Freedom, Faith, Fragments: (Ki-Tissa) Vayakhel
- Dr Tanya White
- Mar 19
- 5 min read
The transition from Ki Tissa to Vayakhel-Pekudei holds the key to understanding how failure can lead to growth, adversity to resilience, and brokenness to wholeness. To me, it is both a description of human nature and a mandate for this moment in history.
The story of the Golden Calf reveals a deep truth: we are, after all, human. We fail. We break. At times, we struggle to distinguish between the sacred and the profane. Yet there is always a way back. Fracture does not mean total destruction. As Leonard Cohen famously wrote, “There is a crack in everything—that’s how the light gets in.” What seems like failure can, in fact, become the foundation for renewal.
In her book Option B, Sheryl Sandberg chronicles the catastrophic loss of her young husband. Through personal stories of grief, loss, and adversity, she weaves in current research on post-traumatic growth—the idea that trauma is not merely something to be endured or overcome but can serve as a catalyst for transformation. This aligns with what David Kessler, a protégé of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross (pioneer of the five stages of grief), describes as the sixth stage of grief: finding meaning.
Both Option B and Kessler’s sixth stage of grief ask something extraordinary of us—to transcend the limits of our reality, to see beyond the immediacy of pain, grief, failure, or fragmentation. Achieving this requires two key insights:
Moving beyond the subjectivity of our own experience.
Recognizing that true freedom is not the absence of restraint but the ability to channel limits into creativity and new perspectives.
In Parshat Ki Tissa, the Israelites—once slaves focused solely on survival—must transition into a people, an am and an edah. They must shift from I to we, envision a reality beyond the immediate, and intuit Divinity beyond miracles and sacredness within the mundane. True freedom demands courage and creativity—the ability to see beyond the given, to find meaning in hardship, and to transform adversity into growth. But for a nation of former slaves, this is a daunting proposition and as Moshe disappears up the mountain we witness a truth - that freedom without structure, rules or coherence, leads to chaos. And when chaos and anarchy reign the potential for a Golden calf emerges.
In reality, there is little that differentiates the Golden calf (egel) and the tabernacle (Mishkan. Both are made from people’s donations, both are crafted through talented workmanship, both contain material images (the calf, and the cherubim — childlike figures that sit on the top of the ark), and both aim at some form of Divine worship. So why is one the quintessential expression of Divine worship and the other the paradigmatic manifestation of idol worship?
The answer lies in what the existential philosopher Søren Kierkegaard called “the dizziness of freedom.” Once external constraints are removed, and we are free to pursue our desires, the only way to avoid becoming enslaved to them is to learn how to use our freedom—to cultivate a life of coherence, habitual self-discipline, and meaning. Freedom without direction leads to chaos; it can only be redeemed by anchoring ourselves to something beyond the self.
This is why the answer to Parshat Ki Tissa is found in Vayakhel-Pekudei. When I give to others for the sake of a greater whole, without seeking personal gain, when individual liberty is shaped by the disciplines of the heart and soul, it elevates us above the forces that so easily lead us astray—lust, fear, vanity, and indulgence.
Freedom is granted not only in action but also in thought—we always have a choice in how we perceive reality. Is failure, loss, or grief a place of unbearable rupture, or can it become an opportunity to create space for meaning or even growth?
When the people misuse their freedom for immediate gratification, Moshe has no choice but to shatter the first tablets. They represent Option A—an ideal world, a direct and unmediated relationship between the Divine and humanity.
“You know they are a stiff-necked people,” Moshe tells God. They are unable to move their heads - shift perspective, to see another way. They have not yet learned how to use their freedom, how to commit to something beyond the self, or how to self-discipline rather than rely on external constraints. They have not yet mastered the art of long-term liberty.
So, Moshe pleads: God, You must show them what Option B looks like. Unlike Option A, it is less intense, perhaps less ideal, but more real. It allows for failure and mandates compassion, forgiveness, and benevolence.
Yes, says Moseh to God, they are a stiff-necked people. But that very trait—grit, determination, stubborn resilience—is also the key to their survival. It is what will sustain them through the trials and tribulations ahead. There are always two ways of seeing any given situation.
Hashem listens to Moshe, and the result is the Thirteen Middot of Rachamim—the attributes of divine mercy. In this moment, the ideas of teshuva, forgiveness, and renewal are born. It is the realization that even from fragments, from the cracks, we can heal and rebuild. Sometimes, a non-ideal reality gives birth to something even more profound—beauty, growth, and transformation. Because we are free, we can change not only our future actions but also the way we interpret the past.
The story of the Golden Calf is not simply about a nation that went astray and was punished. It is a story of adversity and resilience, of shattering and rebuilding, of how we choose to see and frame our reality. It is about the dangers and the gifts of freedom. And above all, it teaches that as human beings, we always have the freedom to return—to reframe our experiences, to choose meaning in the abyss, and to build a Mishkan rather than a Golden Calf.
In the holiest of places, the aron held both the whole luchot (tablets) and the shattered ones—side by side. A testament to the truth that sometimes, it is our very brokenness that makes us whole.
Today, in the wake of October 7th, we stand among the fragments. We have seen devastation and loss, yet our story has never been one of surrender. In adversity, we choose to vayakhel–pekudei—to gather, rebuild, and uphold our eternal mission and set of commands. The shattered tablets remind us that even in our most broken moments, something sacred endures. Option A is gone, but history has shown that we, the Jewish people, know how to make the very best of Option B. We have done it before, and we will do it again. The crack is where the light gets in.
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