Ki Tisa
Exodus 30:11–34:35
Without question, the breakout star of the 2026 Winter Olympics was Bay Area native Alysa Liu. She grabbed headlines not only because of her flawless routines and Gen Z energy, but also because of the captivating, relatable details of her life journey.
By now, most of us know the outlines of her burnout from pressure and her retirement after a sixth-place finish in the 2022 Winter Olympics. Eventually, though, Liu realized she missed the thrill of skating and returned to the ice — under the condition that she be given complete control of her preparations.
Liu’s decision to return to skating coincided with an important self-discovery. After realizing she had more than 145 missing assignments in her senior year of high school, Liu was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. As she began to understand her diagnosis, Liu learned more about the ways that ADHD had shaped her.
Often, she waited until the last minute to face tasks, making her life more chaotic. At the same time, her ability to hyperfocus allowed her to engage in extended practice sessions: falling again and again before finally landing a jump.
Remarkably, the people in her life listened. Her father gave her the space she needed, and her coaches let her take the lead. The results for the 20-year-old skater were undeniable: a performance that some have described as among the most joyful and free in Olympic history.
I thought of Liu this week as I reread the famous story of the golden calf. The details are well known: God summons Moses to Mount Sinai to receive the law. While he is away, the Israelites — who feel abandoned in his absence and find themselves incapable of faith in a God they cannot see — compel Aaron to form an idol to worship. Appalled by what he sees upon his return, Moses shatters the Divine tablets in his arms.
On its surface, the episode appears to be a physical manifestation of the spiritual rupture brought about by the Israelites’ sin. But the moment is actually revelatory about Moses. I suspect that people with ADHD may recognize it immediately.
If we probe Moses’ life with curiosity rather than judgment, a familiar profile emerges. Without seeking to diagnose Moses, we can still observe patterns in his life that resonate with contemporary discussions of ADHD.
Moses reacts with impulse in the face of injustice, such as shattering the tablets upon discovering the golden calf. Likewise, he sometimes acts without listening carefully. When God tells him to speak to the rock to bring forth water, he strikes it instead — an act that costs him entry into the Promised Land. And Moses struggles to organize administrative tasks: It takes Jethro to step in and show Moses how to arrange the judicial system so that Moses isn’t judging every dispute on his own from morning until night.
Moses also has remarkable strengths. He is fiercely loyal to the Israelites. Despite their endless complaining, he never abandons them. He has an endless thirst to connect, grow and learn. He yearns to encounter God’s presence. And when needed, he can enter states of hyperfocus: Twice, he communes with God for weeks in isolation, learning all of the law.
He thrives in chaos, providing steady leadership in the face of plagues, scarce resources and threatening nations. Even Jethro’s critique sheds light on Moses’ unique leadership qualities: He is willing to give all of himself to the people he loves.
It is because of this, I think, that God loves Moses. God demonstrates this love by giving Moses the support he needs. God protects Moses from sensory overload, giving him a quiet space in the Tent of Meeting, and makes sure Aaron is there to offer support. Perhaps the most surprising thing, though, is that God — who Moses describes in this week’s portion as slow to anger — does not frequently punish Moses when he seems to miss the mark. Instead, God tries to understand it.
Consider the broken tablets. According to the Talmud, the shattered remnants were ultimately placed in the Ark of the Covenant, alongside the second set of tablets that God gave Moses after the people repented. The broken tablets come to represent the community and God joined in failure.
In shattering the tablets, Moses acts before God explicitly instructs him but as soon as he recognizes that the people are not ready to receive the law.
The rabbis teach that God responds to this choice by offering Moses a rare blessing — “Yasher kochecha,”or “May your strength be affirmed.” It is striking to me that the blessing Jews offer one another for engaging in Torah study traces back to the moment when Moses recognized that the people’s ability to engage with the law was still beyond their grasp.
Some recent research suggests that ADHD may be overrepresented in the Jewish community, perhaps because of Jewish histories of trauma, migration and reinvention. Yet our institutions often struggle to accommodate these children. While we reassure them that their differences do not define them, we are often reluctant to do the harder work required to truly include them.
Liu’s story offers a different model. It shows what becomes possible when adults are willing to listen carefully to children and to adapt to their needs rather than demand conformity.
Ki Tisa asks us to be the parent who steps back or the coach who makes space — or even be like God, who offers a blessing — so that our children can become the best versions of themselves.