Let the cow clean up the mess of the calf: Ki Tisa 5786

This piece was first posted in Hanassi Highlights, Thursday 5 March. You can also read it in Hebrew, via AI, by clicking here.

Parshat Ki Tisa contains one of the most jarring moments in the Torah. Only weeks after the revelation at Har Sinai, Bnei Yisrael construct the Golden Calf. The speed of the collapse is almost as disturbing as the sin itself. How, so soon after Har Sinai, could the nation that heard the voice of Hashem fall so far?

Chazal link this parsha with Parshat Parah, which we also read this Shabbat. Their striking formulation is: “Tavo parah vetekane’ach et tzo’at b’nah” — let the cow come and clean up the mess made by her calf. On the surface, the association is symbolic. But the connection runs far deeper.

The Kuzari famously explains that, in building the Calf, the people were not consciously seeking to abandon Hashem. They were afraid. Moshe had not returned, and they felt spiritually disoriented and vulnerable. They wanted something tangible through which to focus their Divine service—a visible intermediary that would provide structure and reassurance.

In that sense, their impulse was not entirely foreign to the Torah itself. Surrounding the episode of the Calf are the parshiyot describing the Mishkan, with its physical vessels, sacred space, and golden keruvim atop the Aron. Judaism does not reject the physical; it channels and sanctifies it.

The crucial difference, however, is that the Mishkan was commanded; the Calf was not.

That distinction is decisive. When religious creativity detaches itself from the framework of Divine command, even sincere intentions can become spiritually destructive. The desire to make avodat Hashem accessible, tangible, or emotionally resonant is understandable—but, without commandedness, it risks becoming self-directed spirituality.

Parshat Parah responds with a very different posture. The Torah introduces the Red Heifer with the words: “Zot chukat haTorah.” It is the quintessential chok—a mitzvah that resists human logic. The Parah Adumah purifies the impure while rendering the pure impure. It cannot be neatly explained or fully rationalized. It calls for obedience even in the absence of full comprehension.

The Golden Calf represents the instinct to shape avodat Hashem in a way that feels understandable and reassuring. Parah represents the willingness to serve even when we do not fully understand—to act because we are commanded, not because we have constructed a system that satisfies our expectations.

Ki Tisa invites quiet reflection. Spiritual passion is essential. The desire for depth, connection, and meaning is not a weakness; it is one of our strengths. But that passion must remain anchored in something beyond ourselves. The difference between the Mishkan and the Golden Calf was not artistic talent or symbolism—it was submission to Divine command.

The message of Ki Tisa and Parshat Parah is that Torah does not always yield to our logic. Sometimes growth comes precisely through accepting that we do not stand at the centre. The purification of the Parah begins not with understanding, but with humility. Spiritual purity emerges when we allow the Torah to shape us, rather than insisting that we shape it.

Shabbat Shalom!

Red heifers and redemption

Last Wednesday, HaNassi members were treated to a fascinating talk given by Rav Eitan Kupietzky on the subject of the Parah Adumah—the Red Heifer as described in Bemidbar 19.  There have been just nine of these creatures that are recorded in our history. The first of these was used in the time of Moshe Rabbeinu, the second in the time of Ezra the Scribe. 

Rav Kupietzky spoke enthusiastically of the utility and commercial value of these animals in Israel today, even before the restoration of the Beit HaMikdash. For example, when our Kohanim are no longer tamei, they can receive the priestly portion of terumah (at present, hundreds of thousands of litres of Israeli wine are poured away because there are no Kohanim tahorim to whom it may given). Challah too must be disposed of in the absence of appropriately purified Kohanim.

An animal can only be considered a Red Heifer if its hair is reddish brown and possesses no more than two hairs of a different colour, in addition to other halachic requirements.  Since such animals are exceedingly rare, it was with some considerable excitement that five Red Heifers were found on a farm in Texas. These beasts belong to a breed of cow known as the Red Angus, whose meat is particularly tender.

These five animals have been transported to Israel and are now being carefully raised on a farm in Shiloh, with the anticipation that one of them may become the tenth Parah Adumah in Temple service, whose ashes will be required for purification once our Third and final Beit HaMikdash is built in our beautiful and holy city of Yerushalayim.

We can actually go to Shiloh and see these animals for ourselves (this seems like a good suggestion for a Beit Knesset HaNassi outing!)  The presence of these designated Porot Adumot in Eretz Yisrael is yet another sign that we are getting even closer to our ge’ulah – may it happen very soon.

This report is based on a note by our member Jackie Sharman. Thanks, Jackie, for your help.

Spiritual mysteries in the real world: Chukkat 5784

The Torah interrupts its narrative of the events that befell the Jewish people in the desert with a description of a commandment that admittedly lies beyond any rational human logic and understanding. Even the great King Solomon, the wisest and most analytical of all humans, was forced to admit that comprehension of this parsha was beyond even his most gifted intellect. So, if the Torah is meant to instruct us in life and its values, to improve and influence our behavior and lifestyle and to help us achieve our goal of being a holy people, why insert this parsha in the Torah when it can seemingly have no practical impact on our daily life or broaden our understanding of God’s presence in our lives? 

Though there is a section of Mishna devoted to the laws and halachic technicalities of the sacrifice of the “red heifer” it does not deal with the underlying motives for the existence of this commandment. Nor does it explain why this parsha is inserted here, right in the middle of its narrative of the events that transpired in the desert to the generation of Jews who left Egypt and stood at Mount Sinai. 

Both the Mishna and non-rabbinic sources provide a historical record that describes the actual performance of the commandment in Temple times. They remind us of our necessary obedience to God’s commandments even if they are not subject to human understanding. Even so, we still demand at least a glimmer of comprehension in order to make this parsha meaningful to us. 

The Torah seems to point out the reality that human life is always irrational and that human behavior frequently defies any logic or good sense. How could the generation that left Egypt and witnessed the revelation at Sinai complain about food when there was an adequate supply from Heaven? How could they prefer life in Egypt or even in the desert to living in the Land of Israel? And how could Moshe’s and Aharon’s own tribe and relatives rise against them in defiant and open rebellion? Are these not at heart bafflingly irrational decisions with a terrible downside to them? Yet they happened—and continued to happen constantly in Jewish and general life throughout history. Despite our best efforts and our constant delusion that we exist in a rational world, the Torah comes to inform us here that this is a false premise. 

If everyday life defies logic and accurate prediction, is it not most unfair and indeed illogical to demand of Torah and God that they provide us with perfectly explicable commandments and laws. The Torah inserts this parsha into the middle of its narrative of the desert adventures of the Jewish people to point out that the mysteries of life abound in the spiritual world just as they do in the mundane and seemingly practical world. 

One of the great lessons of Judaism is that we are to attempt to behave rationally even if, at the very same time, we realize that much in our personal and national lives is simply beyond our comprehension.

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein