Night and Day

Most of Parshas Ki Sisa is dedicated to the Chet HaEgel and its aftermath. This episode is of course a seminal moment in our history—indeed Chazal tell us that all our trials and tribulations to this day have an element of Onesh for that Aveirah. Such a pivotal moment certainly deserves close study.

To understand any mistake or misstep, it is always important to first understand its root, and this case is no different. As we learn the Parsha of the Egel, however, the cause of the Aveirah is in some ways difficult to discern as the Pessukim include few words of explanation. It is up to us to use the words of Chazal throughout the ages to determine how this Aveirah came about, so that we may be able to avoid similar actions in our own lives.

In order to do so, let us first examine the few words the Torah does tell us about Klal Yisroel’s mindset: “Vayar HaAm Ki Boshesh Moshe Laredesh Min HaHar”, the people saw that Moshe was delayed from coming down from Har Sinai, and they approached Aharon HaKohen, with an urgent demand: “Aseh Lanu Elokim Ki Zeh Moshe HaIsh Asher HeAlinu M’Eretz Mitzrayim Lo Yadanu Mah Haya Lo.”

A simple reading of this Passuk tells us that Klal Yisroel was waiting for Moshe Rabbeinu to descend from Har Sinai, and when he did not arrive at the appointed time, they insisted that Aharon HaKohen provide them with a replacement, in the form of an “Elokim.” As we know, there is no Passuk that can be understood on its face, and certainly not one as integral to our destiny as this.

Rashi, based on a Gemarah in Shabbos, explains the background to these events. When Moshe Rabbeinu went up to Har Sinai, he told Klal Yisroel that he would return in forty days, in the sixth hour of the day. At the end of the forty days, the Satan brought a sense of confusion in the world, and attempted to convince Klal Yisroel that Moshe would no return. The people refused to believe the Satan, however, so he increased his machinations, going so far as to showing them what appeared to be the Aron of Moshe, indicating that he had been Niftar. It was in this state, after witnessing these events, that Bnei Yisroel approached Aharon and made their request.

There is an additional detail that Rashi includes, which is not mentioned directly in the Gemrah in Shabbos: Bnei Yisroel’s count of the forty days was wrong. Moshe went up to Sinai on the seventh of Sivan, and told said that he would return after forty days. Bnei Yisroel began counting immediately, including the seventh of Sivan and finished their count on the sixteenth day of Tamuz. Moshe, however, was referring to forty full days, including the nights, and so his count did not begin until the nightfall when the eighth of Sivan began, making his return date the seventeen of Tamuz.

When taking into account Rashi’s words, which appear in his Pirush on the Gemarah as well, there are two simple yet pressing questions that must be asked.

First, how did this most confusion come about? Moshe said that he would be on the mountain for forty days, and then he would return—the discrepancy was when those forty days began, on that day or the day after. According to the way Rashi explains out Passuk, this was the basis for Bnei Yisroel’s concern when Moshe did not appear at what they thought to be the appointed time. In other words, the Chet HaEgel, an incident whose ramifications span millennia, came about because of a simple counting error. How can we possibly understand how this most basic mistake wreaked such utter havoc?

It is also important to understand how Rashi’s addition to the Gemarah fits with the text itself. If the Bnei Yisroel’s request to Aharon was made because the Satan convinced them that Moshe was not to return, as the Gemrah explains, what difference did their mistake in the count make in the first place? The Satan clearly wished to inject his signature mayhem into the world—a goal which he reached, causing Bnei Yisroel to panic and ask Aharon to make them an “Elokim”. Could he not have done so even if they had the correct count? Why does Rashi add the element of the counting error if Bnei Yisroel seem to have been motivated by the Ma’aseh Satan in the end anyhow?

There is also one word that appears in the challenge that Bnei Yisroel issued to Aharon that requires explanation. They said: “Ki Zeh Moshe HaIsh Asher HeAlinu M’Eretz Mitzrayim Lo Yadanu Mah Haya Lo,” indicating that they believed Moshe Rabbeinu to be lost. Why though did they use the word “Ish”? Their statement would have had the same effect had they left that word out, and its usage seems almost awkward in context. What are we to learn from its addition?

Perhaps we can explain the appearance of the word “Ish” in this Passuk, thereby gaining a new insight into the words of Klal Yisroel, based on a thought in the Sefer Chachmas Shlomo here.

