The religious, legal, and literary climax of the Torah occurs in our parasha: God's giving of the Ten Commandments at Mt. Sinai. The uniqueness of this chapter demands a departure from our normal, passive role during the Torah reading: We are asked to stand as the Ten Commandments are read.

The scene at Mt. Sinai requires us to participate in a reenactment of this monumental story. We are the "extras" in an extravaganza in which the whole world stood in breathless silence as the voice went forth and proclaimed, "I am Adonai, your God."

The rabbis debated over whether to sit or stand during the reading, since standing might confirm the impression that the Ten Commandments are more important than the rest. Maimonides opposed the custom of standing for this very reason.

Given the manner in which the Ten Commandments are treated today, I have sympathy for Maimonides' position. One only has to look at those who would like to post the Ten Commandments in every classroom of our public schools. I also have problems with religious thinkers who have called the Decalogue "the world's laws for all time" or "the code of universal ethics."

According to the Rabbis, the first five commandments reflect humanity's obligations to the divine, while the next five reflect our obligations to one another. However, the summary our moral and ethical obligations to mankind is presented entirely in negative terms. We are commanded to refrain from murder, adultery, stealing, lying and coveting. Is a concerned human being, a mentsch, simply one who avoids wrong behavior? Shouldn't a "code of universal ethics" teach us how to strengthen the social contract as well as how not to break it?

Parashat Kedoshim, in the book of Leviticus, places greater emphasis on the positive: Interspersed with the negatively formulated commandments are encouraging expressions of our ethical responsibilities to mankind: "Love your neighbor as yourself;" "Do not harvest your entire field; leave some for the hungry."

The distinction between divine and human obligations in the Ten Commandments is misleading. The first tablet bears upon our ethical and religious responsibilities, teaching us what it means to be human and how to behave. Perhaps the best illustration is found in the first commandment: "I am the Lord your God." We are asked to discover the ways of God and imitate them. Moses, our paradigm for the closest human-divine relationship, does not ask to see God directly but rather says, "Please show me your ways so I will know you."

Is it possible for a human being actually to follow the ways of God? The Talmud explains that we should follow the attributes of God, outlined in Psalm 103: 6-8; "The Lord is righteous in his acts; he brings justice to all who have been wronged. He taught Moses to know his way and showed the Israelites what he could do. The Lord is compassionate and gracious, long suffering and forever constant."

In one midrash, the people of Israel complain to Moses that it would be impossible to walk in the ways of God because God's ways are described as a storm, a sea, a consuming fire. Moses replied: I was not speaking of those ways. Rather, God's ways are loving kindness, truth, and works of charity. Let us seek to observe the commandments by emulating these worthy qualities.

Rabbi Alan Sherman is Community Chaplain of Jewish Federation of Palm Beach County.