Parashat Ki Tisa: In the aftermath of sin

This Shabbat, we read parashat Ki Tisa, which comes after the Torah portions Teruma and Tetzave, and before Vayakel and Pekudai – all of which include the details of instruction for building the Tabernacle and weaving the priests’ garments. The last six chapters, in fact, repeat almost verbatim the same details when describing the construction of the actual Tabernacle.

The literary structure reinforces an important link that connects the story of the golden calf with the Tabernacle. In both instances, the people are invited to donate gold for the construction, and they do so willingly. The gold is then used to fashion the ritual object and, upon its completion, the people offer sacrifices and celebrate.

In other words, the same object – gold donated by the nation – can bring the divine presence to rest among us, or it can lead us to the brink of religious annihilation.

It is a terrible but fundamental lesson to learn – there is no magic potion or wand that automatically brings redemption. There is only discipline, boundaries, and the following of rules set by God that can infuse something with the potential for meaning.

Gold, when used for the Tabernacle, even when turned into the form of cherubim, is permitted by divine order. Using it to form a calf, even if in the service of God, is a flagrant violation of the religious order demanded by Him.

This is well illustrated in a midrash on the Song of Songs: “I am blackened and beautiful. Is it possible for something blackened to be beautiful? To what is the compared? To the young daughter of kings who became corrupted in her father’s home and was severely rebuked and went out and was collecting sheaves and was blackened (by the sun).

“Her friends began to take pity on her. What did she say to them? Do not see me that I am blackened for I have been blackened by the sun and you cannot compare one who emerges ugly from its mother’s womb to one who was born beautiful and became ugly, because it is possible for him to quickly return to his beauty. I am blackened by the sin of the golden calf, but I am beautified by the tabernacle.”

The young woman has been blackened by the sun. It will take much time before she can regain her former beauty. But she is hopeful that the black is not permanent and that it will eventually come off and she will return to her former beauty and status.

The Children of Israel have been blackened by the gold used to create the calf, and they can be beautified by the gold used to build the Tabernacle. In the lesson to the parable, the gold, unlike the “sunburn,” will not fade. Rather, the Tabernacle, built after the sin, permanently brings to mind associations of the golden calf together with the rehabilitative process undertaken by God and Israel.

Making a sacred space

The memory of the sin is all the more beautiful for the transformation undertaken afterward in the conscious coming together between the nation and God within the space of the tabernacle.

THE REPETITION of the information read in Teruma/Tetzave and Vayakel/Pekudei can be understood as an act of rebuilding and renewing the commitment to the relationship between God and Israel. Though nothing will ever be as it was, the story nevertheless teaches us that there can still be intimacy deepened by the acute awareness of fragility, remembered pain of betrayal, and a core strength that comes with resilience infused by the effort of forgiveness.

The golden calf, therefore, becomes a catalyst for tremendous growth and maturity, as the former slaves are only able to understand the consequence of free will by disobeying. In the aftermath of this sin, there is remarkable softening and increased intimacy.

This occurs first between God and Moses, as God reveals more and more of Himself, culminating in the 13 attributes, which teach Moses about divine compassion and forgiveness, along with an actual glimpse of the divine, which will forever be reflected on Moses’ face.

In addition, there is an incredible closeness that emerges between Moses and the people. Moses becomes the leader he was meant to be, fully present and aware of the people’s shortcomings but choosing to continuously champion them throughout his encounters with the divine.

It will result in closeness between God and the people, as God reissues a series of commandments that reaffirm the covenant between Him and the people, namely the worship of one God, along with “action” – mitzvot – including the celebration of pilgrimage festivals, redeeming the firstborn, and briefly but most significantly, a reminder to keep Shabbat.

The two Tabernacle sections in Exodus present a model for what a relationship looks like before and after a terrible rupture. Things may not be the same as before, but relationships can be repaired and rebuilt.

Ki Tisa reminds us that relationships are built on the past, present, and future. They are filled with moments of rupture, betrayal, and transgression but also with the infinite possibility for reconciliation, intimacy, and growth.

There is a midrash in Leviticus Rabbah that daringly suggests that when God asks us to take a terumah (offering), He is really asking that we should take Him as the offering. Zoe Klein, in the Women’s Torah Commentary, mirrors this idea from a different direction: Every day a voice comes forth from Sinai and begs your answer: “Would you be willing to spend your life with Me?” asks God.

God ardently desires to be invited into the sacred spaces that we create. We all have both the individual and the collective mandate to initiate the following of God’s law so that we can experience our own encounter with the divine, both within ourselves and rippling outward to those who live among us. ■

The writer teaches contemporary Halacha at the Matan Advanced Talmud Institute. She also teaches Talmud at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies, as well as courses on sexuality and sanctity in the Jewish tradition.