that Mishpatim introduces Shemitah—the command to release the land, relinquish ownership, and step back from productivity. Shemitah teaches that holiness is not only expressed through action, but sometimes through restraint. By withdrawing our claim over the land, we declare that Eretz Yisrael belongs to God, and that our relationship with it is covenantal, not exploitative. Again: transcendent ideas, expressed through concrete law.

From Commandments to Covenant

This connection reaches its climax at the end of Parashat Mishpatim, in Chapter 24, with the Jewish people’s defining declaration:

נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע

“We will do, and we will hear.”

Interestingly, many people assume these words appear in Parashat Yitro. They do not. At Sinai, the people say only na’aseh—we will do. Only after Mishpatim, only after law has entered lived reality, do we hear na’aseh venishma. This is no accident. At that moment, the mitzvot cease to be merely commands. They become a brit, a covenant. A covenant is not obedience; it is relationship. It creates an eternal bond between God and Am Yisrael—one that guarantees the indestructibility of the Jewish people.

Four Understandings of Na’aseh veNishma

Chazal and the Rishonim offer multiple layers of meaning to these two words:

1. Action and Restraint
   Na’aseh refers to positive commandments; nishma to refraining from prohibitions. Together, they form the full structure of Torah life.
   
   
2. Commitment and Desire
   We will do what we have heard—and we want to hear more. Torah is not a burden; it is a longing to fill every moment with connection.
   
   
3. Love Without Calculation (Sforno)
   We will perform mitzvot not for reward, not for self-interest, but purely out of ahavat Hashem. Obedience motivated by love transforms action into devotion.
4. Action and Understanding (Zohar, Beit HaLevi)
   
   Na’aseh is commitment to practice. Nishma is commitment to learning—to understanding, analyzing, plumbing the infinite depth of Torah. Judaism is not blind obedience; it is engaged, intellectual avodat Hashem.

Crucially, the order matters. We do not say nishma vena’aseh. First we act מתוך אמון—out of trust and love. Then we seek understanding.

One Torah, One Flow

This is the deeper meaning of maggid devarav leYaakov. First comes divine speech. Then comes law. Revelation must become halacha, and halacha must always remember its source. On a lighter note, during a rare heavy snowfall in Efrat, someone once asked where snow appears in the Torah. The answer lay right there in Tehillim—just before our verse:

הַנֹּתֵן שֶׁלֶג כַּצָּמֶר

“He gives snow like wool.”

Even the snow, blanketing the land, finds its echo in Torah—reminding us that everything in the world has a place within it. Na’aseh venishma was the moment when commandments became covenant, when law became relationship, and when Am Yisrael was bound eternally to God. And that covenant—born from revelation and lived through law—remains unbroken.