Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
Orel Shoham Bar Mitzvah
Shabbat Ki Tisa
February 21, 2003
Aaron’s Version of Exodus 32
You have heard me comment occasionally that a particular sedra is one of my favorites or in that weekly Torah portion I find new meaning each year. For me, this week’s sedra, Ki Tisa, is one of the most troubling of all of the Torah portions. Even if we do not read Chapter 32 of Exodus, I know it is there. It is one of the dark, embarrassing, haunting experiences in Jewish history, one I find impossible to comprehend.
I am referring to the tragedy of the Golden Calf. Moses, on top of the mountain, communing with God; his people at the foot of the mountain creating an idol. These people who just so recently had experienced God’s majestic power up close, first-hand, now backsliding into idolatry. And Aaron, Moses’ own brother, how could he have participated in this heresy? It is an upsetting story, and I am always searching for ways to try to make sense of it.
The purpose of Midrash is to fill in the gaps, to provide the context which our often sparse Hebrew text does not include. Each year I share with you some new Midrashim, written in our time, which I find helpful. Tonight I want to expose you to the writing of my young colleague, Mark Kaiserman, who serves Temple Emanu-El in Dallas. I believe that his modern Midrash captures some of what must have been the context for Exodus 32. This is Aaron’s version.
“The sun at Kadeish seemed particularly brutal. After 40 years in the wilderness and desert, I thought I had finally gotten used to the endless beating of the bright rays on my head. But at my age, one’s resistance tends to diminish . . . Who knew it would take 40 years to approach the Promised Land?
“The first days of this adventure were the most exciting: being reunited with my baby brother after a lifetime apart; having God speak directly to me and grant me such knowledge and power; struggling one-on-one with Pharaoh, and little by little wearing him down until he let us go. I had been a slave and now I was helping lead the charge against the all-powerful Egyptian king.
“Moses and I made a good team. I repeated his words and those of God. I was more than a simple translator, truly the bearer of a fantastic message. Some of the time I was directly involved – whether in bringing a plague on the Egyptians or learning about the laws. At other times, Moses and God communicated without me and I found out the details later. I must admit it was frustrating to take a back seat to my little brother. He was secretive and distant. I resented being left in the dark so often. Wouldn’t you? But surely, God knew best.
“The desert was tough. Moving through sand and rock with so many people – former slaves, the elderly, the children, all weak and tired. It was slow going. We struggled with a lack of supplies, difficult terrain, attacking armies, short-lived rebellions and especially the frustration of not knowing where we were going or how long it would take to get there.
“But those first days in the desert, even with all the problems, were wonderful. The excitement of freedom was pure bliss. New laws to guide the people were constantly being enacted by God and we were becoming a community.
“My sons and I were selected as the priests for the people. We worked directly with them solving their problems, healing their illnesses; listening to their complaints. Every moment brought something unexpected and new.
“And then Sinai. The thunder and lightning, the cloud and fire, the shaking of the earth, the Voice. I’ve never felt so small, yet . . . I felt so complete, so alive. Can’t really explain it – you would have had to stand at Sinai to know what I mean.
“Shortly after God spoke to all the people, my brother went up the mountain with his assistant Joshua to receive more of the law. I was left down here, but I was in charge, leading the people while Moses was gone.
“This was not new to me. After my father’s death, I had been someone that people turned to for advice and support in Egypt. But in the last few months I had been only second-in-command to my brother. Actually, now that I think about it, it was really third-in-command to God.
“Since they were so busy upon the top of the mountain, I finally had my chance; my opportunity to make a difference. I could only lead the people from among them, not above them as Moses did. Sharing my experiences and knowledge, it was my moment to shine.
“At first things went well. After the intensity of Sinai, everyone was glad to simply rest at the mountain’s base. With Moses gone, there were no more long pronouncements of law and responsibility. I kept speeches to a minimum. Everyone liked that. In truth, although I was always speaking to the community, repeating God’s or Moses’ words, I was a man of few words myself and had little to say.
“I loved having the chance to connect with the people these days. Walking among them and hearing their stories, their problems; helping out where I could. I was particularly good at settling arguments and stopping fights. So much so, one woman nicknamed me ‘the pursuer of peace’ and it caught on. I liked that.
“Moses, for all his love of the Israelites, was still a stranger to them – the mysterious prince who freed them. But everyone knew me, my sister, my wife, my sons, our family. They knew all of us, except Moses. And Moses never really tried to get to know the people. With so much for him to do, meeting the common folk was not top on his list. I tried to be there for the people and respond to their needs.
“You see, up till now the main theme of Moses and God’s speeches had been ‘No.’ ‘You can’t do this . . .’ ‘Thou shall not that . . .’ No one likes to hear ‘No’ all the time. So I spent my time pointing out all the ‘Yeses.’ What we can do, what we should do.
The days turned into weeks; weeks became a month. Then grumbling started. Boredom and the impatience had set in. And then rumors. My wife was the first to tell me of one particular piece of gossip: Moses was dead.
“Being gone so long, some people began fearing that Moses had died on the top of Mount Sinai. Either Miriam and I were covering it up, or we just did not know. I laughed off this silliness, pointing out that Joshua was with Moses and he surely would have brought us news. But I wondered . . . What if something had happened to Joshua too? What if I was now the true Israelite leader?
“With everyone just sitting around waiting, the rumor spread like wildfire. And then they began to lose faith. Moses had been the people’s link to God. Yes, they had heard God’s voice only a few weeks before. Yes, they had seen with their own eyes the amazing miracles of God. But apparently, they had not been able to completely accept this invisible God.
