Shabbat Shalom and welcome to Judeo Talk. The Torah portion for this week is parsha Ki Tisa, Exodus 30:11-34:35.
The big, well-known events in the Torah tend to distract people from the more meaningful moments. As in life, biblical profundity occurs just as often in the quiet, even during the downtime, as it does in the epic episodes. That is certainly the case in today's parsha. The most interesting moment in the entire portion just happens to be flanked by big, strange things that people remember first. But before we get to that, how about some comparative religion?
Early in the parsha, God tells Moses to make anointing oil and incense using particular spices, and also to have a brass basin of water just outside the Tent of Meeting so people can wash their hands and feet before they enter. The first thing that popped into my mind while I re-read this segment of the parsha was that it looked a lot like a Catholic cathedral. Basins of holy water, the spreading of incense and other Catholic rituals have their origins in these passages from Exodus. This only makes sense, as the term "Catholic" used to mean "the original way". Catholicism grew out of a desire to return Christianity to a state of biblical fundamentals. Though many of the rituals seem foreign and arbitrary to outsiders, they do actually hew very closely to the instructions in the Torah.
Ki Tisa is the portion that contains the story of the Golden Calf. The Israelites grow impatient waiting for Moses to descend from the mountain where he communes with God, so Aaron encourages them to make a golden idol as an intermediary between themselves and God. This often gets misinterpreted as the Israelites inventing a new god or attempting to regain the favor of an old Egyptian god, but it's a bit more complicated than that. The Golden Calf is an idol meant to represent God, the same God who led the people out of Egypt. In their haste to connect with the divine, the people commit a cardinal sin, forgetting already that God told them not to worship idols when the original Mitzvot were delivered.
In an interesting moment (but not the most interesting of the parsha), Moses asks God not to completely destroy the people for this sin. Moses does not beg or plead. Rather, he reminds God of the covenant that has held true since Abraham. By appealing to this agreement, Moses saves his people. While it would be a little silly to say that God is contractually obligated to protect the Israelites, this is a good demonstration of why it's important to remember the law.
Moses descends from the mountain and the idol worshipers are duly punished. What really strikes me about this particular time in the parsha is actually what directly follows it. When life has returned to normal, the perspective of the parsha extends and retracts, talking generally about Moses's day-to-day habits. He keeps the Tent of Meeting far outside the main camp and he almost never comes out. The people always watch for him, looking for his leadership. But what is Moses doing in there exactly? Well, he's having a crisis of faith. Alone in the tent, Moses asks God how he could possibly know what is and is not holy, how he can possibly tell right from wrong and Godly works from the profane. Moses knows he is seen as a great leader, but he worries about his own very human limitations. God's answer is, in my opinion, one of the most profound, important statements in the entire Torah.
God tells Moses than no human being could possibly see God's face. God does say that, in so many words, if Moses concentrates he will be able to feel God pass him by and afterward, upon turning, he will be able to see God's back. If ever there was a key to faith, this is it. To be human is to not know for certain, to not be able to absolutely determine what is good and right. But in hindsight, when all is said and done, the truth so often becomes clear. In essence, do not attempt to predict God or life. That's impossible. Instead, look around you and attempt to see the mark of great things past.
Take, for instance, the clinical work of Alexander Fleming. The discovery of penicillin was practically an accident. There is no way he could have predicted that the first antibiotic would grow on some forgotten, moldy cultures. Yet, in retrospect, the path to the discovery is clear. It's practically irrelevant whether or not this is called divine intervention. Great things, according to the Torah, happen regardless of human desire and without clear foresight. What's important is that we, as mere people, do our best to recognize great things when they happen.
