By: Romi Morales
The parashah Ki Tisa brings together a series of significant events, such as the first census of Bnei Yisrael, the command to build a basin for the Mishkan, the instructions for creating the anointing oil and sacred incense, the reminder of the importance of Shabbat, and the reason why Moshe began wearing a veil after descending from Mount Sinai for the second time. However, in the midst of these events, two stand out: the sin of the golden calf and the destruction of the first Tablets of the Law.
One might ask: Isn’t this sin and its consequences the most relevant event in the parashah? If so, why isn’t its name related to it? Moreover, if we translate “Ki Tisa,” its meaning is “When you elevate.” What is elevated about a parashah that deals with such a serious mistake? Is this an attempt to downplay Am Yisrael’s transgression? Or perhaps there is a deeper message for those of us who seek to educate? If you want to discover it, I invite you to keep reading. Let’s begin!
Learning and teaching how to rise above mistakes
Alexander Pope once said, “To err is human, to forgive is divine.” This thought encapsulates one of the most powerful messages of Parashat Ki Tisa. At first glance, the story of the golden calf and the breaking of the tablets seems like just another episode within the narrative. However, it could be considered the central event of the parashah and even of Am Yisrael’s journey through the desert after leaving Egypt. Yet, if we analyze it in depth, the parashah does not seek to hide or minimize the mistake but rather teaches us that making mistakes is an essential part of human growth.
This does not happen only in the history of Am Yisrael but also in our daily lives. We wake up, start our routines, work, and along the way, we inevitably make mistakes. However, life goes on. What matters is not just the mistake itself but how we face it. Do we have the humility to acknowledge it? The courage to apologize if we have hurt someone? The determination to learn from it and avoid repeating it?
Our society has instilled in us the idea that making mistakes is synonymous with failure and that failure should be hidden. A clear example of this is how we construct our résumés: we fill pages with achievements, but there is no trace of the obstacles and mistakes we faced along the way. However, recognizing our failures allows us to transform experience into learning. The message of the parashah is clear: mistakes should not be exaggerated, but they should not be minimized either. Even an event as serious as the sin of the golden calf is not the central focus of the parashah; it is just part of the story. What truly matters is what comes next: getting up, learning, and moving forward.
Stubbornness as a driving force for learning
A recurring concept in the parashah is Am Kashe Oref, translated as “stubborn” or “tenacious people.” This quality can be interpreted both negatively and positively. While stubbornness led Am Yisrael to make mistakes, it was also what allowed them to rise and move forward. Those who learn how to fall are the ones who learn how to rise more quickly and with greater strength.
This principle is evident in Israeli society, known as the Start-Up Nation. In Israel, entrepreneurs often fail multiple times before achieving success. However, far from discouraging them, this process is seen as part of learning. The ability to try, take risks, make mistakes, and learn from failures is highly valued.
As educators, transmitting this teaching is essential: mistakes are not the end but an opportunity for growth. Our mission is to create learning environments where young people feel safe to make mistakes and improve. This is the only way we can help them turn their experiences into meaningful learning.
Keeping the fragments of what we broke while learning
Things that “fall from the sky” or are obtained effortlessly can be valuable, but they also tend to be more fragile. In contrast, what we invest effort, time, and energy into tends to last. However, today’s society teaches us that when something breaks, the solution is to discard it and replace it with something new. Few people invest time and effort in repairing what is damaged because it is often not profitable. As a result, younger generations are beginning to lose the value of the concept of Tikun (repair).
In contrast to this postmodern mindset, Ki Tisa offers a different perspective: not only must we take responsibility when we break something and try to fix it, but also, the fragments of what was broken in our learning process should not be forgotten; they should be kept alongside the new. This is precisely what happened with the Tablets of the Law: the broken first tablets were not discarded but were preserved alongside the second ones.
For educators, this message is crucial. In our work, we must not only teach young people to learn from their mistakes but also to value their own growth process. Each mistake is a step on the ladder of learning, and instead of ignoring or hiding them, we must learn to recognize them as part of our history. Resilience does not mean erasing past mistakes but building upon them.
Conclusion
As educators, our mission is clear: to create spaces where mistakes are part of the learning process, where we teach to repair instead of discard, and where we understand that in personal growth, the fragments of the past are the foundation upon which the future is built. If the broken tablets were kept alongside the new ones, it is because there was something valuable in them. They did not represent just a mistake but part of the learning process of a nation in the making. Similarly, in education, every mistake, every failed attempt, is part of a journey that leads to growth.
That is why, as educational figures, it is important to constantly ask ourselves: How do we approach mistakes in our educational spaces? Do we see them as opportunities or as obstacles? Do we foster a culture of repair and learning, or do we punish mistakes without allowing for their reinterpretation? How can we improve the way we teach young people to deal with their own mistakes? What strategies can we implement so that the concept of Tikun (repair) becomes part of our daily pedagogy?
As educators, we face the challenge of building spaces where mistakes are part of the learning process, where failure is not feared but understood as just another step toward growth. Only in this way can we truly rise above mistakes.
