Earlier this week, we celebrated the holiday of Purim. Purim is fun, lighthearted, and lacks seriousness. Purim is a day of fun, joy, and feasting. A holiday for sending gifts to one another, and our Rabbis have even declared that we are kind of obligated to become somewhat inebriated on this day, where we can't tell the differences between the bad guy Haman and the blessed Mordechai. Behavior that is not tolerated all year long is encouraged on Purim.
However, this week's Torah Portion Ki Tisa has a different mood, sober and somber themes where the Israelites commit the gravest sin of idolatry.
It begins with the obligation incumbent upon everyone, rich and poor, to donate a half-shekel for the maintenance of the sanctuary. In today's modern times, we would call this the first-ever building fund.
The major events of the Parsha are troubling: The people sin. They are anxious and worried that Moses will not return from the mountain. So they make and worship a Golden Calf, dance around it, and have a big ole party and celebration. Moses witnesses this shameful scene and becomes enraged. He throws the tablets from his hands, shattering them. He then directs the Levites to grab their swords and "slay brother, neighbor, and kin." The Torah says that some 3000 people were killed that day because of the sin of the Golden Calf.
Now That's some heavy stuff to read next to Purim. But there is a gem in this week's Torah portion. The last thing God says to Moses is a set of verses that have become one our most beloved prayers and that I often love to sing. Veshamru - And they shall keep Shabbat
Every week on Shabbat, we sing:
Veshamru bnei Yisrael et HaShabbat
La'asot et HaShabbat ledorotam, Brit olam.
Beini uvein bnei Yisrael, Ot hi le' olam, Ki sheshet yamim asa Adonai
Et hashamaim ve 'et ha'aretz, Uvayom hashvi'i
Shavat vayinafash.
The children of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, observing the Sabbath throughout the ages as a covenant for all time: It shall be a sign for all time between the people of Israel and Me. For in six days, the Eternal made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day, Adonai ceased from work and was renewed.
God speaks to Moses, declaring that we shall keep the Sabbath as our day of rest. God then says that observing the Sabbath signifies our bond with the Divine. By keeping Shabbat, we are striving to be holy, as God is holy. On Shabbat, we imitate God's creation of the universe: creating and working for six days, then stopping to rest and refresh our souls on the seventh day.
In Genesis 2:1-3, after God created the universe, God blessed the Sabbath day and called it holy; the first thing that God sanctified was Shabbat: God made it holy time. But it is here, in this week's portion of Exodus, that God declares our observance of this sacred time of Shabbat as a sign of our covenant with the Divine.
When Moses shattered the tablets, the Talmud tells us that the broken pieces of the first set and the whole second set of tablets were placed in the Ark of the Covenant together.
When thinking about our society, we immediately confront the fact that there is much brokenness in the world. Sometimes we want to leave the brokenness behind or bury it so no one can see. We learn from the rabbis of our tradition that both broken and intact pieces are holy; they make us who we are and should not be forgotten. If we throw the brokenness of our society away and refuse to look at it, we will never be a better society.
The prayer Veshamru charges us with keeping Shabbat as an eternal covenant. God says it is a sign between us for all time. A reminder that on the seventh day, God rested, and so should we.
Shabbat is a covenant between the Eternal and us. When we keep Shabbat -- whatever that means to us as modern Jews we re-enact that covenant with God on Mt Sinai.
Every week, we renew that covenant with God and pause to notice the sacredness of creation and the brokenness. Maybe every Shabbat is an antidote to the sin of the Golden Calf. When we created the Golden Calf, we were anxious and nervous that Moses would not return, so we put our faith in something we could see and touch. Now, every week, we remind ourselves that our relationship with God exists even when we can't see it.
New Song
Here is a part of a new song called Gesher Tzar Meod the words come from Rabbi Baruch Chait adapted from the words of rabbi Nachman of Breslov, "The whole entire world is a very narrow bridge and the main thing is to have no fear at all."
Do you ever struggle with feeling that God can be so vengeful?