“With Moses gone, their doubts were heightened. They were frustrated with the strict rules, especially of a God they could not see. They were tired of the limitations of a God they did not know. They simply had trouble believing. I heard all their cries and complaints; they were hurting and I was hurting with them.
“I believed in God with all my heart, but I too found difficulty in the limitations we had been imposing. The people had legitimate requests and Moses didn’t always seem to hear them. And maybe, neither did God. Perhaps the God of ‘No,’ was not the way to go.
“Some people began to worship small idols that they had brought with them from Egypt. The mixed multitude of stragglers added to the tension. They promoted those gods that you could see and touch. Sure, the God of Mount Sinai was still the Israelite’s God, but the people wanted a connection to the invisibility, to the absence they felt without Moses. They wanted something more tangible: a link, a reminder, a sign of belief.
“What could I do? How could I help them? Moses was certain to return any day and perhaps that would solve the problem. But I wondered what I might do to help the people connect to God. All they wanted was to believe. The idols of Egypt were not the answer, but was there an intermediate step that I could offer? Was there something I could do to ease their pain? The answer was presented to me by the people themselves.
“When Moses had been gone for 40 days, a group of Israelites approached me. ‘That man Moses is dead, we fear. He brought us out of Egypt and he is not here to tell us what God is thinking. We want to worship God. So Aaron, you need to make us a god to go before us.’
“Here was the answer. A fair compromise. I would make a symbol, a constant reminder, something that the people could direct their energies toward and still worship God. No longer would they have to deal through Moses only, but could approach God more directly, through a symbol. Of course, the belief in the invisible God would be the best, but that seemed to be too much too soon.
“We had tried to make the Israelites give up their idols too quickly. This would be a transition. Best of all, if I made this statue, it would reduce the tension and bring peace back to the people, just the way it should be.
“For the statue to be effective the people needed to participate. So, I had the Israelites give me their gold jewelry which I melted down to create it. This way all the people would feel they contributed something valuable to its creation. The form was another problem. Clearly God could not be represented by any one image. So I chose something familiar and friendly, with some symbolism in its horns. I made a golden calf.
“What a success! The people adored this concrete image of God. They finally could directly relate to the Eternal. A constant reminder of God was before them. I encouraged everyone to worship God who had brought them out of Egypt and they did.
“Yet I remained conflicted. Somehow this seemed like it wasn’t quite right. Then the people began to sing. And dance. And laugh. All my doubts disappeared in the presence of this joy. Peace had returned to the people. I smiled knowing that saying ‘Yes’ for once had been the best choice.
“Then it all fell apart. Moses appeared. He stood at the base of the mountain. His face was dark and sullen. With two stone tablets in his hands, he looked at the people dancing around the golden calf. He saw a mob, a revolt. I saw joy and harmony. His eyes met mine. Even from a great distance, I could feel his anger, his disappointment, his shame. I knew then that I had done something very wrong.
Moses’ reaction was immediate and severe. He destroyed the tablets, ground the calf to powder, forced the drinking of the bitter water. As usual, Moses did not discuss it first. He just took action. Only then did he approach me and asked, ‘What did this people do to you that you have brought such a great sin upon them?’
“Well, this was an odd question. What did the people do to me? Was my brother giving me an out? A way of exonerating myself? If he was, I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.
“Don’t be angry with me. You know how the people have been evil – complaining at every step, disbelieving in God. They demanded I make them a god because they thought you were dead. I was worried for my own life, and the lives of our families. I wanted to restore peace to the community. So I got them to give me their gold, and I threw it into the fire, and . . . suddenly this calf appeared. What could I do?
“I waited. No response. Moses just stared and said nothing. Then he turned and walked away. He went to our own tribesmen, the Levites, and told them to get their swords and go out and kill brother, neighbor and kin. Was it my imagination, or did Moses especially stress the word ‘brother’? The Israelites had sinned greatly, he told them, because Aaron had let them get out of control. Now sanity must be restored to the community. The slaughter that followed was horrible.
“Forty years in a desert allows one to reflect. To learn from their past. As my own death nears, I realize now that my brother had been generous and protecting. In the massacre by the Levites, I could easily have been one of the slaughtered. If the sin was my fault, then maybe I should have been the first to die. But Moses kept me alive and safe. Some have even said that Moses talked God out of killing me.
“Moses and I never spoke about the incident again. He would always refer to it as ‘the calf that Aaron had made,’ but never discussed it with me. We were more distant after this, but I continued to be his spokesperson. More of my energies, though, went into being the High Priest – being with the people, treating their illnesses, teaching them, helping to determine what was holy and what was not, and especially bringing peace to the community. Despite my error, I was put in the position of helping people reach closer to God and follow the law.
“As I sit here under the bright sun of Kadeish, I see the people’s complaint for water now as similar to what happened then. We all want to experience God directly; to know God; to see God. Without water, the Israelites doubt God here at Kadeish. Without Moses, they doubted God at Sinai.
“I always wanted peace. Peace at any cost, even a compromise. I tried too easily to solve every problem – compromising my faith and theirs by giving in. I avoided the truth by saying ‘yes,’ when I needed to have the courage to say ‘no.’ Saying ‘yes’ can lead the people astray. Sometimes you love a people best when you say ‘no.’
“I won’t see the Promised Land. The next generation will have that honor. But as my days come to an end, I know I have tried my best, trying to overcome my failings. My sin? I suppose I gave in too easily. I discarded principles for peace.
“But peace without principles is not true peace. I have learned that we reach God through steadfast belief and not false images. We lead not through mere concession, but through courage and faith. Sometimes ‘yes,’ and sometimes ‘no,’ but always God.”
