Ki Tisa: Don’t Lose Yourself 2024
Plaut p. 593
| Exodus 33:18-23
(18) He said, “Oh, let me behold Your Presence!” (19) And [God] answered, “I will make all My goodness pass before you, and I will proclaim before you the name יהוה, and the grace that I grant and the compassion that I show,” (20) continuing, “But you cannot see My face, for a human being may not see Me and live.” (21) And יהוה said, “See, there is a place near Me. Station yourself on the rock (22) and, as My Presence passes by, I will put you in a cleft of the rock and shield you with My hand until I have passed by. (23) Then I will take My hand away and you will see My back; but My face must not be seen.” |
שמות ל״ג:י״ח–כ״ג
(יח) וַיֹּאמַ֑ר הַרְאֵ֥נִי נָ֖א אֶת־כְּבֹדֶֽךָ׃ (יט) וַיֹּ֗אמֶר אֲנִ֨י אַעֲבִ֤יר כׇּל־טוּבִי֙ עַל־פָּנֶ֔יךָ וְקָרָ֧אתִֽי בְשֵׁ֛ם יְהֹוָ֖ה לְפָנֶ֑יךָ וְחַנֹּתִי֙ אֶת־אֲשֶׁ֣ר אָחֹ֔ן וְרִחַמְתִּ֖י אֶת־אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֲרַחֵֽם׃ (כ) וַיֹּ֕אמֶר לֹ֥א תוּכַ֖ל לִרְאֹ֣ת אֶת־פָּנָ֑י כִּ֛י לֹֽא־יִרְאַ֥נִי הָאָדָ֖ם וָחָֽי׃ (כא) וַיֹּ֣אמֶר יְהֹוָ֔ה הִנֵּ֥ה מָק֖וֹם אִתִּ֑י וְנִצַּבְתָּ֖ עַל־הַצּֽוּר׃ (כב) וְהָיָה֙ בַּעֲבֹ֣ר כְּבֹדִ֔י וְשַׂמְתִּ֖יךָ בְּנִקְרַ֣ת הַצּ֑וּר וְשַׂכֹּתִ֥י כַפִּ֛י עָלֶ֖יךָ עַד־עׇבְרִֽי׃ (כג) וַהֲסִרֹתִי֙ אֶת־כַּפִּ֔י וְרָאִ֖יתָ אֶת־אֲחֹרָ֑י וּפָנַ֖י לֹ֥א יֵרָאֽוּ׃ {פ} |
Story loosely derived from Shalom Aleichem’s “On Account of A Hat”
Shalom Shachna was a hard working merchant, always travelling, always away from home, schlepping his carpet-bag with him on the train from town to town. He worked hard, and it was never clear what he was working hard on: selling stationary, or real estate, or something else. But as hard as we worked, he could be a little absent-minded, even a little rattle-brained. And who wouldn’t be? Always negotiating, engaged in transactions, numbers, everything written on little scraps of paper or half-ledgers shoved into his carpet-bag. Bit despite his being rattle-brained, he usually did well enough to send money home and pay off his debts. And this year was the best year he’d had in a while, good enough that he wrote to his wife that he was coming home for Passover without fail, something that hadn’t happened in many years, as he was always in a different city or town or shtetl doing business.
His journey was long, and complicated, and required him to change trains at several different stations along the way. Finally he had one last connection. He had hardly slept in two days. He sat on a bench inside the station, and desperately wanted to close his eyes. But what if he missed the train? He went up to one of the attendants, and asked that, should he fall asleep, that they should wake him up when the train arrived, and they dutifully agreed. So he took off his hat, a plain black cap as what Jews and workers wear, set it next to him and fell asleep.
At the same time, a soldier, also exhausted, arrived, and saw Shalom Shachneh asleep on the bench. He, too, found a place to sleep there, and took off his cap—a fine thing with a shiny black brim and a red ribbon, set it next to him, and fell asleep.
The train arrived with a whistle, and the attendant woke Shalom Sachneh from a deep sleep. Waking with a start, he laid his hands on the first hat he touched, grabbed his carpet-bag, and rushed onto the train. While boarding, he caught his reflection in the window, and saw the officers hat upon his head. “that foolish attendant!” he thought. “He woke up the soldier and not me!” and rushed back off the train to rouse himself, at which point it chugged slowly away, steam rising from its smokestack.
When we look at one another, what do we see? Who do we see? Do we see each other or ourselves as we are, or do we only look at the surface? Do we recognize God’s image in the people we encounter, or ourselves? Or do we only see strangers. As we approach Passover, when we are compelled to invite all to our tables, let us find a way to truly see one another. Amen.