Drisophila Melanogaster
This week marks the 20th anniversary of my graduation from high school. This milestone in the passage of times brings with it the mixed blessing of nostalgia. Wistfully I recall walking the open fields of the campus and looking across the street to my grandmother’s apartment—how lucky I was to have her so close. My head aches as I find myself in math class—was there really a time in my life when I could easily solve complex equations?!? I remember the joy of dancing all night at prom, the anxiety associated with exams. So much is a blur, confused and rewritten by the intervening years. Yet today there are still memories from that time that remain pristine.
I’d like to share one. It was my senior year of high school, probably only a few short weeks before the end of the year. I was taking Advanced Biology, in general not my favorite subject for many reasons, not the least of which was that it met first thing in the morning. But this day was different. Mr. Pearson gave us each a handful of dead drosophila, fruit flies. And after crushing and stirring, mixing in solutions and applying the right temperatures, we extracted DNA.
Never before and seldom since have I felt the awe of that moment, when I pulled from a test tube the strands of DNA, the double helix holding the keys to the mysteries of life itself.
Of course, I couldn’t decode the secrets of the DNA. I lacked both the expertise and the equipment, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. What I saw with my own two eyes left a mark on me, expanded my curiosity, made me feel infinitely powerful yet humbly small at the same time.
What I did not realize until recently is that that morning of DNA extraction was not only an educational experience but also a religious one. For years I have learned and taught on concepts of theology, the study of God. We approach this topic from a variety of entry points from exploring the natural universe to parsing the teachings and practices of the generations before us. We observe humanity and its complexities, seeking a better understanding of the Divine.
One of the ways that Jewish tradition enters into theological discourse is through imagining revelation—the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. The Torah recounts the experience dramatically, noting, among other things, the trembling mountain and loud blast of the horn. Our tradition suggests that not only were the Israelites of the generation of the exodus present at the moment of revelation, but that each future Jewish soul was there as well. This idea highlights both our shared responsibility for the commandments and our shared connection to God. The events of revelation have been debated through the ages. Did the Israelites hear God, or did Moses pass on the message? Was the entirety of the Torah shared, or just elements that were later built upon and documented?
I’ve always been more interested in the experience of the Israelites at Sinai than the details or accuracy of its account in our tradition. I believe something happened at Mt. Sinai that’s impact forever affected the memory of our people. I have stated this, incorporated this as part of my own theology for many years. But never before have I made the connection that, on an individual level, this is what happened to me when I extracted DNA from fruit flies.
Next week, at the close of Shabbat, we will gather to observe the Festival holiday Shavuot. Originally linked to the realities of agricultural society and Temple worship, Shavuot was later designated as the anniversary of the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. As such we are expected to anticipate revelation anew. We stay up late into the night, eager to re-enact the excitement of our ancestors.
How can we sleep knowing that Torah is about to be revealed? How can we even begin to fathom the intensity and wonder of that moment?
Abraham Joshua Heschel, the 20th century sage taught:
A cosmic fear enveloped all those who stood at Sinai, a moment more staggering than the heart could feel…What we see may be an illusion; that we see can never be questioned. The thunder and lightning at Sinai may have been merely an impression; but to have suddenly been endowed with the power of seeing the whole world struck with an overwhelming awe of God was a new sort of perception…Only in moments when we are able to share in the spirit of awe that fills the world are we able to understand what happened to Israel at Sinai.
In a small classroom in Pennsylvania twenty years ago, in the indecipherable strands of DNA, I saw the whole world and was struck with an overwhelming awe. The feeling has grown in the years to follow paralleling my awareness of that moment and its place in my story.
A few months later the world was introduced to Dolly the sheep—the first cloned mammal. Genetic concepts began to make their way into common conversation and the doors unlocked began to unlock new doors of understanding in fields as varied as biology, geology, anthropology and history.
Advanced Biology was the last science course that I ever took—a decision that I regret at times, but that made sense with the focus of my studies in college.
But I have never forgotten about the DNA that for but a moment I held in my hand. I have carried it with me as I’ve read publications of new studies that use genetic research, particularly those that explore the intersection of science and history, using genetic research as a tool for understanding the existential question–how did we get here?
And that is the question I’ll leave you to reflect upon this morning. It is a question that no person will ever be able to fully answer. What combination of genetics, history, experience and circumstance led you to where you are today…to your home…to your career…to this holy congregation this morning? Exploring this question is one way to better understand ourselves, and, in the process, perhaps come a bit closer to the Divine.
Shabbat Shalom