TEMPLE EMANUEL

CHERRY HILL, NEW JERSEY

SHABBAT SHALOM FROM TEMPLE EMANUEL

WE HOPE THIS WILL ADD TO YOUR ENJOYMENT OF SHABBAT

Shabbat March 6, 2010/20 Adar 5770

Ki Tissa, Exodus 30:11 - 34:35

PARASHA OVERVIEW

• Moses takes a census of the Israelites and collects a half-shekel from each person (30:11-16) 
• God tells Moses to construct a water basin and to prepare anointing oil and incense for the ordination of the priests. Betzalel and Oholiab, skilled artisans, are assigned to make objects for the priests and the Tabernacle. (30:17-31:11)
• The Israelites are instructed to keep the Shabbat as a sign of the covenant. God gives Moses the two tablets of the Pact. (31:12-18)
•  The Israelites ask Aaron to build them a Golden Calf.  Moses implores God not to destroy the people and then breaks the two tablets of the Pact on which the Ten Commandments are written when he sees the idol. God punishes the Israelites by means of a plague. (32:1-35)
• Moses goes up the mountain with a blank set of tablets for another forty days so that God will again inscribe the Ten Commandments. Other laws, including the edict to observe the Pilgrimage Festivals, are also revealed. (34:1-28)
• Moses comes down from the mountain with a radiant face. (34:29-35)

Ki Tisa opens innocuously enough, with a discussion of the half-shekel tax and other matters related to the Tabernacle. The drama shifts suddenly in chapter 32. While Moses lingers for forty days on Mount Sinai, the people have persuaded Aaron to fashion a golden calf in Moses’ absence. Upon returning, Moses sees the Israelites cavorting around their calf and smashes the tablets of God’s law. Joined by the Levites, Moses executes a campaign to root out the offenders. Moses then pleads with God and secures divine mercy for the people. The parashah ends with a restoration of mutual faith and with Moses carving a second set of tablets inscribed with Ten Commandments.

COMMENTARY

When God informed Moses that the people had abandoned their faith and God intended to destroy the people, Moses pleads on their behalf. Moses reminds God of the good deeds of the people. They had accepted the Torah and they believed Moses' message about God while they were slaves in Egypt. When God tells Moses about the idol the text reads, "Your people have become corrupt" (32:7). According to the Midrash, Moses responded, "Why is it that when the people are good, You call them 'My people' (meaning God's people), but when they are bad, You call them 'your people' (meaning Moses' people). If they are Your people and Your inheritance, You should always call them 'My people.'"

Moses smashed the first set of Tablets beyond repair and there is no record of what was written on them. Based on this, the rabbis have debated for generations whether or not the two sets of Tablets contained the same laws. Some said the first set of Tablets was composed of positive commandments while the second set emphasized negative commandments-all those "you shall nots."

After he shatters the Tablets, Moses confronts Aaron and demands to know what the people did to cause Aaron to make the golden calf. Aaron responds, "Let not my lord be enraged. You know that this people is bent on evil. They said to me, 'Make us a god to lead us...so I said to them whoever has gold, take it off...They gave it to me and I hurled it into the fire and out came this calf!'" (32:21-24). According to the Midrash, Aaron did this because he wanted to placate the people until Moses reappeared to lead them.

TABLE TALK

Imagine that you were an Israelite slave who has escaped a harsh and cruel life in Egypt. You were part of the great march across the desert; you witnessed a miracle when you saw the Sea of Reeds split and you were able to walk through the water on dry land. Now you are waiting at the base of Mount Sinai for your leader, Moses, to come down from the mountain with the commandments of God. Moses, who led you out of Egypt, has been gone for a very long time. Many of the people are getting very worried. How might you feel? What might you want to do?

In the Torah Aaron wants Moses to believe that the golden calf just popped right out of the fire after Aaron threw the gold into it and it is really the people's fault that it was built in the first place. The Midrash exonerates Aaron by explaining that he does this only to buy time until Moses reappears. What do you think? Should Aaron have taken more responsibility for what happened? What could or should he have done instead?

