In Shemot Rabbah, the great midrashic collection on the Book of Exodus, we find a story about just that, and it hits right at the heart of the relationship between God, Moses, and the children of Israel.
Remember the Golden Calf? (Exodus 32). Big mistake. Huge. As a consequence, Exodus 33:6 tells us, "The children of Israel were stripped of their ornament." But what exactly was this ornament? The rabbis of the Midrash go back and forth.
Rabbi Hanin of Tzippori suggests it was the crown God Himself placed upon their heads, "a crown of splendor," as Ezekiel 16:12 puts it. Imagine, a visible sign of divine favor, lost because of their actions.
Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai has a different take. He sees the "ornament" as weapons. Not just any weapons, but divinely given ones! Rabbi Simi, however, thinks it was royal purple garments, luxurious and symbolic of their elevated status, echoing Ezekiel 16:10-11: "I clothed you in embroidery… I decked you with ornaments." It's like losing your access to royalty, your special clothes that signal something important about you.
The Midrash even connects this loss to Deuteronomy 26:17-18, where it says, "You have exalted the Lord today…The Lord has exalted you [he’emirkha] today." Interestingly, the Midrash points out that in Aramaic, imra means wool, suggesting the verse could be understood as "The Lord has clothed you today." All these interpretations circle around the same idea: the Israelites lost something given to them by God, a tangible sign of their special connection.
What's Moses to do? He gets angry. Understandably so! And in his anger, he takes his tent and pitches it outside the camp (Exodus 33:7), effectively separating himself from the people.
But here's where it gets really interesting. Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi [Yehuda HaNasi] says that God actually forsook the upper worlds to be with Moses! The ministering angels, the sun, moon, and stars – all wanted to be in God's presence, to receive their marching orders, their permission to illuminate the world (Nehemiah 9:6). Yet God was with Moses.
The Midrash paints this incredible picture: if you wanted to find God, you had to go to Moses. As it says in Exodus 33:7, "anyone who sought the Lord would go out to the Tent of Meeting." It wasn't written "who sought Moses," but "who sought the Lord." Because, as Exodus 33:11 tells us, "The Lord would speak to Moses face to face."
But even in this incredible closeness, there's tension. God essentially says to Moses: "Didn't we agree that when you're angry, I'll placate you, and when I'm angry, you'll placate Me?" It's a stunningly human moment, a negotiation between the divine and the mortal. According to the Midrash, God says to Moses (a bit more literally), "When your face is angry, My face will placate your face."
The Midrash then shifts perspective, offering a poignant lament from the congregation of Israel, drawing upon Psalm 77. They reflect on the past redemptions from Egypt and Babylonia, contrasting them with the prolonged suffering under Greek rule and beyond. "I ponder the days of old," they cry (Psalms 77:6), wondering when their current troubles will end. They feel forgotten, abandoned.
Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish interprets Psalm 77:11 ("This is my prayer [ḥaloti hi]") as a cry of despair. If their suffering is simply an illness [hola’im], it can be cured. But if it's a sign that God has permanently rejected them – a "change in the right of the Most High" – then there's nothing he can do.
Rabbi Alexandri, however, offers a glimmer of hope, seeing ḥaloti as an expression of prayer, a plea for divine mercy. He reminds us of Malachi 1:9: "Now, please, implore [ḥalu] God and He will be gracious to us."
The Midrash returns to the dynamic between God and Moses. Initially, when Moses was angry, God would appease him, and vice versa. But God points out the danger of both of them being angry at the same time. "Can two faces pour boiling water?" He asks. It's a vivid image – too much anger will only make things worse.
Rav Aḥa adds a beautiful layer. In this moment, Moses realizes something profound about God's enduring love for Israel. Even in anger, God is urging Moses to reconcile, to placate Him on their behalf. As the Midrash concludes, "Moses said to the Lord: See, You say to me," revealing that God is incapable of truly abandoning His people, even for a moment.
So, what do we take away from this intricate tapestry of interpretations? Perhaps it's the reminder that even when we feel stripped of our blessings, even when we've messed up royally, the possibility of reconciliation, of rediscovering that divine connection, always remains. And sometimes, the key to finding God is simply seeking the one who speaks to Him face to face.