Why Was the Torah Given in the Wilderness?

In 1903, Theodor Herzl faced the greatest crisis of his young Zionist movement. After the horrific Kishinev pogrom had massacred dozens of Russian Jews, Britain offered 15,000 square kilometers in East Africa as a temporary refuge. Desperate to save Jewish lives, Herzl brought the “Uganda Plan” to the Sixth Zionist Congress. The vote was devastating—many delegates stormed out in tears, and the movement seemed on the verge of collapse.

Across the Atlantic, William Blackstone was following these developments with alarm. This American Christian had been advocating for Jewish restoration to Palestine since 1891, when he presented the “Blackstone Memorial” to President Benjamin Harrison, signed by over 400 prominent Americans including John D. Rockefeller and J.P. Morgan. Now, hearing that the Zionist Congress had voted to consider territory in Africa, Blackstone couldn’t believe what he was reading. After thousands of years of exile, God was finally bringing His chosen people back to their Promised Land—and they were considering a detour to Uganda?

Blackstone grabbed a Bible from his shelf, opened it to the prophetic passages about restoration to the Land of Israel, and carefully underlined every single one. Then he shipped the marked-up Bible directly to Herzl in Vienna. His message was unmistakable: The promises of God are clear and eternal. No human vote can alter the divine decree that designated Palestine—not Africa, not anywhere else—as the Jewish homeland.

The Blackstone Bible sat by Herzl’s bedside when his heart gave out just months later, a poignant symbol of how a Christian’s faith in Scripture had reminded the founder of Political Zionism of his own movement’s biblical foundations.

That marked-up Bible raises a profound question: What gave Blackstone, a Christian, the authority to cite Jewish Scripture to Herzl, a Jew? How could he presume to interpret biblical promises made to the Jewish people? The answer lies in a decision God made 3,300 years earlier about where—and to whom—to reveal His word.

The Torah portion of Yitro (Exodus 18:1-20:23) records the most dramatic moment in human history—the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. But there’s something puzzling. God had already promised the Land of Israel to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The Jewish people were heading there. So why didn’t God wait to give the Torah until they entered the land? Why give it in the ownerless wilderness, in a barren desert belonging to no nation?

The sages in Bamidbar Rabbah (1:7) provide a stunning answer: “Why was the Torah given in the wilderness? So that no nation could say, ‘It was given in my land.’ And so that no nation could claim, ‘It is mine.’ Therefore it was given in the wilderness, publicly and openly, in a place belonging to no one. Anyone who wishes to receive it, let them come and receive it.”

God deliberately chose neutral territory—not Egypt, not Canaan, not even the Promised Land itself—but the wilderness, ownerless and open to all. The location was itself a message: while the Jewish people have unique obligations under the 613 commandments, the Torah’s foundational truths, its ethical principles, and its vision of justice, belong to all humanity.

This is exactly what William Blackstone understood. When he sent that marked-up Bible to Herzl, he was declaring: These aren’t human promises that can be negotiated or relocated. This is divine revelation given in a wilderness so that every nation—including mine—could recognize its truth. The same God who spoke at Sinai to all who would listen was still speaking through His eternal Word.

This reveals something revolutionary about Israel’s purpose. In my book Universal Zionism, I trace how the Jewish people have progressed through distinct stages. Political Zionism gave us the body—a sovereign state after two millennia of exile. Religious Zionism gave us the soul—reconnecting sovereignty with spiritual purpose and biblical destiny.

But now we stand at the threshold of a third stage: Universal Zionism. This represents Israel’s outward turn, its embrace of the mission to become “a light unto the nations.” Just as the Torah was given in the wilderness to signal its universal relevance, modern Israel must recognize that its restoration carries implications for all of humanity.

We see this pattern in our parasha itself. Jethro—a Midianite priest—heard about the Exodus and declared:

He then offered Moses wisdom about governance that Moses accepted. Here was a non-Jew who grasped God’s greatness and contributed to Israel’s success. Moses didn’t reject Jethro’s counsel because he was an outsider. Instead, he recognized that wisdom could come through any vessel God chose.

But here’s the crucial point: Torah’s universal accessibility doesn’t mean it lacks particular ownership. The paradox is beautiful—it was given in a place belonging to no one so it could be received by everyone, yet it was entrusted specifically to the Jewish people to guard, study, and transmit.

This mirrors exactly what Universal Zionism calls for today. Jews should remain committed Jews and Christians should remain committed Christians. The goal is not merger or conversion, but partnership—each faith maintaining its unique identity while recognizing our common foundation in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

In modern times, this phenomenon has exploded. Today, millions of Christians worldwide support Israel not despite their faith, but because of it—they understand that God’s promises to Israel are eternal and that supporting Jewish restoration is a biblical imperative.

This matters enormously in our current moment. As Israel faces military threats, diplomatic pressure, and sophisticated propaganda campaigns, the alliance based on shared biblical truth has proven more resilient than political calculations ever could. Faith-based support transcends the shifting winds of politics and public opinion. When millions of Christians understand that the promises made at Sinai are still being fulfilled, this creates a foundation that propaganda cannot erode.

The Uganda Plan was formally rejected at the Seventh Zionist Congress in 1905. Blackstone’s Bible, sitting by Herzl’s deathbed, had served its purpose—reminding the Zionist movement that some truths cannot be negotiated, some promises cannot be relocated, and some revelations given in the wilderness belong to all who have eyes to see.

The Torah was given in a wilderness belonging to no one so it could ultimately belong to everyone. Israel has a unique role, but that role is ultimately for the benefit of all nations. Jewish restoration isn’t just a Jewish story—it’s the opening chapter of humanity’s ultimate redemption.

As we read the portion of Yitro this week, we stand at our own Sinai moment. Will Jews open their hearts to sincere Christian support? Will Christians stand firm even when costly? Will both communities embrace genuine partnership?

May we fulfill that ancient promise by building bridges of faith that will carry all of humanity toward the golden age the prophets foresaw—when “the earth will be filled with knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (Habakkuk 2:14).