PONDERING THE     ÁËý݉ڂÏ

I)  Why was the punishment for the  ÁËý݉ڂϠ so harsh?  After all, until that time, hadn’t the people been treated kindly - hadn’t they been educated in the ways of their new found freedom gradually, sensitively?   Why crack down on them now?
And this punishment was truly severe - it had three levels.  Thousands were killed upon Moshe’s return by the Levites.  A devastating plague followed.  But most perturbing is that we are punished in every generation to this day.  As it says towards the end of
    Ù¯˜ÝÏ· ª
                       ·ÈÂÌÝÙ˜„ÈÝÂÙ˜„úÈÝÚωÌÝÁËýúÌ
Rashi clarified the intent of this text  in his comments there:
  ÂýÈÔÝÙ¯ÚðÂúÝ·ý‰ÝÚÏÝÈù¯ýÏÝùýÈÔÝ·‰Ý˜ˆúÝÓÙ¯ÚÂÔÝÚÂÔ݉ڂÏ
There is a well known Midrash that says that we all were at Sinai for ÝÓúÔÝú¯‰Ý. According to this, we were all there at the ÁËýÝ‰Ú‚Ï too!

Besides all this, there was one other tragic ramification - the original ,ÝÝÏÂÁÂúÝ were broken.  Was this not a punishment as well?

To understand the impact of the ÁËý, it is important to examine the it more deliberately/
 

II)  I will begin by considering three basic approaches to the sin and its connection to the punishments that followed.  Two are directly suggested by the Chumash:

1.      The people replaced G-d with the calf.  After the calf took form, they exclaimed:
“These are your gods, Israel, that brought you out of Egypt.”  Those who did so violated the first commandments of Sinai, and were punished for violating what they just had received.
2.  The people replaced Moshe as the go-between to G-d with the kdg.  This is Aaron’s  explanation - not mine.  As Aaron paraphrased their words:  “Let us make gods to go before us, since the man Moshe who took us out of Egypt - who knows what has happened to him?”

