Every year, someone says, “Shavuot already? That came out of nowhere!” Turns out, G-d likes surprises just as much as we do.
When Is the Holiday?
“When is Pesach this year? Wow, so early!” I hear that comment almost every year. Or sometimes the opposite: “Wow, Pesach is so late this year!” The same goes for all the major holidays—there’s always talk about how early or late Rosh Hashanah falls.
It seems like the holidays are never “on time.” People are constantly surprised. I’ll mention something in passing—“You realize you’re scheduled to be on a cruise during Rosh Hashanah?”—and the stunned response is usually, “Rosh Hashanah is that early this year? I didn’t even think about it!”
First of all, let this be your reminder: the holidays always come. So check your calendar before booking that vacation!
And it’s not hard to check. Just about every calendar in the world marks Passover, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur. It just takes a little attention.
But in the days of the Tanach and the Talmud, it wasn’t so simple. There was no way to know the holiday schedule in advance.
Take Pesach, for example. The Torah says Pesach is on the 15th of Nissan—but when would that be? They couldn’t know in advance. The Jewish calendar was based on the lunar cycle, and each new month had to be declared by the High Court in Jerusalem after at least two witnesses testified that they had seen the new moon. Only then could the dates be set. They didn’t have three months to schedule a hotel. People had, at most, two weeks’ notice to prepare for Seder night.
Why the Second Day?
The Mishnah describes how news of Rosh Chodesh—the new month—was once publicized to the people:
“At first, they would light torches… cedar poles were brought… someone would take them to the top of a mountain, light them, and keep them burning until he saw a fire lit on the next mountain. Then a third. And they wouldn’t stop until the whole region was lit up with flames.”
A simple yet brilliant system: a fire would signal to the neighboring village that today had been declared Rosh Chodesh. They’d climb their tallest mountain, light a fire of their own, and pass the message along. It must’ve looked like Lag B’Omer does today—bonfires everywhere across the land.
But, of course, someone had to ruin it. The Mishnah says, “The Kutim in the Shomron spoiled it.” One month, they lit fires a day early, deliberately causing confusion. That ended the fire system, and from then on, messengers were sent out instead.
As soon as the Beis Din declared Rosh Chodesh, messengers would head out to all Jewish communities so people could begin calculating the date of Pesach. In some places, the messengers would arrive within a few days. In others—places like Egypt, Syria, or Babylonia—it might take 10 to 14 days.
But there were faraway communities the messengers couldn’t reach in time. So, to be safe, they celebrated two days of Yom Tov instead of one. This became known as Yom Tov Sheini shel Galuyot—the second holiday of the diaspora.
And that’s why, even today, Jewish communities outside of Israel still observe two days of Yom Tov. This year, for instance, Shavuot will be one day in Israel—but everywhere else, it’ll be two. All because, back then, the messengers couldn’t get the news out fast enough.
But this raises a big question: Why didn’t G-d just set up a fixed calendar from the start?
Why rely on the Beis Din in Jerusalem to proclaim Rosh Chodesh and send messengers racing across the land to inform everyone when the holidays would fall? Why make things so complicated?
After all, we now have a set calendar. We can tell you the date of Pesach fifty years in advance. The knowledge used to create that calendar was available even in Moshe’s time. So why didn’t G-d just tell Moshe, “Here’s the calendar—pass it down,” and avoid all this confusion and stress?
The Element of Surprise
Shavuot symbolizes the marriage between G-d and the Jewish people. And like any good marriage counselor will tell you, one of the keys to a strong relationship is the surprise factor. The quickest way to dull a marriage is to let everything slip into routine.
We see this even before a marriage begins. When a boy wants to propose, he takes the girl to some special place, exotic and breathtaking. Maybe even the top of a mountain. Suddenly, fireworks start to explode and he pops the question of all questions. All to surprise her, move her, and prompt that all-important “yes.”
(Granted, in Chassidic circles, things are a little different. Surprise proposals aren’t really a thing. After four or five dates, everyone knows this is serious. The couple meets with marriage in mind. So by the time they say yes, it’s more of a confirmation than a surprise.)
When G-d “proposed” to the Jewish people, He wanted that same sense of excitement, of the unexpected. The holidays are like special getaways—G-d taking us on vacation. On Pesach, it’s a seven-day trip; on Shavuot, a shorter two-day retreat. We know the trips are coming—but not exactly when. Even G-d, so to speak, waits to find out the dates. He holds off until the Beis Din in Jerusalem declares Rosh Chodesh before finalizing the holiday plans.
And lucky us—we live outside of Israel. While Israelis get just one day of Yom Tov, we get two days of vacation!
Imagine a husband walking into the house and saying, “Pack your bags—we’re going to the Caribbean!” No one says, “But what about my dentist appointment?” or “I can’t—I’ve got a Pilates class.” You drop everything and go.
When G-d hands us a two-day Yom Tov, we can’t complain, “Ugh, this is right in the middle of my week,” or “I’ve got a meeting.” We need to seize the opportunity. Drop everything. Pack your bags—spiritually—and make the most of it.
As the verse in the Song of Songs says, “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li”—I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me.
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