My first experience with this portion was 30 years ago when our eldest son became a bar mitzvah. Ki Tisa is found near the end of the  Book of Exodus. Half of Exodus is dedicated to the Mishkan, the Tent of Meeting or portable sanctuary of the wilderness.

In the Torah portion two weeks ago, the Israelites gave gifts of the heart to participate in the construction of this holy meeting place. The Revelation at Sinai inspired a portion on lawgiving, which in turn yielded the invitation for the Israelites to take materials and build something precious and enduring. Ki Tisa translates as “when you lift up the heads” of the B’nai Yisrael. To an ancient listener, these words signified yet another way of numbering the people so that a capital campaign, a building fund, would levy an equal contribution for each individual. 

A more contemporary interpretation by several thousand years is: when you elevate the mind of the people of Israel. 

When you elevate the minds of people, the improbable becomes possible. The elevation of the Jewish mind is a process. Amid the grandeur of revelation, a newly liberated people with no clear identity and a resistance to change did not have the capacity to elevate anything but their suffering. Whatever they experienced in their liberation story did not solidify their faith. Trust is  another word for faith, and it must be earned.

Our son struggled to find meaning behind Israel’s disgrace of the eigle hazahav, the golden calf, a mere 40 days after they committed to na’ahseh v’nishmah — to do and then come to understand the significance of their observance, the influence of their actions. What were those newly liberated Israelites thinking? They were not thinking. They were overwhelmed with feeling. 

Where earlier the people gave generously from a place of trust, they now give in the midst of a crisis. Moses was on the mountain acquiring a blueprint for the future, and the assembly was anxious about his absence. They were fearful and insecure, emotions that fanned the flames giving form to a new god of gold. If that was not betrayal enough, they referred to it as the god who liberated them from Egypt, and they elevated offerings to it. It was not Israel’s finest hour. 

Ki Tisa speaks to the fragility of faith. It is not what our eyes see, it is what our minds can comprehend. Twentieth-century Israeli philosopher and scientist Yeshayahu Leibowitz (z”l) wrote: “It appears to me that there is no portion like Ki Tisa in terms of the impression it makes regarding our understanding of faith, which is the subject matter of the entire Torah.”

Faith is an intangible gift, a confidence in what can be counted on. The assembly had little confidence. The promising story of a nascent people of God could have ended as a failed experiment after the betrayal of the calf. It didn’t. We are still here.

Our patriarch Abraham’s faith was profound. He offered to sacrifice his son Isaac. Moses also had faith, ostensibly in God who engineered a liberation, a mad dash to the water’s edge, and a crossing to the other side. A faith in God who attempted to relieve Israelite anxiety with sustenance. A faith in God who led them all through a circuitous path to where they now camped, feeling fearful, abandoned and alone.

Moses was devastated by their behavior. The Midrash says that when he saw the letters fly off the tablets, he knew those newly minted Israelites were not capable of living without a golden calf. The calf birthed itself out of their consciousness and experience. Our son Michael said the ancient Israelites could not process freedom. They had no experiential framework to hold it. They had to be taught. 

Moses is called Moshe Rabbeinu, Moses our teacher. Moses advocated for God’s forgiveness. Rather than beginning again, Moses said, let’s keep going. In response to his plea and the people’s need, God promised to be an accessible Presence to the congregation of Israel throughout time.

Moses Rabbeinu did have faith in God. He also had faith in us. Nineteenth-century Sfat Emet says Moses loved the whole community of Israel even more than he loved the tablets. Moses proved it. 

We have been given a legacy that invites us to elevate our minds and hearts. We have been deployed to apply principles of justice and to fulfill the obligations of freedom wherever they are needed. Let’s not betray that intangible gift Moses placed in us. Let’s not disappoint him. 

Rabbi Dale Schreiber is a chaplain providing Jewish care coordination for Pathways Hospice and Palliative Care, and has a private practice, Renewal-in-Action, specializing in resiliency, spiritual development and compassion fatigue recovery. Schreiber is a member of the St. Louis Rabbinical Association, which coordinates the weekly d’var Torah for the Jewish Light.