In the Midrash Moses asks why God refers to the Israelites as "your people" when they do evil, but calls them "My people" when they do good. It seems that Moses is challenging God. There is another instance when a biblical figure questions God. It occurs when Abraham questions God's decision to destroy Sodom and Gemorrah. If you had the opportunity to ask God a question what would it be?

What did Moses do when God wanted to destroy the people? Why do you think Moses did that? What do we learn about Moses from his actions? What do we learn about God from this episode?

Consider the rabbis' debate about the possibility that the two sets of Tablets given to Moses were not the same. Some of the rabbis thought that the second set of Tablets contained more negative commandments. What may have influenced the rabbis to think that the second set was changed? Why might the two sets of Tablets have been different? Why might they have been the same?

DID YOU KNOW... tradition says that the women refused to give their jewelry for the building of the golden calf? The men had to use their own jewelry. To honor the women's resistance for this and other acts of faith, God rewarded women with a special holiday, Rosh Chodesh-the New Moon, which celebrates the first day of each month in the Jewish calendar. Traditionally women rest and relax on Rosh Chodesh. Contemporary observances include women gathering together to worship, share meals and study together. To learn more about Rosh Chodesh see Rosh Chodesh Guide available from Women Of Reform Judaism, 838 Fifth Avenue, NY, NY 10021 or call (212)650-4059.

The Holiness of Wholeness—And of Brokenness by Laura Geller

This week's Torah portion contains one of the most dramatic events in the entire Torah, the incident of the Golden Calf. Moses has been on Mount Sinai for a very long time, too long for those Israelites who still carry Egypt in their hearts to wait. They can't maintain their faith in an invisible God without their leader. So they convince Aaron to build them a Golden Calf.

When God tells Moses what has happened at the foot of the mountain, both Moses and God are angry. Moses is able to sooth God's anger, but when he himself descends from the heights of Mount Sinai and sees with his own eyes that his people are dancing around this idol, he smashes the tablets written by the “finger of God.”

Moses goes back up the mountain a second time and then a third time, hoping to be able to start over again, praying for another chance, wondering whether God could ever forgive this people—and whether God could ever forgive him. The third climb began, according to Nachmanides, on the first of Elul (see Nachmanides on Exodus 33:7).

Perhaps he was still struggling to block out of his mind the terrible images of seeing all those people out of control, laughing as they danced around this golden idol, a calf like their Egyptian tormentors used to worship. Perhaps he thought: how could they do it, so soon after they had stood at Mount Sinai and witnessed first hand the thunder and lightning of God’s presence? Why were they so easily diverted? What made them so confused, so afraid to trust what they had just experienced, so quick to betray what they should have embraced?

Moses was angry at himself as well, because he had lost his composure then too. How could he have smashed the tablets? After all, they were touched by God’s own hand! Did Moses actually hurl them against the ground? Or did the holy letters fly away so that all that was left were stones so heavy he couldn’t hold them any more?

Tormented by his own despair and dread, he pleaded with the God he knew only as the Eternal One who always was and always would be to “let me behold Your Presence!” (Exodus 33:18). But even as Moses spoke those words, he knew he had asked the impossible, because no one can see God’s face and live.

Instead, he heard God’s voice reverberate within him. “Station yourself on the rock and, as My Presence passes by, I will put you in a cleft of the rock and shield you with My hand until I have passed by. Then I will take My hand away and you will see My back; but My face must not be seen” (Exodus 33:21–23).

“The Eternal One passed before him [Moses] and proclaimed: ‘Adonai! Adonai! a God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin—yet not remitting all punishment, but visiting the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations’ “ (Exodus 34:6–7). 

