March 14th: Ki Tisa and Purim
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
There are several ways to approach the Golden Calf Incident (Exodus 32). First, it is a terrible embarrassment for all Israel, and as is often the case with scandals and shame, there is a tendency to try to reduce or eliminate culpability. The Midrash does not try to exonerate the people, but the Rabbis seem to work overtime “proving” that Aaron the High Priest is not to blame.
(1) He only goes along with the mob because he needs to survive and officiate at the atonement rituals that will be necessary.
(2) He only agrees to make the calf so that he can delay everything until Moses comes down from the mountain and stops the madness.
(3) He agrees to make the calf but then demands that the people give up their gold earrings, thinking that they will refuse—and the calf will not be made.
(4) He takes their earrings but then throws them into the fire—but then the calf miraculously pops out. (see Exodus 32.24).
(5) He makes the calf but declares that the festival is to God (and not the calf).
Each excuse is more improbable than the last, but for those who believe that Biblical heroes are always heroic and right, it is important to wash clean a story that seems to besmirch our idealized High Priest.
On the other hand, perhaps the Midrash is taking its cue from the Lord. Though the narrative seems to single out Aaron as a major and sinful actor, God does not seem to blame him at all. While lots of Israelites are punished by Moses and by God, Aaron is left completely alone—and he retains the priesthood! Notice how the chapters both before and after the Golden Calf Incident are full of verses affirming Aaron and his descendants as the Kohanim for all time. Complicity in the apostasy seems to be a non-issue for the Lord, and thus the Midrash may just be explaining God’s reasoning. Though it may seem that Aaron is guilty, in fact he is not.
On the third hand, we could look at the story from a more realistic approach—one which sees Biblical figures as regular human beings who are capable of both good and evil, of both holiness and sin. The key to Biblical heroism is not perfection at every step but rather that the people who populate our Tradition realize their sins, repent for them, and improve. Why does Aaron fall into sin? Perhaps he is like the other Israelites whose faith is not as sure as God hopes it will be. When he sees the flaming top of Mount Sinai, “The Presence of the Lord appeared in the sight of the Israelites as a consuming fire on the top of the mountain. Moses went inside the cloud and ascended the mountain…” (Exodus 24.17), and when “the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain” (Exodus 32.1), perhaps Aaron is just one of those who think that Moses is dead. Despondent and in need of Divine leadership, the people ask Aaron to help them turn to the ways they knew before—and, whether they think the calf is a god itself or that the calf is a mount for El/God to ride, he acquiesces and forms the idol in a quest for Divine assistance.
Alas that human memory can be so inadequate! One would think that, after witnessing all of God’s miracles, the people would feel eternally close to God—and obedient. They personally witness incredible miracles: the Ten Plagues, the Splitting of the Red Sea, eating manna every day, and the Revelation of the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai! How many of us yearn for such an experience of God—so that we would really know that there is a God?! We may get an occasional glimpse of the Holy, but our ancient ancestors directly experienced God’s “mighty Hand and an outstretched Arm” over and over again. From a spiritual perspective, they are the most fortunate generation in history, and yet, they waver in their faith and give in to doubt. How can they be so untrusting—and forgetful?
Yes, our memories are not as good as we wish they would be—even of wonderful things, and we need ways to keep memories alive. Think about the ways we celebrate birthdays and anniversaries—or observe Yahrtzeits—and bring past events to the fore of consciousness. And think about the way our holy days work—how they invite us to feel the emotions our ancestors felt. Whether they were in Shushan fasting for Esther, in Egypt huddled in their homes on the first Passover night, terrified at the Red Sea as the Egyptian cavalry thunders toward them, or glorifying God at the Temple in Jerusalem, our holy days call on us to relive our people’s greatest encounters with God. As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel puts it: “We are a people in whom the past endures, in whom the present is inconceivable without moments gone by. The stories of Abraham and Sarah and our other ancient ancestors lasted just a moment, but it was a moment enduring forever. What happened once upon a time happens all the time.” (Quoted in Machzor Ki Anitani, page 90)
Rabbi Heschel is almost right. These moments are eternal but only if we invoke the memories. As Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi used to teach, “Rituals are peak experiences domesticated.”
Our Tradition comes to remind us of the pivotal moments of Jewish experience: our joy and our holiness, our fear and our weakness, our moments of godliness and the moments we have fallen into sin. Just as these things happened back then—at the Red Sea and Sinai and when we fashioned the Golden Calf, they happen again, “all the time.” God calls to us, and sometimes we answer. When we do, we find meaning in our lives and help in Tikkun Olam. When we do not, we detach ourselves from God and become untethered, unmoored, adrift. We may not realize it at the time, but distance from our Creator hurts and damages. God is always here, but sometimes God must beckon to us and invite us closer.
Religion is not just an optimistic fantasy. It is a practical approach to human strength and weakness. Consider the mitzvah in Numbers 15.39:
“You should look upon the tzitzit and remember all of the mitzvot of the Lord and do them, that you should not go about after your own heart and your own eyes after you have gone wantonly astray.”
One way or another, we have all gone astray, and God wants us to remember those bad moments so that we can hopefully not go astray again. God knows our missteps but is nonetheless hopeful—and continually offers us acceptance, purpose, atonement, and love.
We can read the Golden Calf Incident and appreciate the Midrashim that get Aaron off the hook, or we can read it as a reminder of our common human weaknesses—the weakness of memory, the weakness of resolve, the weakness of faith. We are imperfect, but God loves us, offering forgiveness and hoping for improvement.