Our tradition wrestles with that very feeling in the story of the Golden Calf.
Imagine the scene: Moses is up on Mount Sinai, receiving the Torah, the very blueprint for a just and holy society. Down below, the Israelites, recently freed from Egyptian slavery, are growing restless. They don't know when Moses will return and, without his leadership, panic begins to set in. What happens next is one of the most heartbreaking moments in the entire Torah – the creation of the Golden Calf and the descent into idolatry.
But here's where it gets interesting. When God tells Moses about the sin, He doesn't say, "The people have acted corruptly." Instead, God says, "Go descend, for your people…have acted corruptly" (Exodus 32:7). "Your people?" Moses protests, "Master of the universe, since when are they my people?"
It's a powerful question! Why would God hold Moses personally responsible? Shemot Rabbah 42 offers a fascinating, and perhaps uncomfortable, explanation.
God reminds Moses of a conversation they had back in Egypt. Remember how God said, "I will take out My hosts, My people" (Exodus 7:4)? God had cautioned Moses against mixing "the mixed multitude" – the non-Israelites who joined them in their exodus – with the Israelites. But Moses, in his characteristic humility and compassion, pleaded with God. "One always accepts penitents," Moses argued, believing in the power of redemption and inclusion.
According to Rabbi David Luria, God initially disagreed, knowing the potential trouble this "mixed multitude" could cause. But, ultimately, God acquiesced to Moses's request. And, as the story unfolds, it's precisely this group that becomes the catalyst for the Golden Calf.
The Shemot Rabbah emphasizes this point: "It is not written here, 'this is our God,' but rather, 'this is your god, [Israel]' (Exodus 32:4), as the proselytes who ascended with Moses, it was they who crafted it, and said to Israel: 'This is your god, [Israel].'" In other words, it wasn't the core Israelite community who initiated this act of idolatry, but rather those who had joined them, perhaps without fully embracing the covenant.
Therefore, God says to Moses, "Go descend, for your people…have acted corruptly." It's a painful lesson about unintended consequences. Moses's compassion, his desire to include everyone, inadvertently paved the way for this terrible sin. The Zohar, that foundational text of Jewish mysticism, often explores the intricate connections between our actions and their repercussions, and this story is a prime example.
What are we to make of this? Is Moses being punished for his kindness? I don’t think so. Rather, the story highlights the immense responsibility that comes with leadership. Every decision, every act of compassion, has the potential for unforeseen consequences. It’s a reminder that even the most well-intentioned actions require careful consideration and a deep understanding of human nature.
Perhaps, too, it's a call for us to be mindful of the communities we build. Are we truly creating spaces of belonging and shared values, or are we simply opening the doors without providing the necessary support and guidance? It's a question worth pondering, as we strive to create a more just and compassionate world, one decision at a time.