And yet, these first two approaches leave the severity of punishment unexplained.  They had erred before.  For example, in Ù¯˜ ÈÊ Ý they disobeyed the commandment forbidding the gathering of ÝÓÔÝon Shabbat.  They were not punished - instead they were taught to do better.  It was only a short time later that they arrived at Sinai, were given the commandments, and committed the ÁËý݉ڂÏ.  If they had been given a break because of their weakness, or because they were not yet ready to assume the responsibilities of their freedom, why expect such rapid change?  How could they have matured so quickly?  Why punish them so severely?  And why destroy the ,ÝÝÏÂÁÂúÝ - they could have been part of the cure!
                                                                                                                                         3.   Perhaps, disturbed by just these questions, the Talmud suggests a third, at first puzzling, approach.  In Shabbat 88, R. Simai speaks of our subject matter:
Ý„¯ùݯ·ÈÝÒÈÓýȺݷùÚ‰Ýù‰˜„ÈÓÂÝÈù¯ýÏÝðÚù‰ÝÏðùÓڨݷýÂÝùùÈÌݯȷÂýÝùÏÝÓÏýÎÈ݉ù¯ú¨ÝÏÎÏÝýÁ„ÝÂýÁ„ÝÓÈù¯ýÏݘù¯ÂÝÏÂÝùðÈÝÎú¯Ę̀ÝýÁ„ÝÎð‚„ÝðÚù‰ÝÂýÁ„ÝÎð‚„ÝðùÓÚÆÝÂÎÈÂÔÝùÁËýÂÝÈù¯ýϨÝȯ„ÂÝÓý‰ÝÂÚù¯ÈÌݯȷÂýÝÓÏýÎÈÝÁ·Ï‰¨ÝÂÙȯ˜ÂÌÆÝùðýӯݩùÓÂúÝÏ‚®ÝÂÈúðˆÏÂÝ·ðÈÝÈù¯ýÏÝýúÝÚ„ÈÌÝÓ‰¯ÝÁ¯·ÆÝýӯݯ·ÈÝÁÓýÝ·¯·ÈÝÁðÈðýºÝ·Á¯·ÝËÚð¨ݷÁ¯·ÝÙ¯˜ÂÆÝ·Á¯·ÝËÚðÂÝ­Ý΄ýӯԨݷÁ¯·ÝÙ¯˜ÂÝ­Ý„ÎúÈ·ÝÂÈúðˆÏÂÝ·ðÈÝÈù¯ýÏÝ‚ÂßÆÝýӯݯ·ÈÝÈÂÁðÔºÝÂÎÂÏÔÝÊΉÝÓù‰ÝÂðËÏԨ݄ÒÓÈÍÝÏȉÝÂÓù‰ÝȘÁÝýú݉ý‰ÏÆÝýӯݯÈùÝϘÈùºÝÚúȄ݉˜„ÂùÝ·¯ÂÍ݉ÂýÝωÁÊȯÔÝÏð¨ÝùðýӯݩÈùÚȉÂÝω®ÝÂÙ„ÂÈÈ݉ßÝÈù·ÂÔÝ·ýÂ݈ÈÂÔÝ·¯ð‰ÝÂùÓÁúÝÚÂÏÌÝÚÏݯýùÌÝ­ÝùÓÁ‰ÝùÓÚÂÏÌÝÚÏݯýùÌÆÝýӯݯ·ÈÝýÏÚʯºÝ·ùÚ‰Ýù‰˜„ÈÓÂÝÈù¯ýÏÝðÚù‰ÝÏðùÓÚÝȈú‰Ý·úݘÂÏÝÂýÓ¯‰ÝωԺÝÓÈÝ‚ÈωÝÏ·ðÈݯÊÝʉÝùÓÏýÎÈ݉ù¯úÝÓùúÓùÈÔÝ·ÂøÝ„ÎúÈ·Ý©ú‰ÏÈÌݘ‚®Ý·¯ÎÂ݉ßÝÓÏýÎÈÂÝ‚·¯ÈÝÎÁÝÚùÈÝ„·¯ÂÝÏùÓÚÝ·˜ÂÏÝ„·¯Â¨Ý·¯ÈùýÝÚùȨ݉„¯ÝÏùÓÚÆÝýӯݯ·ÈÝÁÓýÝ·¯·ÈÝÁðÈðýºÝÓýÈÝ„ÎúÈ·Ý©ùȯ݉ùȯÈÌÝ·®ÝÎúÙÂÁÝ·ÚˆÈ݉Èگ݂ÂßÝÏÓ‰ÝðÓùÏÂÝÈù¯ýÏÝÏúÙÂÁÝ­ÝÏÂÓ¯ÝÏͺÝÓ‰ÝúÙÂÁÝʉÝÙ¯ÈÂݘ„ÌÝÏÚÏȨÝýÛÝÈù¯ýÏݭ݉˜„ÈÓÂÝðÚù‰ÝÏðùÓÚÆÝ

According to the Gemara, before ðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓ‰ Israel wasn’t accountable for its actions.  The people were slavelike, they were “all too human”.  But by rising to the level of ðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓ‰, they rose to the potential that humanity could achieve.  “Doing before hearing” was the crucial factor that established the nation’s special status, made them angelic, enabled them to be at Sinai.  The angel’s secret was their secret!  And  each of the 600,000 received 2 crowns - one for ðÚù‰, one for ÂðùÓ‰. They become noble.  Angels served them, crowned them.  They remained that way until their sin.  And then came the calf.  New angels were brought into existence, angels that reflected the disunity that the all too human sin provoked.  The crowns were taken from everybody but Moshe, not to be returned until the end of history. And where one angel had sufficed to deliver 2 linked crowns, now double the amount of angels were needed to collect the scattered crowns.  What happened?  Did the angels get tired?   Is going up harder for an angel than going down? Somehow, the people had acted in a way that detached ðÚù‰ from ÂðùÓ‰, they had done something wrong that shattered a commitment that had ennobled them.  Sadly, they had reverted back to a previous state, or at least  been diverted from the ideal state.

