The Chozeh of Lublin said that the primary aveirah of the egel was (33:4) ויתאבלו, that the nation became sad because of their sin and didn't believe they could do teshuvah and correct their aveirah.
The Divrei Chaim of Tzanz zt'l would call the egel an "untergevorfene maaseh," meaning they weren’t guilty of this aveirah. They were set up to fail this test. Chazal (Avodah Zarah 4:) states, לא ישראל היו ראויים לאותו מעשה, which means that Bnei Yisrael wouldn't have committed this aveirah of the egel. It only happened to teach that we can do teshuvah. Rashi explains, "They were great people and had control over their yetzer hara. It shouldn't have occurred that their yetzer hara should rule over them. But the King decreed [that this time] their yetzer hara should rule over them, to give hope for baalei teshuvah. If a person commits aveiros and says, 'I will not do teshuvah because my teshuvah will not be accepted,' we tell him, 'Remember what happened by the egel. They had a kaparah, and their teshuvah was accepted.'"
The machatzis hashekel atoned for the Jewish nation, as it states (30:15) לכפר על נפשותיכם, "to atone for your souls."
Moshe Rabbeinu didn’t understand what the shekel looked like until Hashem showed him one. Rashi (30:13) writes, "[Hashem] showed him a coin of fire that weighed a half-shekel, and said, 'This is what they should give.'"
Moshe knew the entire Torah, with all its laws and details. So why was the machtzis hasheckel particularly difficult for Moshe to understand?
The answer is that the machtzis hashekel was for atonement, and it was hard for Moshe Rabbeinu to imagine that such a small amount of money could bring atonement.
The Midrash Tanchumah (11) says, "When Moshe heard that the nation must give money for their atonement, he became afraid. [He feared that it would cost them a lot of money]. Hashem knew what Moshe was thinking, so Hashem told him, "I promise, a kikar of silver isn't needed [for atonement], and not a hundred, fifty, or thirty silver coins either. All I ask is a half-shekel."
Another Midrash states that Klal Yisrael was afraid when they heard they must give money for their atonement. So they said, "All the money that we gathered in Mitzrayim and afterward from the Yam Suf was for nothing because we will need to give it all away for our atonement."
"Hashem knew what they were thinking.... He took a fiery half-shekel from under the Kisei HaKovod (Hashem's throne) and showed it to Moshe. 'This is what they should give.'"
So, when our deeds seem small and insignificant, be aware that for Hashem, even a half-shekel is a lot and can atone for great sins.
The first sefer that a sofer writes is generally megillas Esther. A bachur was learning to be a sofer, and he wrote a megillas Esther, but it didn't look too good. The letters were slanty and of different sizes; some of the words entered into the margin, and so on. No one wanted to buy it, not even for a low price, so his father bought it, hoping that this would encourage his son to continue practicing and trying. After he bought it, the father gave the megillah to a safrus merchant.
"What do you want me to do with this?" the merchant asked. He couldn’t imagine that anyone would want to buy it.
"See what you can get for it," the father said. "Any price is better than nothing at all."
One day, a wealthy person asked the safrus merchant to bring several megillos to his home because he wanted to choose one. The rich person added, "Since I am troubling you to come to me, I will pay you $2,500 for the megillah, even if the price is lower."
The merchant brought along every megillah he had in stock. The wealthy man turned down one after the other. "This isn’t what I have in mind," he said simply, although the merchant didn't understand why he wasn't satisfied with his beautiful megillos. Finally, having turned down all the megillos, the merchant began packing up his megillos to leave. The wealthy man said, "One minute. I see you have one more megillah in your box that you didn't show me yet."
"No. It isn't for you," the merchant said. It was the beginner's megillah, and the merchant figured that if he didn't want all the beautiful megillos, he certainly wouldn't want this one. He was embarrassed to show it.
"Please show it to me," the wealthy man said.
The merchant opened the megillah, and the wealthy man loved it. "This is exactly what I wanted," he said, and he paid 2.5 thousand dollars. (This was several years ago when the prices weren’t as high as they are currently).
Afterward, the merchant asked him why he preferred this megillah over all the others. The wealthy man replied, "The other megillos were written perfectly; all letters are uniform, the same height and style. They appear printed. But this megillah is different. It is evident that this megillah was hand-written by a sofer. Each letter is different. This is the type of megillah I like. I see in it the workmanship!"
The father repeated this story to me, and he said that we learn from this that it isn't hishtadlus that brings us parnassah, instead it is Hashem's brachah. This time, the hishtadlus wasn't as good, but Hashem placed his brachah, and he earned a lot of money.
I took another lesson from this episode. This story is a reminder that Hashem enjoys the work of human beings. It is our imperfection that makes our deeds special. Hashem has enough malachim. If Hashem wanted perfection, He wouldn't have created us. Hashem wants us, with our faults and human imperfections. Our deeds seem slanted and incomplete, and sometimes we step out of line, but it is precisely due to our human nature that Hashem desires our service.