The words, “Boshesh” that is used in the Passuk is translated by Targum as “Ochar”, meaning delayed, and Rashi points to a few other uses of similar words in Tanach. The Tiferes Shlomo, however, points out that it is similar to another word that is more familiar: “Busha”, meaning embarrassment. He explains the Passuk in a most novel way based on this understanding of the word.

Klal Yisroel knew that Moshe Rabbeinu had always demurred from his position as Manhig, as befitted his status as the “Anav Mikol Adam.” Nonetheless he had been pressed into service in the past, serving as the leader “Asher HeAlinu M’Eretz Mitzrayim”. They thought, however, that Moshe woul had grown to such heights while h in Shamayim, with his Middas HaAnavah increasing correspondingly, that he would have outright refused to reassume his post, and they would be left leaderless.

In this understanding, the word Boshesh refers to the Boosha that Moshe Rabbeinu would have felt as an Anav in a leadership position. Perhaps, however, there is another way to explain the word.

Directly after Mattan Torah, Moshe ascended Har Sinai, leaving Bnei Yisroel on the ground, so to speak. They knew that he had now spent forty days in Shamayim, no doubt growing in leaps and bounds. Why, they wondered, would he see fit to lead a nation such as theirs at this time? Why would someone who had reached such heights associate, so to speak, with a nation of simple folk who had been slaves in Mitzrayim just about three months prior? Would not Moshe feel a sense of Busha, embarrassment, at associating with them at their low level?

The fact that Bnei Yisroel were concerned about Moshe Rabbeinu’s growth is indicated by their use of the words “Ish.” The Radak, in Sefer Melachim, explains that the word Ish refers to one who is a Zariz, is focused on his own growth and Kvishas HaYetzer. Bnei Yisroel thought that Moshe should already have descended the mountain, and when he didn’t they drew their own conclusion: that Moshe no longer wished to serve as their leader because he was embarrassed by their comparative shortcomings. They said to Aharon: “We know Moshe, he is an Ish—someone who is focused on his own growth—and he no doubt has spent the last forty days achieving new heights, why would he return to his position as our leader?” It was for this reason that they begged Aharon to provide them with a new medium of leadership.

Their underlying mistake, however, can itself be discerned from the reason they had miscalculated in the first place.

In Yiddishkeit, we know that the day follows the night, this is a basic characteristic of our calendar and has effects throughout our lives. The secular calendar, however, follows the opposite pattern—the night follows the day—and this rule applies to anything realted to the Umos Haolam. The Makneh, in Kedushin, explains that prior to Matan Torah the same was true of Bnei Yisroel—our days spanned sunrise to sunrise and not visa versa.

Herein lied the error of Klal Yisroel. When Moshe told Bnei Yisroel that he would be on Har Sinai for forty full days, he referred to the post-Mattan Torah days, which begin at night. Thus, he bagan his count from nightfall. Bnei Yisroel, however, were still using the pre-Mattan Torah days, which begin at sunrise, and so they counted the day on which Moshe ascended and the night which followed it as the first day.

Perhaps then we see that the mistake that Bnei Yisroel made was not realizing that they themselves had been affected by Kabalas HaTorah. They were still using the old calendar, beginning the new day at sunrise, because they failed to see that there was a change in their level, that they were new people. This led them to believe that Moshe would be embarrassed by them, because they did not realize their own value and recognize their growth as a people. They mistakenly thought that only Moshe had achieved new heights since Kabalas HaTorah, and that they had stagnated, leading them to believe that they would be leaderless.

It was this attitude that left and opening for the Satan to act. Yes, they were ultimately led astray by the confusion sown by the Sitra Acher—but he only had room to operate in the vacuum created by the lack of self-confidence exhibited by Bnei Yisroel. Because the Yidden did not recognize the affect that Mattan Torah had on them, as evidenced by their failure to count days based on the new system, they thought they Moshe could be embarrassed by them and the Satan had room to convince them that they were in fact without a leader.

The Chet Haegel was a moment that altered the trajectory of our national destiny, one that affects us to this day. As we have seen, the ultimate root of this Avierah was a lack of acknowledgment of our own growth and achievement. Only because we thought ourselves unworthy of Moshe’s leadership did the Satan have room to act, and did we fall to the extent that we did. This cycle repeats itself in our lives on a regular basis: we are too self-critical, thinking ourselves unworthy of greatness, and that allows the Yetzer Harah to steer us to Aveirah. We must resist the urge to judge ourselves unfavorably, rather we should focus on our achievements, understanding that as members of the Am Hanivchar we are elevated by our very nature. When we do this we prevent the Satan from drawing us into his confusion, achieving the greatness to which we are destined.