Whenever I read or study anything in the Torah having to do with the Exodus narrative, what fills my mind is The Ten Commandments. Not the tablets themselves or the list of laws written upon them. I am talking about Cecil B. DeMille’s 1956, three hour and forty-minute Technicolor classic, complete with Charlton Heston’s epic beard, Yul Brynner’s bald head and side ponytail, and Anne Baxter yelling “Moses, Moses!”

Over the past few weeks, every Shabbat, as we have read about the burning bush and the plagues and the crossing of the Red Sea, all I can see are those scenes from the truly epic movie, with their grandness and special effects (for the mid-50s, they were pretty spectacular), dramatic performances (fun fact: the actress who played young Miriam in the film is now a cantor in Florida…and yes, I know her), with thousands of extras (and animals!). Because of that movie, I can only see this sacred text as the book of Exodus à la the Golden Age of Hollywood.

And the funny thing is, I still don’t even like the movie that much! I groan every year when either my dad or husband, both of whom love it, want to watch the movie around Passover, begrudgingly sitting down to watch some of it, rarely making it through the whole thing (to be honest, neither of them usually make it through the entire thing, and certainly not in one sitting).

The actual Ten Commandments do not make their debut until well over three-quarters of the way through the film when Moses goes up the mountain, receives the tablets, descends to find the Israelites in a bacchanalian frenzy worshiping a statue, and smashes the tablets out of anger. And it’s yet another iconic moment in the film. (Another fun fact: one of the statues used in the movie was sold at Christie’s in 2001 for over $15,000.)

So why a golden calf?

For forty days and forty nights, Moses left his people and climbed Mount Sinai. The longer he goes without returning, the more uneasy they become. In this state of mounting concern, the people demand that Aaron, Moses’s brother, build them a visible sign of God's presence in their midst, resulting in the golden calf.

Without Moses, the people grew progressively more anxious, for Moses was their connection to God. Perhaps they thought, “Without Moses, will we ever be able to experience God’s presence again?” And when he seemingly disappeared, it was natural for them to seek out a replacement.

But here is what the Israelites got wrong: Moses did not bring God into their midst. Rather, God had been with them all along.

It’s not surprising that the Israelites felt anxious, confused, and didn’t know what to do without Moses. The intangible nature of God—that you cannot see or touch God—makes it hard to feel God's presence in times of anguish. Perhaps the golden calf was simply a demand for tangible proof of God's existence, brought on by the uncertainty of a people who felt abandoned and alone.

But they were not alone in their need to know an intangible God, for Moses also struggled with his need to see the Divine Presence. Moses is told by God to hide in a cleft in the rock and God will pass by, allowing Moses to see God's back. This half-encounter, though brief, strengthened Moses's resolve to do God's will.

If the Israelites had been presented with a similar option, perhaps they would not have felt the need to build a stand-in for God, knowing that they felt supported by God and not abandoned by Moses. Perhaps they would have accepted the fact that God is always near, even if we aren’t able to see or touch God.

Much like our ancestors, it can be hard for us to feel God’s presence in this immense time of anguish we find ourselves in. And much like our ancestors and the golden calf, so many of us have turned to modern-day idolatry (i.e. social media) as a one-directional thing on which to project our feelings, air our grievances, and try to understand what to do next when we feel so helpless and so angry.

Other than cautioning us against worshiping the influencers that fill our screens, I don’t have the answer to how we can know that God is with us, especially in these unprecedented times. But what I can suggest is looking for moments that make you feel less alone. Go for a walk and smile at the people you pass, even if you don’t know them. Call a friend you haven’t spoken to in a while to catch up. Invite people over for a Shabbat meal or come to an event at Beth Tzedec. Or maybe plan a movie night with a loved one. Need a suggestion? I hear The Ten Commandments is a good one.