Weekly Torah: Shattered But Not Broken
By Wendy Lefko Messeloff
Claim your seat at the table. Join the Jofa newsletter at the bottom of this page to receive weekly updates directly to your inbox.
This week’s parsha, Ki Tisa, is among the Torah’s most dramatic: The chet haegel, the sin of golden calf, coming so quickly after the transcendent receiving of God’s commandments, is hard to understand. And we see that for Moshe, too, it is difficult to understand, as he descends from the mountain with the first set of tablets, sees the people dancing around the calf, and becomes so angry that he shatters the tablets.
When God instructs Moshe to himself carve the second set of tablets, the tablets are now man-made and therefore inherently imperfect, embodying both this whole episode and human life itself. We get impatient, we make mistakes, we break things, we fix things, we ask for forgiveness, we forgive… These are all part of the essence of being imperfect humans, and are all encapsulated in this story.
The transition from the first to the second set of tablets expands on this, signifying a substantive shift in the relationship between the people and God. The Talmud (Nedarim 22b) notes that, whereas the first God-made tablets were given amidst great fanfare, the second man-made pair was given quietly, demonstrating that enduring human achievements, even of significant impact, are often completed without fanfare — albeit no less important. The second tablets, while resulting from human effort, carried a lasting eternal covenant, underscoring the importance of human initiative and the difference it can make.
The Rav, in his work On Repentance, expands on this, arguing that the second tablets also represent the concept of teshuvah, repentance. He offers that after the sin of the golden calf, the opportunity for repentance and the subsequent giving of the second tablets illustrate that human beings, despite their imperfections, can attain a renewed relationship with God and each other, through sincere effort and transformation.
This makes a perfect segue to the Purim story we read in Megillat Esther, which further exemplifies the parsha’s theme of embracing imperfection to fulfill divine purposes. The Midrash (Esther Rabbah 6:5) picks up on Esther as initially hesitant and fearful, when Mordechai urges her to approach King Achashverosh with the request to spare the Jewish people. While her hesitation reflects her human vulnerabilities, it is through confronting it that she rises to play out her destined role in her nation’s salvation from total decimation.
The concept of shattering and repair that plays out in both the parsha and the megillah brings to mind the Japanese aesthetic of wabi sabi — which the Cambridge Dictionary describes as “the quality of being able to find pleasure and beauty in simple things that may be old or not perfect, or that may not last” — as well as the Japanese art of kintsugi, repairing broken pottery in a beautiful way that does not hide the fact that it was broken, but uses gold or silver in the cracks, to highlight its imperfections and elevate its new form.
Wabi sabi and kintsugi make very apt analogies for the acceptance of imperfection at the heart of both our parsha and the megillah. Rav Meir Soloveichik picks up on this with a beautiful commentary. He writes, “The imperfect tablets remind us of the shattering that came before, but also of the potential for repair; in this way, they are not unlike the Japanese embodiment of wabi sabi reflected in pieces of pottery rejoined after a shattering, with the breaks remembered, marked by gold. The remembrance of this shattering is a reminder of the overcoming of the shattering, an overcoming which has a beauty all its own.”
This idea of overcoming a shattering and learning to appreciate the beauty of imperfection is evident in both the parsha and the megillah. The second tablets, fashioned by Moshe’s human hands, and Esther’s reluctance and ultimate embrace of her pivotal role, embody these conceptions by highlighting that our shortcomings and our efforts to overcome them contribute to a more profound and authentic long-term relationship with God, ourselves, and the Jewish people.
This perspective encourages us to view our weaknesses not as barriers, but as opportunities for personal development and deeper connection. As Rav Meir Soloveichik puts it, “In their very imperfection, these tablets embody us; as symbols of the possibility of improvement, the very flaws of the humanly created tablets embody hope itself. The tablets, in other words, are who we can be. They teach humanity how to see our own moral capacity. Their imperfection is therefore the source of their grandeur.”
This eloquent insight captures perfectly how the dramatic shatterings that precede both the second tablets and Esther’s transformation can impress upon us the recognition that imperfection is not an impediment, but a vital catalyst for growth. By acknowledging our faults and actively striving to improve, we engage in a dynamic partnership with God, ourselves, and each other, leading to personal and communal redemption.
As we think about these shatterings in the current moment where we find ourselves as a Jewish people, we cannot help but grapple with the shattering that occurred on October 7 and continues to this day. But what also emerges is a form of kintsugi: Although we feel broken, we are resilient. Although we are imperfect, we consistently come together as a people, bound in part by many wounds — but inextricably bound just the same, with threads of precious gold and silver woven throughout. As we reflect this week at the juncture of the reconstructed tablets and the transformation of Esther, may we take forward with us a newfound appreciation of human imperfection that enables us to grow and connect more deeply with ourselves, our community, and Hashem, at a time when we need it most.
Purim Sameach ~ Shabbat Shalom
Besorot Tovot ~ Am Yisrael Chai
