“When the people saw that Moshe was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron and said to him, “Come make us a god who shall go before us, for that man Moshe, who brought us from the land of Egypt – we do not know what has happened to him.” Aaron said to them, “Take off the gold rings that are on the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters, and bring them to me.”
While these words from the parashat ki tissa illustrate the disconcerted nature of the Israelites, they also beg further interpretation. In the beginning of chapter 32, the Israelites are desperate. They need a leader. They need a physical, tangible sign that God is with them. And so, in Moshe’s absence, as the text states, they immediately turn to Aaron for the guidance that they sought. But wasn’t this the same group of people who could still hear the rumbling of God’s power at Sinai reverberating in their ears? Hadn’t they seen the wonders of God and felt inspired to ‘naaseh v’nishma’ – to obey and then to understand? And yet they turn to Aaron, a man whom they have all come to know as Moshe’s trusty sidekick, for leadership! Why, now, do they expect Aaron to be the one to lead them? And how is Aaron’s instruction of jewelry removal a seemingly satisfactory solution to their request for a leader to go before them? Using various commentaries, traditional midrashim and my own creativity, this is how I imagined the story truly unfolded:
There was Aaron… just sitting down to a nice quiet meal with his wife Elisheva. She had made her specialty, one of Aaron’s favorites: stir-fried manna with onions and peppers in Soy-Vey sauce! The tent was dark inside, but cool and managed to successfully keep out the unbearable mid-day heat. As Aaron finished washing his hands in the little basin in the corner of the tent, he heard a thumping on the tent-flap. He slowly approached the entrance as the pounding got louder and louder. He noticed that his heart too was pounding rapidly as he went to draw back the tent flap. It was as if he knew what was about to be thrust upon him…
Aaron drew back the flap and found himself face to face with a giant mob, which continued to grow larger by the minute. The voice in his own head, his conscience, was being drowned out by the chanting of the mob: “Who do we want? Moshe! When do we want him? NOW!”
Aaron knew that his window of response time was quickly closing and he needed to act immediately. “How should I appease the people?” he thought to himself. His faith in God was strong and he believed that his brother would be coming back – but would these people be swayed by his convincing words alone? He decided to try talking to them first. “Alright, alright everyone, let’s just calm down. I know that Moshe said he would be back on the 40th day and it’s after noon already, but just have patience and I’m sure everything will be fine.”
The mob sneered at him angrily, as if this response just made them more upset. “We can’t wait for Moshe,” they barked, “we need a leader and a representation of God right now or else…” Aaron felt the pressing need to act on their request because talking wasn’t proving to be successful. He then thought to himself, “now, what task could I have them do that would potentially distract them and yet also buy me some time until Moshe does return? All of a sudden it hit him. “I’ll ask for their jewelry!” he whispered. Although this idea seemed radically farfetched, he thought it was simple – brilliant – just the task he needed! “If I ask them to remove the jewelry from their wives and children,” he reasoned, “it will take such a long time for their wives to actually give up their things, that by the time they collect everything, Moshe should already have returned and he’ll figure out what to do with the people.” Although Aaron hadn’t exactly thought the entire plan through in terms of what he would do after the jewelry had all been collected and brought to him, he was sure that he would figure something out when the time came…
In my creative Midrash, I developed Aaron’s personality and thoughts whereas the Torah leaves the details up to the imagination of the reader. He is still the second in command, trustworthy and dependable. Instead of taking this opportunity to seize power and control the people, Aaron steps up to assume an appropriate role as a substitute leader in a time when the people are in need. Although he is a powerful man, his humanity is apparent as he surely feels fear and is intimidated by the growing mob. While Aaron did want desperately to convince the people that they didn’t need a substitute god or leader in Moshe’s absence, his words were not powerful enough to sway them. What he was faced with was a question of faith. How could he teach faith to this group of people? How could he convince this mob that God’s presence was everywhere? And how could he demonstrate to them that they had faith and they didn’t even realize it? As a future rabbi, I often wonder what I would have done had I been in Aaron’s position at that moment in the desert – face to face with the same situation. Would I have been able to teach people to be faithful and to notice that God surrounds them in their lives, even if they couldn’t physically see it? And in addition, can any of us do that today?
The journey to establish one’s own faith, I believe, is the primary goal of rabbinical school. Each class that I take along this journey provides me with the fuel needed to understand my own faith, which is necessary in order to teach others about their beliefs. In Rabbinical school, we study a range of Judaic topics, from Talmud, Halacha, and philosophy, to Torah, theology, and history. While Talmud study is extremely challenging for me, each and every time I pick up my Talmud, I strive to master the material and in doing so find God in and around the words of the page. Surely God must have inspired the minds that initiated and continued the dialogue within the thousands of pages of commentary. Each time I open a Tanach and one of my teachers points out something that I have read a million times but never looked at in that particular way, I am thrilled to find God there too. On Tuesday nights in our apartment, my husband and I like to call it “Beit Midrash Skolnik,” or “Skolnik Study House” night: first I meet with my chevruta, or study partner, to study Torah commentary, then afterwards Hillel and I both meet with our respective Talmud chevrutas for several hours into the night. These times spent conversing and studying with close friends are some of the best learning moments, where surely God’s presence can be found. While it is not always so easy to see God and God’s workings in everyday occurrences, faith is one’s attempt to do so.
In order to properly grapple with issues of faith, every 2nd year rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary (of which I am one) is required to take two of four possible theology/philosophy seminars. It’s the one class that you can be sure will not only be concerned with content, but will also provide an open and safe environment for talking about difficult theological issues within Judaism. This past semester I took a class with Rabbi Shai Held – an amazing teacher and role model – about the idea of prayer according to various 20th century thinkers. While our class mainly focused on Jewish thinkers such as Abraham J. Heschel, Rav Joseph Soloveitchik, Eliezer Berkovits, and others, we also touched on the philosophies of well-known Christian thinkers such as CS Lewis and Thomas Merton. Together we speculated on the meaning of faith and the import of prayer in our lives through various philosophical works. In Abraham J. Heschel’s book, Man’s Quest For God, he makes a beautiful comment about the nature of faith that caused me to reassess Aaron’s difficult situation with the people. Heschel notes that, “Faith is not something that we acquire once and for all. Faith is an insight that must be acquired at every single moment…”
Perhaps if Aaron had known Heschel, the ensuing verses of the parasha, regarding the ultimate creation of the Golden Calf, would have been different. Rather than insisting upon the people’s performance of an unusual task, Aaron should have focused on talking to the people about faith, articulating that faith is about not knowing. It is not about having perfect trust and confidence all the time – but rather about savoring individual moments of faithfulness. He should have pointed out where they can see God in their daily lives and thus eliminate their need for a physical representation of God.
If Heschel is right that “faith is an insight that must be acquired at every single moment,” for Aaron and for us let this sacred work be our constant aspiration.
