There is status in many of us.
I remember answering the question when asked, “how many times have you been to Israel?”
Whenever I answer the question, and it could be almost any number, I’m answered typically back with, “I’ve been there 50 times. And each time is better than the others, and I’ve learned so much on each trip.”
Or…
“Oh you’ve been to Israel, and you haven’t been to Chever Rachel? How about Hebron?
How can you not have gone to Hebron?”
Don’t know about you, but each and every time I have been to Israel, I have a recurring thought. And that thought comes at the Kotel, when I think that I was the first person in either my Dad’s or Mom’s family to see this most holy place.  The responsibility I feel of representing them there is what I think about.
I think about the time after September 11, 2001, when I visited Israel with Emily, my younger daughter. We were there to visit DeDe, her older sister, who was learning in a seminary that was reached through a checkpoint. Cab drivers either refused to take us there or charged us a ridiculously high fee to take us there.
The hotels were far below capacity. I am completely certain that Emily and I were among the only occupants of a Tel Aviv hotel.
A man working behind the counter of a bagel store, walked around and hugged me when saw that we were Americans.
We spent money, we took DeDe’s class out for pizza.
We bought souvenirs and then came home.
I wasn’t thinking of how many times I had been to Israel.
The point is, every time any of us go to Israel, be it the first time, the third time or the 48th time, it is an important time.
If a family can afford but one trip, then that trip is as golden as your 50 and has its own merit of meaning.
So here we are on the eve of Shavuous. This is the night we received our Torah.
Once again, we play Jewish numerical status.
This time, it goes like this?
“How late did you stay up learning?”
“Did you make it through the night?”
Now, some of us make it through the night, but are so exhausted that most of what we hear doesn’t get through.
Yet there are others who stay up as long as they can, and are inspired by what they learned before falling asleep at an hour appropriate for their physical and mental health.
Again, it’s not about the hour.
It’s about the study. It’s about the information.
May we all be inspired by what we hear and learn that it keeps our minds stirring to want to hear more or delve more into the subject. That’s what learning is all about. It’s not about staying up late to stay up late.
It’s when the words, the information are the stimulants, not the caffeine nor the coffee.
We want to be in an exciting frame of mind where we’re learning, and the side situation is that we have happened to stay up late doing so. But maybe we didn’t even notice the hour, because the learning was so wonderful.
It shouldn’t be that we stay up all night to learn. Somehow that misses the point.
It’s the learning that leads us through the night.
It’s not the night that leads us through the learning.