As God’s Presence passed by, God’s Essence was revealed. God was saying: “This is who I am. Adonai, still Adonai, the same before a person sins as after. Compassionate and gracious; abounding in kindness even as I see the frailty of human nature; and forgiving human beings when they sin.”

These words must have comforted Moses. They still comfort us. We recite these Thirteen Attributes on major holidays, though we leave off the last phrase to emphasize the quality of mercy. The words are so important that the Talmud says a rather astonishing thing about them: “Whenever Israel sins, let them carry out this service (ya’asu lifne k’seder ha-zeh, “recite [do] these words, and I will forgive them” (Babylonian Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 17b).

Is it possible that just saying these words reminds God of God’s attribute of forgiveness . . . and so we will be forgiven? In response, “Rabbi Yochanan and Rabbi Yehudah said that there is no magical power in reciting the Thirteen Attributes of God. The Talmud does not say ‘Let them say this order before me,’ but rather ‘Let them do (ya’asu) this order before me.’ Forgiveness is effected not by the saying, but by the doing. Only when a person makes his or her attributes similar to those of God will that person’s transgressions be forgiven. The Thirteen Attributes are not a prescription for forgiveness of sin, but a program for human behavior” (Y. Leibowitz, Discussion on the Festivals and Appointed Times of Israel, pp.184–185). The Palm Tree of Devorah, the synthesis of Kabbalah and ethics written by Rabbi Moses Cordovero (1522–1570), takes the Thirteen Attributes as a challenge for human beings to emulate God in everything we do. (Brooklyn: Targum Press, Inc., 1993). If God can forgive, so should we. There are second chances.

So Moses comes down the mountain again, with a second set of stone tablets, this time written with the knowledge of human weakness and the confidence in God’s forgiveness. The first tablets were fashioned by God alone, but these were the work of Moses and God together. The first time they were perfect; this time they reflected the reality of human frailty, the disappointment of broken promises, and tarnished hopes.
           
According to tradition, Moses came down the mountain the last time forty days after the first of Elul. That day was Yom Kippur, the very first Yom Kippur. Our ancestors took these stone tablets, along with the broken shards that remained of the first, and put them in the Holy Ark to carry with them on their journey.

We are still carrying both sets of those stone tablets with us on our journey. The hope for wholeness and the truth of brokenness exist together in each of us. None of us is perfect. Each of us struggles with limitations and weakness; each of us has broken promises and betrayed what we have loved. But in spite of this, forgiveness is built into the deep structure of the universe. God’s Essence reveals itself, and it is compassion.

Rabbi Laura Geller is the senior rabbi at Temple Emanuel of Beverly Hills in Beverly Hills, California.

No Proof Necessary by Jessica Locketz

Why did the Israelites build the golden calf?

Consider the scene: forty days and nights have passed since Moses left the people and climbed Mount Sinai. The longer he fails to appear, the more uneasy they become. In this state of growing concern, the people demand that Aaron build them a visible sign of God’s presence in their midst. We know what happens next- they build the Golden Calf.

Without Moses, the people grew increasingly anxious. Many of them viewed him as their connection to God. When Moses vanished (or so they thought) it was natural for them to want to replace him. For without him, how would they ever be able to experience God’s presence again? They misunderstood, not realizing that Moses did not bring God into their midst; rather God had been with them all along. 

But it is really no wonder that the people did not “get it.” God’s intangible nature makes it hard to feel God’s presence in times of anxiety and despair. Perhaps then, the Golden Calf was merely a request for tangible proof of God’s existence brought on by the insecurity of a people who felt abandoned and alone.

But they were not alone in their need to know an intangible God. Moses too struggled; he asked to see the Divine Presence.

God tried to honor Moses’s request, at least partially. Moses is told to hide in a cleft in the rock and God will pass by allowing Moses to see God’s back. This encounter strengthened Moses’s resolve to do God’s will.

