#dəvar hashavu'a

[nonstandardrepertoire]

Ki Tisa

you don't have to be realistic to make portraits that people recognize. stick a stovepipe hat and a bushy beard on a teddy bear, and people will get that you mean it to be Abraham Lincoln. the right hat and pipe alone can suggest Sherlock Holmes. learning to identify these kinds of symbols can be very helpful in coming to grips with artistic traditions that make heavy use of them

if you spend a lot of time with Medieval Christian art, for example, you'll pretty quickly start to run across a figure of a guy with horns on his head. you might think that this is supposed to be Satan, but in many cases, you'd be wrong: that guy is supposed to be Mosheh

in this week's Torah portion, you see, Mosheh is said to have a face that is קָרַן/qaran after spending so much time conversing with G-d. contemporary translations will say that that means Mosheh's face "glowed", but it's a very rare word, and it looks a lot like the word קֶֽרֶן/qéren, which means "horn", and so the most influential Medieval Latin translation said that Mosheh's face had "horns" instead. (the idea underlying the Hebrew seems to be that rays of light emerge from glowing things in much the same way that horns emerge from the head of a ram or an ox)

seeing this prophet with horns tacked on can be a little unsettling, and the Biblical Israelites were certainly unsettled by Mosheh's glowing face, so much so that they were afraid to even come near Mosheh at first, and Mosheh starts wearing a veil around the camp

the Israelites' fear here has many echoes down thru the ages. in 1867, in the wake of the US Civil War and the California Gold Rush, the city of San Francisco was full of poor people and disabled veterans that the rich of the city found unappealing to look at. like the Biblical Israelites, they accepted their gut emotional reaction to those around them as fact, and came to the conclusion that their neighbors were at fault for causing these untidy emotions

rather than helping their neighbors access housing, medical care, and the necessities of dignified living, the rich of San Francisco passed the first of the so-called "ugly laws", bills that essentially made it a crime to be disabled in public, with predictable disparities in treatment along class and racial lines, de facto if not de jure. in the years that followed, similar laws were passed all around the country by cities that would rather arrest people than see to their needs. the last known arrest under one of these laws would ultimately occur in Oklahoma in 1974. today, many of them are still on the books, even if they are no longer enforced

and enforced or not, the spirit that animated these laws is still very much alive. in the US, we still very much live in a society that judges people based on how they look, a society where the powerful would rather remove some people from view than build community with them, a society where some people are given the very clear message that their presence is emphatically unwanted. those on the receiving end of this message often internalize it and start to pull away — "i won't speak up in that meeting because i don't want to take up space.", "maybe i shouldn't go to that gathering; i don't want to make people uncomfortable.", "i feel like even just quietly existing i am already taking up too much space"

even G-d isn't immune from these feelings. after the business with the golden calf, G-d says, "i'm not going to go with you, in the middle of your camp. maybe i'll be in a little tent off to the side here, but i can't be at the heart of your community anymore.". this might sound like a punishment, but G-d doesn't frame it that way in Shəmot. instead, G-d says "פֶּן אֲכֶלְךָ בַּדָּֽרֶךְ/pen akhelkha badárekh/lest i end you on the way". G-d is afraid of hurting the Israelites, and so tries to withdraw. it's a protective measure, not a punishment

it's also not a solution. haSheim cannot be the Israelites' G-d without actually being there, right there, in the thick of them. the Israelites cannot learn from Mosheh how they are to live without going up and being near him, glowing face and all. we cannot build a society together if we all pull away from one another, afraid of causing messy feelings or harm, or having messy feelings of our own in reaction to each other. we have to reach out. we have to connect

this doesn't mean we will never hurt each other. we will. the relationship between G-d, Mosheh, and the Israelites, too, continues to be full of strife, tumult, and harm. in building the world we want to live in, we will step on each other's toes, we'll butt heads forcefully, we'll commit a thousand sins small and grave. but there is no other way. there is no way to build a community without community, and there is no community without tension, friction, and discomfort, because communities are made of people, and people are too rich and varied and messy and complex to snap together perfectly and seamlessly like frictionless uniform bricks in a physics exercise

we will never be perfect. we will always be fraught. coming together to run a community, shape a society, build a better world will always require compromise and generate bruised feelings. but these efforts only fail entirely if we pull away permanently, if we fully disengage

when Mosheh's face begins to glow, he does put on a veil, but, crucially, not when he is talking to G-d or to the Israelites. to be in community with others, he has to be there as his whole, disquieting self, not a covered, tamed version modulated for others' comfort. we don't read that the Israelites ever really adjusted to this — for all we know, every time the light of Mosheh's face fell on them, they felt the same tremor they felt the first time around — but they come near all the same. we have to do so too

to build a world where we all can live and flourish, we have to show up as our full selves, and be ready for others to show up as their full selves too. this work is hard, it is messy, it is uncomfortable, but it is infinitely, irreplaceably worth doing. it is the work that is before us all

shavu'a tov