But all this begs questions that are important for our investigation, and that the Midrash does not explicitly address.  What is the significance of ðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓ‰?  Why would the ÁËý undo the link between ðÚù‰ and ÂðùÓ‰?  Their sin could not have merely been the creation of a calf!  If we can understand this, perhaps we can discover why the sin called for so severe a group of punishments, that reverberate until our day.

III)  All too often, ðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓ‰ is taken to mean that the people blindly committed “to do” first, and “to understand” later.  This oversimplified understanding gives little credit to our ancestors.  They made their commitment based on compelling grounds.  Trust was granted based on personal and historical experiences.   One must consider that the Jews that made this famous commitment had seen miracle after miracle over an extended period of time.  Their united response based upon their experience goes beyond the trust one might give an expert based on the experience of his/her accuracy - it is akin to the response of someone who owes his/her life to a benefactor .
Furthermore, one cannot pretend that the people were ignorant of the mitzvot when they made their commitment.  ðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓ‰ is found at the end of Parshat Mishpatim.  By then (whether the declaration was made before or after Sinai), they had already heard many of the mitzvot.  By oversimplifying the nation’s situation when they made a commitment we not only misrepresent our ancestors’ intentions, we change their relevance to us.   Instead, we must explain their commitment carefully.

IV)  One cannot examine ðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓ‰ without realizing that each word defies simple explanation.   We have established  that ðÚù‰ is more than a commitment made by simpleminded people.  To understand the nature of the  commitment, we must consider its context.  A commitment such as this is not a secret New Year’s resolution, easily made and easily broken.  Nor is it a private commitment, a vow, made in relative isolation. A reading of the oheuxp leading up to our key phrase show that this commitment is a covenant, a ,hrc - and it is made to G-d.  The circumstances of any covenant forces the recognition that we must deal with others outside ourselves not only as realities, but as immediate concerns.  The actual presence of others, and certainly the divine Other, is compelling, dominating.  It is as real as we are.  Thus, “to do” means to fulfill one’s end of a deal, to relate to a reality outside oneself, to live in a responsive and responsible manner.  It is to act on the basis of a compelling relationship.  It is to not be alone, not be independent.  The essence of ðÚù‰ is to work with G-d the dominant partner. For a nation to say ðÚù‰ in the company of G-d is to say that you are always aware that you exist in a context dominated by G-d, and that the terms of your commitment are not under your exclusive control, even in your dealings with your fellow citizens.   The ,hrc that is covenanted does more than commit a nation to hear G-d - it commits the members of the nation to treat each other as partners in the fulfillment of the commitment.  The people cannot remain in G-d’s presence unless they respond to, and take responsibility for, one another.

V)  And so, then, what is ÂðùÓ‰u?  If ðÚù‰ comes first, and it trembles with the presence of G-d, what is left to hear?  I would like to suggest two options, one inspired by Onkelos, one by Maimonides.
The examination of Onkelos’s Aramaic translation leads us to an intriguing  possibility.  Onkelos translates the root “gna” in two ways throughout the Chumash.  When the context demands that it be used in a cognitive sense, he translates it into the Aramaic root of the same letters - “gna”.  But when used in the context of relationships and commitments, he translates it into forms based on the root word kce, in a manner similar to how we would use it in Hebrew in the phrase ohna ,ufkn kug ,kce/ (For those of you who are interested, in the opening line of the gna ,thre Onkelos translates gna as gna - in that euxp it is a cognitive act.   But in the second paragraph of the gna ,thre he translates the phrase ugna, gna ot as iukce, tkce ot - connoting acceptance of responsibility.)   Every time the word is used in the context of commandment, Onkelos always translates the word the same way.  Here he translates ÂðùÓ‰u as kcebu.  And this is significant - for according to Onkelos the use of the word indicates the acceptance of the full responsibility for one’s actions.  One begins one’s relationship to G-d by doing things that respond to G-d’s presence, but that doing ought to move us beyond response to responsibility, flowers into an ethically profound awareness of responsibility to G-d, an improved awareness that is brought to life in our world through our actions grounded in our responsibility.  To respond to G-d  is the starting point, to expand that awareness of G-d to everything around us, apply it to all we do - whether G-d has specifically commanded us in regards to a particular circumstance or not - is the endpoint.