Maybe if the Israelites had been presented with such an opportunity, they would not have felt the need to build the Golden Calf. Maybe they too would have felt supported by God and not abandoned by Moses. Perhaps they would have accepted the fact that God is always near, even when no proof of the Divine Presence exists . . . who knows?

Rabbi Locketz is the associate rabbi/ temple educator at Temple Emanuel in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

The "Business" with the Calf by Lawrence Kushner

We Jews may have invented monotheism, but that doesn't mean we're monotheists. Indeed, for most of our history, it seems, we have all been idolaters. In Judaism, the maaseh ha-aygel (literally, "the business with the calf")—at the very foot of Mount Sinai, no less!—effectively becomes Judaism's paradigm for estrangement from God. Original sin, for us, is not the forbidden discovery of sexuality (as it is in Christianity, symbolized by eating Eden's fruit), but the worship of an idol:

. . . And all the people took off their gold ear rings and brought them to Aaron. He took them and, with a graving tool, shaped a molten calf. Then they said, "These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt." (Exodus 32:3−4)

Would that this were the only instance of our ineluctable craving for a divine image. There's more and it's worse. Idolatry was also the most conspicuous sin of the Northern Kingdom.

And [Jeroboam] the king . . . made two calves of gold, and said to the people, "You have been going up to Jerusalem long enough; behold here are your gods, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt." (I Kings 12:28)

And who could forget King Ahab and his queen, Jezebel?

And Ahab the son of Omri . . . took for a wife Jezebel, the daughter of Ethbaal king of the Sidonians, and went and served Baal, and worshiped him. (I Kings 16:30−31)

According to Sh'mot Rabbah 16:2–3, we were idolaters even before we left Egypt. When we read in Exodus 12:21, "Draw out and take you lambs," the midrash says it means, "Draw your hands away from idolatry and take for yourselves lambs, thereby slaying the [tangible] gods of Egypt. . . ."

Indeed, even the traditional Haggadah itself (though the verse is curiously omitted by the Reform Haggadah) reminds us—not only of the disgrace of our slavery—but also of the disgrace of our idolatry (!), with the words from Joshua 24:2: "In days of old, your forefathers—Terah, father of Abraham and father of Nahor—lived beyond the Euphrates and worshiped other gods."

But the problem is not merely that Jews have and do worship idols. It's more slippery. Think about it. If idols are only lifeless fetishes of wood, metal, and stone, then why is there all the fuss? They can't do anything! Indeed, this seems to be the conclusion of at least two midrashim. Tanchuma tries to imagine how Moses managed to assuage God's anger over what the Jews have just done. In a comment on Exodus 32:11 we read:

[Moses tried to appease God,] "Why are You so angry with Your people? . . . They have merely given You an assistant. . . . [Look at it this way, God,] You will make the sun rise; [the calf] will make the moon rise. You will look after the stars, and it will see to the constellations; You will cause the dew to descend, and it will cause the winds to blow; You will make the rains come down, it will make the plants grow." But God replied: "Moses, you're making the same mistake they did: That calf is not real." "Ah ha," said Moses, "then how come You're so angry with them?" (s.v. Exodus 32:22; Sh'mot Rabbah 43:6)

The young Abraham resorts to the same logic against his own father, Terah.

Rabbi Hiyya said: Terah was a manufacturer of idols. . . . [One day, in what surely must be the first recorded fit of adolescent, iconoclastic rage, Abraham shattered his father's entire inventory—except for the biggest idol, into whose hands he cleverly put the hatchet! Under interrogation, Abe claimed that the idols had fought over some food] . . . "then the biggest one got up, took this hatchet here, and smashed them all!"

"What! Do you think I'm some kind of fool?" [Terah, his father] shouted. "Do you actually believe these idols are sentient?!"

