“My god, your pride will be the death of us all. Beware, it goeth before the fall!” This line, spoken by Aaron Burr to Alexander Hamilton in his play Hamilton is based on Proverbs לִפְנֵי־שֶׁ֥בֶר גָּא֑וֹן וְלִפְנֵ֥י כִ֝שָּׁל֗וֹן גֹּ֣בַהּ רֽוּחַ׃ “Pride goes before ruin; arrogance before failure.”[1] The short reading we did today begins between the episode of the golden calf and the carving of a new set of tablets.

          How could the Israelites succumb to this calf? The answer is simple: hubris. They believed that they were above the law that they had been given at Sinai 40 days earlier and could do what they wanted. They missed the test of patience and resilience in waiting for Moses’ return.

          A Hasidic Master, Meshullah Feibush Heller of Zhbarazh, write about this in chapter 2 of his work Yosher Divrei Emet. wrote as follows:

          “In reality, we humans are naturally ingrained by birth to have prideful hearts, as our Sages of blessed memory stated, ‘There are four prideful creatures, (the lion, ox, eagle, and human), and the human is more prideful than all of them.’[2]

          The Blessed One granted me a credible parable related to this. Let’s say we’re travelling on the road in a wagon and we fall asleep. The wagon driver is accompanying us and drives up a high mountain. But when the driver reaches the top of the mountain the path is flat, for we have already passed the upward slope. If we were to wake up thereafter and someone were to tell us that we’re on a mountain, we wouldn’t believe them because we can’t see any evidence to that effect. If we had initially witnessed the slope we’d ascended, we would know the truth. But now that the road is flat, on what grounds can we possibly conclude that we’re on a mountaintop? How can this reality be made known to us? Subsequently, when we descend the opposite slope, which dips into a valley, we will discern that we had been on a mountain.

          In reality, our pride is like a high mountain. If we could feel and truly know that our heart is growing prideful within us, we would certainly discern that we are experiencing pridefulness and hubris and that we’ve ascended a mountain. But we were born on this mountain, which is our pride…which is why it seems to us that we have no pride and that we’re not on a mountain at all. How can we possibly discern this to be the case if we don’t fully descend to the foot of the mountain by habituating ourselves to surrender and humility in heart and deed-and especially in heart-so that the truth will become known to us?”

          A Hasidic ideal is בטול היש, nullification of the ego. The example from our tradition is that the golden calf was burnt, grounded into powder, strewn into water and drunk by the Israelites.[3] The very thing in which Israel took pride gets destroyed and consumed by them.

This does not mean self-effacement. Rather it is recognizing the things that we do not control, that the “I” in the story, is not nearly as significant as we give it credit for. That way, when unfortunate things befall us, our world doesn’t collapse on us but rather we have the resilience to continue. As Mona Fishbane said, “It’s time to stop being the victim and become the author of your own life.”[4]

When we are on top of the mountain, let us remember that we can descend. When we on at the bottom of the mountain, let us remember that there will always be an ascent later on. The journey might be long and bumpy like a roller-coaster, but if we stay with it, we will merit seeing many vistas over the course of our lifetimes.

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[1] Proverbs 16:18

[2] Exodus Rabbah 23:13; Bavli Hagigah 13b

[3] Exodus 32:24

[4] Told to me at the Rabbinic Training Institute 2017