Parashat Ki Tisa, Exodus 30:11-34:35; Shabbat Parah

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When we feel that what we are doing has a purpose and meaning, almost any obstacle is bearable.

Study with Baruch Sienna

This week, we again read from two Torah scrolls. In addition to the regular portion, Ki Tisa, we also read about the Red Heifer (parah adumah) from Numbers 19:1-22. While the maftir (additional portion) describes the purifying ashes of the Red Heifer, ironically, our portion relates the sin of the golden calf, and last year I wrote about the connection between these two cows.

In this week's portion, Moses descends from the mountain with the original stone tablets inscribed by the finger of God. When God informs him that the Israelites had made the calf, Moses vigourously defends them, and argues with God to not destroy them. But when he himself sees the calf, he throws the tablets down and shatters them. Just like 'tearing up a contract' represents breaking an agreement, Moses breaks the stone tablets to represent that the agreement between the parties has been violated. (The get or divorce document has a corner cut off perhaps to similarly symbolically represent the breaking of the original marriage vows). One midrash, however, suggests that Moses broke the tablets to 'destroy the evidence.' As long as the Israelites did not know the Torah, they would be judged less harshly.

The Torah tells us that the tablets were carved on both sides, but the midrash imagines that the letters are actually cut through and through, like a papercut. Rashi quotes the Talmud that somehow the words were miraculously legible from either side (Shabbat 104a) and could be read backwards and forwards. (This would mean that the letters would have had to be symmetrical, and that the text would have been written in palindrome form (My favourite: "Go hang a salami; I'm a lasagna hog!" or perhaps more appropriate for our websiste: "Dogma: I am God"). Gifted educator Joel Grishaver of Torah Aura suggests that the words on the tablets can be read from either side means that even the mitzvot are two-sided. The Torah is like a double-edged sword: Shabbat can be liberating, or a kind of solitary confinement. The holy can be ennobling or degrading.

The Talmud (Megillah 2b) further explains that since the carving went through the full thickness of the tablets, the stone in the centre part of the letter Samekh (a round letter like an 'O') miraculously remained in place, even though the centre should have fallen out, as it was not connected to the rest of the tablet. (The rabbis are imagining the Hebrew letters they (and we) are familiar with. Scholars point out that in the Hebrew script of the Bible, the samekh would not have had an 'inside' portion, but the same miracle would have been required for the 'ayin' instead.

Although the majority opinion is that Moses indeed broke the tablets willingly and deliberately, there is also a tradition that he didn't 'throw' them but rather 'dropped' them, because the tablets became too heavy. It is easy to imagine that if the stones suddenly became heavier, the elderly Moses might have had difficulty holding on to them. This idea is based on the image that the letters (carved out of the rock) flew back to heaven, leaving Moses holding solid rock. This image is similar to the story of Rabbi Hanina b. Teradyon, who was tortured to death by the Romans. They wrapped Rabbi Hanina in a sefer Torah, placed kindling wood below him, and lit him on fire. As his students watched their teacher suffering, they cried out to him, “Rabbi, what do you see?” He responded: “The parchment is burning, but the letters are flying free.”

But the image of the rock becoming solid as the hollow letters fly to heaven need not be taken literally. Metaphorically, when the letters on the stone tablets disappeared, Moses realized that all he was carrying was two rocks. The tablets themselves had no worth. The 19th century commentator Meshekh Hokhmah makes the point that physical objects are holy only when they lead people to God. If we disregard the words on the tablets, then they are indeed mere stones.

That the letters were cut through the stone teach another lesson: the Rabbis connect this word 'carved - harut' to the similarly spelled word for freedom: heirut (like the rabbinic description for Passover: Zman Heiruteinu- the time of our freedom). In Pirkei Avot (6:2), Rabbi Joshua ben Levi teaches, "Al tikra harut al ha'luhot ela heirut " "Don't read "carved" but rather "freedom", for there is no free person other than one who is occupied with Torah." Ignorance and neglecting the Divine are a form of bondage. The Rabbis understand true freedom as the service to God. In fact, God makes this explicit (Lev. 25:55): "The Children of Israel are my servants" (using the same root: eved that we begin our the story in the Haggadah: Avadim hayeenu (we were slaves in Egypt).

As long as Moses felt that he was bringing God's word to an eager audience, his difficult task was bearable. Once he felt that his efforts were in vain, the tablets became too hard for him to carry. In the concentration camps, prisoners were forced to do meaningless tasks -- moving rocks from one pile to another -- in an effort to demoralize and dehumanize them. Knowing that our efforts are worthwhile, and that our goal is in sight is crucial. In 1952, the 34 year old Florence Chadwick attempted to cross the 21 mile Catalina Channel in California. Although she was encouraged to keep going, she stopped within half a mile of her goal because she couldn't see it. She is reported to have said, "Look, I'm not excusing myself, but if I could have seen land I know I could have made it." It was not the cold rough water, or the fatigue. The fog had made her unable to see her goal, and it had made her feel like she was getting nowhere. (Two months later she successfully crossed the channel).

When we feel our work has no purpose we are slaves. If our work is in the service of God, then we are free. And when we feel that what we are doing has a purpose and meaning, almost any obstacle is bearable.

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Shabbat Shalom

BDS