Standing up to God:  Moses’ Dramatic Appeal
Sermon, February 22, 2008
Rabbi Bruce Kadden

Moses was angry.  After all that he had done for the Israelites, standing up to Pharaoh, leading them out of Egypt and across the sea of reeds, bringing them to Mount Sinai, and now they were worshipping a Golden Calf.

True, he had been up on the mountain 40 days and nights, causing the people to wonder if he would ever return, but couldn’t they have been a little more patient?  Why were they so quick to turn to idolatry?

Well, Moses decided, he would show them.  As he came down the mountain and approached the camp he became enraged, and –in the sight of all the people—he threw the tablets down on the ground and shattered them at the foot of the mountain.  The precious tablets containing God’s most important teachings were smashed to bits.

But Moses didn’t stop there.  “He took the calf that [the people] had made, burned it, ground it to powder, strewed it upon the water and forced the Israelites to drink it.”

Moses then turned to vent his anger upon his brother Aaron.  “How could you allow the people to do this?”  Moses wanted to know.  After hearing Aaron’s excuses, Moses decides to take action against the people, inviting all who were for God to come forward and take up arms against the others, leading to a massacre of some 3000 people.

Now, based on this response, we would expect that Moses would not want to have anything to do with the people.  He would be more than happy to be done with them.

But that is not the case.  Indeed, when God says, “let Me be that My anger may blaze forth against [the Israelites] and that I may destroy them and make of you a great nation” Moses responds with one of the most dramatic speeches in the entire Torah.

“Let not Your anger blaze forth against Your people, whom You delivered from the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand.  Let not the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that he delivered them, only to kill them off in the mountains and annihilate them from the face of the earth.’  Turn from Your blazing anger and renounce the plan to punish Your people.  Remember Your servants Abraham, Isaac and Israel, how You swore to them by Your Self and said to them:  ‘I will make your offspring as numerous as the stars of heaven, and I will give to your offspring this whole land of which I spoke, to possess forever.’”

Despite his anger at the people, Moses stands up for them in the face of God’s desire to destroy them.  His words are an excellent example of the Jewish tradition of arguing with God.  This tradition can be traced back to Abraham, who, when God wants to destroy the communities of Sodom and Gemorrah, directly challenges God:  “Will You indeed sweep away the innocent along with the wicked?” he asks.  “Must not the Judge of all the earth do justly?” 

Abraham demonstrates remarkable chutzpah in suggesting that God is not following the very standards of justice that God has established.  Yet, God matter-of-factly acknowledges that Abraham has a point, and agrees not to destroy the cities if there are 50 righteous people in them. 

Now, we would expect that Abraham would be satisfied with this concession and call it a day, but he is not.  In a scene reminiscent of a Middle Eastern Bazaar, he begins bargaining with God:  45, 40, 30, all the way down to 10, before resting his case Abraham thus sets the standard for standing up to God, a pattern that will be repeated throughout Jewish history.

In his book, Arguing with God:  A Jewish Tradition, Rabbi Anson Laytner points out that the history of Jewish suffering “has given rise to a unique literature of argument prayers…. In these works, God is called to account and charged, at the very least, with indifference.”  Even if God is not acting unjustly, at the very least God is “permitting injustice and suffering to flourish,” according to Rabbi Laytner.

One of the best examples of this approach is the literature about Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev, one of the early Chasidic leaders. 

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak once summoned a tailor and asked him about an argument he had with God.  The tailor said:  “I declared to God, ‘You wish me to repent my sins, but I have committed only minor offenses.”  I may have kept leftover cloth, or I may have eaten non-kosher food, or not blessed my meal.  But You, O God, have committed great sins:  You have taken babies from their mothers and mothers from their babies.  Let’s call it even; may You forgive me, and I will forgive You.’”

After listening intently, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak rose in anger and said, “Why did you let God off so easily?  You might have forced God to redeem the whole world!”

Bringing an end to the exile and redeeming the world was a common theme of his, as most dramatically represented in this prayer, known as the Kaddish of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak:

Good morning to You, Lord of the world.

I, Levi Yitzchak, son of Sarah of Berditchev, am coming to You in a legal manner concerning Your people of Israel.

What do you want of Israel?

It is always, “Command the children of Israel.”

It is always, “Speak to the children of Israel.”

Merciful Father! How many people are there in the world?

Persians, Babylonians, Edomites!

The Russians, what do they say?

Our emperor is the emperor.

The Germans, what do they say?

Our kingdom is the kingdom.

But I, Levi Yitzchak son of Sarah of Berditchev say:

Glorified and sanctified be God’s great name.

And I, Levi Yitzchak son of Sarah of Berditchev say:  I shall not go hence, nor budge from my place until there be a finish

until there be an end of exile—

Glorified and sanctified be God’s great name.

This approach to the Divine was best summed up by Elie Wiesel who wrote, “A Jew can be Jewish with God, against, God, but not without God.”  Wiesel explores this theme in many of his works, most dramatically in The Trial of God, a play based upon a trial that Wiesel witnessed in a concentration camp when three learned rabbis decided to indict God for allowing the Jews to be massacred.  Wiesel’s trial is set in the village of Shamgorod in 1649, immediately after a pogrom has devastated the community.  Three itinerate actors show up to perform a Purim shpiel, but instead are convinced to use their talents to put God on trial.  One of the surviving Jews volunteers to be the prosecutor and offers a litany of examples from Jewish history calling into question God’s justice.  It is as if our suffering gives us the right, even the obligation, to speak up.

We can honestly and openly challenge God, as Abraham and Moses did, but only in the context of an ongoing relationship with God.  At the end of the day, we have said what needs to be said and go on with our lives.  Though we might be justified in turning our back and walking away from God, we do not.  We go on with our lives, hoping that what we have said has made a difference to us, if not to God.

Moses stands up to God when God wants to destroy the people.  He offers a dramatic appeal convincing God to back down and allow the people to survive.  We too, following in this tradition, are permitted to openly and freely express our feelings toward God and argue with God, continuing this long-standing Jewish tradition.

[back to list of sermons]

[back to top]