Parashat Ki Tissa Exodus 30:11-34:35
Dear TBE Community,
Sometimes we experience moments when we don’t feel we have quite the right words to express what we would like to say; when we feel that we can’t quite “nail it” or put our finger on the pulse exactly where it needs to be. Sometimes that is because we are tired or emotionally exhausted or confused or deflated, not focused because too many things are weighing on us — or because we are too excited, too exuberant. At other times, certain Torah portions are so chock-full with matters that all reverberate within us that we can’t quite decide what to write about for the newsletter! Ki Tissa is such a parsha. It encompasses visions of holiness and sacredness; of faith and a sense of purpose lost and regained; of anointing and building; of shattered tablets and overall brokenness; of naivete, optimism, opportunism, and realism; of longing for closeness to the divine and the fulfillment of that longing. And while I can list all these aspects of Ki Tissa, the poet Merle Feld was able to turn them into a poem that resonated with me this week, more than my own drafts and my own poems, and I hope it will resonate with you as well.
I found her poem in the Women’s Torah Commentary, edited by two of my teachers, Rabbi Tamara Eskenazi and Rabbi Andrea Weiss, z”l, who sadly passed away this week. May Rabbi Weiss’ memory always be for a blessing.
Sinai Again
I’m coming back to this mountain now
alone.
It’s quiet,
the barren brush,
the stillness
match my mood.
I haven’t seen you in a long time, God,
where’ve you been keeping yourself?
Me, I’ve had two kids,
work has its ups and downs,
I’m still married to the same man.
I don’t know if you noticed,
but I stopped talking to you.
I called to you,
I called and called,
but you didn’t answer,
you pushed me far away,
so far that even I
who has so little pride after all,
even I couldn’t bring myself
to come crawling back –
I don’t know if you noticed.
I only returned now to walk around,
kick the brush across the sand,
to walk around and think
about us.
This could be a holy place again
if you would just give me a sign –
a thrush or a har
or a mountain goat
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Julia Knobloch