A second approach to ÂðùÓ‰u suggests itself by considering Rambam’s approach to the interprtation of Mitzvot.  In his study of the Mishneh Torah, R. Twersky z”l examined the book’s patterns in general, and particularly investigated Rambam’s interest in providing explanations for numerous laws.  In short, he found that Rambam not only wanted to elucidate the behavioral requirements established by the law, but also wanted to show the law’s potential for deepening the lives of Jews who thoughtfully live the life it directs them to live.  Consistent with this, the word ÂðùÓ‰ may refer to the deepening that can evolve from the commitment of the observant person who looks for depth from the Torah.  Thus, the people in the desert committed to take upon themselves a pattern of behavior in relationship to a G-d whose presence was in their eyes unquestionable.  But their commitment went beyond there.  They committed to evolve beyond being a people without sophistication, without history, without depth of lifestyle, without perspective, to a people searching through their divinely revealed framework of life for the newly beckoning meaningfulness of life.

These two approaches to ÂðùÓ‰ may differ, but they are not necessarily at odds with one another.  There is nothing mutually exclusive about being committed to doing for others and deepening oneself.  On the contrary - one could argue that they are intertwined, even interdependent.

VI)  Now we can suggest how the ÁËýÝ‰Ú‚Ï was a denial, a rejection, of ðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓ‰.  They didn’t just violate a commandment, didn’t just create false gods or false go-betweens.  They rejected the viability of the framework of life that they had committed themselves to live.  They refused living life in a relationship with G-d that demanded direct responsiveness and responsibility to G-d, even when not being in direct contact with G-d.  They instead wanted to return to idols, or to depend upon charismatic leadership.  They denied responsibility, and they denied the potential for inner development in the mitzva framework.  And so Moshe broke theÝÏÂÁÂúÝ, broke them because they were not ready to receive them.  They were punished because they had destroyed the fabric of a national identity that would have achieved the aim of being an ÚÌÝÒ‚Âω, that would have changed the world for the benefit of all humanity, that would have forever linked human responsiveness to G-d to human responsibility to G-d and all G-d’s creations.  They had not just broken a commandment or two; they had undermined the essence of the endeavor, the reason for setting them free.  They had decided to distance themselves from the responsibility that a relationship to G-d demands, and in so doing they lost the intimate relationship with the Almighty that they had been blessed with before sinning.  In so doing, not only did they distance themselves from G-d, but they triggered a change in our relationship to Revelation, a distancing that continues on until today.

Yet there was no turning back anymore.   True, ðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓ‰ had been detached.  Israel had distanced itself from G-d, had in so doing lost the potential to fulfill the active role in history that had been originally planned for them.  We no longer stand at Sinai.  And yet, our role in history was not terminated.  Moshe, the only one left with both his crowns, pleaded with limited success on our behalf.  Throughout history we have moved on, doing the best we can, haunted by the long range consequences of the kdgv ÁËý/   Our path has become a difficult, challenging climb.  And so it is today.  Some strive to relate to G-d in a direct relationship, but are unable to link to G-d in the everyday reality of their actions.  Others fulfill their obligations perfunctorily, without even dreaming of a relationship to G-d.  Some intellectually deepen their understanding of Judaism while rejecting G-d’s presence because it transcends human understanding.  And many doubt the historicity of Revelation entirely.  In our day ðÚù‰ is ever open to doubt, ever fragile, for all too rarely are we confidently aware of G-d’s presence, feel the presence of G-d in our relationships, act in a manner that reflects any intimacy with G-d.  And the ÂðùÓ‰, the profundity of our appreciation, the depth of our actualized commitment, suffers.  We carry on as people must, unassisted by and unlike angels; struggling, without guaranteed nobility.

