Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Ki Tisa
After the Gold Rush
It was all supposed to
be so very different: Their stop at Sinai was originally supposed to be brief,
but transformative. When the Children of Israel arrived at Sinai, everything
seemed so special, so idyllic, in so many ways: They had come together as a
nation, bonded in a sense of unity and love, born of a common past and a shared
vision of the future. “As one man, with one heart,” they prepared themselves to
enter into a covenant with God, to take a quantum leap towards the fulfillment
of the promises made to their forefathers. In preparation and affirmation of
this great moment in history, they brought offerings. And then, the heavens
opened; they were granted a vision of God, as He Himself spoke words of
holiness to them. The next stop should have been the Promised Land, where they
would put the commandments they had just received into practice, creating a new
reality, a perfected society and a holy community.
Instead, something went
wrong; things began to unravel. After hearing only two commandments, the people
felt overwhelmed: The experience was too intense. God had more to say, but the
people demurred. They asked that Moshe serve as a conduit, that God speak to Moshe
alone, who would then relay the message to them in a more digestible form.
Moshe was invited to
climb the mountain; there were more laws to be taught, more instructions to
relay.
While Moshe was away,
the people became afraid: What was taking so long? Why had he not returned? Their
deepest fear seemed to have been realized: Moshe had died and left them without
a leader, before their mission had been accomplished. After all, Moshe was just
a man, and men can break your heart; even the best of them are fickle. The people
demanded something more sturdy, something more permanent. They settled on a
calf made of gold – and declared that this calf had taken them out of Egypt.
Their “logic” seems absurd: How could the gold taken from the ears of their
loved only that day have been credited with redeeming them from slavery? Even
worse: How could they have fallen so far from the pinnacle of spirituality they
had achieved 39 days earlier? They had heard two commandments spoken directly
by God, and theirs words and actions lay those two commandments to waste: “I am
the Lord, your God, who took you out of the land of Egypt; you shall have no
gods other than Me. Do not make an idol or any graven image…” How were they
capable of fine-tuned cognitive dissonance? How had they managed to so quickly,
so completely, almost purposefully negated the awe-inspiring Revelation? Their about-face
seems all the more absurd when we remind ourselves that these same people had
eaten manna for breakfast that very morning! How outrageous it seems that, as
they wiped the last bits of manna from their mouths, they expressed disbelief
in Moshe’s ability to survive up on the mountaintop without food or water! With
the evidence of God’s miracles still between their teeth, how did they, how did
they lose faith in God so quickly?
The people seem
determined to counter each and every element of the Sinai experience with a
counterfeit, contradictory gesture: At Sinai, they had brought offerings as
part of the covenant forged with God; now, they brought offerings to the calf. In
an unmistakable gesture, they made an exchange, an “upgrade:” In place of the
God who had redeemed them from the bondage of Egypt, they had a golden calf. Instead
of offerings to honor and praise God, they brought offerings to celebrate the
idol they had created with their own hands. In the words of King David:
They made a calf at
Horev, and worshipped a molten image. Thus they exchanged their Glory for the
likeness of an ox that eats grass. (Tehilim 106:19-20)
And then, Moshe
returned. Tragically, instead of greeting him with songs of praise and joy,
instead of honoring the Tablets of Testimony Moshe had brought down from the
heavens, they serenaded their calf in a frenzy of idolatrous revelry. Moshe
entered the camp unnoticed and, strangely, alone; taking in the outrageous
spectacle, he threw the Tablets to the ground, and the shattering sound brought
an abrupt end to their orgy. They had been unfaithful, and were therefore
subjected to a process not unlike that imposed upon a wife accused of
infidelity: Moshe melted the calf, ground it into a fine powder, and had them
all drink the potion made of their “deity.”
Moshe called out,
rallying those who were faithful, those who were devoted to God. Those who
answered his call, those in whom the spirit of God was reawakened, were called
upon to take arms and purge the community of sinners. This was the final step:
The holiness they had achieved at Sinai had been defiled, their covenant with
God had been trampled; God had been exchanged for a calf. And now, the unity and
friendship they had achieved was exchanged for the sword, as families were torn
apart, and brothers turned against one another. The memory of Sinai, the entire
Sinai experience, was ruined. The words they had heard had been twisted, the
offerings had been rededicated to idol worship, and the sense of brotherhood
dissipated. Had they only been able to wait for Moshe to descend from the
mountain, they would have danced with the Tablets, etched by the hand of God,
in an unforgettable “Simchat Torah.” A little more faith could have brought
them a great deal of love.
For
a more in-depth analysis see:
