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Moses Dissolves God's Vow at the Golden Calf

When Israel worshipped the calf, Moses wrapped himself in his cloak, sat as an elder, and dissolved the oath God had sworn to destroy them.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Oath God Would Not Take Back
  2. The Law He Had Been Handed
  3. A Man Sat and God Stood
  4. The Levites Came Out of the Crowd
  5. The Hand on the Wall in Babylon

The people at the foot of Sinai stopped waiting. Moses had walked up into the cloud and the cloud had not given him back, so they said the sentence out loud that would cost them everything: this fellow Moses, we do not know what has become of him (Exodus 32:1). Nobody in the camp contradicted them. The man who had brought them out of Egypt became a man they could not account for, and because a people that has unseated its leader needs something standing in the gap, they carried their gold to Aaron until he melted it down and a calf came out of the fire.

Moses Dissolves God's Vow at the Golden Calf Click for full size

The Oath God Would Not Take Back

Moses climbed up to ask for a pardon and did not get an argument. He got a citation. God had sworn already, and the words were on the record: one who sacrifices to gods shall be destroyed (Exodus 22:19). An oath had gone out of that mouth, and what goes out of that mouth does not come back.

Which shut every door Moses knew how to open. Pleading works on a mood, but an oath is not a mood. It is a thing that stands until something lawful takes it down, and Israel was already standing inside it while the golden calf cooled at the bottom of the mountain.

So Moses stopped asking for mercy and started looking for a procedure.

The Law He Had Been Handed

He had one, because God had given it to him with the rest of the law. A man who takes a vow to the Lord shall not profane his word (Numbers 30:3). The man who swore cannot walk away from his own oath. A sage dissolves it for him, though only when the man comes in and asks for it. Moses had received those rules in order to teach them to other men, which meant he had also received the one instrument that could be turned around and pointed upward.

"Master of the universe," he said, "did You not give me the nullification of vows?" Then he pressed the part that made the rest possible. Any elder who issues rulings and wants those rulings kept has to keep them himself first. Since God had commanded Moses to dissolve the oaths of other men, it was only right that God bring His own oath to the same court.

A Man Sat and God Stood

Moses pulled his cloak around him and sat down, the way an elder sits when a case is brought to him. And the Holy One stood, the way a man stands when he has come to have a vow taken off him.

Later readers could not let that sit. Moses says "I sat on the mountain" (Deuteronomy 9:9), though nobody sits up there. The seraphim stand above Him (Isaiah 6:2). The living creatures stand until their wings slacken, and Moses himself stood every other time he went up. Rabbi Derusai said God built him a chair like the ones given to scholars who come before a king, which look like standing and are in fact sitting. Rav Huna bar Aha gave the blunter answer: Moses sat because he had come to dissolve his Maker's vow, and a sage hears that kind of case sitting down.

Then came the question. Rabbi Yohanan calls it the difficult matter, and it is difficult because a sage has only one thing to ask before he releases a man from an oath. "Do you regret it?" What the question means is that the man swore without understanding what he was swearing, and that had he understood it, the words would never have left him. Moses sat in a chair God had built for him and asked God whether He wanted the words back.

"I regret the evil that I said I would perform against My people."

"It is dissolved for You," Moses said. "It is dissolved for You. There is no vow here and there is no oath here."

The Levites Came Out of the Crowd

The oath was gone. The calf was not, and neither were the men who had made it, so God put the camp to a choice instead of a sentence: whoever has sinned against Me, him will I blot out of My book (Exodus 32:33). That was not an oath. There was nothing in it for Moses to dissolve.

The Levites came out of the crowd with swords and went through it, and they killed the men who had sinned. The ones who had stood in the open saying they did not know what had become of Moses were brought low, and the ones who came forward were lifted up. Psalm 75 sets its warning next to that arithmetic. Do not lift up your horns on high, do not speak with a stiff neck, since exaltation comes neither from the east nor from the west nor out of the wilderness. It comes from the direction nobody is watching.

The Hand on the Wall in Babylon

The oath was dissolved for Israel. It was never dissolved for anybody else.

Centuries later a Babylonian king had the Temple cups carried up out of the storerooms and filled with wine, and gods of gold and silver stood on the tables while the hall roared. Fingers wrote on the plaster. Belshazzar called in every wise man in the kingdom and not one of them could read the writing (Daniel 5). His first thought was rebellion, somebody inside his own house moving against him, because that is the only danger a king is trained to watch for. Then he understood that the writing had not come from inside the kingdom at all. God brings low, and He raises up (1 Samuel 2:7). His knees knocked together.

The second Psalm puts the anointed one's greatness on Zion, the mountain of God's sanctuary. Moses never reached it. He got a mountain in the desert, a chair built to look like standing, and one question.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Midrash Tehillim 2:8Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

Like one minute it's love and compassion, and the next. well, fire and brimstone?

That tension, that push-and-pull between divine mercy and divine judgment, is something Jewish tradition wrestles with constantly. And it's right there, front and center, in the Midrash Tehillim, a collection of interpretations and stories woven around the Book of Psalms. This particular midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) dives deep into the second Psalm, tackling some pretty weighty questions about God's relationship with, well, everyone.

"So He will speak to them in His anger," the Psalm states. But then, elsewhere, we read, "Gracious and merciful is He" (Psalm 111:4). So, which is it? Is God all sunshine and rainbows, or is there a stern, judgmental side too?

The Midrash Tehillim suggests a nuanced answer. It's not an either/or situation. God's mercy, it suggests, is particularly directed towards Israel. But what about everyone else? Well, the midrash points to (Isaiah 13:9): "Behold, the day of the Lord comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger." That verse, it implies, speaks to God's relationship with the nations, the goyim. It's a tough verse, no doubt. It hints at a complex relationship, one where judgment plays a significant role.

Now, let's turn to the next part of the midrash, which focuses on the phrase "And I have anointed my king." Who is this "anointed one," this mashiach? What does it even mean to be anointed?

The midrash offers several intriguing interpretations. First, it references (Daniel 10:3), where someone says, "I did not anoint myself with oil." This suggests that the "anointed one" isn't necessarily someone who's literally been slathered in oil. Instead, the midrash presents a series of symbolic readings.

One interpretation equates the "anointed one" with God's signet ring. A signet ring, in ancient times, was a symbol of authority and power. But the midrash doesn't stop there. It makes a startling connection, referencing the Golden Calf incident in (Exodus 32:4): "a molten calf." Wait, what? How does a golden calf fit into all this?

It's a provocative connection, forcing us to consider the complexities of leadership and idolatry. Perhaps it is a warning: even those in positions of power can be led astray, can create false idols.

Another interpretation identifies the "anointed one" with "my nobles." The midrash cites (Micah 5:4), "and the eight leaders of men," and (Ezekiel 43:7), "Here are the princes of the sanctuary," supporting this claim. This suggests that the "anointed one" isn't just one person, but a collective of righteous leaders.

And where is this "anointed one's" greatness found? "On Zion, the mountain of my sanctuary." Zion, of course, is Jerusalem, the heart of Jewish identity and the place where heaven and earth are believed to meet.

So, what do we take away from all of this? The Midrash Tehillim doesn't offer easy answers. It presents us with a series of questions, forcing us to confront the complexities of faith, power, and divine justice. It's a challenge, and an invitation, to keep searching, keep questioning, and keep striving to understand.

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Midrash Tehillim 75:3Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

Jewish tradition has a word of caution for that feeling – a reminder that true power, true exaltation, doesn't come from where we expect.

Midrash Tehillim, a collection of interpretations on the Book of Psalms, dives deep into Psalm 75, specifically the lines: "Do not lift up your horns on high; speak not with a stiff neck. For not from the east or from the west and not from the wilderness comes exaltation." What does it really mean?

The Midrash offers a fascinating glimpse into the story of Belshazzar, the Babylonian king. Remember the tale from the Book of Daniel? Belshazzar throws a lavish party, desecrating the sacred vessels from the Temple in Jerusalem. Suddenly, a mysterious hand appears and writes on the wall. Terrified, Belshazzar summons all the wise men of his kingdom, but none can decipher the cryptic message.

It's at this moment, the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) tells us, that Belshazzar understood something profound. He realized that his impending doom wasn't the result of a rebellion brewing within his kingdom, but rather a decree from God. "God brings low and he raises up" (1 Samuel 2:7). Belshazzar's arrogance, his "lifting up his horns on high," blinded him to the true source of power. His downfall was a direct consequence of his hubris.

But the Midrash doesn't stop there. It offers another, equally compelling interpretation, connecting this idea of humbling and exalting to the story of the Golden Calf. Remember that episode? Moses ascends Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, and the Israelites, impatient and fearful, build a golden idol to worship. A colossal mistake.

The Midrash highlights the people's dismissive words about Moses: "This fellow Moses, we don't know what's become of him" (Exodus 32:1). They humbled Moses in their hearts, rejecting his leadership. But then, when God declared, "Whoever has sinned against me, him will I blot out of my book" (Exodus 32:33), the Levites stepped forward, taking decisive action against the transgressors. This act of devotion, of choosing God over the idol, led to their exaltation. They were elevated in status and granted special roles within the community.

So, what's the takeaway? The Midrash is teaching us that true exaltation doesn't come from worldly power, arrogance, or even popular opinion. It comes from recognizing a higher power, from humility, and from unwavering commitment to what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s a profound reminder that the forces that shape our lives often come from unexpected directions, humbling us and exalting us in ways we might never anticipate. Perhaps it’s a call to examine where we place our trust, and where we seek our validation.

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Shemot Rabbah 43:4Shemot Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

A fascinating, even audacious, story from Shemot Rabbah – a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus. It's a story about Moses, the ultimate intercessor, and it asks a profound question: can a human being dissolve a vow made by God Himself?

The episode centers around the aftermath of the Golden Calf. The Israelites, impatient and afraid, had turned away from God so soon after receiving the Torah at Sinai. God, understandably, was furious. As we read in (Exodus 22:19), He declared, "One who sacrifices to gods shall be destroyed!" And God doesn't break His promises. As the text emphasizes, an oath that has emerged from God's mouth, He does not recant.

Moses..Moses implored (vayḥal) God. What does this mean, vayḥal? Rabbi Berekhya, quoting Rabbi Ḥelbo in the name of Rabbi Yitzḥak, offers a stunning interpretation: Moses dissolved the vow of his Maker! How could a mortal possibly undo something God has sworn?

In this tradition, Moses argued with God using God’s own Torah! He reminded God of the laws regarding the nullification of vows, found in (Numbers 30:3): "If a man takes a vow to the Lord, or takes an oath to impose a prohibition upon himself, he shall not profane (yaḥel) his word?" Moses pointed out that while the man himself cannot profane his vow, a Sage can pardon it when he requests it. And who gave Moses the laws of nullification of vows? God himself!

The logic is airtight, almost audacious: God, you commanded me regarding the nullification of vows, therefore you also must nullify your vow, as you commanded me to nullify for others.

The story goes on to paint a truly remarkable picture. Moses, wrapped in his cloak, sat as an elder in judgment. And the Holy One, blessed be He, stood before him, like one seeking the nullification of a vow! As (Deuteronomy 9:9) says, "I sat on the mountain" (though the verse is often translated "I remained"). But is it possible, the text asks, that Moses was sitting and God was standing?

Rabbi Derusai suggests that God crafted for Moses a special chair that would appear to be standing, yet he was, in fact, sitting.

Rav Huna bar Aḥa explains that Moses sat specifically to dissolve God's vow. But what exactly did he say? Rabbi Yoḥanan suggests the difficult question Moses posed was: "Do you regret it?" Because if the individual who made a vow regrets it, the rabbi may nullify it. It's a bold, even shocking idea – to suggest God might experience regret. The text clarifies that what Moses asked of God was whether He regretted the evil He said He would perform against His people.

And God, in this incredible midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) moment, relents. "I regret the evil that I said I would perform against My people."

At that moment, Moses declared: "It is dissolved for You, it is dissolved for You. There is no vow here and there is no oath here!" That, says the midrash, is the true meaning of vayḥal – that Moses nullified the vow of his Maker, just as (Numbers 30:3) says, “He shall not profane (yaḥel) his word."

Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish takes it even further, explaining that this is why Moses is called a "man of God" – because he dissolved a vow for God! Just as a man can dissolve his wife’s vow, Moses dissolved God’s vow.

What are we to make of this astonishing story? It's a powerful evidence of the role of the righteous leader, the tzaddik, as an advocate for their people. It suggests that even divine decrees can be challenged, negotiated, and perhaps, even overturned through prayer, righteous action, and a deep understanding of God's own law. It reveals a God who, while powerful and absolute, is also willing to listen, to reconsider, and to show mercy. It's a radical thought, to be sure, but one that speaks to the profound and dynamic relationship between humanity and the Divine.

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