Midrash Tanchuma (Parshas Ki Sissa) sets forth the notion that the machatzis ha’shekel, coin which every Jew had to donate, was to atone for the sin of the Golden Calf. The Midrash says that the nations of the world declared, “A nation that heard at Sinai: A) I am Hashem, your G-d, followed by B) You shall not recognize the gods of others.” In spite of this, after only forty days, the people created the Golden Calf. How could Hashem welcome them back? This was no ordinary sin, but a grievous, flagrant act of unfaithfulness. Chazal liken this to a bride who sins on her wedding night.
Zera Shimshon asks: Why did the nations underscore the idea that the Jewish People were deserving of being destroyed because they transgressed two commandments? Is not one – rejecting Hashem – sufficient? He explains that, veritably, when the nation made the Golden Calf, it was not with the intention to deny the fundamental tenet of emunah, belief in Hashem. They sought to make the molten calf a kind of tangible leader that would go before them and lead – as Moshe Rabbeinu did. They thought Moshe had died; thus, they sought a replacement for him, not another deity. The nations of the world thought that Bnei Yisrael had committed full-fledged idol-worship, that they had from the very onset intended to make an idol. Therefore, they focused on the concept of hearing two commandments. This means: Had they only rejected the Anochi, “I am Hashem, your G-d,” we might have said, in their defense, that one who worships another god, but does not deny Hashem as the Supreme Being – is not a sinner. They went further, however, by creating another god to replace Hashem, thus transgressing both commandments.
The Zera Shimshon continues that, had a second commandment not been presented, the Jewish people could have claimed error by not realizing that shituf, a partnership, with Hashem is a violation of idol worship. In this context, however, the second commandment emphasizes that another god is considered idol worship, so the people were held responsible for the commission of a grievous sin.
In the Torah, shituf, believing in Hashem while adding another force is–in and of itself– flagrant idol worship. The moment one merges Hashem with any other entity, the moment the pure is blended with the impure, the boundary is shattered. For the Jew, only Hashem exists — nothing and no one else. The second commandment stands in opposition, not only to a second god, but also to the very idea of admixture, dilution of the partnership.
I cite the Meshech Chochmah who, in a brilliant exposition, indicates that our Patriarch, Yaakov Avinu, foresaw this tragedy that would emerge from the blurring of the lines. When Yaakov prepares for his fateful encounter with Eisav, he tells him, “I have acquired oxen and donkeys.” The question is obvious: What happened to Yaakov’s many camels? Why did he choose to omit this considerable piece of property?
The Meshech Chochmah (Parshas Vayishlach) suggests a deeper, symbolic meaning to Yaakov’s words. The ox is a fully kosher animal, displaying both required kosher signs. The donkey has no kosher signs whatsoever and is entirely not kosher. The camel, however, presents a problem, since it has one kosher sign and not the other. The camel is in a select group of animals, which includes the chazir, pig, that occupies a confusing, in-between space. This space is a sphere in which clarity is distorted, and ambiguity attempts to replace the truth. Yaakov Avinu intentionally refused to mention the camel because it belongs to Eisav’s lifestyle. The pig represents Eisav, putting forth its split hooves, declaring, “I am kosher! Just look at me!” These animals and what they represent indicate a far greater danger to the future of our people than that which is purely impure. We recognize no blurring of the lines in defining evil incarnate. The one individual who dresses like Yaakov, speaks like Yaakov, puts on a show as if he is Yaakov, but is through and through Eisav, threatens our future the most.
When did this phenomenon begin? To understand this, we return to the onset of human history. When Hashem created Adam HaRishon, the world was a picture of perfect clarity. Adam was consummate good – the yetzer hora, evil inclination, was unambiguous evil. No gray areas existed.
It was only when the nachash ha’kadmoni, primordial serpent, entered the scene that the perceptions of good and evil became blurred. The serpent injected zuhamah, spiritual blemish, into Chavah, and, through her, into the human condition. Evil gained the ability to disguise itself, to intermingle with good and wreak havoc in our attempt to define good as an absolute. It was no longer about discerning between light and darkness, but about the challenge of distinguishing between light and darkness when they are comingled.
This was Yaakov’s message to Eisav: “We are not on the same page. I live with clarity. I acknowledge the ox and the donkey – pure kosher, unquestionably non-kosher. You live in the world of the camels and the pigs, animals that blur categories, the path of ambiguity. I refuse your path because it leads to pure evil.”
Blurring the lines has always been our greatest spiritual threat. When we mix holiness with compromise, truth with convenience, faith with foreign ideas; when we try to be everything to everybody, we inevitably slip into confusion. The Golden Calf was not born of a choice to do evil, to reject Hashem, but from mixture. Add a partner, something tangible to replace Moshe. What could be so bad? Once the mixture concretizes, the boundary between worshipping One G-d and gods of others becomes ambiguous.
We declare in the Haggadah of Pesach, Arami oveid avi; “Lavan wished to uproot our Patriarch.” Where do we find Lavan planning destruction? We see Pharaoh as our mortal enemy. Amalek, grandson of Eisav, is our archenemy from the moment of our nascency as a nation, but at what point does Lavan, the swindler, the liar, the deceiver, become a mortal enemy? Horav Yaakov Kamenetsky, zl, finds it in Bereishis 31:53, when Lavan said to Yaakov, “May the G-d of Avraham and the G- d of Nachor (from whom Lavan descended) judge between us.” Lavan magnanimously sought to find common ground between himself and Yaakov. Lavan tried to convince Yaakov, “We have a common deity. Why not join with me and be one happy family?” This is destruction. This is blurring the lines. Pharaoh’s evil is not as frightening as Lavan’s, because Pharaoh’s evil is discernable.
Boro Park today is a Jewish community in which finding a Shabbos goy is a challenge. It was not always like that. Some seventy years ago, only a small handful of merchants closed their establishments for Shabbos. Otherwise, the entire length of Thirteenth Avenue, which today stands as a marvel of Orthodox resolve, was open for business on Shabbos Kodesh. The transformation of Thirteenth Avenue came about through a combination of communal courage, a slow demographic shift, and the quiet, but steady, influence of rabbinic leadership. Closing for Shabbos presented a financial challenge. The early merchants chose faith over the fleeting allure of money and loyalty to Hashem over the illusion of profit and material honor. The rabbinic leadership recognized the crisis and was fully aware that, unless they took a powerful stand, Boro Park would never become the spiritual bastion that it is today.
They convened a meeting to be held at the iconic Shomer Shabbos Shteibel on Thirteenth Avenue and 53rd Street. As the accepted elder statesman of the community, the Radziner Rebbe, Horav Yeruchem Leiner, zl, was invited to join and say a few words of encouragement. He joined the group and said the following: “I think the best way to put an end to the profanation of Shabbos is to tell the merchants that we, as the rabbinic leadership, will no longer officiate at their marriages, circumcisions, bar mitzvahs and funerals until they close their establishments for Shabbos.”
When the rabbanim heard this, they all chimed in, “But what about our parnassah, livelihood?” “That is exactly what these merchants are arguing. How will we make a living?” When we blur the lines, we see what we want to see – not reality.
