Who Doesn’t Like a Nice Sandwich?

Parashat Ki Tissa, Exodus 30:11–34:35

Rabbi David Wein, Tikvat Israel, Richmond, VA

Sonny, true love is the greatest thing in the world. Except for a nice MLT, a mutton, lettuce and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe. They're so perky, I love that. —Miracle Max

As Miracle Max declares, there’s nothing better than true love, except perhaps a great sandwich. Perhaps, though, a sandwich can be true love, and true love a sandwich. Let me explain.

Whenever I have something meaty to explain to someone, I always try to deliver what I call a sandwich, interspersing it with the bread of affirmation and compassion. I also love it when I receive a sandwich, like when my wife (hypothetically) says, “I appreciate you taking initiative with the mess in the kitchen. Next time, make sure you check underneath the big pan to wash off all the soap. Thanks for doing the dishes.” My wife is from New Jersey, though, where they just tend to tell it like it is, so sometimes I’m fortunate to get even an open-faced sandwich in this completely hypothetical situation, but hey, it’s something. I know not everyone needs or appreciates a nice verbal sandwich, but for me, it’s my love language; it’s like a verbal hug of affirmation and encouragement.

This week’s parasha, Ki Tissa, contains the episode where Aaron gives in to the people’s grumbling and impatience and forms a golden calf for Israel to worship. Admittedly, this is bad. The sages traditionally connect the covenant at Sinai to a marriage between God and Israel, with the Torah being the ketubah. In this analogy, what happens here is akin to cheating on your spouse on the wedding night. Some sages also paint this story as analogous to the rebellion in the garden when Adam and Eve ate the fruit and brought sin, death, and chaos into God’s good world. The 1st century Jewish historian Josephus, when he tells the Sinai story, leaves this part out, perhaps for fear of antisemitism.

But look at the surrounding narrative context of this; it’s a giant tabernacle sandwich! Before this incident, you have page after page of instructions for the tent of meeting, and after this episode, page after page of the actual construction. The first grand gesture of God dwelling in Israel surrounds this debacle, like a giant hug of affirmation.

There are also links to the sandwich-esque love of God in the story itself. Aaron appeases the people’s impatience by saying this: “Have your wives, sons, and daughters strip off their gold earrings; and bring them to me” (Exodus 32:2). These same words for “gold” and “earrings” (zahav and nezem) are are used in next week’s parasha for the offering to build the tabernacle:

Then the whole Israelite community withdrew from Moses’ presence, and everyone who was willing and whose heart moved them came and brought an offering to the Lord for the work on the tent of meeting, for all its service, and for the sacred garments. All who were willing, men and women alike, came and brought gold jewelry of all kinds: brooches, earrings, rings and ornaments. (Exodus 35:20-22, NIV, emphasis mine)

In this case, we see the redemptive opposite of the golden calf blunder: folks contributing from the same gold earrings to build a tabernacle so that God can dwell among Israel, with his people. Instead of melting them to build an idol, they are melting them to build the vehicle for God’s presence among and within them. The same word for gold and a similar Hebrew word for ring are used later in the actual instruction and construction for the tabernacle, for the curtains to be held together; this, too, is a callback to the golden calf in a restorative way. So, the very thing that was used for idolatry is now used to draw them near to God.

Furthermore, the presence of the tabernacle sandwich indicates that God’s response to our rebellion is actually the opposite of what we expect and deserve: when we fail, God draws near. When the first humans eat the forbidden fruit, God responds by pursuing them, asking Adam “Where are you?” and covering them up with animal skins.

The Scriptures surrounding this week’s parasha are composed in this way: 1) Plans for God to dwell among Israel, 2) golden calf, 3) God directs Moses and Israel to actually follow those plans and get to building. God’s response to the golden calf, to our failures, is to draw near. This sandwich invites us to reframe our mistakes in light of his continued pursuit of us, in light of our irrevocable value and calling, and in light of his unimaginable love and grace.

Remember the picture of the wedding between Israel and God with the Torah as a ketubah? There’s another way to frame the story in this week’s parasha of Moses destroying the first tablets after finding out what they’ve done. A midrash about this sheds light on what may be going on here—perhaps more than mere frustration.

When the Israelites committed the sin of the Golden Calf, God sat in judgment to condemn them, as Deuteronomy 9:14 says, "Let Me alone, that I may destroy them," but God had not yet condemned them. So Moses took the Tablets from God to appease God's wrath. The Midrash compared the act of Moses to that of a king's marriage-broker. The king sent the broker to secure a wife for the king, but while the broker was on the road, the woman corrupted herself with another man. The broker (who was entirely innocent) took the marriage document that the king had given the broker to seal the marriage and tore it, reasoning that it would be better for the woman to be judged as an unmarried woman than as a wife. (Exodus Rabbah 43:1)

In other words, we can view Moses destroying the tablets (like tearing up the marriage document) as an act of mercy; Moses intercedes so that Israel can be judged less harshly.

We can reframe even our worst mistakes in light of the love of Hashem; that is what the Scriptures do, and that is what Yeshua the Messiah mediates for us. We (and Israel) are defined not by our mistakes, but by God’s faithfulness to us. We are given a sandwich of the mobile presence of God around the golden calf story. Like the gold earrings, our weaknesses and mistakes are opportunities for redemption, learning, and growth. Why not see them the way Hashem does? Not only can we extend this grace to our own stories, but also to others and their narratives.

If God’s response to our mistakes is to draw near, then shouldn’t we imitate him? Let’s be sandwich makers for others. After all, we are made in his image, and let’s be honest: who doesn’t like a nice sandwich?