"Ah ha," said Abraham. "Listen to what you're saying!" said Abraham. (B’reishit Rabbah 38:15)

What's going on? Abraham, Moses, (and God) all seem to know that idols are dumb and dead. One explanation may come from a closer look at the word "molten." It has come to mean "idolatrously forbidden." But the Hebrew maseichah , "molten," similar to English, connotes liquidity or plasticity—more like children's modeling clay, Silly Putty, or "Mr. Potato Head". "Molten" seems to mean more accurately "capable of retaining any shape you give it, never frozen, perpetually malleable." Molten: One day it's a person, the next it's an antelope. Molten: One day it wants this, the next day something else—just like its human maker(s). The core idea then, of an idol seems to be, not that it's a frozen shape, but just the opposite. It's a moving target. Who can tell what it (or you will) want tomorrow. For this reason, an idol makes an ideal godlet—ever ready to sanction your latest fantasy, ever willing to tell you just what you want to hear. And why? Because if you can picture it, you can manipulate it. The more you remember you have made it, the more you own it and the more you can manipulate it. And, if you can manipulate it, then it's no longer a god—you are!

In contrast to all this "visualized tangibility," Johannes Pedersen, the great Danish biblical scholar, imagines God's throne in the Temple. In his classic, Israel: Its Life and Culture ([London: Oxford University Press, 1926], vol. 2, p. 248), he explains that "in all probability [God's] throne was empty [!] Yahweh's [presence] might dwell there without any visible image."

And this brings us back to what I am increasingly convinced may be Judaism's real, central teaching: It's not that there is only one God. (Everyone knows that.) And it's not that God is invisible. (That would imply that, if God were visible, God would look like something.) No, when it comes to God, for us Jews, there's simply Nothing to see—for none of us has any control over Nothing!

"And God spoke to you from out of the midst of the fire; you heard the sound of words but you saw no image, only a voice" (Deuteronomy 4:12).

Rabbi Lawrence Kushner is the Emanu-El Scholar at Congregation Emanu-El of San Francisco. He is the author of several books on Jewish spirituality including a new novel, Kabbalah: A Love Story (New York: Morgan Road Books, 2006).   Lawrence Kushner ©2007

Listen! by Adam Lieberman

When Moses heard the commotion he was able to ascertain immediately that the noise represented the sound of people in distress. How was Moses able to attach such a specific meaning to the shouting and know for certain what it meant?

The answer is that most people just hear what's being said. Others, such as Moses, take the time to actually listen to what's being said. There is a significant and monumental difference between hearing and listening. Hearing means that someone "hears" what's being said and then translates the message into a meaning for himself. When you listen, however, you also take an extra moment to think about the person who's speaking. It's only then that you'll have a clear understanding of what is trying to be conveyed.

Since Moses "listened" to the raucous coming from the Jewish people, he was able to add into the equation that the Jews had not seen their leader for 40 days and were certainly insecure, concerned, and stressed. It was then that Moses immediately knew that the noise was certainly not of gleeful shouting, but rather a sound of distress. Once he knew this, he was able to respond in a way that would have been drastically different if he only chose to "hear" the noise and not "listen" to it.

It's so important to go beyond the words you hear, and instead, listen to what's being said.

For example, when a mother "listens" to her baby cry, she knows right away if it's a cry of unhappiness, hunger, or tiredness. But anyone else who was simply "hearing" the same cry could never be able to discern what kind of cry it was. But since a mother "listens" to her baby, she will add more to the message than just the noise of crying and will instantly know how to react.

So when someone says something of importance to you, try to "listen" to him by taking the time to think about his personal circumstances. The same words said by one person can have a vastly different meaning when said by someone else. And by listening, you'll know just how to react and be able to give the person precisely what he needs.

Monotheism: Antithetical to Man? by Renee G. Edelman

Rabbi Larry Kushner ends his powerful d'var Torah with the statement that none of us has control over "Nothing." The world and its doings are all God, and we are riders through the storm. Ironically, the mere fact that Ki Tisa was the portion I chanted as I became a bat mitzvah over twenty-five years ago, with Rabbi Larry Kushner as the officiating rabbi, gives credence to his statement. As Larry teaches, God gets us where we need to be. But here is where our perspective differs.

