אמר רבי יהושע בן לוי לבניו: הזהרו בזקן ששכח תלמודו מחמת אונסו, שלוחות ושברי לוחות מונחים בארון
ברכות דף ח
THE GOLDEN CALF
In this week’s Parasha the people of Israel experience one of the most shocking events in its long history: the worshipping of the Golden Calf. When Moses ascended Mount Sinai, he announced that he would return in 40 days. On the eve of the 40th day, the people thought that Moses would never return (“no human could survive without food or water for so long”, they thought). To replace Moshe, they built a golden idol, a calf, one of the many Egyptian idols. This was a great sin. Only a few days ago, the people of Israel witnessed the revelation of God at Mount Sinai. And just a few weeks before that, they saw the opening of the Red Sea and the ten plagues in Egypt. How could it be possible that now they come back to idolatry? Moshe was coming down the mountain with the Tablets of the Law, but when he saw the people completely uncontrolled and worshiping an Egyptian idol, he threw the Tablets and broke them into pieces.
THE OLD TABLETS
Today, I will not focus on the most important question: why Moshe broke the tablets? I want to concentrate on something that perhaps seems secondary or irrelevant but has a great moral lesson for all of us. As we know, later on, Moses received a “copy” of the Tablets of the Law. He placed a new set of Luchot in the Ark of the Covenant (Aron haBerit). And the question is: what happened to the first Tablets, the little pieces of the broken Tablets? Perhaps they were left there, abandoned, in the desert, because now they were useless tablets? Our rabbis explain that the remains of the broken tables were collected by Moshe and deposited in the Ark of the Covenant next to the new tables. A famous rabbi of the Talmud, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi derived from this action a wonderful lesson in respect to our elders. “This event comes to teach us, he said, that to an old man who lost his memory, we owe the same respect we gave him when his memory was intact …”.
BROKEN MEMORY
Imagine a great Tora scholar, someone who for years was invited to sit in the front row of the synagogue because he taught Tora to others and captivated everyone present with his eloquent speeches. And now, at his advanced age, he lost his eloquence and his memory because of senility or Alzheimer, and he can no longer speak or even reason as before. What type of honor do we owe him in his present situation? Do we still invite him to sit in the front row? Or perhaps, because he has lost his memory and does not have any content to give, we sit him in the back? The unequivocal answer of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi is: we honor him as we used to do. Why? Because this old man is like the broken Tablets of the Law, which were no longer intact, complete, or useful, and still Moshe placed the broken, “useless” old Tablets in the same honorable place: inside the Ark! This old man has lost his wisdom. His memory is now broken, and his mind is in one piece anymore. He no longer has any content to share with us. And still, we should honor him exactly as when his memory and mind were intact. This is a beautiful lesson of respect and honor that we learn from a seemingly superfluous detail of the Tora: the placement of the old, broken Tablets.
BROKEN MEMORIES
There might be another answer to why the old broken tablets were not discarded or buried but “treasured” alongside the new ones. Perhaps the Tablets were not buried to serve as a testimony for the Jewish people. So we Jews never forget the greatest sin we committed. And future generations don’t repeat the same mistakes. We all had bad experiences. We all make mistakes. But we should not bury these mistakes in our memory. Rather, we should learn from those negative experiences. With the right mindset, past negative experiences can be transformed into critical lessons for the future. And not only for ourselves but also for our loved ones, friends, and others in need.
In 2016, I received the devastating news that I had been diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer. It was undoubtedly the most difficult and painful experience of my life. However, with the grace of God, I am now in a much better place and feeling healthier than ever before. Despite my hesitance to talk about it, I am writing about my cancer for the first time today. The memories of chemotherapy, nausea, pain, fatigue, hospital rooms, dizziness, fears, and tears still linger in my mind. Still, I try to keep these broken memories safely stored away from the world, and even my family, in my personal Ark.
However, there are instances when I open up about my experiences. When? When I meet a community member, a friend, or anyone who was diagnosed with cancer, I feel compelled to show them my scar from the chemo port. The scar may be small, but it carries immense weight for the person sitting across from me. By sharing this vulnerable aspect of myself, I hope to show them that I truly understand what they are going through. As a rabbi, I have always tried to understand and support people with cancer. However, I now realize that despite my best intentions and genuine efforts, there are some things that can only be truly understood through personal experience. My own struggles have given me a new perspective and empathy for those who are facing similar battles. While I may still keep my broken memories in my personal ark, I am now more open to using them as a source of comfort and support for others who are going through difficult times.
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