Ki Tissa has Moses climbing Mount Sinai not once, but twice. The first time, G-d calls Moses to the peak, where HaShem writes the tablets of the Covenant with his own finger. Apparently, HaShem doesn't write very quickly, because this takes 40 days. That's quite an expedition! While Moses is away from the Israelites' main camp, some shenanigans happen involving a golden calf. G-d, being all-seeing, noticed this and tells Moses that his people have been very naughty and deserve to be killed. Moses manages to talk HaShem out of wiping out the people and then heads home. When he gets there, he sees what G-d was talking about, and it makes him very angry, almost as angry as HaShem was. In his rage, Moses breaks the tablets. Which, naturally, means he has to hike his way back up Sinai to camp out with HaShem again for 40 more days. During this trip, Moses is given two shiny new tablets, a new commandment to keep Shabbat (as well as a few other special dates), and a radiant face.
There are a couple of things that are significant to me. While it appears in other places as well, in this parsha I really notice how Moses is closest to G-d at the top of the mountain. Here, the two of them talk. Really talk. As my rabbi has pointed out, their dialogue is almost like a married couple. It's very intimate, and I think very natural. As someone who loves to spend time out in nature, I certainly feel closest to HaShem after a nice, long, hike. And if that hike ends on the top of a mountain, so much the better. There's just something about looking down on the world and being able to see forever that makes you want to pray.
I also think that there's a good reason G-d gives the commandment for Shabbat on the mountaintop. I'm sure it's more significant to me, as a modern person, than it was to the ancients, because the only time I can typically climb a mountain is Shabbat. That's just the way life goes. But still, I think that the day most of us get the opportunity to really experience HaShem is Shabbat. For those of us who aren't Moses, we may never experience G-d the way he did on Sinai, but we can try.
The last part of the parsha that hits home for me is Moses's radiant face. He gets to see G-d's back, and he glows for the entire walk back to camp. That's something I can certainly identify with. While I've never seen HaShem, I've seen some pretty amazing and beautiful things, and they never fail to put an ear to ear grin on my face. That's how I picture Moses coming off the mountain that second time. Lit up from within, and eager to share his newest stories.
In my studies this week, the significance of the face stands out to me. The parsha talks about two faces, those of G-d and Moses.
First, we have Moses asking to see HaShem's face. He is told that no human can see the face of HaShem and live, so while Moses is protected by a cleft in a rock and shielded by HaShem's hand, HaShem walks past him and Moses is permitted to see G-d's back. As The Five Books of Miriam points out, a frontal view of HaShem would not be possible, or even imaginable; G-d does not have a gender in egalitarian Judaism.
I hadn't really thought of that before. As a kid, I pictured G-d as an old man with a long beard and flowing white robes, the "God the Father" of the Trinity. Now that I'm older and my theology has evolved, I understand HaShem in a less literal way. I haven't tried to picture HaShem in a long time, other than maybe as light or the series of Hebrew letters that you see on G-dcast. I don't even know where to start, really. HaShem is clearly anthropomorphic, based on the descriptions in this parsha and in Mishpatim a couple weeks ago. Maybe HaShem looks a bit like an androgynous supermodel, tall and thin, with high cheekbones and no beard?
The Five Books of Miriam suggests that we look in the mirror to see HaShem's face; we are all created b'tzetlem Elohim. HaShem should be recognizable within our own features. The book also points out that once we can see G-d in our own faces, we should then recognize that the same is true for everybody we meet and treat them accordingly.
While I have always believed that it is important to treat my fellow human beings with dignity and respect, I don't always take the leap to appreciate that their faces are also the faces of G-d. It's kind of a lovely thought, if a little Miss-America-wold-peace-ish.
The other face that is mentioned is that of Moses. After he sees HaShem's back, his face becomes radiant. In listening to KOACH's podcast, I found a slightly different take on Moses' radiance than I previously had.
As Dr. Raymond B. Goldstein points out, it was not necessarily a good thing. The parsha says that people never looked at him the same way again; they became afraid of him. Moses started wearing a veil whenever he was outside the Tent of Meeting, because people were so disturbed by his face. Dr. Goldstein also notes, as I alluded to above, that people become radiant over various things, whether it's something they saw or experienced. Dr. Goldstein goes a step further. People aren't disturbed by people who glow over the birth of a new baby or winning a gold medal, but when Moses had a similar reaction to a spiritual experience, the people's reaction was very different. On the podcast, he wonders why this is.
I think it is because we can identify with more earthly reasons for radiance. We can share each other's joy over an accomplishment, because we understand it; we've been there and done that in our own lives. But most of us haven't had a powerful mystical experience like Moses did. We can barely comprehend that HaShem exists, much less deal with having seen what Moses saw. Since we don't understand it, we fear it; this is human nature.
Of course, there is still one problem with this. It does not explain how the veil prevents the Israelites from thinking Moses is strange. He's a grown man, and he's dressed like a woman. This started with my Rabbi and I riffing, but I think there really is something here. The two images my mind conjures up for the word "veil" are a bride and a burqa. These are very feminine images. I would think that the Israelites would make fun of him more because of this odd choice. There is one connection, though, that is intriguing. Earlier in the parsha, HaShem says that nobody can look on the face of G-d and refuses to show it to Moses. Shortly after that, Moses begins to hide his own face from view. Was Moses trying to be like HaShem?