I believe in self-determinism. God may establish our birth and our death, but the days between belong to us. From Genesis to the end of Deuteronomy, Torah teaches that we have autonomy that involves yetzer hara , "an inclination toward evil," and yetzer hatov , "an inclination toward good." "Free will" refers to the type of decision that is uniquely human, a moral choice that stems from our creation in God's image.

Deuteronomy 30:19 states, "I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life—if you and your offspring would live."

Our ancestors, that band of rebels who created the Golden Calf, made a communal moral decision based on fear, suspicion, and lack of belief.

But the sin at the foot of Sinai was not the creation of the Golden Calf, but a lack of control. Without Moses among them, there was no godlike representative and no restraint. The Israelites were free to indulge their animal instincts, and they certainly did. According to the commentator Rabbi Moshe Chayim Luzzatto, dancing was an innuendo for sexual abandon. Fear led to idolatry, which led to loss of morality.

Human beings have trouble with faith that is not empirical. We need sight and sound and touch. We need to know that we possess choice and to be recognized for our choices. Between unquestioning belief and ultimate reality lies gray moral ground. Those sinners at the foot of Sinai are not so different from us. They lived through slavery and freedom, witnessed the miracle of the parting sea, and felt terror at seeing so many drowned by its force. In a mere few years, we have lived through 9/11 and seen the effects of a tsunami and a devastating hurricane. But while events may not be in our hands, we can choose how to respond.

Rabbi Renee G. Edelman is a rabbi at The Community Synagogue, Port Washington, New York.

THE GOLDEN CALF: YESTERDAY AND TODAY"

As Cecile B. DeMille would say: "Let's set the scene." The Jewish people have just stood at Mount Sinai and heard the Ten Commandments. Then their trusty leader Moses tells them that he's going up the mountain for 40 days -- to learn more Torah and bring down the stone tablets. The Torah describes what happens next:

"The people saw that Moses delayed in coming down from the mountain. They gathered around Aaron, and said to him, 'Make us a shrine which will go before us. We have no idea what became of Moses, the man who brought us out of Egypt...' The people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron, who cast them into a molten calf. Some of the people began to say, 'This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of Egypt.' (Exodus 32:1-4)

We are bothered by one basic question: If the Jews had just witnessed G-d's awesome power in the Ten Plagues, the splitting of the Red Sea, and the revelation at Mount Sinai, how could these same people turn around and worship a Golden Calf?!

The answer is that the Jews never built the calf with the intention it should be worshipped.

Here's what happened: When Moses said, "I'm going up the mountain for 40 days," his intent was 40 full days. The people, however, mistakenly included in their count that first day -- thereby expecting Moses to return one day earlier! (For example, let's say that today is Sunday. If I say you've got "one week" to get a certain job done -- it is confusing whether you've got until Saturday, or until the following Sunday!)

So when Day 39 rolled around, the Jews began to wonder -- "Where's Moses?" This caused great anxiety. For although the people knew it was God Himself Who'd orchestrated all the miracles, it was nevertheless Moses who'd raised his staff for the Red Sea to split. They relied on Moses as captain of the team around whom they rallied to get the job done.

So on Day 39, the malcontents in the camp began circulating rumors that he wasn't coming back at all. In fact, they managed to instill so much fear and anxiety, that the Talmud says the people actually saw a vision of Moses dead! (So strong is the power of suggestion.)

Then the Jews reasoned: If Moses isn't coming back; we must craft ourselves a replacement. And so the Golden Calf was born. Not as an idol; not as a rebellion against G-d. But as a figurehead. A mere shrine to replace the missing Moses.

And the next thing you know its full-blown idolatry.

What happened?

Maimonides explains that idolatry is not a single step, rather it's a process. In the old days, they'd carve a piece of stone and call it the "sun god." They wanted to pay tribute to God as creator of the sun. But before long, they were worshipping the sun itself. They believed that something other than God was the ultimate source of strength and salvation.

