Parshat Ki Tisa - Fear The Heavens

The parashah of Ki Tisa relates in detail the events surrounding the episode of the Golden Calf that occurred while Moshe Rabbeinu was atop Mount Sinai receiving the Torah directly from G-d. A crowd of Egyptians who had left Egypt together with the Jews, even while declaring that they believed in the One Supreme G-d, gathered, and fashioned a golden idol that they subsequently worshipped. They prepared sacrifices for their idol, and, worse, some of the Jews joined them and brought sacrifices before this golden beast.

For 40 days Moshe prayed that the Jews should not be destroyed in the wilderness as a punishment for that sin. He successfully obtained forgiveness from G-d. Hashem then commanded Moshe to continue to lead the Jewish People: “And now go, lead the people to [the place] of which I have spoken to you. Behold, My angel will go before you. But on the day I make an accounting [of sins upon them], I will bring their sin [i.e., also the sin of the Golden Calf] to account against them” (Shemot 32:34).

For the moment, the Jews were forgiven. But, henceforth, their relationship with the Almighty would be on a different, lower level. Until now, the life of the Jews in the desert had not operated according to the laws of nature. The Hand of the Almighty was manifest in every aspect of their lives. Henceforth, the Almighty’s supervision of their lives would be less obvious; things would to be “natural,” for G-d declared that from now on, not He Himself, but His messenger (angel) would lead the Jews further.

Moshe began to plead with G-d to continue to lead the people as He had until now: “And he said: ‘If I have found favor in Your eyes, my Lord, let the Lord come in our midst—for they are a stiff-necked people” (34:9).’”

How puzzling! G-d informs Moshe that the reason He will not go with the Jews in the same, overtly miraculous fashion that He has led them till now, is because “…they are a stiff-necked people.”

But Moshe doesn’t make peace with the change in mode that G-d has declared He will now put into effect. Moshe argues on behalf of his beloved nation; he tries his utmost to convince G-d to continue to relate to the nation with openly revealed supernatural protection and providence.

And what argument does Moshe give in his attempt to win G-d over? Precisely the same quality of the Jewish nation that G-d has just told him is objectionable: “…for they are a stiff-necked people.”

How can we understand this?

In essence, Moshe is saying to the Almighty: “Yes, it is true, the Jews are stubborn; just as You said. They have a ‘stiff neck.’ No one can turn their heads to the right or to the left. No one can get them to budge. No matter how hard the nations try to force the Jews to stop living according to the laws of the Torah, they do not deviate from them—even when everyone laughs at them and even if they appear to be utter fools.”

“To accomplish this extreme loyalty to You and Your Torah, they must be as hard as stone. They must be a stiff-necked people. Yes, this is precisely the reason for You, G-d, to walk ‘among us.’ It is just this sort of nation, people with a ‘stiff neck’ who are suited for living according to the Torah.”

*   *   *

I am reminded of several cases that illustrate this statement clearly.

Near Kazan, in southern Russia, there was a large military factory that produced optical instruments for the armed forces.

The director was an observant Jew, Boris Solomonovich Safyan. He had no choice but to report to the plant on Saturdays, but he was always careful to observe the laws of Shabbos even while there at work. How? By spending the whole day moving from one spot to another in the plant, inspecting the production line. That way, he avoided sitting in the office; rather, he was constantly on the move. checking on the work, inspecting the production line, and never writing a single letter. Also, he himself never actually performed any work, so that he would not, Heaven forbid, profane the Shabbat day.

During World War II, when thousands of Jewish refugees found themselves shipped to southern Russia, Boris provided many people with jobs and housing. One of those whom he helped—we’ll call him Chaim—related an amazing episode to which he himself was eyewitness.

It happened in the middle of the war. Russia was fighting desperately to repel the German troops that had advanced further and further into her territory. At one point, the plant needed a rare metal alloy to produce the instruments the army needed. This alloy was not readily available. The government would deliver it to the factory only if a special committee from Moscow evaluated the situation and concluded that the request was justified.

A meeting between the government officials and the directorate of the plant was set up so that the government officials could see firsthand what lay behind this request. It turned out that the meeting was to take place Friday evening—when it was already Shabbos. Boris and his staff presented their case and convinced everyone that the plant did indeed require the rare alloy. Chaim was also present.

After Boris and his staff had presented their case, an official from Moscow announced their decision. “Okay,” he said to Boris, “you’ve convinced us. You will get the alloy.”

He handed a preprinted sheaf of papers to Boris, “Just fill out this application form with all the details, explain everything just as you did now, and I’ll sign it,” he told the director.

Chaim, who knew that Boris never wrote on Saturday, clearly recalls thinking to himself: “Now, how will he ever get himself out of this dilemma? The room is full of top government officials and all his top brass! He won’t have any choice but to write this time.”

But a Jew is stiff-necked. How do you think Boris, the “loyal Communist,” replied?

He turned to the official and told him warmly, “I think you’ll formulate this request far better than I can.”

The Muscovite was furious. “What are you talking about?! Nonsense! You’re the ones who need it! You write it out and I’ll sign it!”

Our stiff-necked Jew held his ground: “You write it out.”

And so it went, back and forth, several times, until the official got sick and tired. In the end, he wrote out and signed the requisition himself.

And once, I remember, something similar happened to me. It was a Saturday, and on the day of the anniversary of the passing of my father, of blessed memory—Tamuz 26, July 7, 1945. Some of my students at the technical college had an exam the next day, so I had a special session with them to answer any questions they may have had.

Suddenly, my director ran into the classroom waving a sheet of paper. “Isaak Yakovlevitch! Every one of the teachers has already signed this document except you. We urgently need to submit it to the Ministry of Education. Sign here!”

“The students are nervous about their exam tomorrow,” I replied. “You go to your office and let me answer their questions, and I will come over to you in another five minutes.”

He left the room. A minute later, I said to the students, “I suddenly have a terrible headache. I must leave,” and left for home without delay.

The next day, Sunday, when I came to the technical school for the exam, the Director pounced on me: “What happened to you?! I was waiting for you to come sign that document!”

I apologized. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot!”

This happens quite often in life. Better to fear G-d than people. G-d will always help.