VII)  With this in mind, perhaps we can now return and reexamine the sense in which we were like angels.  We were like the angels for a little while, in that we were doing G-d’s will, aware of G-d as a real presence.  Like angels, our very beings were created and given significance through our active responsiveness to the divine will, and each action simultaneously deepened us.   Until that day, the day we sinned, we wore two crowns as one, we fulfilled ðÚù‰ and ÂðùÓ‰ unreservedly.  But on that day the angels took the crowns home, and nowadays we don’t live in a society that values their recovery.  The angels will not return those crowns until messianic times.  It seems hopeless - how to be noble in our existence?

Yet, despite the fractured lives we lead, there is some hope for nobility - as the Rambam points out, we still have access to a crown, the Îú¯Ýú¯‰.  This crown is gained in our attempts to fulfill ÂðùÓ‰ through learning.  It depends not upon a gift delivered by angels, but upon our own efforts.   As it says in ‰ÏÝúúÝ‚­ý:

Ý·ùÏù‰ÝÎú¯ÈÌÝðÎú¯ÂÝÈù¯ýϨÝÎú¯Ýú¯‰ÝÂÎú¯ÝΉÂð‰ÝÂÎú¯ÝÓÏÎÂú¨ÝÎú¯ÝΉÂð‰ÝÊΉݷÂÝý‰¯ÔÝùðýӯ݉Èú‰ÝÏÂÝÂÏʯÚÂÝýÁ¯ÈÂÝ·¯ÈúÝΉðúÝÚÂĮ̈ÝÎú¯ÝÓÏÎÂúÝÊΉݷÂ݄„ÝùðýÓ¯ÝʯÚÂÝÏÚÂÏÌÝȉȉÝÂÎÒýÂÝÎùÓùÝð‚„ȨÝÎú¯Ýú¯‰Ý‰¯ÈÝÓÂðÁÝÂÚÂÓ„ÝÂÓÂÎÔÝÏÎÏÝÈù¯ýϨÝùðýÓ¯Ýú¯‰ÝˆÂ‰ÝÏðÂÝÓù‰ÝÓ¯ù‰Ý˜‰ÏúÝÈÚ˜·¨ÝÎÏÝÓÈÝùȯˆ‰ÝÈ·ýÝÂÈËÂϨÝùÓýÝúýÓ¯ÝùýÂúÌ݉Îú¯ÈÌÝ‚„ÂÏÈÌÝÓÎú¯Ýú¯‰Ý‰¯È݉ÂýÝýÂӯݷÈÝÓÏÎÈÌÝÈÓÏÂÎÂݯÂÊðÈÌÝÈÁ˜˜Â݈„˜Ý·ÈÝù¯ÈÌÝÈù¯¨݉ýÝÏÓ„úÝùÎú¯Ýú¯‰Ý‚„ÂÏÝÓùðȉÌÆÝ

The part of the Torah that is our exclusive inheritance is the ú¯‰Ýù·ÚÏÝÙ‰, the Oral Torah.  It is our fragile yet long lasting means of keeping in touch with what should have been, with what should be.  It is our way to uncover what Moshe meant, it is our only means to return to Sinai.  Although this is one crown only, and although this does not reunite ÂðùÓ‰ and ðÚù‰, it at least can regain some part of ÂðùÓ‰, and through that some of our nobility.  As it says in ùÓÂúݯ·‰ÝÙ¯ù‰ÝÎÊ:
 
ÎÍÝýӯ݉˜·¢‰ÝùðÈÝÎÂÒÂúÝÓÊ‚úÌÝ·ÒÈðÈÝðÚù‰ÝÂðùÓÚÝù·¯úÌÝðÚù‰ÝÚùÈúÌÝÏÙðÈÝÚ‚Ï݉ʉ¯ÂÝ·ðùÓÚÝ

May we, in so doing, live up to our potential.