People start off focused and clear on the priorities of life. But then we get sidetracked.

Today, it's not uncommon to believe that money, fame, stock options, a fast computer, or good looks is the source of fulfillment and happiness. And that's idolatry!

And we see this every day. I spoke to a young man recently, and asked him --based on his recent experiences in Israel and with the Discovery seminar -- if he thought the Torah was true.

"Absolutely yes," he said. So I asked him why he's still driving on Shabbat, eating cheeseburgers, and dating a non-Jewish woman. His reply: "I'm waiting until I get a breakthrough in my career. Then I'll get around to those other things."

The Torah tells us that during the incident of the Golden Calf, one man named Chur arose to protest. So how did the crowd respond? Their connection to this "idol" had grown so strong that they mobbed Chur and murdered him.

When Moses came down from the mountain and smashed the Tablets, he issued a pronouncement to all Jews:

"You can now turn back and avoid tragedy," said Moses. "Stop worshipping the Golden Calf and affirm your loyalty to God." Only the Tribe of Levi, comprising about 3% of the Jewish population, accepted Moses' words. The other 97% remained stuck in their failed venture.

How often do we see someone continuing a destructive relationship simply because they're deeply invested and stuck? The physical or emotional gratification may have us hooked. And once we're in, it's hard to stop.

Recently at a young adult discussion group in Los Angeles, my colleague Rabbi Nachum Braverman tried an experiment. He held up a $20 bill and made the following announcement: "We are going to auction off this $20 bill to the highest bidder. The only catch is that whoever finishes as the second-highest bidder also has to pay their bid, getting nothing in return."

The bidding began in a fun and festive tone. Quickly the bidding passed the $20 mark and was down to two final bidders. The mood in the room turned serious, as everyone realized that someone was about to lose a lot of money! Each bidder had to outbid the other in order to avoid becoming the second-highest bidder who would pay for nothing! The bidding reached a frenzied panic, the two contestants, locked into a no- win situation. The room was breathless. And finally, that $20 bill sold for $76.

The lesson of the Golden Calf is to think about what it is we're doing. What starts innocently may turn out tragic. Have we lost sight of our true priorities? Are we being swept away by the mob? Idolatry is alive and well in the 21st century. Let's hope we can eradicate the disease.

ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE

During the Middle Ages, it was not uncommon for Jews to be accused of poisoning wells and infecting the gentile populace with plagues. Lending support to their claim, the Jews' opponents would point to the fact that Jewish rates of illness were typically lower than the general population.

This statistic may well have been true. Jews have always been known for their concern with cleanliness and better sanitation.

Jewish tradition particularly stood out during the Middle Ages - when royalty would often put on perfume rather than wash, and where in colder climates it was not uncommon for people to sew themselves into their garments for an entire winter.

There are many Torah sources which speak about proper hygiene. The Talmud, written 1600 years ago, reports how the great sage Hillel emphasized to his students the importance of bathing regularly. Jewish law also requires that one bathe as a part of Shabbat preparations.

In addition, there are many Jewish rituals that require washing for "spiritual" reasons: e.g. immersion in the Mikveh, and washing hands before prayer, before eating bread, and when getting up in the morning.

One of the first explicit associations between Jewish law and washing comes at the beginning of this week's Torah portion, which commands the construction of the kiyor. This was a large basin, with twelve faucets, set in the middle of the Temple courtyard. It was required that each Kohen (priest) wash his hands and feet before beginning their daily service. (They washed their feet because service in the Temple was always performed barefoot.)

Rabbeinu Bechaya explains the deeper significance behind this ritual. He notes that since the Temple was primarily a conduit to bring G-d's blessing into the world, the water flowing forth from the kiyor was symbolically linked to the blessing of rain falling down upon the land.

