Golden Calves and True Stability (Ki Tissa)
Today marks five years since March 11, 2020 — the day the World Health Organization declared the novel coronavirus a global pandemic. Five years since the world shut down. Naming the day matters. So much has happened since. Crisis seems, in so many ways, to have become the new normal, one world-shifting event after another since that intense day.
We gathered online when there was no other way to find each other. And thank God — we did find each other. We learned, we mourned, we celebrated. We connected, more than ever before, and with more intention. That is no small thing.
And still — we are healing. Because, if we are honest, it never really ended. The world keeps shaking. And we, as Am Yisrael, as a Jewish community, as people who endure through time, stand committed to facing it all. But let’s also make sure to give ourselves permission — and a moment — to breathe.
This week’s parasha, Ki Tisa, is famous for the Golden Calf. It’s too easy to judge — to paint our ancestors as either sinners or heroes. But imagine the fear. Moses, their only tangible connection to God’s promise, disappeared into the cloud. The people miscounted the days. They panicked. They didn’t know which way to turn.
When people are afraid, they grasp for certainty. They plead: Turn on the light. It’s dark in here. Who doesn’t know that feeling?
The Golden Calf wasn’t about idolatry alone — it was about fear. And we see this same fear today. Political instability shakes the world, and people run toward whatever offers the illusion of stability. But false gods — golden calves, demagogues, easy answers — cannot sustain us. They crumble. They always do.
What we do need is accountability, stability, and continuity. We need institutions that hold, even when they require reform. We need leaders, like Moshe, who listen, who change, who learn. Because real leadership isn’t about infallibility — it’s about responsibility.
And so, as we mark this day, let’s remember: We are here. We are together. And no matter how much the world shakes, we will keep holding on. To each other. To Torah. To the things that matter most.
