Parshat Ki Tisa: Meaningfully Not-Doing

Parshat Ki Tisa presents a seemingly disjointed narrative. It begins with additional details for the Mishkan – how to purify and consecrate those people and objects used in the service of the Mishkan. Then the Torah commands the observance of Shabbat. Then we read the story of Am Yisrael’s building of the Golden Calf. Several questions arise. How do we make order of these diverse narrative points? We have already received instructions on keeping Shabbat in Parshat Yitro– why do we again receive them here? I believe that the order of events in this parsha (which interestingly, according to Rashi do not correspond to their order in linear time, for the Sin of the Golden Calf comes before the giving of the Mishkan)1 convey a deep message about the importance of rest and reflection.

Immediately after the details for the consecration of the Mishkan with the sacred anointing oil, the Torah writes, “Speak to the Israelite people and say: ‘Nevertheless, you must keep My Shabbat, for this is a sign between Me and you throughout the ages, that you may know that I am the Lord who consecrated you.’”2 Rashi comments and says that this verse comes to remind us that even though we exert ourselves building Hashem’s Mishkan, we must not violate Shabbat for the sake of that work.3

This begs the question: what is Shabbat? How can the importance of Shabbat, a day of not-doing, supercede our work building Hashem’s abode? Rabbi Abraham Heshel discuss the dichotomy between space and time in this world: “We covet space not time. We trade time for space. We worship space. We struggle to realize an idea without the aid of imagination and space is where the imagination exists….As a result we suffer from a deeply rooted dread of time and stand aghast when compelled to look into its face. Time to us is sarcasm, a slick treacherous monster with a jaw like a furnace incinerating every moment of our lives.”4

The Mishkan represents space. Rav Steinsaltz writes that the fact that the Mishkan comes after the Sin of the Golden Calf demonstrates that Hashem recognized the legitimate request contained in the sin: Am Yisrael demands something within the realm of space that connects us to Hashem.5 Thus, Hashem gives us the Mishkan – our place for sancitifying Hashem’s name in this world. In a broader context, I see the Mishkan as representing our physical efforts in this world. The inclusion of the commandment of Shabbat in this parsha comes to tell us that even though we toil for six days, on the seventh we shall rest. Rest only can happen in the realm of time. Rest happens when we stop trading time for space. Shabbat is our transformation of time from the treacherous monster into something to be appreciated, loved, for only through time can we truly come to experience Hashem. Even if we toil in the most purposeful and meaningful way – building a temple for Hashem in this world – we must not voilate Shabbat. We must still take our day of rest and do nothing: “Six days may work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be a sabbath of complete rest.”6

Why do we need Shabbat? Because we need time to step away from the realm of space to allow ourselves a moment of reflection and appreciation for who we are, right now. So easily can we lose ourselves in an ‘if only-then’ mentality. If only I had more money, then I would be happy. We can even fall into this trap within our holy pursuits. If only I handled my anger better, then I would be enough. If only I knew more Gemara, then I would be satisfied with myself. But reality does not work like this. Our work in this world is never finished. Even when we finish constructing the Mikdash, our work does not end. There is no nirvana to achieve. There is beauty in this for it means that our lives can forever be filled with meaning and purpose. But there is also a danger: we can find ourselves perpetually chasing the carrot, never appreciating how far we’ve walked nor recognizing that the carrot still remains beyond us. Rav Kook discusses that we often become tired and jaded if we simply jump from one (even spiritual task) to the next. We forget for what we are moving forward and come to curse the seemingly impossibility of our journey. There is holiness in the act of resting and reflecting.7

So we must rest. But it is not simply a passive rest of not working. It is the active rest of manucha. It is a day where we rest, not only our bodies, but our hearts and spirits as well. Rashi, commenting on the words שַׁבַּ֧ת שַׁבָּת֛וֹן (a secure Shabbat), says that this is “a relaxing rest, not simply a casual rest.”8 He further expands on this when he comments on the word וַיִּנָּפַֽשׁ (and he rested) which shares a root with the word נפש (spirit). Rashi says: “rest restores one’s spirit and breath through one’s relaxation from the burden of labor.”9

“It is a day in which we abandon our plebeian pursuits and reclaim our authentic state, in which we may partake of a blessedness in which we are what we are, regardless of whether we are learned or not, of whether our career is a success or a failure; it is a day of independence of social conditions.”3

Manucha comes only with a deep feeling of appreciation for all that we are and with gratitude towards Hashem for giving it to us. Contained in it is the recognition that we have what we have not because we earned it, but rather because Hashem loves us. In this space, we remember that emunah, bitachon, self-love, and connection to Hashem are our birthrights. They are ours always and they must only be realized, not earned. We rest so that we can walk the careful line of focusing on growth while also feeling satisfied with where we are. Why do we so seldomnly acknowledge ourselves for our progress while easily appreciating the progress in others? I think this is because we create space from others. When we see a friend after several months, every change is pronounced. We, however, are condemned to spend every waking moment with ourselves, seldomly meriting a chance to step away and see our progress referenced against the bigger picture. Shabbat is the bigger picture. It is our opportunity to put to rest (at least for a day) that voice we all live with that tells us that we haven’t yet fulfilled our purpose, haven’t yet accomplished what we want to accomplish.

But even when we return to constructing our temple for Hashem during the week, we can’t forget this perspective. The Ramban comments on the following verse, “remember the day of Shabbat and make it holy.” He writes that the mitzvah is not only that we remember Shabbat with prayer and actions on Shabbat, but that we remember Shabbat during the week and prepare for the Shabbat to come…”10 As Rabbi Hechel says: “The Shabbat is not for the sake of the weekdays; the weekdays are for the sake of Shabbat. It is not an interlude but the climax of living.”3 Our rest is not for the sake of our work. Our work is for the sake of our rest. Without rest our work has no meaning, no purpose. It is just one long marathon. The world was only finished when Hashem ceased His work on the seventh day.

When we forget to remember this, we become consumed by our pursuits in the realm of space. In the end, we fall towards building the Golden Calf. We forget that there is anything beyond our weekly pursuit of physicality and we begin to worship that same physicality – it becomes necessary. Why else are we working so hard?

If we never stop to rest and reflect, then we remain slaves. There are always things to be done, always ways we can improve. Other gods in this world demand work as an offering. Hashem in his mercy receives our rest as an offering. Without Shabbat and our capacity for reflection, we would be perpetually slaves to our task lists, perpetually pulling the plow, row after row after row. What is Shabbos? It is a time of rest. A time of reflection. A time of appreciating in our hearts the work of our hands. It’s a time to reset and remember that even though we spend six days striving, in the end all that we need is right here. It is a day when we remember that while our mission on this earth is to improve ourselves and our world, there is also a time for simply appreciating who we are, right now. May we all merit, as a friend of mine reminded me, to breathe deeply, for there is much time.

________