Nachmanides (12th century Spain) says this washing ceremony was a sign of respect. He explains that just as one would never stand before a king with an unclean appearance, so too the Kohanim were particularly careful to present themselves properly in the sanctuary - the palace of the King of Kings!

Nachmanides also notes the exact procedure the Kohanim used for washing: They would first place their right hand on their right leg, and wash the two simultaneously, then repeat the same procedure on the left side. He says that the hands - when extended up above the head - are the part of one's body that most closely reach the heavens, while the feet are the most lowly part of a person. This is an allusion to the idea that one must direct simultaneously all parts of one's being in the service of God.

While it is clear that Jewish washing ceremonies are essentially spiritual in nature, there is little doubt that this has fostered a healthy approach to cleanliness and hygiene in the minds of Jews throughout the generations.

THIS WEEK'S TORAH PORTION FOR PARENTS AND KIDS

In this week's Torah portion, Moses goes up to Mount Sinai.  There he speaks with God, and learns how to teach the Jewish people to live in the right way. God tells Moses how much He loves the people and how He gave them the Torah as a special gift.

God explains even though sometimes people don't behave properly, He is very patient and wants to give them a chance to straighten things out.  He's much more patient and caring than a person could ever be.

We can learn from this how important it is to be patient and loving with the people in our life.

STORY

In our story a boy tries to act with patience and understanding even when someone makes it hard for him.

THE TEMPER TESTER

Jeremy Glitch didn't have too many friends. In fact he had exactly one -- Michael Fine. For some reason, most people got mad at Jeremy. But Michael never did. He even seemed to really like him.

One day Michael and his friend Danny were walking home from school together and guess who showed up?  Jeremy.

He came over to the guys when they weren't looking. "Boo!" he said in aloud voice. The boys turned around with a start.

"Hi Jeremy. What's up?" Michael asked.

"It's none of your business, hah-hah" Jeremy answered. "By-the-way, where are you two bozos going?" he added with a silly laugh.

Danny couldn't believe his ears. "This guy is sooo annoying!" he said to himself.

But Michael didn't seem to get angry at all. He just kept answering Jeremy calmly, with a friendly smile on his face.

Jeremy kept asking the boys more and more silly questions, calling them names and making a general nuisance out of himself.

After Jeremy finally left, Danny turned to Michael and asked, "How can you stand that little creep?"

Michael looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"After all those mean and annoying things he said to you, aren't you angry?" Danny asked.

"Listen, Danny," said Michael. "I know Jeremy is a little hard to take, but I just try to be patient with him. He'll probably grow out of it, and even if not, so what? Everybody's always getting mad at the poor guy, so I just try to give him a break."

Danny looked up at Michael and said, "Wow, I never looked at it that way. I think from now on I'll try to be a little more understanding too."

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

Age 3-5

Q. Do you think Michael felt happy when Jeremy was bothering him and calling him names?

A. No.

Q. Then why didn't he get mad at Jeremy?

A. He felt sorry for Jeremy and wanted to be nice to him even though he was annoying.

Age 6-9

Q. Jeremy didn't have many friends. Why do you think Michael became Jeremy's friend even though most people found him to be so annoying?

A. Michael realized that just because someone isn't acting right doesn't mean we have to get mad at him, we can be patient and hope he'll improve.

Q. What are some ways you can show your patience and compassion with people who are bothering you?

A. If someone cuts in front of us in a line, we don't have to get angry. If our little sister or brother is being a pest, we can be patient, etc.

Age 10-13

Q. Do you think a person has a "right" to get angry with somebody else? Why might it be worthwhile to be patient and understanding even if you are angry?

A. Usually getting angry isn't going to change the situation, and it's not going to make us feel better. And a lot of times if we treat people kindly they will start to improve themselves on their own.

Q. If you did something not nice to somebody else, how would we want that person to treat you? Would you want him or her to help you act better next time?

Shabbat Shalom,

Mayda Clarke