August 4th: Eikev
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
There is an interesting pattern in religion where current challenges are addressed in rewritten or re-interpreted ancient texts. One example is an Orthodox Rabbi’s explanation that Korah and his rebellion were the Reform Judaism of their day. Another is a billboard proclaiming that Jesus was a vegan. Actually, examples abound in the case of Jesus, with this First-Century Jew being claimed by all sorts of post-Biblical causes: religious war, peace movements, segregation, de-segregation, organized labor, socialism, feminism, helping the poor, blaming the poor, etc.
The problem is that most religions have not had new revelations for over a thousand years, and moderns seeking “Scriptural authenticity” can be tempted to transpose their current concerns onto ancient narratives. Thus do the Muslim Salafists (ISIS) see their modern struggle to conquer Mecca and control Islam as a return to “the original meaning of the Kor’an.” In a similar “historical” claim, I have heard a Unitarian Minister suggest that his faith—formed from the Puritan and Congregationalist traditions of New England—actually goes back to the early Church Fathers, some 1800 years earlier. And, in a much more dramatic creative vein did Joseph Smith create in the 1800s a completely new Christianity, basing it on a set of ancient golden tablets that only he saw and that only he could read.
Some scholars see a similar kind of revisioning/revisionism at play in the Torah itself. Back in June, when we studied the episode of Korach and his rebellion, I mentioned the curiosity of a group of Levites called The Sons of Korach, to whom are attributed a number of Psalms. The Book of Psalms was composed and chanted many centuries after the original Korach buried that name in eternal disgrace, so how/why would a Levitical clan keep such a disreputable name? Could it not be, as some scholars have suggested, that the ancient story of rebellion and Divine Wrath was created many centuries later and inserted into the ancient Torah to “explain” why one Levitical group was left out of the leadership?
A similar theory approaches a passage in this week’s Torah portion. In Chapter 9, Moses reviews the Revelation at Mount Sinai AND the scandal of the Golden Calf. “At the end of those forty days and forty nights, the Lord gave me the two tablets of stone, the Tables of the Covenant. And the Lord said to me, ‘Hurry, go down from here at once, for the people whom you brought out of Egypt have acted wickedly; they have been quick to stray from the path that I enjoined upon them; they have made themselves a molten image.’ The Lord further said to me, ‘I see that this is a stiffnecked people. Let Me alone and I will destroy them and blot out their name from under heaven, and I will make you a nation far more numerous than they.’
I started down the mountain, a mountain ablaze with fire, the two Tablets of the Covenant in my two hands. I saw how you had sinned against the Lord your God; you had made yourselves a molten calf; you had been quick to stray from the path that the Lord had enjoined upon you. Thereupon I gripped the two tablets and flung them away with both my hands, smashing them before your eyes…” (Deuteronomy 9.11-17)
The usual lesson is that our ancient ancestors—as are we—are remarkably apt to fall into sin. Even after all the wonders of Yetzi’at Mitzrayim, the Exodus from Egypt, the ancient Hebrews demonstrate the all-too-human moral weakness that is often our downfall. The lesson is true—perennially true, and so we seldom question the story.
However, if we were to question the story, we might state the obvious: There is no way they would really resort to idolatry right under Mount Sinai. For goodness sakes, they had just heard the Voice of God thunder, “You shall not make for yourself a sculptured image, any likeness of what is in the heavens above, or on the earth below, or in the waters below the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them!” (Deuteronomy 5.8-9) They would have still been very much in the mode/mood of holiness and obedience. Yes, sin is tempting, and humans are weak, but one would think that the Israelites would be inspired by or in fear of God for a little while. In other words, something about the story does not make sense.
It so happens that there was a golden calf in Jewish history. Actually, there were two of them, and they were part of a tribal breakaway some 300-400 years after the Revelation at Mount Sinai. When Solomon died, his son Rehoboam was unable to hold the kingdom together, and the northern Ten Tribes of Israel broke away under the leadership of Jeroboam, establishing a kingdom called Israel. The Southern Kingdom became known by the name Judah since it was the dominant tribe in the south. Judah had Jerusalem, home of the Temple of the Lord built by Solomon, and Jeroboam did not want his people to make the three yearly pilgrimages to Solomon’s Temple. So, to meet the Ten Tribe’s religious needs, Jeroboam built two temples, one at Dan and the other at Bethel, and he installed a golden calf in each.
Why the calves? Archeological evidence shows that many ancient Near Easter religions imagined their deities riding or sitting on animals. Some of these statues and illustrations show God (El) riding on a bull or calf. In other words, the golden calves were not for worship but rather to give God a place to sit. As it turns out, this was similar to the golden cheruvim (angels) on the Holy Ark in the Jerusalem Temple. As described in Exodus 25.17-22, these cherubim provided a place for the Lord (YHVH)to rest when visiting the Tabernacle and the Israelites. So, though the golden calves in Bethel and Dan were not actually worshipped, one can well imagine the authorities in Judah accusing them of doing so—leading some scholars to suggest that Golden Calf story was created several hundred years later and inserted into the ancient tribal traditions that were later woven together into the Torah. Several hundred years ahead of time, the Children of Israel were warned against Jeroboam’s political and religious break with Jerusalem. It was an ancient solution to a modern problem.
Regardless of its origins, the Torah’s story of apostasy and reconciliation is nonetheless compelling. Whether within weeks or over years, religious inspiration inevitably fades. The visions and experiences we have of God’s Presence are often worn down by the pressures and demands of daily life. And there is temptation. Though we all try to walk the straight and narrow path, sin can appeal; temptation can tempt. We are all imperfect vessels, and the fact is that we need regular refueling of the spiritual. That is why God urges us to return to worship and reconciliation—to drag ourselves back from the wasteland of virtue-lessness and refill ourselves with awareness of the holy. Returning to God’s Presence, we can open our hearts to the Divine and find the holy potential God places within. The Golden Calf story reminds us that, when we deviate from the best that is in us, God is always ready to call us back—and always waiting for us with love.